#supportive relationship

How You Met

Phainon first notices you during a late-night study session in the library. He’s there to return a book on medieval swordplay, but your intense focus on a poetry anthology catches his eye.

You’re surprised when he sits down beside you and asks for help understanding a metaphor. Despite his confident exterior, he genuinely wants to get better at appreciating literature, and you love nerding out with him.

Phainon is outgoing, physically active, and thrives in social settings, while you prefer quiet, intimate spaces and deep conversations.

He helps you loosen up—inviting you to casual campus events and showing you fencing moves (which you find both hilarious and impressive).

You ground him, encouraging moments of reflection, introducing him to the beauty of poetry, and helping him focus his restless energy.

Relationship Dynamics

Phainon’s Protective Side: He’s fiercely protective but also incredibly gentle with you. After a long day, he might text to check if you ate or offer to bring you coffee during finals week.

You’re His Calm: When the pressure of sports or social expectations weighs on him, you’re his quiet refuge, the one who listens without judgment and encourages him to be true to himself.

Cheering Each Other On: He shows up at your literature readings or presentations, the loudest and proudest fan in the room. You attend his fencing matches, quietly cheering and taking notes on his techniques.

Playful Competitions: Sometimes, Phainon challenges you to friendly debates on who’s more strategic—the mind or the muscle. Spoiler: they’re both champions.

He writes your initials on his wristband for luck before a big match, and you catch him blushing when you notice.

You teach him how to write haikus, and he surprises you with a poem about strength and perseverance, inspired by your late-night study grind.

When campus throws a themed dance, Phainon insists you go with him, promising to slow dance even though it’s “not his style.”

He casually wraps his arm around your shoulders in the quad, claiming you as his “favorite bookworm.”

Phainon struggles with the pressure to always be “the best,” but you remind him it’s okay to have off days.

You sometimes feel overshadowed in social scenes but find confidence in Phainon’s unwavering support and genuine admiration for your intellect.

Together, you learn to balance both your worlds—athletics and academia—with respect, patience, and a lot of humor.

She accidentally bumps into me, interrupting my internal musing. "Oops, pardon me, handsome." She looks up at me, batting her eyelashes. "Come here often? Can't say I've seen you around these parts before," she teases in a fake old Western movie accent.

I love the way her smile reaches her eyes. The way she keeps things light and fun. The embodiment of pure sunshine.

"No, ma'am. I'm new in town. I hardly ever do the dishes, so I'm told," I retort playfully in character.

"Well, I could show you around, if you'd like."

Unable to resist any longer, I lean down to kiss her, only to be met with heckling from our own kids who tried to sneak in behind us for a snack.

"Eww, gross!" they shout, mimicking retching sounds.

I break away to laugh and spare them from further embarrassment, but she throws her arms around my neck and pulls me down, peppering my face with kisses and exaggerated "mwah" noises to get even more of a rise out of them.

As the kids run out of the room, she looks up at me again, cheeks flushed and out of breath from laughing at her own shenanigans. I set my hands on her hips and pull her closer to stare into her eyes, amazed at just how lucky I am.

But that's the thing - I'm not. Every day is a decision. Every day is intentional. Every day I choose her. I choose us. This is the life I want.

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Masterlist

Grace could escape it when on a call, push her own pain to the back of her mind to focus on the call, the victim who needed help right that second.  But then as soon as the call was over, any shift in her chair, or standing for break time, the pain came back.  And it took no prisoners.

Grace took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ride out the current wave of pain by stretching out as far as she could in the driver’s seat.  She looked briefly at the center console, knowing that there was a bottle of acetaminophen if she needed one.  

At first, she had been on so many drugs, that her back and leg pain was an afterthought, a dull throb in the back of her mind.  And honestly, she was so overwhelmed with the idea of being pregnant and the miracle that their baby was healthy after such an accident, that she also didn’t have much time to think about her own injuries.  

But as they started to ease off the medications and she started to regularly attend physical therapy, the fog started to lift.  The pain would ebb and flow; it started with a tingling, almost buzzing sensation which would quickly morph into what felt like a never-ending burning sensation that would shoot from her lower back down her left leg.  Nerve pain, the doctor and her physical therapist explained and reassured her that it would go away in time.

Grace would really like to know when that time was going to be.  The burning sensation had finally died down enough for Grace to sit back up, quickly pulling out of her parking spot to drive home.  She had a spot on the couch that was calling her name, the sooner she got to it, the better.

XXXXX

Judd pulled into the driveway, turning off his truck and hopping out, glad that his shift aligned enough with his wife’s that they would both have the next day off together.  He instinctively looked for Grace’s car, and then seeing it also safely in the driveway, let out a small sigh of relief as he headed towards the door.  He knew it was silly, that Grace had texted him a couple of hours ago that she had gotten home, but ever since that accident, he was still leery when Grace was in her vehicle.

He was slightly surprised to find the door locked, juggling his work bag to reach the keys in his pocket.  He opened the door to a pitch black room, almost tripping over Grace’s shoes that were on the mat.  “Gracie, you home?” Judd asked quietly, wondering if maybe she had gone to bed early.  

Not hearing anything, Judd clicked on the light by the door and headed towards the bedroom.  On his way through the hallway, he spotted a strip of light emanating from the bathroom.  Judd paused.  He was tempted to knock, to check in on his wife.  But he knew that he had been a bit overbearing when she first was allowed home, and was trying to give her more independence as well.  

Judd started to head back towards the kitchen to grab a quick snack, but then an awful sound stopped him in his tracks.  A whimper.  It wasn’t loud, not at all.  But it was heartbreaking.  And it came from Grace.  

Turning around quickly, Judd rushed to the washroom, tapping lightly on the door and then entered, not bothering to wait for a response.  Grace was tucked in by the toilet, her head leaning awkwardly against the wall, a bathroom towel draped around her shoulders.  She was pale, and shivering, and the smell of vomit lingered in the air.

Quickly grabbing another bathroom towel from the shelf to drape over her legs, Judd also reached across to pour a glass of water from the sink.  Kneeling next to Grace, he helped her have a couple sips of water.  

“I guess I got too excited about skipping morning sickness,” Grace said, forcing out a small smile.

“Is that what this is?” Judd asked, confused because it was late in the evening now.

“I messaged Tommy,” Grace explained, lifting her hand up and showing Judd her phone.  “Apparently morning sickness can actually occur at all times of the day and at any point in pregnancy,” she explained, rolling her eyes.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asked, frowning at the sight of her phone.

“Because, Judd,” Grace replied abruptly, her gaze turning away from Judd.  He could see her shoulders start to shake as she began to cry, quietly at first, but then her sobs got louder.

Judd’s heart continued to break.  So he tucked himself in as close as he could, and wrapped an arm around Grace’s shoulder.  “Gracie, you know you can call me for anything, right?” he said softly, gripping her shoulder lightly.

“If I can’t handle this, how can I handle an actual baby?  I can barely walk from the office to my car without being in pain, and now I’m having to run to the washroom to throw up...how am I going to do this Judd?” Grace said angrily, slapping the toilet lid in frustration, both of them startling slightly at the loud clang it made in the small room. 

“By letting me help you,” Judd said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly.  “By letting others help you, because I’m sure Tommy offered to come over, right?” He added, tilting his head in the direction of the phone.  “And because you’re you.  There’s no way that you aren’t going to be an amazing mother, Gracie.  I can’t wait until he or she can tell you that too,” Judd said, resting his hand gently on Grace’s belly.

Grace nodded, tucking her head into Judd’s chest.  The two of them sat there for a few minutes before Judd thought he better get up before he had to call someone for help because they both got stuck in the washroom.  “How about I help you get into bed or onto the couch?  And we can set up a bucket, just in case,” Judd suggested, shaking out his legs.  At Grace’s nod, he reached over to help his wife up carefully from the bathroom floor.

“You know, you’ll be an excellent father too, Judd Ryder,” Grace added, pausing briefly at the door before continuing onto the living room.