Illyrian Warrior Princess

One thing you learnt about Hannah Wells, being one of her best friends and all, was that she was normally- a very reasonable person. She was the one to keep electrolyte sachet’s in her bag during a night out, the one to book the uber a day in advance and the one to always text check-ins on the group chat during finals week. 

That was her, normally. 

Unfortunately, ever since she decided to become the first hockey WAG in the group, the captain she shared a bed with had spent their entire relationship testing that theory. The relationship was undoubtedly adorable, some may say to a disgusting, how-to-lose-a-guy-in-10-days level, but sometimes Garrett would feel the need to use Hannah's tightly strung mental stability as a pair of chopsticks.

“Just, tell me again why we’re doing this?” You watched Hannah with a concerned expression, she was aggressively highlighting a sentence that had absolutely nothing to do with the paragraph she'd just read.

The yellow highlighter squeaked angrily across the page,"You know why," She gritted out. 

"No, I know why you're angry,” You pointed at the highlighter.

"I'm asking why that textbook is suffering for it."

The answer never came, but that was attributed to the fact that Hannah was still busy glaring at her notes like they had personally offended her. Beethoven was a bitch. 

The study room had fallen suspiciously quiet about twenty minutes ago, with Allie laying on the sofa in the corner going through a script for class and you and hannah sitting on the large table in the centre of the glass box, you scribbling out statistics equations and Hannah trying to compose a new piece. 

That initial plan went out the window when Hannah began to complain about Garrett, either of you could have stopped her, put a pin in it and dealt with it at home. Instead, Allie and you happily discarded your work and quipped helpful bits of advice during her rant. 

"You know what his problem is?"

You exchanged a glance with Allie, both of you knew it was better if nobody answered- experience had taught you this was a trap.

"He says he'll call me."

Hannah pointed at her phone that she had flung across the table at the beginning of her speech, "then doesn't call me."

You nodded, the man had a habit of saying he’ll call after practice- then take hours in the locker room with the boys. Your own boyfriend had the bad habit, but you made peace with it very early on; assuming it was because the boys were engrossed in some weird, hockey bro hangout while they changed. 

It was nonetheless a reasonable complaint, because the team was AWOL for nearly the entire day, and the three of you were suffering for it. Ever since Garrett returned from the bench, training was 24/7 and you were lucky to get a morning kiss, a small whisper of seeing you later before the door shut and their phones seemed to have fallen off the face of the planet.

So, if Graham had promised he’d “see his girl tonight” because he “missed her so much” and then had the gall to not reply to her messages for half an hour. You were prepared to ride at dawn, and steal his skates to rub against concrete for as long as your drill sergeant ordered. 

However, currently the drill sergeant was pink in the face and grabbing at her phone, stretching herself over her textbook to wave the device angrily. 

"And then when I text him asking where he is-"

You already knew this wasn't going to end well.

"He sends me a thumbs up."

The silence was immediate, you gaped at Allie, she gaped back. It was two fishes staring at each other while Hannah slumped into her chair.

It shouldn't have been shocking, it was exactly the sort of thing Garrett would do. But he was an idiot for deciding to not fight against his nature during this trying time. 

Allie lowered the script she had folded against her legs, flopping it onto her chest as she sat up. Slowly, carefully, as if she’d been told there was a rabid animal that could sense her fear.

"A thumbs up?"

"A thumbs up."

"Oh."

"Exactly."

You shook your head and closed your eyes. This was rough, like Liverpool F.C rough. 

"I know he meant well."

That sentence was somehow worse, because she was trying to be rational. And when Hannah was angry and tried to be rational, it usually resulted in disaster. 

"Did he think?"

Allie's contribution was deeply unhelpful.

Hannah jumped and gave her a thankful clap, "THANK YOU."

"I'm just saying."

You groan and give her a look of deep regret, "You are not helping."

"I wasn't trying to." She grinned at you.

Hannah dropped her head onto the table, face first into her music sheets. The universal sign of academic and emotional defeat. 

You watched her lie there for a moment.

Then another

Then-

"I am going to kill him."

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, there it was. The threat you’d all been waiting for, Allie checked her phone, nodding her head.

"Only ten minutes."

"A personal best." You added.

Hannah stood up immediately, the chair scraped obnoxiously against the floor- as if warning her not to do the thing she was absolutely going to do. Both you and Allie looked up, concerned at the way she blinked quickly, the cogs in her head turning so fast that you were sure smoke would start spilling from her ears. 

You recognised the look on her face, a dangerous determination, masked by an eerie calm. In actuality it was a complete loss of common sense

"Hannah." Allie started, warningly. 

"No."

"You haven't even heard the question."

"I know the question."

The smile spreading across Hannah's face made your stomach drop. It was a Hannah Has An Idea smile and historically speaking, those had a terrible survival rate.

You racked your brain for what she could possibly be plotting. Then your face fell.  Practice had ended approximately fifteen minutes ago. Which meant the boys were currently finishing up at the rink. A fact that should've been irrelevant, so painfully ordinary that it was similar to breathing. Instead, it somehow became the most important detail in the room.

“Hannah, no-”

She had already grabbed her bag and started walking towards the door. Allie scrambled to her feet, shoving her stuff into the tote she randomly picked up when you left that morning. You did the same, not caring that you messily crumpled up your work into your bag, instead more focussed on watching Hannah strut out of the library, stomping through the isles- not paying you any mind. 

You panted when you caught up to her, dragging a hand through your hair,

"Oh no."

"Oh yes."

"Hannah."

"No."

"Hannah."

The door to the outside world opened and Allie squinted against the golden hour glow, Hannah’s smile widened dangerously, 

"I am going to find my boyfriend."

The first sign this was a terrible idea came when Hannah ignored the boys leisurely walking out of the athletes' building, their hair damp from showers, you recognised a few, some from the calisthenics club, you waved at the girls on the swim team and pointedly flipped off the lewd comments from the lacrosse team. Eugh. 

The second sign came when she didn’t listen to your warnings.

The third came when she barely blinked at the coach giving her a confused greeting.

By that point, frankly, the universe had done everything it reasonably could.

"Hannah."

No response.

"Hannah."

Still nothing.

The woman marched through the arena, stumbling sharply against the chairs. You inched through behind her, holding Allie's hand as she huffed and whipped her bangs out of her eyes, glaring at Hannah, who was already at the bottom of the staircase, about to turn into the back corridor. 

Neither of you were particularly interested in letting your best friend commit relationship homicide without witnesses.

"Hannah."

"What."

The answer arrived instantly. She stilled just before the dim pathway towards the locker room, hands braced on her backpack straps, her shoes tapped on the floor expectantly. 

"You do realise practice literally just ended."

"Correct."

"You do realise hockey players are probably changing."

"Correct."

You looked at Allie, whose eye was twitching at her best friend's unwavering need for vindication. 

"You're concerning me."

She rolled her eyes and dashed down the hallway, you recognised this part of the training facility instantly, it was embarrassing the amount of times you had waited here, leaning against the wall for Logan to emerge, his chain glinting in the yellow lighting as he hauled equipment over one shoulder, the other carried his own gear. 

He would kiss you quickly, mumbling against your lips about missing you, and then dump all the random sticks and bags of pucks into the storage before slinging an arm around your shoulder, slowing to a leisurely stroll as you recounted your day. 

You rounded the corner, and froze. Allie bumped into you, whining as she rubbed her nose. 

The locker room doors sat at the end of the corridor. You stared ahead, and blinked when Hannah barely stopped- charging forward.

"Hannah."

"No."

"Hannah."

You cupped your hands around your mouth and shouted after her, jogging behind. "What exactly is your plan here?"

"I am going to find Garrett."

"Then?"

"Then I am going to explain why sending a thumbs up was stupid."

Allie threw her hands up and blocked her pathway to the door, "Hannah."

"No." She tugged down Allie’s arms, and pushed the girl out of the way. Before either you or Allie could stop her, Hannah grabbed the door handle, and it was like the world slowed.

"HANNAH!"

The door opened and you immediately regretted the day you were born. The silence hit you like the torrential stream of water in a car wash, burning your eyes as a gasp got stuck in your throat. 

Then your brain caught up with what was in front of you- because unfortunately, disastrously, hockey practice had ended, extremely recently. So recently in fact, that half the team were still in the showers hooting and hollering, while the other half were dripping wet in front of their cubbies. Staring straight at you, towels paused mid-dry.

You froze.

Hannah froze.

Allie froze.

The hockey team froze.

Time itself appeared to freeze.

"Oh my God." Allie giggled shrilly, her eyes wide as her hand came up to stifle a mix between a gasp and sob.

It wasn’t the shirtless hockey players that disturbed you. It was the penis’.

Everywhere. 

Anywhere. 

Dicks floor to ceiling, no matter where your troubled eyes would take you, it was phallic body parts all around. A sight that would haunt you until graduation.

The team were the first one to snap out of the trance, some of them barely phased at the intrusion, the other half silently covered their junk and shouted brokenly for the people you were actually looking for. 

“What?” Logan’s voice shouted from beyond the showers, luckily you were far enough away to avoid the sight of your boyfriend and his teammates in the steamy, tiled cheap porno setting. 

You accidentally made eye-contact with one of the freshmen on the team, and he winked at you. The expression on your face must've been unbelievably unimpressed because he rushed to get dressed immediately after his failure. 

That made your survival instincts finally activate.

You spun around immediately, a sensible decision on your part. 

Unfortunately, Allie had chosen the exact same strategy.

The two of you collided at full speed.

"OW."

The yelp escaped simultaneously. One second you were turning around, the next your shoulder crashed into Allie's.

Your foot caught on your other ankle, and suddenly gravity joined the party. The floor rushed upwards, the world tilted and you were convinced this was your rapture. 

Two seconds away from meeting your untimely demise, strong arms caught you before impact.

"Oh my God, babe?" The voice sounded familiar and you braced yourself for his bewildered expression when you squinted your eyes open. Logan’s face was approximately six inches away and you felt the towel he had hurriedly wrapped around himself slip low down his hips against your waist. 

"Nope, don’t ask." You closed your eyes against the water droplets splashing onto your face from his hair. The tickle of his silver chain against your cheek made you wave your hands between the two of you. You could feel him gearing up to ask something, 

A finger wag in his face and a simple, "Nope." made him laugh as he hoisted you up. 

Across from you, Dean had already reached Allie, looking equally concerned and delighted.

"Are you okay?" His arms were bound securely around her, pressing in front of him.

Allie flicked his forehead, "Stop smiling."

"I'm not smiling."

"You absolutely are."

Dean was moments away from framing the incident and hanging it on a wall, it was when Allie had steadied herself and stepped fractionally away from him that you noticed Dean hadn’t managed to grab a towel. And stood naked, right in front of you. As bare as the day he was born. 

You retched loudly and tried to run out the door, forgetting that Logan was still holding you upright, an arm around your waist- hand steadying your shoulder.

Deeply and violently, you groaned- accepting that this was your life right now,  "Please tell me I died."

The laughter around you doubled in volume, a few of the guys chirping at you.

Somewhere behind Logan, Garrett appeared, towel around his waist- completely oblivious to the chaos playing out with his team. 

"What happened?"

The silence that followed was immediate, the boys pursed their lips together, you and Allie were engrossed in anything that didn't involve Hannah. 

She glared at him slowly, dangerously. Garrett took one look at her expression, and his eyes ping ponged around the changing area, the open door, the duo of embarrassed girlfriends- one of them looking at her boyfriend seductively, the other hiding her face in her hands. And finally the boys, Dean who was playing into Allies flirting- butt naked. And Logan who was stifling a laugh against your shoulder as you shook your head silently into your palms.

Understanding dawned, making him rush over to his bag and dig out his phone, his eyes widening at his girlfriend, "Oh."

The idiot actually laughed. Hannah looked ready to gouge his eyes out with his stick.  And somehow, unbelievably, things were about to get worse.

By dinner the same day, everybody knew, not just the team, not just other teams. The entire student population. 

People in your classes, people in the library, people in the campus cafes. Somehow all of them must've collectively received an email.

You still didn't know how, no matter how hard you searched the gossip account, your dm’s, hunted through stories. There was no way to determine how the hell the situation had reached every set of ears at Briar. You'd spent the better part of twelve hours trying to figure it out.

The incident had happened at approximately 9 am that morning.

By six-fifteen, two members of the lacrosse team had smirked at you in passing.

By seven, somebody in a study group asked if you were "recovering."

By eight-thirty, a girl in your dorm-block had winked.

"Tell me again why I haven't transferred,” You dropped your forehead onto the cafeteria table.

Across from you, Hannah looked equally traumatised as she picked at her dinner, Allie looked murderous as another pair of irrelevant students giggled as they passed by. 

The three of you had spent the entire day suffering.

Allie slumped in her chair, "Because we're seniors."

You stabbed aggressively at your salad. "Unfortunately,” mouth half-full of lettuce you continued, "You know what the worst part is?"

Nobody answered, mostly because nobody wanted to encourage you.

"The fact we literally didn't do anything."

"THANK YOU."

Allie pointed dramatically.

"THANK YOU."

The cafeteria table rattled slightly, you winced and gave her an accusing stare. While the passion was appreciated, the volume was not.

"We walked into a room." Hannah shrugged

"Accidentally." Allie added.

"Then left."

"Immediately."

You threw your hands up, "And somehow everyone is acting like we joined an orgy."

The three of you sat in offended silence, completely justified silence. Silence that lasted approximately four seconds.

Then somebody cleared their throat and you closed your eyes, praying to whatever god that put you in that situation this morning, wasn’t just deciding to test your self control.

You swore, if you opened your eyes, and the person who you thought it was, was standing in front of you. There would be a search warrant for your name, and a blown up ice rink in your wake. 

"No."

Across the table, Hannah groaned and Allie made a sound like she was ready to throw something. The answer came before you opened them, pressing your lips to your hands that were held together in a praying position, you shook your head, "No."

Because standing directly behind you was, Dean who was grinning so wide, you’d think Santa Clause gifted him a dildo, Garrett, currently more occupied in flashing his puppy dog eyes at Hannah and Logan, the only useful one, who came bearing gifts with an apologetic yet amused smile on his annoyingly handsome face.

The Three Horsemen of Making Things Worse.

"Oh, come on.” Dean looked genuinely offended, hand on his chest as he pulled out the seat next to you, in front of Allie.

She threw one of Hannah’s chips at his face, which he caught in his mouth, "We came to support our girlfriends! amidst their public cancellation from society."

"You came to laugh at us." You corrected, ignoring the paper container that slid in front of your tray and the weirdly shaped Logan entity that sat on the other side of you. 

The smile on Dean's face widened, "How ‘bout both?"

Hannah dropped her fork and lunged at him, only held back by Garrett- who had two fingers looped into her belt loop. 

During this, you peeked into the container, flicking open the lid to see a slice of your favourite cake- red velvet from the bakery just outside campus.

You glanced at Logan and stuck your tongue out at him in response to his pleading expression. There it was, you thought- your eye twitching, the complete lack of shame astounded you.

You hated the smug bastard. A deep, passionate hate. But you still gave him a quick peck, intertwining your hands beneath the table and placed them on his thigh. He suppressed a grin and leaned back in his chair watching you cut into the pastry with your fork.

"How's recovery going?" Dean rested his chin on his palm, twirling a blonde strand with his finger.

Allie flipped off her boyfriend, "Leave."

Garrett laughed immediately, "You have to admit-"

"No." Hannah interrupted, hands slapping at his wrist which comfortably kept his hand looped into her jeans. 

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It was funny."

"It wasn't."

"It really was."

The idiot looked entirely too pleased with himself, which was particularly annoying because he wasn't even the one receiving the worst of it.

That honour belonged to you and Allie. Specifically because both of your boyfriends had apparently become the main characters of the story. A fact you deeply resented.

"You know what?" You sat up, “How come nobody is talking about Hannah?”

The entire table went quiet.

Hannah blinked.

"Oh my God." Allie said slowly, "You're right."

"I know."

Hannah immediately looked suspicious, "Why aren't they talking about me?"

Then Allie pointed dramatically, "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN SAYING."

"You haven't said that."

"I've been thinking about it."

Somehow, the entire college manipulated the story into a desperate cliche- that you and Allie were dying to see your boyfriend’s and just. couldn't. wait. for them, so you burst into the changing room, ovulation phase at it's peak and boned down in front of the entire team.

Completely cutting out the bit where you both were trying to stop Hannah from social suicide.

Mission accomplished apparently. The problem now, was that you’d stepped in front of the bullet, and forgot that it meant you’d get shot. 

"You started the whole thing." You whined at her.

"EXACTLY."

Dean and Garrett looked delighted.

"You stormed across campus." You held up one finger.

"Correct." Hannah nodded.

"You opened the door." Another finger.

"Correct."

"You ignored approximately fourteen warnings." A third.

"Correct."

"And somehow everyone else became the main characters." You harrumped and slumped back into your seat, glaring at Logan whose arm came up to rest behind you- but you didn’t pull away when he pecked your forehead.

Hannah looked genuinely aghast at her lack of involvement within the gossip mill, "You know what?" She folded her arms, "That is offensive."

"There she is." Dean blew an exaggerated kiss at her, "The victim complex."

Hannah threw a napkin at him.

The situation somehow got worse, a possibility you never thought could be true.

By Wednesday morning, people had started inventing details, ones that didn’t even make sense. Especially because the original story was already embarrassing enough.

Now there were rumours.

Terrible rumours.

Wild rumours.

Factually incorrect rumours.

"I heard somebody say we were recording."

Hannah looked flabbergasted, the pen in her hand creaked as her first tightened.

Across the corridor, Allie stopped walking, "We weren't?"

"Exactly."

"We were too busy being surrounded by cockfest 2026."

The three of you continued toward class, united by shared trauma- forged entirely through public humiliation. 

The campus buzzed around you, students heading between lectures, athletes carrying equipment bags, people drinking coffee they absolutely couldn't afford. The usual. Until somebody shouted out your name, the voice was gratingly familiar in a way that made you want to spit out your tonsils. 

The guys sitting outside the student centre weren't even subtle about it, the one who called out for you nudged another, the second looked up and smirked.

They were two guys from the lacrosse team. Arguably, you’d think such a fancy sport would produce gentlemen, but the game manufactured slime-balls like the two currently snickering at your deadpan expression. 

"Oh look." The smile spread, "The locker room girls."

You stopped mid-step, and you’d known it was a mistake the minute your foot paused, because now they knew you'd heard. The embarrassment hit instantly, like a slap to the face that reached down your throat, hot in a way that made your body burn. 

Beside you, Hannah looked ready to throw hands, her eyes narrowing at the boys. 

“You got only fans? We’d love to see what happened in the locker room.” 

Allie grit her teeth and just as she was about to bite back, a voice interrupted her.

"Say that again."

The atmosphere chilled behind you, one second the lacrosse pair were giggling like little goblins, the next, their faces were frozen with teetering smiles. 

You felt an arm wrap around your shoulders. Logan stood next to you, his thumb rubbing soothingly on your arm. 

Dean was walking up to Allie, his hands still cupped around his mouth from his interruption. Garrett hung back, but welcomed Hannah into his side when she begrudgingly shuffled up to him. 

They had apparently finished a team strategy session, an unfortunate coincidence for the boys in front of you, who suddenly looked significantly less dick-ish. 

The one with slicked back, blonde hair looked to his friend- who shrugged and patted him on the shoulder, his lip visibly quivered when he spoke, "What?" the question came out weak.

Dean smiled, two hands braced on his girlfriend's frame. Leisurely almost. "Oh, don't do that." He tilted his head with a pout, "You were really confident thirty seconds ago."

Nobody answered.

Garrett called out, still maintaining a generous distance from the situation- probably not wanting to get too involved with another team as the captain, “You seem like the type to be on only fans Jackson. Is that what you do when you lose to Eastwood?” The disappointment in his voice somehow made it worse.

"Seriously,” Dean shook his head, "Dude, if you're going to talk shit about my girlfriend at least be creative." Allie smacked the front of his chest, but nodded in agreement. 

Then Logan spoke, "Find something else to talk about."

Jackson, and the other guy- equally as greasy, dissolved into pitiful excuses and throwaway comments, scoffing as they retreated into the building.

"Holy shit."

Dean grinned, "You're welcome."

"You enjoyed that." Allie poked him accusatorially, leaning up on her toes to kiss his cheek a few times, leaving lipstick prints against his dimple. 

"I enjoyed that immensely."

Nearby, Garrett wrapped an arm around Hannah's shoulders and joined the rest of you.

"You know," Garrett said thoughtfully, "I feel like people would've stopped talking about it sooner if Dean hadn't told literally everyone."

The silence was beautiful. The three of you slowly turned to look at Dean, who was gritting out threats at Garrett, a horrified expression gracing his features as he timidly caressed Allie's hair. 

"I did not."

Logan punched his shoulder jokingly, like bros talking about whose basketball team won last night, "You absolutely did."

"I told one person."

The universe was finally smiling down on you, since Tucker walked up to the six of you, pushing his curls out of his face.

"You told Tucker." Garrett laughed. 

Tucker blinked between the two, who were now engaged in a heated conversation using their eyes. 

"That's still one person."

"Dean."

"One person."

"You told the biggest gossip on the hockey team that our girlfriends walked into the changing room after practice and saw everyone's dicks. by accident."

Tucker finally nodded his head with an affirmative sound, “Oh yeah, I’m just annoyed I left practice early for a doctor's appointment.” He patted Dean on the shoulder, grinning as he stirred the proverbial pot, “luckily Dean here, my best friend, the person who tells me everything. Recounted it in perfect detail.”

An argument exploded instantly, involving Allie smacking Dean upside the head and she bickered about how the last 48 hours had been a living hell.

Hannah wasn’t letting Garrett off the hook easily, nagging him that if he had just “replied to her goddamn messages” the three of you wouldn’t have been in there, she quietened and blushed when he whispered in her ear.

Tucker had joined Allie in bashing Dean, but the three of them groaned when Dean promised, “mind-blowing orgasms on every surface of the house”. Allie didn’t say anything further, just glared at him when he hooked a hand onto her waist and pulled her in.

They drifted ahead while they bickered. Leaving you slightly behind with Logan, who had somehow presented an iced coffee from behind his back and was watching you sip it. 

"You didn't have to do that." You said mid-sip.

Logan looked over, "What?"

"That."

You gestured vaguely toward the now-empty student centre steps. Logan’s expressions softened slightly as he took your bag from your shoulder and pulled you into him, tucking a hand into your back pocket. 

"Yeah." he paused, "Actually, I kind of did."

Your stomach performed a deeply inconvenient little flip.

"Why?"

Logan looked ahead, then to the ground in an almost bashful kind of way, then he shrugged. Like the answer was obvious, "I don't like people making you feel bad."

You cooed at him, grabbing his face with your free hand and squishing his face between your fingers, “You’re such a softie.” 

Smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek, you returned to the drink, gulping it down appreciatively.

He snickered to himself and added unhelpfully, “Plus, kind of owed you since you saw Dean’s cock.”

“Logan!”

Without having to open my eyes, I could tell that the room was dark — something I used to fear as a child but found comfort in now, because darkness meant shadows and shadows meant Xaden.

I could feel him shift in bed beside me, wrapping an arm around my body to pull me in closer.

The sounds of fabric shifting and the mattress slightly creaking broke the otherwise calm silence as I rested my head on his shoulder, placing a hand on Xaden’s sternum and feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath.

His skin was warm under mine as I let myself fall into his embrace, his presence — the only thing that was constant in my life.

He was always there — like an eternal vow of comfort and familiarity. No matter how far, or how distant he was, somehow he always managed to be there, no matter what. 

“I can hear you thinking,” his voice was tinged with amusement despite the slight roughness of misuse.

“About you, if it makes you feel any better,” I replied, slowly giving up on the aspect of sleep for the next while.

“I’m flattered,” he said, his fingertips running up and down my spine soothingly.

He didn’t ask what I was thinking about him — years of conversations whispered under the stars on top of the turret back home dismissed any and all doubts. Although I wouldn’t hesitate telling him the truth anytime.

I pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder, then his collarbone, trailing up his neck until I reached his mouth.

I could feel his lips curling up into an uncontrollable smile and I couldn’t help but smiling myself.

“What was that about?” he asked when I pulled away. “Not that I don’t love that mouth of yours.”

“Just because,” I replied, sitting up to sit on top of him, one leg on each side of his middle. “You never know what might happen, just wanna say that I love you.”

His gaze was heavy with sleep but light with love and his hands planted on my hips, anchoring me on top of him.

“I’m sure nothing is going to happen in the middle of the night,” he grinned.

The view was breathtaking. As much as I preferred Xaden’s personality — his loyalty, his humor, his intelligence — but his looks, his smile especially, could melt my bones.

“You never know,” I teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

He hummed and flipped us over, planting a forearm beside my head to support his weight.

“Yeah?” He smiled, peppering kisses all over my face. “You know what I think?” His other hand moved to brush my hair away from my face. “I think you just like kissing me.”

I laughed. “Can you blame me? You have a very talented mouth.”

“Do I?” He laughed with me.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” I lightly poked his chest.

“Maybe, but I love hearing you say it,” his lips turned up into that little cocky smirk that made my stomach flip every damn time.

“You’re lucky I love you,” I teased, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Oh I know,” he replied, pressing a slow kiss to the side of my neck. “Luckiest man on the damned continent.”

My insides melted along with every rational thought in my brain as Xaden continued to kiss down my neck, but when he reached my collarbone I felt him freeze.

“Fuck,” I heard him murmur and he pushed himself up, getting out of bed and finding the nearest shirt. 

“Xaden?” I sat up, watching him change the quickest I’ve seen him. “What’s going on?”

“Violet’s in trouble,” he said, not bothering to collect any of his blades strewn across the room as he cupped my cheek and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I love you,” he murmured before exiting, the door shutting behind him before I could even reply.

Silence hung heavily in the room, as Xaden’s footsteps retreated down the hall.

I sat there, feeling shocked and empty at how quick things had changed in a matter of minutes.

As seconds ticked by silently, I debated with myself the probability of Xaden needing backup.

I inhaled, the sharp intake the loudest sound in the room. Fuck it.

Pulling back the covers, I got out of bed and reached for my boots.

Exhaustion wracked Violet’s body as Xaden walked her back to her room, not only physically after the sneak attack in her sleep but also mentally, after discovering that Andarna had given her a second signet.

As they rounded the corner, she could see the figures of two people.

She tensed for a second. Was it more first-years come to kill her?

Then she recognized their silhouettes and eased slightly — it was only Garrick and… Y/N.

They were murmuring slightly as she approached them, although conversation stopped as soon as they noticed her and Xaden.

“What are you doing here?” Xaden asked, his tone anything but accusatory, but rather soft and concerned. 

“I got anxious,” Y/N replied. “You left in a hurry.”

He pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “You should be sleeping.”

“So should you,” she murmured, into his chest.

Violet’s stomach churned uncomfortably from watching the couple.

Her and Xaden’s lives were tied together, bound by a magic far more powerful and greater than any humankind had ever faced. It made more sense, in Violet’s heart and mind, that it should be them who were a couple.

Garrick strode back into Violet’s room and came out a couple moments later, helping Bodhi carry out the last body.

The corpse had a red ring around its neck from Xaden’s shadows suffocating the life out of it only half an hour before.

Xaden’s body shifted almost instinctively, shielding the girl in his arms from the sight — even though Violet knew that Y/N had definitely seen a dead body before.

Jealousy bubbled up in Violet’s gut, creating a lump in her throat and a bitter taste in her mouth.

It should be her who he was protecting, not Y/N. It wasn’t Y/N’s life who was tied to his. It was hers.

“Thank you,” she said to Garrick and Bodhi as they passed by.

“We should get going,” Xaden murmured to Y/N, although it was loud enough for Violet to hear. “You have that seminar tomorrow.”

Being the academic-overachiever that she was, Violet’s ears perked up. “What seminar?”

“It’s for signets specific to a form of bio-manipulation,” Y/N explained, so soft and patient Violet almost couldn’t believe that it was her who Xaden had chosen to be with when he needed someone equal to him — someone just as ruthless and cunning as he was.

“You could always swing by,” Y/N was saying. “Although you haven’t manifested yet, you never know.”

Violet offered the biggest smile she could muster, which wasn’t much. “Maybe, we’ll see.”

“Alright then,” Y/N offered a small smile in return. “Goodnight.”

She and Xaden linked hands and walked together down the hall back to the third-year dormitories.

Midstep Xaden reached down, hooked his forearm under her knees and scooped her up, carrying her bridal style with one arm with ease that said that he had done it multiple times before and tender care that said that he’d do it over and over and over again.

Y/N didn’t even say anything, just held onto his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. All of her muscles relaxed as if it was in Xaden’s arms where she could truly and completely rest.

After they rounded the corner, Violet finally entered her room — silent and empty as it was when she’d last entered it but also had a lingering aura of settled chaos in the air.

Xaden had entered her room, and Violet would ensure that it wouldn’t be the last time.

“No matter what kind of magic you have,” I said to the group of fifteen cadets, “whether it be water, fire, storm or earth wielding, it all comes from the same place: nature.”

After the execution of Amber Mavis, Third Wing had been in disarray, trying to find an executive officer to replace the former who had risen to the title of wingleader. There had been several meetings with the section leaders, including myself to find someone suitable for the job.

“Our signets,” I continued, “are different from others. Pure magic comes from nature, it is manifested from the land and sky. We cannot bend or command it, but simply ask, guide and coax. It is unpredictable, reckless and mischievous when it wants to be, so we must balance it out with patience.”

I had taken the group to the forested valley where Threshing took place months ago. The sound of the babbling brook nearby and the wind softly caressing the leaves of the trees was peaceful and a completely different atmosphere from the constant loudness that was Basgiath.

“Water is the most temperamental, fire is the most uncontrollable, plants are the most playful,” I said. “The first thing is to connect with your element — reach out, familiarize with the feeling of it.”

Most of the cadets closed their eyes, their arms hanging by their sides like they were reaching out to the earth, some their bodies instinctively turning towards the nearby brook.

Some of them had a slight smile on their faces while the others had their brows scrunched in concentration.

“Extend a hand towards it mentally,” I said, “slowly. Otherwise—”

Suddenly, a nearby tree burst into flame, the fire licking up towards the sky as smoke began to fill the air.

“—That could happen,” I finished, reaching and splashing water from the stream to extinguish it.

One of the cadets flushed pink. “Sorry,” they said.

“You’re good,” I replied, smiling softly so that he wouldn’t feel bad. “Most of this is trial and error.”

I heard the slight rustle of leaves and my senses went on alert.

My shoulders slackened when a familiar figure stepped through the foliage.

“Wingleader Riorson.”

He gave me a smile as the other cadets turned around. They all did a double take — it wasn’t everyday for them to see the fearsome Wingleader smile so freely.

“Section Leader L/N,” he replied. The cadets quickly moved out of his way as he walked towards me, wrapping an arm around my waist to pull me close.

I swear to Amari, no matter how many times he did that, it always gave me butterflies to be close to him.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, the leather of his flight jacket warm beneath my palm as I placed them on his chest.

“Leadership’s been looking for you,” he said, placing a kiss on my forehead. 

I almost told him not to do this in front of the cadets, but I knew he wouldn’t care and honestly, after feeling his warmth, I didn’t either. 

“I also wanted to have another excuse to see you again,” Xaden added in a quieter tone, like it was a secret just between him and me.

“Aren’t I seeing you in an hour for sparring?” I tilted my head to the side.

“Also why I stopped by,” he murmured, “I have to train Violet tonight.”

I couldn’t hide my disappointment, it had been a while since we had sparred together — but I couldn’t blame him either, I knew what was riding on Violet’s survival at Basgiath and I couldn’t be selfish enough to ask Xaden to risk that for me.

“Alright,” I sighed, trying not to let my dismay leak into my voice. 

He had enough on his shoulders without adding my worries on top of them.

“C’mon,” Xaden said, pulling away slightly to lead me out of the clearing. “I have a feeling I know exactly what Leadership wants from you.”

I shut the door behind me and rested my head against the wood — my heart was beating out of my chest from happiness, pride and anxiousness.

I played the moment over and over again in my head. 

The large looming table, General Sorrengail in all her imperialness at the head, leadership from Third Wing sitting in their seats, Wingleaders from First, Second, Third and Fourth Wing looking at me with a mix of expectancy and satisfaction, Xaden kissing me afterward — telling me that he was so proud and that he loved me.

Gods, all of it made my head spin.

“So?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and saw Imogen, Garrick, Bodhi and Liam all huddled in my room, apparently waiting for my return.

I pursed my lips to keep from smiling, but it did no good.

“Guess who’s the new Executive Officer of Third Wing!” I squealed and I was met with the loudest and fullest celebration I’ve ever received from four people alone.

Bodhi charged at me, sweeping me off my feet in a hug as the rest cheered so loud I was pretty sure I was going to get noise complaints.

I laughed and cheered with them as Bodes set me down and Liam approached to hug me next.

“I knew you’d get it,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around my shoulders.

“Thanks M,” I said, squeezing him tight before I felt a pair of shoulders under my thighs and I was being lifted into the air.

“Let’s go, motherfuckers!” Garrick shouted from below me as he lifted me on his shoulders.

I laughed uncontrollably as I tried to find my purchase. 

“C’mon Garrick you’re hogging her,” Imogen said over the noise and Garrick obligingly lowered me to the ground.

“Never doubted you,” she said, hugging me tightly as soon as I was on my own two feet.

“Thanks, Gen,” I said, hugging her back tightly.

Although I knew that Xaden wouldn't be here — I still felt his absence like a void in the room.

It felt strange to be celebrating with all of our friends without him.

And apparently, my face gave away more than I hoped it had because Garrick placed a warm hand on my shoulder.

“He'll be back soon,” he reassured. “They're only going over the basics today.”

I didn't have the heart to tell Garrick that despite his kind words, Xaden’s absence was still a small weight on my chest. So I smiled the best I could and told him thanks.

Celebration eventually turned into the buzz of conversation as we all waited for dinnertime and I couldn't help but think that maybe Xaden training Violet would affect me more than I thought it would.

My head was pounding as I stared at the paragraph I had written and re-written for the past thirty minutes.

I had been working on my physics thesis for the past three hours and I was nowhere near finishing.

I tossed my pen in the inkwell a bit harsher than necessary before leaning back in my chair, groaning at the ceiling. 

The sound of the door opening barely registered to me until I felt the soft press of a kiss to my hairline.

“Hi love,” I said as I turned in my chair.

“Physics still biting your ass?” he chuckled, unstrapping his shortswords from his back.

“Yes,” I said, massaging my temples, “I swear if I have to quote another theorem, I am going to combust.”

I felt an arm settle on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Xaden staring down at my paper, his eyes flitting left to right.

“Oh I remember this,” he murmured. “This thesis kicked my ass.”

That was saying a lot, considering just how smart I knew Xaden to be.

“Could you help me?” I asked, “I’m using a Tyrrish flight formation as an example but I cannot for the life of me remember the specifics.”

“Of course, love,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to my cheek. “I just need to take care of a couple of things this week and I’m all yours.”

“I like that sound of that,” I grinned, facing towards him.

“Do you?” The smirk that he gave me made me forget all about my paper.

I leaned in and kissed him, soft and slow and hypnotizing. I felt everything all at once, his warmth, his weight and his absence when he pulled away.

“If I stay any longer, I don’t think I’m ever going to leave,” he said quietly, like it was a secret between the two of us. 

He pulled away slowly, as if he were weighing the pros and cons in his head about staying. But in the end, he did walk towards the door. “I love you,” he said over his shoulder.

I made sure to echo the sentiment before the door slid shut with a soft click.

It was late into the night. The entire campus was quiet, except for the occasional gust of wind from my window which I kept open.

Everyone had cleared out from the night, leaving the room with the echoes of celebration and the deafening silence of Xaden’s absence.

I had been tossing and turning for the past hour, unused to sleeping alone.

Staring out into the open darkness, I could almost feel the weight of Xaden’s arm around my waist, the sensation of his hand resting on my ribcage so he could feel every inhale and exhale I made.

The complete and utter quiet of the room made the sound of the door handle turning louder than it should have been as I saw the crack of light from the open doorway bleed across the floor from my position on my side with my back to the door.

I quickly shut my eyes and slowed my breathing, pretending to be asleep.

The door slowly closed again before shutting with a soft click.

From the sounds of quiet shuffling, laces becoming undone before the thud of soles landing by the doorway, I could tell it was Xaden who had come back from his training with Violet.

The soft hiss of fabric sliding across skin was unmistakable as moments later, the covers on the opposite side of the bed was pulled back and the mattress dipped.

An arm wrapped around my waist from behind and pulled me against a bare chest. There was a rush of warm air at the base of my neck as Xaden sighed deeply, either tired, satisfied or maybe both.

I didn’t say anything, didn’t mention how much I missed his presence or how much I wanted him to just let Liam or Bodhi to train Violet. I just placed my hand on top of his and relaxed.

It wasn’t long before I started to drift off to sleep.

Weeks passed by faster and yet slower than usual. 

The days blended together in routine until every moment felt predictable and monotone.

I woke up to find the bed cold every morning, the indent of where Xaden’s body had once been found in the creases of the sheets and every time I opened the door at the end of the day, I always hoped to find him sitting at the desk or throwing daggers at the target he got last winter, but the room was always dark, always cold, always empty.

I felt his absence constantly, the weight of his gaze when I got ready, the kiss we shared after lunch before we parted ways for the rest of the day, reading together in the evening before sleeping — it was all gone with a simple decision, a singular choice to sacrifice time for the greater good.

I could feel it in how my appetite would disappear days on end, my fork pushing my food around on my plate while the chatter of the hall was reduced to buzzing around me.

I ran my tongue over my teeth, trying to muster the incentive to eat, but my stomach turned just thinking about it.

I could see the concerned looks the rest of the group gave me, then at the empty seat beside me, then the empty seat of a first year table a couple back.

I could almost hear Xaden’s voice in my mind. He would take an apple from his plate, skin it, slice it and offer me the smallest piece first.

“Eat,” he’d say and I’d take the slice, because I’d try for him even if sometimes my body would reject it later.

My eyes went to the apple that I had cut on my plate — none of the slices seemed manageable right now.

I pushed the plate away and stood up wordlessly, going to get a glass of water.

I passed by the first year table, a noticeable seat empty beside one of the cadets.

“Where’s Violet?” One of the first years said as I walked past.

“Training with Riorson,” another replied.

“Sure. ‘Training’.” the first year replied. “They’re just making out in the gym and no one is going to stop them because it’s Xaden fucking Riorson.”

It shouldn’t have affected me the way it did, yet my steps hesitated as I retrieved my glass of water, my hands shaking just the slightest bit as I tipped the pitcher.

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

“Apparently, they’re on shaky terms — Violet brought her up once and all of her questions were answered with one word.”

I picked up the cup, the weight of it heavier than normal in my hands and started walking back to the table.

“So is he bored of her or something?”

“Violet told me last night, she and Riorson were apparently training late and he ended up on top of her, she swears he looked at her lips. Just imagine the tension.”

I diverted my path, placing the glass down on the first year’s table before heading towards the door.

I could hear someone mumble “oh shit” behind me as I walked briskly out of the dining hall.

I didn't know where I was going, just focused on the sound of my boot steps echoing as the chattering of the dining hall faded away at my back.

The sun was beginning to set, the golden rays warming my skin and then shadow cooling it as I passed by windows in the hall.

Sound was irrelevant, my surroundings past five feet of me were irrelevant, not when my stomach was churning from how fast my mind was racing.

Is he bored of her?

They’re on shaky terms.

It wasn’t that people knew details about our relationship, it was that the details were true. We were on shaky grounds, he was training with Violet last night.

So if those rumors were true, what about everything else?

Guilt and anxiety and fear swirled in my gut, my hands starting to shake uncontrollably.

I leaned against the nearest wall, trying to breathe and gather myself.

Since entering Basgiath, I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt this weak, this vulnerable. I clenched my hands into fists, trying to stop the shaking.

I stayed there until I felt like I wasn’t going to retch and my legs weren’t going to give out under me.

Senses came back to me in fragments — the ground beneath my feet, solid and real, the stone wall underneath my fingertips, rough and textured, the sound of grunts and blows landing nearby.

When my head finally cleared, I recognized where I was.

The entrance to the sparring gym was beside me, the sounds of combat traversing through the open doorway.

I walked over and leaned against the threshold, surveying the room.

Most of Violet’s squad was there for the evening, the gym borrowed by their section leader. 

Most were working on basics, manoeuvers with different weapons than just a sword, ways to get out of a headlock, simple.

Then one by one their attention was drawn to a spar taking place in the middle of the gym, where my own attention had gone as soon as I saw it.

Xaden and Garrick were caught in the middle of combat. Their shirts were discarded somewhere, exposing every upper body muscle flexing and rippling as they exchanged punches, kicks and blows.

It was hypnotizing — no hesitation, only brutal and ruthless focus. 

Eventually a good chunk of men and women had stopped their spar to stare at the pair, their jaws dropped and their gaze tinted with more than just admiration and awe.

Usually I wouldn’t mind, a hint of pride blooming in my chest at the fact that I knew how it felt to have those muscles flex under my touch, to have that unwavering focus on me while others could only daydream. 

But as I looked around the room and saw Violet was part of the oglers, a pang of hurt, but one that I expected in a way shot through me. 

I backed away before anyone could notice me at the door and could spread more rumors that had already circulated.

The thing about being with Xaden was that while people were physically attracted to him, his reputation scared anyone off willing to dare — but Violet? Violet would dare. And while I had unwavering faith that Xaden wouldn’t make any advances on her, I was scared that his heart would move on to her.

I remembered when his presence felt like a guarantee, a promise, a home that I could always go back to. Now it felt more like a miracle than anything else, a dream, a wish.

Fuck I missed him. I missed waking up to him kissing me awake, his soft smile when I would run my fingers through his hair, the wicked little smirk when I would best him in a sparring match. I missed having him as my lover, my best friend, my confidant.

My heart squeezed in my chest and I felt it through my whole body, leaving me to wonder when or even if it was going to stop.

Xaden was tired, so fucking tired.

“Again,” he said, dropping Violet’s fist from where he had caught it.

“I’m never going to get it,” Violet complained, the words sounding whiny in his ears as her shoulders slouched in defeat.

He was tempted to agree, to call the training off and go back to his room, back to her — back to arms that felt like sanctuary, back to the laugh that Xaden would willingly drown in.

“You are,” he said, his voice sounding more unconvincing the more he said it. “You just have to practice. Again.”

Violet begrudgingly took her offensive stance again, raising her fist loosely before aiming a punch at his shoulder.

He caught it immediately, frustration bubbling up to the surface. “Are you even trying, Violet?”

Violet frowned, obvious hurt flashing in her eyes. “Of course I am.”

“You’re not,” Xaden inclined. “This is the fourth time I’ve told you this, your power comes from your hips, you have to rotate them to get your force.”

“Could you show me again?” Violet asked. “Guide me through the movement?”

He had to mentally stop himself from punching the nearest object, taking a second to collect himself before he did something he would regret.

“You know the movement,” he said slowly, enunciating every syllable. “You think I don’t know you’re stalling?”

“I’m n—”

“My agreement with your mother specified that I would try to help you survive here at Basgiath, not succeed,” Xaden interjected, the darkness outside of the windows becoming all the more reminder of how late it was getting. “If you don’t start learning the things I’m teaching you, I can’t prevent you from getting your neck snapped on the mat in a week, which, trust me, is going to be inconvenient for the both of us.”

Violet’s face lit up. “You think my life is valuable?”

Xaden understood what she was fishing for, he understood what she was trying to accomplish, which only served to frustrate him more.

“Your death will be something your mother will lord over my head for the rest of my life, which is something I do not look forward to,” he dropped her fist. “Again.”

Violet took a step back, shaking out her hand before muttering. “This is not what I planned would happen tonight.”

“And what exactly did you have planned for tonight?” Xaden sighed.

“A different type of rigorous activity,” Violet shot back. “I mean with all of the signs—”

“What. Signs.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t see it,” Violet crossed her arms, seeming frustrated for his being… what? Uncooperative? “I mean when I explained it to Rhi, she seemed to see the tension just fine—”

Xaden pinched the bridge of his nose. “What have you been saying about us, Violet?”

“That we have something, that we belonged together, I mean when Rhi told Ridoc, he thought that we had something too. I mean basically everyone thinks that we make out when we’re training.”

Xaden paused, his intuition telling him that something about the sentence was wrong. “Define ‘everyone’.”

“I don’t know, Xaden,” she said, exasperated beyond anything else, “maybe some other squads but nothing too— Hey!”

Before she even finished the sentence, Xaden was striding out of the room, one clear intent in mind.

If Violet had implied that she and him had been… involved — oh gods, what if Y/N had heard?

Concern and alarm rattled in his mind as he made his way to the dormitories. If she had heard the rumors, it would fucking eat at her.

And damn him if he let her spiral on her own.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?”

He didn’t need to shout, the wind carried his voice well enough.

I dangled my feet, the valley below seeming bottomless in the night. I knew he’d find me eventually, and there wasn’t another way I could think of to earn an opportunity to talk.

“You weren’t there when I went back to our room and when I asked Garrick, he told me that the last time he saw you was at dinner and that you didn’t eat at all. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” 

By the time I had stood up, Xaden had caught up to me on the Parapet.

The wind swept through his hair as it no doubt did to mine, sweeping through the stands and brushing against his forehead.

I had to catch myself on the instinct to brush it back.

“So you do go to our room,” I replied, trying to mask every single emotion battering in my mind that I have been contemplating in my mind for the past hour.

“What?” His eyes were wild — frustrated, concerned, scared.

“I almost thought you didn’t, considering that you never seem to inhabit it anymore.”

His eyes softened, his hands reaching out for me. “Y/N, please, can we just talk when we’re both on solid ground—”

“No,” I interjected. “If we get off the Parapet, you’re probably going to walk away from me again and I can’t take that chance. I need you here, now, so we’re not getting off the walkway of doom until you’ll listen to me.”

His hands stopped before they could touch me. He looked tired and a part of me felt guilty for being difficult, but I couldn’t afford to have him disappear again.

“Love, I’d never walk away from you,” Xaden said softly and I believed him, I really did.

“But you’re not walking towards me either,” I countered and my voice cracked as I wrestled with my emotions, to keep them down.

I thought I could do it without breaking, I somehow thought I could look him in the eyes and tell him everything I had been thinking, but it made it ten-times harder when I looked and saw my own devastation reflected back at me.

“Whenever I want you there, or I need you there, it’s always Garrick or Liam instead when it feels wrong without you. I know it sounds petty and selfish, but I haven’t been alone with you in weeks. I miss you so fucking much it hurts, Xaden. It hurts that you’ve been away for so long that I don’t expect to see you at dinner anymore. It hurts that I can’t tell you every little thing I saw that day that reminded me of you.”

He didn’t say a word, but somehow that made it worse. He just reached out and gently brushed his fingers against mine, I didn’t stop him but I didn’t react either when he took my hand in his.

“We don’t feel like a priority anymore, Xaden.”

He sucked in a breath, the only indication that my words had struck him.

“You will never not be a priority to me,” his voice was unwavering, solid and real and I had missed it so much. “Fuck, Y/N you’re everything. It’s just that Violet is taking forever to train and keeping her alive is like trying to get a bird to not fly into a window. I wake up every damned morning and it takes all of my control to not stay with you until you wake up and it hurts me when I come back and you’re already asleep because I didn’t get to see you smile or laugh that day. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I know,” I said and I squeezed his hand. “And I accept your apology.”

His shoulders sagged a bit at that and relief seemed to wash over him, he squeezed my hand back and took a step closer.

The breeze carried his smell, one that I more recently would bury my face in his side of the bed to catch before I started the day. It smelled like comfort and home, something I could melt into when life pressed in too hard at the edges.

“I missed you,” I confessed, the words almost too simple and yet carrying all of the weight that had stayed with me.

“I missed you too,” he murmured, lifting our joined hands to press a kiss to the inside of my wrist, then my knuckles. “Every damned second.”

I let myself breathe, inhale and exhale as I felt relief wash away my own paranoia. 

He leaned in, ever so slowly — a question to which I answered without hesitation.

My heart almost gave out when my lips met his for the first time in months. The touch was like coming home, soft and sweet and oh so right.

“You’ve tried,” you deadpan, mentally cursing yourself for caving and responding; he’s like a fucking dog with a bone. 

“And yet,” he whispers, leaning in like he’s telling you a secret. “We’ve yet to do anything about it.”

“There won’t be anything done about it.”

“About what?” 

You pause to look at the idiot. He stops too, smiling at you unbothered by the bodies of other cadets who have to navigate around the two of you in the hallway. 

“About the undeniable chemistry,” you drawl. 

It was clearly a trap—the bastard's brows rising victoriously. “So, you feel it too, huh? I knew it. You like playing hard to get, gorgeous?” 

“For the love of Amari, you are unbelievable,” you groan, barely restraining yourself from stomping your foot petulantly as you pivot and continue towards the classroom. 

Ridoc seamlessly falls into step with you. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“It sure sounded like one.”

You shoulder your way through the door of the lecture hall and descend the stairs to find a seat. Your shadow is hot on your tail and ready to take the empty seat beside the one you stop at, only to come up short and frown down at your bag as you unceremoniously dump it there. 

“What do you want, Gamlyn?”

You hear the telltale huff of a thoroughly unimpressed dragon in the back of your mind—which you translate to something along the lines of don’t play dumb, Stubborn One—that you do your best to ignore.

“Uhm, to act on this thing going on between us, obviously.” A man truly has no right looking so good while being so obnoxious.

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

Ridoc’s dark eyes flash in excitement, a dimple appearing as he smirks at you. “Not yet, maybe.”

“Get over it,” you huff, slamming down into your chair and readying your notebook for class to start. “It’s not happening.” 

He heaves a sigh as he steps around you and takes the seat on your other side. 

“Fine, but can I at least ask why?” 

You look over at him, really look. 

There’s an unruly curl that insists on hanging over his forehead despite him constantly pushing it back, still a touch damp from whatever shower he took after sparring this morning. His tanned skin looks like it’d be warm to the touch, as though perpetually sun-kissed despite it being notoriously cloudy lately. His lashes are dark and long and, dammit, Ridoc is pretty. 

He’s pretty and distracting and insistent and strong and loyal and you have no doubt he’d be so much fun. 

But…

“You don’t get told no a lot, do you?” 

His eyes flash down to your shoulder for a moment before they return to your eyes. “No, not really.”

“Fine.” You turn your focus to the front of the room, watching as Professor Devera enters and sets up at the podium. “You want to know why it isn’t going to happen?”

“Please.”

Fuck, and now he’s begging. 

“Because I have no interest in being just another notch on your bedpost.” 

The silence that meets you leaves you thinking the conversation might finally—blissfully—be over. 

So why does that thought leave your stomach feeling hollow? 

“Oh,” Ridoc hums. “I see.” 

You let out a sigh, still not looking at him. “Yeah.” 

“So you want to be a notch, just not another.”

“I- what?”

“Hey, no judgement, I can work with that.” He’s smiling again; one dimple mocks you as he too moves his attention forward, watching Colonel Markham enter the room to join the professor at the front. “I have to admit, I’m not usually a relationship kind of guy. But for you? I can make an exception.”

Your mind has stuttered to a complete halt, only a faint sound of amusement coming from your dragon among the eerie ringing that has replaced the sound of the quickly filling classroom. 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Ridoc turns and grins—grins!—at you. “You don’t want to be just another notch on my bedpost? I’ll replace the whole frame. Brand new, just for you. I’ll take up fucking carpentry and build it myself if that’s what you’d like.” 

All you can bring yourself to do is shake your head, as if rattling around Ridoc’s words in your brain will make them settle into something that makes sense. “You’re crazy.”

His grin grows impossibly wider. “Crazy about you.”

“Ew.”

“What? Too cheesy? Okay, I’ll dial it back. Sorry, new to this whole exclusive thing.”

 “Who’s exclusive?” Rhiannon asks as she takes the seat on your other side.

“We are!” Ridoc answers for you, slapping a hand on your thigh.

You flick his hand away, turning towards your new seatmate to deny it all when Rhiannon sighs happily. “Thank gods! Fucking finally, he hasn’t shut the hell up about you in weeks, you know?”

What…the fuck? 

“Oh, Ridoc?” Violet chimes in from Rhiannon’s other side. “His dorm room’s been so disturbingly quiet lately, I thought we were going to have to do a wellness check.”

Rhiannon snorts. “For the love of Loial though, please learn how to sound proof your room.”

But your brain must have taken some serious damage during sparring that you can’t remember because not only have you still not figured out how the hell this conversation ended up here of all places, but the only thing you manage to focus on—and parrot weakly—is, “weeks?” 

Ridoc’s thigh presses into yours as Devera calls the class to attention, the rider’s grin downright wicked as he leans over and whispers loud enough so only you can hear.

“Oh, haven’t you heard? The roster’s been cleared for weeks, babe. I’ve been waiting for you.”

quinn watches from the kitchen chest warm.

the party’s where it really hits him.

it’s late when y/n brings jack home. quinn and luke hear the door before they see them. jack leaning heavy against her, laughing under his breath over something she said.

“easy,” she says, steadying him. “we’re home.”

she gets him inside, shutting the door behind her with her foot. jack stops walking suddenly, turning toward her like he’s just remembered something important.

“wait,” he slurs. “i love you. like, sooooo much.”

she laughs softly. “okay, buddy.”

“noooo, like i’m so serious. i’m really lucky to have you in my life, the best sister i could’ve asked for.”

“i love you too jack, now let’s get you up to bed.”

quinn freezes.

luke looks over at him, then back at y/n, watching the way she smiles and smooths jack’s hair.

“he’s not wrong,” luke says quietly. “we are lucky.”

jack nods like that settles his point, then lets y/n guide him down the hall.

quinn doesn’t say anything until later, when the house is quiet and they’re sitting outside on the porch.

“they needed you,” he says finally.

she tilts her head smiling. “yeah? and about you?”

“i’ll always need you, there’s no hesitation in that.”

she reaches for his hand as quinn laces their fingers together. “and i’ll always need you guys,”

she doesn’t just love his family.

The sun has caught on his chest now, warm over the broad solid stretch, over the faint dusting of hair there, the hard line of his stomach, the muscle in his arm where it’s bent behind his head. 

His curls are a mess from saltwater and his own hand, drying darker at the ends, and there’s a stripe of sunscreen along one shoulder he definitely hasn’t rubbed in properly because Garrett Graham can manage a power play under pressure, but clearly needs supervision with SPF.

She’s taking this supervisory role very seriously from where she’s sprawled halfway across him in a bikini that had made him go silent for one extremely satisfying second when she walked out of the bathroom that morning.

Tiny little thing. Soft pink, because she’s predictable and also because Garrett’s eyes had dropped to the ties at her hips like he’d briefly forgotten how language worked, which felt like excellent value for money. 

Now the fabric is warm from the sun, the little strings pressing faint marks into her skin, one leg tangled over his, her cheek tucked into the damp-warm place where his shoulder meets his neck.

His hand moves slowly over her back. Up, then down. Fingertips dragging from the clasp of her bikini top to the curve of her waist, then back again, not with any real agenda beyond touching because he can. Every pass makes her feel heavier in the nicest way, like her bones have quietly resigned from holding her up and decided Garrett’s chest can handle it.

“You’re gonna get bad tan lines,” he murmurs, voice low and rough from sun and not moving much.

She doesn’t open her eyes. “Don’t care.”

“You say that now.”

“Mhm.”

“Then tonight you’re gonna stand in front of the mirror and blame me.”

She smiles against his neck, nose brushing the warm salt of his skin. “That does sound like me.”

“It does.” His fingers pause at the middle of her back, then scratch lightly, slow little lines that make her shoulders loosen. “I’m just saying, I can already hear it. Garrett, you let me nap like this. Garrett, my back looks insane. Garrett, you’re a terrible boyfriend.”

“You’re a terrible boyfriend,” she lies.

He huffs, and she feels it under her cheek more than hears it. “Baby, I brought you to the beach.”

“You forgot snacks.”

“I bought you breakfast.”

“That was hours ago.”

“It was forty minutes ago.”

“Mhm. Neglect.”

Garrett’s laugh comes out soft and warm, one of the little ones he does when he’s too relaxed to make it a whole performance. His hand slides up her spine again, slower this time, then over the back of her neck, his thumb finding the place just under her jaw. “You’re dramatic.”

She lifts her head barely enough to look at him, chin still close to his shoulder. “You knew that before you made me your girlfriend.”

His eyes soften in a way that makes the joke catch somewhere between them. Dark and amused and too handsome under all that beach light, with the corner of his mouth tilted like he’s trying not to look as pleased as he is. “Mmm,” he says. “I did.”

The gulls scream somewhere down the sand. A family packs up near the access stairs, umbrellas collapsing, towels being snapped out, kids whining with the specific devastation of people being removed from water before they’ve become fully amphibious. 

After they leave, the beach goes even quieter. Half-empty and sun-bleached, waves folding in low and lazy, the air smelling like salt and coconut sunscreen and chips that she hadn't stopped thinking about.

Garrett’s hand comes to her jaw properly, his fingers warm and sandy at the edge of her face. “C’mere.”

“I’m here.”

“Closer.”

“I really don’t think that’s possible.”

He grins, lazy and golden and so Garrett it makes something in her stomach do an extremely annoying little flip. “Try.”

She rolls her eyes, but she lets him guide her anyway, lets his hand tip her face up until his mouth finds hers. The kiss is slow because there’s nowhere to be. Because no one’s waiting on him. Because nobody in the world needs Garrett Graham for anything right now except her, and she only needs him in this soft, greedy, sun-warmed way.

His lips are warm, a little salty, his mouth curved for the first second like he’s still smiling. Then she hums against him and he stops smiling enough to kiss her properly, tongue brushing hers in a lazy little stroke that makes her fingers curl against his chest. 

His hand stays at her jaw, thumb tucked near her cheek, the other sliding down to settle at the bare skin of her waist like he has to hold her there even though she’s very clearly not going anywhere.

She kisses him until the sun feels hotter behind her closed eyes, until her breath gets mixed up with his, until the whole beach becomes the sound of waves and Garrett’s hand and the slow drag of his thumb along her skin. 

Then she pulls back just enough to brush her nose against his, mouth still hovering near his. “This is nice,” she murmurs.

Garrett’s eyes stay half-lidded for a second. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She shifts a little higher on his chest, her knee pressing into the towel beside his hip, not caring that sand is absolutely getting everywhere. “You’re less annoying when there’s no one around to witness you.”

He smiles. “That’s not true.”

“It is. You’re, like, almost peaceful.”

“Almost?”

“I don’t want you getting cocky.”

“Too late.” His hand moves over her back again, palm broad and warm between her shoulder blades. “But yeah. We should do this more often.”

Something about the way he says it makes her look at him properly, like his life has room in it for a quiet beach and her body tucked against his and an afternoon where nobody has to compete for space.

Her chest goes a little soft around the edges. She hides most of it by dropping her face back into his neck. “Mhm,” she murmurs, lips brushing his skin. “We should.”

Garrett’s arm closes around her, firmer now, pulling her in until she’s fully draped over him and he can tuck his mouth against her hair. “You still hungry?”

She smiles into his throat. “Starving.”

“Neglected,” he says solemnly.

“Deeply.”

“Alright.” He makes no move to get up. His hand keeps scratching gently at her back. “Five more minutes, then I’ll feed you.”

She melts heavier against him, eyes closing again. “Ten.”

“Eight.”

“Twelve.”

“That’s not how negotiating works.”

“It is when you love me.”

She feels his smile press into her hair, soft and private and unbearably warm. “Guess it is,” he murmurs. 

❄︎ ❄︎ ❄︎

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-> 𝐛.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘔𝘠 𝘩𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 @𝘺_𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢

𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘱𝘦𝘢🫶🏼

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤_𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴🤤 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘦𝘮

-> 𝐮𝐫.𝐟𝐚𝐯.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘧𝘵 😚@𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬_𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘴

-> 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤_𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬 𝘔𝘠 𝘎𝘐𝘙𝘓❤️ @𝘶𝘳.𝘧𝘢𝘷.𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬

𝐞𝐦.𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡 𝘱𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘶 𝘬𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘵

-> 𝐮𝐫.𝐟𝐚𝐯.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘦𝘮 𝘪 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 😭 @𝘦𝘮.𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘩

-> 𝐛.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘯 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 @𝘶𝘳.𝘧𝘢𝘷.𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬

-> 𝐞𝐦.𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐡 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘠𝘌𝘛😼 @𝘶𝘳.𝘧𝘢𝘷.𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦

_________________________________________________

𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝐲_𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚, 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐮𝐫.𝐟𝐚𝐯.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞.𝐯.𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧, 𝐣.𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭, 𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐬 & 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴

𝐛.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦

. . . .

𝐣.𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘬?

-> 𝐛.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 @𝘫.𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘵

-> 𝐣.𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘦…𝘪’𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 @𝘣.𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬

-> 𝐛.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘋𝘖 𝘕𝘖𝘛 @𝘫.𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘵

𝐲_𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

-> 𝐮𝐫.𝐟𝐚𝐯.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴🤤🍝 @𝘺_𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘢 𝘪 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦

𝐮𝐫.𝐟𝐚𝐯.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 😚💗

-> 𝐛.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 ❤️ @𝘶𝘳.𝘧𝘢𝘷.𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬

For hours, a chaotic agony was ripping through your lower back and abdomen.

Frank laced his fingers lightly through yours. He had explicitly stepped away from the charts today to just be your partner. Yet, you could feel the slight tremor in his hand, see the rigid set of his shoulders, and read the quiet dread masking his handsome features.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart," he murmured. He used his free hand to brush a damp strand of hair from your forehead.

"Frank, something... something feels wrong," you gasped, your voice breaking as another contraction peaked. It wasn’t just the blinding pain of childbirth; a deep sickness was blooming in the pit of your stomach. A wave of intense nausea hit you, making your head spin violently. "I feel really sick. Like... I'm going to vo-vomit or pass out."

Frank’s eyes flicked briefly to the monitors, his medical brain instantly calculating, but he consciously forced it down. He was on boyfriend duty today. He had to trust his colleagues. "It’s the transition phase, baby. Nausea, feeling overwhelmed, thinking you can't do it, remember? Completely normal."

The attending nurse entered, checking the monitors and offering a comforting nod. "Dr. Langdon is right. It's totally normal to feel sick at this stage. You're doing great, mom."

But it didn't feel normal. It felt like your body was collapsing in on itself.

When the time came to push, the room was filled with sharp commands and agonizing effort. You cried out as the final wave of pressure took over. And then, the sharp cry of your baby cut through the room.

Frank let out a breath that sounded like a sob, leaning down to press a kiss to your sweating temple. "It's a boy, baby."

They placed the crying newborn on your chest, but instead of the overwhelming rush of warmth you had expected, a violent chill swept through your veins.

Your teeth began to chatter. Not a mild shiver, but an uncontrollable rattling.

"F- Frank..." you wheezed, your arms trembling so violently you could barely hold your son. The nurse quickly and gently took the baby from your chest, sensing the sudden shift in the room's energy.

"I've got him, it's okay," the nurse said, her voice losing its casual warmth.

"I'm... I'm cold," you whispered, your jaw locking as a severe tremor racked your entire upper body. Sweat was pouring down your face, but you were freezing from the inside out. Your vision began to vignette. "I, I don't feel well."

Frank’s hand went to your forehead. The instant his palm touched your skin, his expression shattered. You were burning up.

As a doctor, he knew exactly what the combination of severe tremors, a sudden fever, and your fading color meant. But as your boyfriend, as a new father, he was completely paralyzed by the sheer terror of it. He forced himself to step back physically, refusing to interfere with the attending medical team, knowing he was too emotionally compromised to touch a single instrument.

The attending doctor moved quickly, lifting the sheets. The moment they did, the atmosphere in the room turned to ice.

"We have a postpartum hemorrhage," the doctor announced sharply. "Get a new line open, hang oxytocin, and get me two units of packed red cells on standby. Now! Move!"

Your eyes fluttered, heavy and uncooperative. Through the fog, you saw Frank. Right now, he was a man staring down his worst nightmare, completely at the mercy of the doctors swarming around you.

"Frank? What is happening?" you whimpered, your body violently jerking from the tremors. You felt a terrifying emptiness spreading inside you, a numbness creeping up your legs.

"It's okay, I'm here," he said, his voice cracking as he leaned over you. He poured all of his energy into you.

"I'm scared."

"Hey, hey, they're taking care," he said but he squeezed his eyes shut for a fraction of a second, swallowing down the medical terminology screaming in his head, choosing instead to just hold you. "Let them do their jobs. Look at me. You're okay."

It was a nightmare: the clatter of medical instruments, the frantic shouting of orders from the medical team, the alarm of the vitals monitor as your blood pressure plummeted.

The chaos in the room escalated. Frank knew the meaning of the rapid shallow breaths you were taking. He knew what it meant when the monitor's alarm shifted from a warning beep to a continuous whine.

"Blood pressure is dropping!" the attending doctor called out, his voice tense. "We need to move. Call the OR, tell them we’re coming down right now. Postpartum hemorrhage, secondary to uterine atony, suspected shock."

The words floated over Frank, each one hitting him like a physical blow. He didn't argue. He just gripped your hand tighter, his knuckles stark white, his chest heaving as he tried to swallow down a sob.

"F-Frank..." your voice was barely a breath now. The violent tremors were starting to exhaust your muscles, leaving you weak and dangerously still. The fever burned against his palms. "Babyboy?"

"He's safe, sweetheart. He's right here in the nursery, he's perfect," Frank lied smoothly. He hadn't even looked at the bassinet; his eyes hadn't left your face for a single second. "He's okay but I need you to stay with me, okay? He's waiting for you."

The bed brakes clicked and made you flinch.

"Dr. Langdon, we have to move her now," a nurse said gently.

"I'm staying until the double doors," Frank said.

During the sprint down the hallway, Frank walked briskly alongside you, practically running backward, his body hunched over yours to stay in your line of sight.

"Hey, we'll be waiting for you," he said.

You tried to hold onto his gaze, but your eyelids felt like lead. And the fever made everything spin. "I love you," you whispered, the words slipping out just as the world began to completely fade.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Then came the sound of the double doors of the surgical suite. The doors swung shut, the small square windows offering a brief glimpse of the blue surgical scrubs before you were wheeled around the corner, completely out of sight.

The heavy double doors of the surgical suite remained firmly shut.

For a long moment, Frank stayed collapsed against the corridor wall.

Then, a distant cry echoed from down the hall, snapping him out of his trance.

Frank forced himself to his feet. He sanitized his hands automatically with the hand sanitizer outside the neonatal unit before stepping into the quiet lit of the nursery.

A nurse looked up, her eyes filled with deep sympathy. "Dr. Langdon... she’s in good hands down there. Do you want to hold him?"

Frank couldn't speak. He just nodded, numbed by the sheer weight of everything happening at once. The nurse gently lifted the small baby from the incubator and transferred him into Frank’s arms.

The moment the baby's weight settled against his chest, Frank’s breath hitched. He sat down in a nearby chair, his eyes locked onto the tiny pink face peering up at him.

The baby had stopped crying, settling instantly against his father's warmth, his tiny hands tucked up near his chin.

Frank looked at the baby’s features, a fresh wave of emotion crashing over him.

"Hey there," Frank whispered. He brought his shaking hand up, using the side of his index finger to gently stroke the baby’s impossibly soft cheek. "You're really beautiful... you know that?"

Frank let out a watery breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he looked closer.

"You got your mom's nose," he murmured, his voice cracking. He leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against the baby’s tiny head, inhaling the sweet new scent of him. "The exact same nose. You look so much like her already."

The baby made a snuffling sound, shifting slightly in his grip. Frank tightened his arms around him, holding him close.

"Mom is in surgery right now," Frank whispered. "She... she got really sick, really fast. But she’s fighting. She’s so strong. And we're just gonna wait for her up here, okay? Just you and me. We’re gonna wait right here."

Frank looked back down into his son's eyes, his expression softening into some intensely fierce, fierce with a father's protective love.

"You're gonna be good to her, hm?" Frank said, his thumb gently caressing the baby's tiny hand. "When she gets back, we are gonna protect mama. No matter what. We're gonna take care of her, yeah?"

The baby let out a tiny sigh, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, completely safe in his father's arms.

Frank kept rocking him, staring at the door, holding onto his son and praying with everything he had for the heavy double doors downstairs to open.

_

You slowly blinked your eyes open, the heavy fog of the anesthesia finally lifting. You still felt incredibly weak, your muscles sore and your body entirely exhausted from the trauma, but the burning fever and the chills were completely gone.

The first thing you felt was the warm of Frank’s hand holding yours.

He was sitting in the chair right beside your bed, hunched forward, his eyes fixed entirely on your face. He looked exhausted, but the moment he saw your eyes flutter open and focus on him, the crushing tension in his shoulders completely vanished.

"Hey," he whispered. "Welcome back, baby."

You looked up at him, then searched for your baby. He was beside your bed. Your eyes met Frank’s again. The relief on his face was palpable, but beneath it, you could still see the lingering shadows of the terror he had carried for hours.

"Hi, love," you whispered, your voice a little raspy. "What... what happened?"

"You had a postpartum hemorrhage," he explained. "Your uterus didn't contract down the way it was supposed to. It’s called uterine atony. Because of that, you started bleeding very heavily, very quickly."

You nodded slowly. "The shaking..."

"That was your body going into shock from the blood loss," Frank murmured, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. "It’s a systemic response. They moved you to the OR to stabilize you. The surgeons did an incredible job. They stopped the bleed, got your vitals back up, and made sure you were safe."

"Is... Is he...?"

"Our boy is perfect," Frank said quickly. He stood up and moved over to the clear bassinet beside the bed. With gentle hands, he lifted the swaddled bundle, supporting the baby's head as he brought him over to you. "Look at him. He’s just been waiting for his mama."

Frank carefully adjusted your pillows, helping you shift into a comfortable position, making sure not to strain your abdomen. He placed the baby gently into your arms, guiding your hand to hold him securely against your chest.

Meeting your son for the first time, a tear slipped down your cheek. He was so tiny, so perfect, completely unaware of the storm you had all just weathered.

He looked so much like Frank, but with the tiny features Frank had whispered about in the nursery.

A soft knock on the door broke the quiet and a nurse stepped into the room. "Knock, knock. I see mom is awake. How are we feeling?"

"Tired," you admitted weakly, looking down at the baby, who was starting to root around against your hospital gown. "Can I feed him? Although I'm.. weak."

"That is completely understandable given what your body went through," the nurse said gently, walking over to the opposite side of the bed. "And yes, you can."

Frank immediately moved to give the nurse room. He didn't step in with medical instructions; he just watched you with pure adoration, completely content to let the nurse guide you.

The nurse deftly used a few extra pillows to prop up your elbows, taking the weight of the baby off your exhausted muscles. "Let's try a cross cradle hold since you're resting," she murmured, gently showing you how to guide the baby's head. She helped you get your son positioned, showing you how to wait for him to open his mouth.

"There you go," the nurse encouraged softly as the baby latched on perfectly. A sucking sound filled the room. "He’s got a great latch. You're doing wonderful."

The nurse gave your leg a reassuring pat, smiled at Frank and quietly slipped out of the room to give you three some privacy.

You looked down at the tiny miracle cradled against you. Slowly, you raised your hand, your fingertips tracing the soft curve of his cheek.

"Hi, beautiful boy," you whispered, your voice laced with awe. "Hi... I'm your mama. I'm so sorry I scared you."

The baby made a tiny grunting noise, adjusting his latch, his little fist pressing firmly against your chest.

"You are so strong, aren't you?" you murmured softly, a tear of pure happiness escaping your eye and tracking down your face. "You waited for me. Thank you for waiting for me, sweet boy. We're gonna be okay now. I promise. Mama's right here."

Frank watched the two of you, his chest heaving as a wave of intense emotion hit him. Hearing your voice wrap around your son for the first time broke him. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away the tear that had traced down your cheek, before leaving his hand to rest against your face, his palm warm and steady.

"You''re so beautiful," Frank whispered, his eyes glassy as he looked between you and your son.

"I'm okay. We're okay," you whispered back, looking up into his eyes, seeing the dad and the partner who had held onto you through the worst of it.

"Yeah," Frank breathed, a smile finally breaking across his face as he looked down at his son nursing. "We've got her, buddy. We're gonna take care of mama."

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