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florencemtrash · 11 months ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Ten

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Mentions of cannon-typical violence. Azriel and Y/n have a late night conversation. Fluff and other stuff.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“Gwyn says hi by the way.”

Azriel choked on his coffee, bitter flavor rising in his throat. Nesta sauntered into the kitchen, cool eyes glaring at the back of his head. Your familiar silhouette was nowhere to be found.

Not here. His shadows whispered. With Rhys.

“Calm down you idiot.” Nesta’s voice dripped with unrestrained contempt as she poured herself a cup and sat. His tan skin glistened with sweat after his morning training session, inky tattoos splashing across his bare chest and trailing over his shoulders, down his back, and up to his neck. In the cloudy afternoon light it was difficult to tell where his shadows ended and where his tattoos began.

“Y/n’s not here. You’ll have to walk around half-naked some other time.”

Azriel winced. “That isn’t what—”

Nesta brushed him off with a wave of her hand, eyes narrowing over her mug. Azriel felt like a bug pinned down under a microscope. A crushed butterfly about to hang.

“How is Gwyn doing?” he asked gingerly, casually.

“She’s fine. Believe it or not, the world did not end when you broke up with her.”

Again he flinched. “I’m sorry, Nes,” he whispered rather pathetically.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to. But you already know that.”

There seemed to be no shortage of people he needed to apologize to: Elain, Mor, Emerie, Gwyn, even Lucien — especially Lucien. His cheeks burned to think of the absolute mess of things he’d made. Feyre had been the quickest to forgive him for the debacle with Elain and Gwyn. But as Cassian had mentioned at dinner, there was a reason everyone was staying away from the River House, and the reason was him.

Two years ago he’d challenged Lucien Vanserra to a blood duel for Elain’s hand. It had felt so right at the time, so obvious: three sisters for three brothers. But it was only when their deaths had loomed over her head with shocking reality that Elain realized what a horrible mistake she’d made. The mistake they’d made together.

“Call it off,” she’d commanded him, blocking Lucien’s bloody, heaving body. The son of Autumn’s sword had been kicked away, scraping across the rock with an eerie scream and disappearing over the cliff edge. But Elain had stayed, soft brown eyes begging, “Do this and I will never forgive you. What we did… it wasn’t right. It was a mistake.”

A mistake, she’d called it. Years of silent longing and bare bone brushes of their hands in dark hallways. All a mistake. Those words had haunted him. They’d chased him into Gwyn’s kind arms where he once again mistook the friendship he felt towards her as love and broke her heart in the process. Add that to his lackluster response to Mor’s coming out and… well he had a lot of work ahead of him.

He hoped he would be forgiven in time, but that didn’t mean he’d twiddle his thumbs until that day came. He scoured Prythian’s publishers for new releases of adventure, mystery, and romance books — the raunchier the better — and they showed up every month at Cagniv Library like clockwork. The priestesses still thought it was part of a trade bargain with the Day Court. He’d sent Elain and Lucien plenty of letters and gifts, but either they weren’t being opened or they weren’t bothering to respond. He wouldn’t blame them either way. As for Mor and Emerie, they were gone with the wind, too busy infiltrating lands and enjoying an extended honeymoon on the continent to bother with him.

That cold stillness in Nesta’s eyes transformed into pity. It was hard not to be reminded of her own failures when she looked at him. Seeing him angry. Watching him crawl into the darkest corners of himself and burn every bridge he crossed had been a shock to Nesta’s system. A plunge into freezing waters that brought pain and clarity.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Just give them time, Az. They’ll come around. If they did it for me, they’ll do it for you.” “I think our situations are rather different.”

“I don’t.”

“You didn’t try to kill anyone.”

She grimaced. “I came close.”

He stayed silent for a long while. He washed his cup. He dried it. He put it in the cupboard.

“Can you—can you please not tell Y/n?” he begged. His voice was small and quiet. He’d been a fool in the past and made terrible decisions in the name of love. Mor, Elain, and Gwyn. They’d all lived more in his mind than in his heart — people he could never fully grasp, and therefore never lose. They’d been safe. Easy.

It didn’t feel that way with you. You felt solid and warm, even if he’d only touched you once. You felt more real to him than anyone else. You felt like someone he could actually have. Which meant he could lose you before you’d even become his to lose.

“You can’t keep her in the dark forever. Not about your history, not about the bond. If you’re going to learn anything from your brothers, learn that.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I just want to get it right this time.” He had to get it right this time. “I want her to fall in love with me because she wants me, not out of some sense of obligation. I want…” I want to be worthy of her.

Nesta shook her head, a laugh escaping despite her best attempts to stifle it. Azriel looked at her like she’d gone mad.

She giggled again. “It’s funny. For a male as handsome and desirable as you, you have the worst fucking luck with women. The Mother must have a twisted sense of humor.”

Maybe she did. But Azriel was still enough of a romantic to hope that he had learned from his mistakes, and that his bad luck would end with you.

You shoved the notebook off Rhysand’s desk, loose papers flying out like uncoordinated doves.

“I told you notetaking was a futile effort.” The High Lord didn’t even look at you, too busy searching for invisible dirt beneath his manicured fingernails.

You groaned and dropped your head against the book he’d handed you two hours before.

Rhysand had to smile at your frustration. It was a wholly different experience teaching you magic compared to teaching Feyre. With Feyre, her greatest barrier had been her lack of knowledge (and her hatred of him at the time). She’d been thrust into the world of fae without preparation, but it had left her malleable and adaptable. It was like teaching a newborn how to walk — a mind that could absorb more because it knew so little.

But you knew too much. You could spout off magical theory at the drop of a hat. You were a pedagogical master with a thousand mnemonics to your name. You were the first to wake in all of Velaris, making your way to the Library before bodies could fill the streets, and you only returned when the crowds had either turned in for the night or gone out to drink until daybreak. You swallowed every history book on the Night Court, Clairvoyants, daemati, and death gods until you felt untethered from the earth — until your mind began to float outside your body, buzzing with thoughts that never went away.

But none of that mattered. Your power was an immovable object that couldn’t be controlled by logic or studying.

You shoved against that power now.

“Good,” Rhysand nodded, leaning against the window, “You’re getting better at it.”

He lingered in your mind, hovering over the depths of your emotions and memories like a bird ready to break water. It had taken some time before you felt comfortable with the intrusion. Your first lesson together, Rhysand’s presence in your mind had made it impossible to focus. Panic had seized your mind and your body until you could do nothing more than brace your hands and feet against the chair’s leather upholstery. You could have sworn you saw a head of silver hair to your left. The gentle pitter patter of rain had sounded like dripping blood.

It wasn’t like that anymore. Henna had left you with a useful skill — you could wind your consciousness around Rhysand and keep him there, suspended in that indescribable space where your thoughts lay so he could do no more damage than you permitted him.

Through your mind he felt the narrowing of your power. You imagined it like a blanket wrapped around your body, suffocating but familiar. It was this power that laced your skin and made contact with others so hard. You imagined the fabric shortening, creeping up your arms and legs, curling around your torso and squeezing like a snake. Inch by inch you tightened it around you, burying it within your chest instead of carrying it openly like a wound.

You held a music book between your hands — Nyx’s to be exact. The little Lordling showcased a certain aptitude for the piano his father could only dream of, and being as young and protected as he was, the worst kind of emotion imbued within its pages was agitation. You could hear one of the ballads written within it as clearly as if Nyx was sitting beside you plucking out the melody.

Tighter. Tighter. Tighter. You swallowed your power. Pulled what was outside inwards. Slowly but surely the music faded away until the book was as all books should be — silent.

Sweat beaded your brow. This was the most difficult part — not tuning out the music, but keeping the volume at zero.

Rhysand checked his watch. Waited. Checked it again.

You lasted thirty minutes before your power burst out along your skin once more like a thousand prickling needles. You shuddered, half-disappointed, half-grateful that you could hear the melody again.

Rhysand clapped his hands, slow and proud. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room was dangerously close to five bells. Rhysand nodded.

“Perfect timing. We’re done for today.”

“I can go for longer,” you pleaded.

“I know you can.” Rhysand pushed off the wall, polished leather boots gleaming. He was wearing his Illyrian leathers this time, the scent of wind still clinging to his skin after a visit to the northern war camps.

Old Illyria lasted thousands of years. The clans used to flow up and down the Steppes, following the tundrabeast that lay claim to those mountainous regions and were said to speak for their god Ramiel — Starbreaker, Night Herder — after whom the mountain is named. They don’t move with the cold winds anymore, even if they’ve kept their names: Ironcrest, Bloodborn, Windhaven, Seawhip, Hawkseed, Timberbane, and a dozen others. And they don’t make sacrifices, although the Blood Rite might be a close—

Rhysand rapped his knuckles on the desk to grab your attention and splayed his fingers wide. “I also know that the moment I dismiss you, you’ll scamper off to the Library to work until you can’t see straight.”

You shifted in your seat. “I like it there.”

“That’s besides the point. If you keep going at this pace you’ll burn out. Then you won’t be able to help anyone. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly. You hadn’t thought he’d noticed. “I know what it feels like to burn out and it’s not going to happen anytime soon. I promise.”

Rhysand suppressed the urgent need to roll his eyes as you gathered your things and walked out the door. “And here I thought I worked too much,” he muttered beneath his breath.

You carried Henna’s journal tucked within your new Librarian robes — black with ivory detailing and wide sleeves that narrowed at the wrists. You kept a hand on it during late nights at the Library. You ate with it propped open, black splotches swimming across the page like worms. You slept with it beneath your pillow.

But alas, it would seem the book was going to make you work to wring meaning out of every odd symbol.

You were muttering to yourself as you walked back and forth in front of the fireplace. You’d effectively commandeered one of the reading rooms on the seventh floor, leaving the library only when required for Rhysand’s lessons. Helion’s most recent letter lay open on the table with Cherp’s resting just beneath it. A map hung crooked on the wall, four athenaeums circled in bleeding red ink alongside a list of books that had gone missing — the ones that people knew about at least.

The Alcove, Ares House, Folkmen’s Bard, and most recently, Argot’s.

Three Librarians dead. Their throats slit. Blood dribbling down their burgundy robes as they’d sat hunched over their desks. The week before it had been two from Ares House caught swaying from the third floor balcony.

No one has any idea how it happened. The wards were never set off. Nothing in the Library was disrupted. I tell you this only because you deserve to know what’s happened to your people. Continue your training. Continue your research. Do whatever you need to do. But leave the court business to me, dear. I’ll write to you again when I can.

~ Helion

“It doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled, drumming your fingers against your hip where the book remained silent. “None of this makes sense.”

You’d used every ounce of Rhysand’s training on the book. You’d imagined your power sliding over it like water, fire, needles shooting through cowhide, a hammerstrike, every metaphor imaginable. You’d glared at it with an intensity that would have disintegrated a lesser object.

When that failed, you had moved onto solving the murders and thefts at your father’s court. You couldn’t content yourself with sitting in one of the cushy, high-backed chairs in Rhysand’s office sipping imported tea in porcelain cups while athenaeums were on lockdown.

The pattern was shockingly simple — Koschei was going after books that could be traced back to him. Books that might give his enemies the upper hand: folktales alluding to him and his siblings, translated texts from old Bauldish that might have proved useful in deciphering Henna’s book, secondary accounts of the age before High Lords ruled.

If you were Koschei you’d go after Godswoods next — the collection of athenaeums dedicated to religion. Then on to The Gallows — the athenaeum on death and dying. The two were intricately tied to one another, but people tended to write books on dying before coming up with explanations for what comes after. You’d spent a great deal of time there following your mother’s death, and you could picture it now — solemn black bookshelves looping around a circular room that tapered up into a point like a blade pointed to the sky.

You finished writing your letter to Helion, along with the list of books you wanted pulled from the archives. Cagniv Library may have been a glowing beacon in the Night Court, and a place of sanctuary for the priestesses, but it was nothing like you were used to.

You held the paper out in front of you, Helion’s glimmering pen tucked behind your sharp ears, and blew. The black letters lifted off the page and faded away like a breath in cold air. The message was already writing itself back into existence in Helion’s office.

“It doesn’t make sense.”

You scribbled out another note, this one for yourself with another pen. You ripped it to pieces and fed it to the fire.

What was Koschei looking for now? Was he still looking for the book that now rested against your hip, or had he turned to some other prize? And why kill the Librarians and set all of Day Court on high alert?

Henna had been careful. She’d stayed hidden until she was forced to tear down the Alcove to get the book. Whoever was causing the killings now was either a showman or a fool. They left bodies hanging from rafters. They carved smiles into throats. They let the Librarians know what they were stealing whether they meant to or not. They left patterns scattered among wreckage for someone like you to figure out.

It all felt… juvenile for lack of a better word. Someone young. Someone who wanted to prove themselves in a loud way. Someone whose ego hadn’t been tested yet and wasn’t listening to Koschei’s commands in their entirety.

Azriel.

You couldn’t help but think of him.

Azriel was nothing like that.

He wasn’t loud. He didn’t vy for attention. He didn’t seek the light in a room. His confidence was quiet and true. His kindness took the shape of the shadows that lingered by your ankles. It took the shape of the robes you wore now. He was the only one who’d seen them at The Alcove. He was the only one who could have requested the court seamstress to make a copy and leave it hanging in your closet.

No. Azriel was nothing like that.

Azriel’s eyes lit up like embers when you slid through the front door, weary but bright-eyed and cradling your journals against your chest. The shadows he’d left behind with you slithered across the floor like mist.

She’s been in the Library all day. Working. The shadows whispered in his ear. She thought about you.

Azriel smiled. He’d thought about you as well. “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

You gasped, closing the door louder than you intended. You’d developed a talent for sneaking in and out of the River House unnoticed to the point where Cassian considered hiding bells in your pockets. Nyx had tried to do it as a joke, but you’d caught him giggling too loudly in your bedroom.

You brightened immediately, a broad smile appearing on your face. Azriel felt his heart leap, then quiet as he caught the scent of parchment paper.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow?” You whispered, tip-toeing through the dimly lit hallway to where Azriel was in the sitting room. You sank into the couch with a groan. The hardwood desks at the Library had not been kind to you.

He shrugged and brushed back his wind-thickened hair, shifting to face you better. A crumb-coated plate lay on the table and he still wore his leathers. He must have just arrived home.

“I flew as quick as I could. I wanted to be home.” With you.

He’d gotten so used to the feeling of you sleeping across the hallway that he’d flown the last three days without sleep. It was worth it to see you again. From the looks of it, you’d not fared well in his absence either. Your eyes had that glassy, half-there sheen: a perfect mixture of exhaustion and mind-crackling clarity.

“And how were the Mortal Lands?” You tucked your knees beneath you and leaned against your hand, fighting the sleep that seemed to grapple for you now that Azriel was home. His wings were spread wide and you resisted the urge to close the last few inches between you and the talon that glimmered in the faelight like obsidian glass.

You’d never been that far south. You’d never had reason to. But Azriel flew far and wide. The Continent was now Mor’s domain, but the secret goings of Prythian and the Mortal Lands belonged to him and him alone. The Spymaster of the Night Court. The Shadowsinger.

Azriel shook his head. “Quiet. Koschei hasn’t touched them yet as far as I can tell, and the Mortal Queens don’t care. They seem to think that they can handle Koschei because he’s agreed to bargains with them in the past.”

You made a noise of disapproval. “Like they handled Hybern? The only reason they’re still standing is because fae fought their war.”

The scattering of human armies that had arrived on that battlefield had belonged to no crown. They’d either fought for the bloodlust or the money. You could respect them for that.

Azriel tipped his head to the side, following the curling of his shadows around his shoulders. “But they are still standing. They don’t know what we sacrificed to keep them safe. That’s the problem with humans. They forget too quickly and get complacent”

“It would seem we have the opposite problem. We can’t help but remember everything,” you said, with no small amount of bitterness.

He wanted to keep you talking. He wanted your thoughts. Wanted to fall asleep to the sound of your voice after three weeks of silence. You weren’t aware of it, but the bond had felt thin the further he’d traveled away from you. Like a tightrope stretched to its snapping point. Now that he was back, and you were here, his heart didn’t feel like such a strenuous burden.

He smiled. “I think that’s just you. I know plenty of fae who are forgetful and empty-minded.” He leaned back, stretching his wings out to the side, and winced. They were whipped raw and tender from the flight.

Without thinking you got up and moved to the fireplace, feeding wood to the flames until it crackled happily. There was a reason Cassian and Azriel loved to bath their wings in sunlight every chance they got. The heat helped the soreness and eased the wind’s rough edge.

It also drove color into your cheeks and set your hair alight in a soft golden haze. You were a marvel. An angel with a halo to match and Azriel drank in the sight.

“Like who?”

“Cassian.”

You smirked and chucked the last of the wood into the flame’s gaping mouth.

Cass was far from empty-minded, but after decades of being feared as the Lord of Bloodshed he was grateful that people loved him enough to be just a little mean. He gave and received friendly blows like kisses on the cheek and smiled all the wider for it. To threaten his life was the same as saying I love you. It must be why the Mother had made Nesta his mate. She said I love you to him all hours of the day.

Azriel asked you what you were thinking, and when you told him he felt some of that pain slide off his shoulders like rain. He threw his head back and laughed until his chest started to hurt again and you thought about how rare that sound must be, and how much you loved it.

“How are the others? Rhysand told me Feyre’s sister is down there along with your friends.”

Azriel sobered up quickly and cleared his throat. “Yes. Elain, Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa.”

His voice caught on two names: Elain and Lucien, and it didn't escape your notice. He sounded... nervous.

“And? Are they alright?”

He rolled his shoulders and looked out the window to the inky black sky. Vassa would be sleeping now in her human form, and if she was lucky, she’d wake up in the morning still within the manor’s grey stone walls. Safe. Home.

He shook his head gravely. “They’re nothing short of terrified. Koschei has Vassa under a spell that would normally keep her tied to his lake. He let her go during the war against Hybern and he’s been allowing her to stay, but… everyone’s just holding their breath and trying to prepare for the day he’ll take her back.”

You shivered and wrapped one of the spare blankets around your shoulders. You couldn’t imagine a life where every waking moment held the risk of being torn away from everything you held dear. The anticipation would have broken you more than the act itself.

“I’ve heard of her. The firebird.” You murmured softly. You imagined a creature with glowing eyes, blue-red feathers streaking behind like ribbons set on fire. Azriel narrowed his eyes in confusion, and you explained, “Ares House records all wartime information. I read the reports. We’re very thorough.”

Azriel smiled. “I would expect nothing less.”

Silence passed in comfort, and you couldn’t stop thinking about Vassa.

“Do you think they’d be able to stop it if Koschei did make her go back?”

“I don’t know, Y/n.” And it was driving him mad to have Koschei hanging around like a forgotten word at the end of his tongue.

“I hate this,” you spat out, “The not knowing. I hate it.”

Azriel stared at you, hazel eyes silently begging you to continue. Shadows curled around your body, gently tugging you closer to him until your knees were a whisper away from touching.

You both sighed softly into the quiet air. Even the River House seemed to be at rest for the night. The usual background hum of cooking and cleaning were absent. It was just you and the Shadowsinger.

“How are things going? With the book?”

You slipped your hand through the slit in your robes and pulled it out. The gold chain rustled, glowing faintly from your touch.

“It’s going.” You shoved the book back out of sight. You couldn’t even stand to look at it after the hours you’d spent agonizing over its pages. “Rhysand’s been teaching me to contain my power better. I can actually touch some things now.”

But not him. Still not him. And it was killing you.

Azriel gave another one of his small smiles. The ones that never failed to make the world a smaller, more manageable place. “That’s good.”

“I just… this may sound silly but, I’m not used to things being this hard. With my powers a lot of things just sort of came naturally for me. But now people are dying and I’m just sitting here on this very expensive couch and I can’t do the thing I was brought here to do and I… I don’t like feeling this useless.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Azriel murmured. He closed the space between you even more, shadows hovering over your face in silent permission. When you didn’t pull away they brushed back the strands of hair that had fallen over your face with a cool, silky touch.

Azriel was all calm darkness and you imagined that if you reached out to touch his chest your hand might just slip through him like he wasn’t there at all. He seemed too good to be real.

But he was real, and he was sitting close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath fan your cheeks.

“You’re not useless. Never believe that. Not even for a second. And even if you were useless, it wouldn’t matter. You’re worth more than the things you can do, remember?”

“I remember.” Your voice was quiet and thick.

You rested your cheek in the crook of your arm as you gazed at him wearily.

Azriel kept his hands out in the open, one hand reaching across the couch cushions before stopping mere inches away from yours. His shadows closed the remaining distance, slipping in between your fingers to mimic Azriel’s touch.

“Did you uncover any more secrets of mine while I was gone?” Azriel asked as your eyelids began to droop.

“I confess I forgot to look. But maybe now that you’re here, I’ll start again,” you mumbled into the encroaching dark.

“I look forward to it,” were the last words that filtered through your ears before you fell asleep to the untranslatable whispers of shadows.

Nyx bounded down the stairs, leaping the last six steps before landing soundlessly on the floor with a soft bend of his knees — just like Azriel had taught him. Feyre gave a proud nod before ruffling his ebony hair and Rhysand beamed.

Let me. Feyre adjusted the wrappings around Rhys’s chest that kept Velaria’s plump body swaddled and comfortable. Her pink lips opened in a yawn that had both mates sighing.

“Uncle Az!” Nyx raced forward towards the sitting room and then froze, mouth opened in a surprised oh.

Azriel slept like the dead on the floor, chest rising and falling with the beat of his gentle breath. You lay stretched out on the couch, one arm propped beneath your head and the other dangling over your waist and off the cushions. Your fingers swayed an inch above Azriel’s chest, shadows swimming over his torso and creeping up your arms so that even in sleep you were connected to one another.

Feyre gasped softly at the picture. The sunlight blanketing the both of you in peach fuzz. The faint uptick of Azriel’s lips and the smoothness of his brow. The way you looked like you were bleeding into him. The black of his shadows and your robes.

Rhysand rubbed Nyx’s shoulder and kissed Feyre’s cheek.

Let them sleep, Nyx. We’ll get breakfast at Huth’s today.

Nyx let his parents lead him towards the door without protest. He’d never seen Uncle Az sleep so soundly in his life.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Yeah... this slow burn is burning... but I just love it so much and I love writing all the sweet little moments they have and their conversations with one another and I hope you're enjoying it as well.

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #everyone deserves a person who'll help them relax enough to fall asleep #late night conversations and barely there touches and longing and asdfbaefnaks #AZRIEL FREAKING MADE HER NEW ROBES SO SHE WOULD FEEL MORE COMFORTABLE #He's trying to grow and do right by his exes so he will feel more worthy of Y/n and I just ugh #i'm giving him Mr. Darcy energy I don't give a shit

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enemiestolovershoe · 3 months ago

Text

New Beginnings Part 2

Matt Sturniolo x preg!reader

Summary: Matt and Reader welcome their Newborn

Word Count: 5,2k

Warnings: use of y/n, detailed birth, labor, crying, not proofread

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

25 Weeks

It had been a crazy few weeks for you and Matt. The baby was growing fast, and your belly had popped, making everything feel more real. You and Matt had been excited and nervous about everything that was coming your way, but now there was something even bigger on your minds: finding out the gender.

At the 25-week appointment, you were lying on the examination bed, your belly round and visible beneath the thin layer of gel that the ultrasound technician had just applied. You glanced at Matt, who was sitting beside you, holding your hand tightly as the ultrasound machine hummed to life.

"You guys ready for this?" The tech smiled, clearly enjoying the moment as she moved the wand across your belly. The screen lit up with the image of your baby and every time you saw it, your heart skipped a beat. The tiny human you and Matt had created together—it was beyond overwhelming.

"Honestly?" Matt chuckled nervously, squeezing your hand. "I don't know if I’m ever going to be ready for this."

You laughed softly, your eyes glued to the screen. "We’ll figure it out. We’ve got Nick and Chris for extra hands, right?"

"Extra hands?" Matt raised his eyebrows, smiling. "More like extra chaos. Especially Nick."

The tech chuckled at your exchange, her focus on the screen. "Well, it looks like your little one is doing great. Everything looks good...and I can definitely see the gender. Do you want to know?"

Your heart leaped into your throat. You and Matt had already decided to wait for a reveal, thanks to Nick's insistence on planning something big. Still, the temptation was real, especially when the tech said she could see it right there on the screen.

You met Matt's gaze. He gave you a small smile and a nod. "We’re sticking with the plan, right?"

"Yeah," you agreed, your voice shaking a little with excitement. "Can you write it down for us? Nick’s got this whole thing planned."

The tech smiled again. "Sure thing. I love a good reveal party."

As she printed off the image and scribbled the gender onto a piece of paper, you and Matt exchanged looks of pure excitement. It was hard to believe that the answer to this huge question was just a slip of paper away.

When the appointment wrapped up, the tech handed you the sealed envelope. The paper inside seemed to hold more weight than you expected, as though knowing the secret inside made it feel heavier.

"Good luck resisting the urge to peek," she joked.

Matt laughed, holding up his hands in surrender as he took the envelope from you. "I swear, no peeking. This is all for Nick now."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

28 Weeks

Three weeks later, Nick had pulled off a full-blown event for the gender reveal. You weren't even surprised. If you were expecting anyone to go all out, it would be Nick Sturniolo. He had rented a picturesque little villa for the occasion, and you and Matt arrived to find it completely decked out in every shade of pink and blue you could imagine.

There were pastel balloons arching over the entrance, blue and pink ribbons tied around every chair, and even tables full of finger foods—mini sandwiches, cupcakes, and a gorgeous pasta buffet that had clearly been arranged with care.

"Nick," you breathed as you stepped out of the car, looking around in amazement. "This is insane."

Matt looked equally surprised, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. "He actually did it."

Before you could say more, Nick came running up, arms outstretched, a huge grin on his face. "You guys like it?!" he asked excitedly, giving both you and Matt huge hugs.

"Are you serious?" Matt said, laughing. "This looks incredible."

"Not to mention the food," you added, eyeing the table. You hadn’t even made it inside yet, but you could see how much effort Nick had put into the whole thing. "Nick, you outdid yourself."

Chris appeared beside him, balancing a plate of pasta in one hand, and garlic bread in the other. "Yeah, props to him. This is probably the best food I’ve had in a while."

Nick beamed with pride. "I told you it was going to be epic. Now, are you guys ready to find out what you’re having?!"

You and Matt exchanged a nervous glance. You had been counting down to this moment for weeks, but now that it was here, it felt surreal. It wasn’t just a hypothetical anymore—soon, you’d know whether you were having a little boy or a little girl.

"I’m ready," you said, nodding firmly, though the nerves were buzzing in your chest.

"Ready as I’ll ever be," Matt agreed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked into the villa, Nick led you toward the backyard, where a large crowd had gathered. Your families were there, along with all of the triplets' friends—people you recognized from their YouTube videos. There was even a large "Team Boy" vs. "Team Girl" station set up, where people could grab badges and make their guesses.

"I'm team girl all the way," Matt announced as he pinned a pink badge to his shirt.

Chris snorted. "Nah, it’s a boy. Gotta keep the Sturniolo boy streak alive."

“I‘m also team girl“ you chuckled.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head. "We’ll see. Either way, this little one is going to be spoiled."

A few minutes later, Nick called everyone’s attention to the backyard, where two large smoke canons were set up on either side of a huge arch of balloons. Pink and blue balloons filled the sky, drifting lazily in the warm breeze, adding to the excitement of the moment.

Nick grabbed a microphone, grinning from ear to ear. "Alright, everyone! It’s time for the big moment! We’ve got Matt and y/n here, ready to find out if they’re having a boy or a girl! Who’s ready?!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Matt stood beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you leaned into him for support. This was it.

Nick handed you and Matt each a smoke cannon, and you felt the cool metal in your hands, your fingers trembling slightly. The anticipation was almost too much.

"Okay, on the count of three, they’re gonna pull the triggers," Nick announced. "Everyone ready?"

You took a deep breath, your hands shaking with nerves and excitement. Matt squeezed your hand, his excitement clear in his eyes. "You got this," he whispered.

"Three…" Nick started, the crowd joining in. "Two… one!"

You and Matt pulled the triggers simultaneously, and for a moment, the world went quiet as pink smoke exploded into the air. You stared in shock as the cloud of pink engulfed the backyard.

"It’s a girl!" someone shouted.

Matt turned to you, his eyes wide, and a huge smile spread across his face. "It’s a girl. We’re having a girl!"

Your heart swelled as tears sprung to your eyes. "We’re having a girl," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper as you wrapped your arms around Matt’s neck.

He hugged you tightly, his hands gently cradling your back as you cried into his shoulder. You could feel his excitement and joy radiating through the embrace, and it made your heart feel like it could burst. You were going to have a daughter.

Before long, Chris and Nick rushed over, joining the hug. "Oh my God, I’m gonna have a niece!" Chris shouted, practically bouncing with excitement.

Nick grinned, pulling you into a bear hug. "This is going to be awesome!"

You laughed through the tears, overwhelmed by the love and happiness surrounding you. "I can’t believe it," you said, shaking your head as you wiped your eyes. "A little girl."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

35 Weeks

As the weeks went by and your belly grew even bigger, the time had finally come to work on the nursery. You and Matt had been planning it for weeks—scouring Pinterest boards, bookmarking every cute piece of furniture and decor that caught your eye. Now, at 35 weeks, you were ready to put it all together.

Well, almost ready. The triplets had insisted on helping, so you had a feeling you’d be doing more supervising than actual decorating.

Chris and Nick arrived early that Saturday, armed with coffee and donuts. You were already in the nursery, sitting in the rocking chair you’d picked out, rubbing your belly absentmindedly. You were definitely feeling the weight of pregnancy now—your back ached, your feet were swollen, and even sitting for too long made you feel uncomfortable. But the excitement of seeing the nursery come together kept you going.

Matt was already unpacking the last of the furniture boxes when Chris and Nick strolled in.

"Alright, what’s the game plan?" Nick asked, setting the donuts down on the floor before taking a look around. "You guys got a vision?"

"Yeah, we do," Matt said, holding up his phone. "She’s been saving Pinterest ideas for weeks."

You laughed, leaning back in the chair. "I’d do it myself, but…" You motioned to your belly, which was now large and very much in the way of most things. "I’m not exactly mobile these days."

Chris grinned. "Don’t worry. We’ve got this."

And with that, the triplets got to work. Matt and Chris assembled the crib while Nick hung up the shelves and artwork you’d picked out. You watched from your rocking chair, smiling as the room slowly came together. It was everything you’d imagined—soft pinks, creams, and gold accents, with delicate floral prints and stuffed animals in every corner.

"You guys are seriously amazing," you said, your heart swelling with gratitude.

Matt turned to you, wiping sweat from his brow. "We’d do anything for you—and for her."

Nick smirked as he finished hanging the last shelf. "This little girl is going to be the most spoiled baby in the world."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

41 Weeks

Now at 41 weeks, you were officially past your due date, and to say you were getting impatient would be an understatement. Your baby girl was stubborn, just like her dad, and no matter what you tried, labor just wasn’t starting.

One evening, you were sitting in the living room with Matt, Chris, and Nick, discussing all the things you’d tried to get things moving. Spicy food, walking, bouncing on a yoga ball—you’d done it all.

"I even tried that whole pineapple thing," you sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions. "Nothing."

”Maybe you should try sex”, Nick blankly said.

”Nick, when I said we tried everything, I mean everything”, you‘re getting frustrated.

Chris chuckled. "Well, at least the cookies are a good backup plan. I mean, if labor doesn’t start, at least we’ll have snacks."

Nick laughed, giving you a wink. "I read somewhere that cookies actually have magic powers. Maybe these will do the trick."

You rolled your eyes, standing up and waddling toward the kitchen. "I’ll believe it when I see it."

As you reached for the ingredients, you felt a sudden, sharp cramp in your abdomen. You paused, frowning, and then—

Your water broke.

You stared down in shock as the liquid pooled around your feet. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe. Then, finally, you managed to say the words that would change everything.

"Uh, guys? My water just broke."

The room went silent.

And then all hell broke loose.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Labor

All four of you stood frozen, staring at the small puddle on the floor.

Nick, naturally the first to speak, broke the silence. "Are you sure you didn’t just piss yourself?" His voice was light, but the shock was clear on his face.

You shot him a look, shaking your head. "No, Nick. I’m pretty sure this is happening."

Matt’s eyes widened as the realization hit him. "Okay. Okay. Oh my god, it's happening! Chris, grab the hospital bag!" His voice was shaky, panic starting to take over. "Nick, call the hospital, tell them we’re on our way!"

Chris, already ahead of the game, was moving before Matt even finished the sentence. "On it!" He darted to the hallway, where the hospital bag had been packed and sitting for weeks. "Got it!" he shouted, slinging it over his shoulder and heading for the door.

Nick pulled out his phone, already dialing. "Okay, okay! I’m calling!" he said, pacing a little. "Man, this is really happening. Holy crap."

Matt turned to you, immediately switching to his softer, more concerned tone. "Come on, babe. Let’s get you changed real quick," he said, leading you carefully toward the bedroom, his hand supporting your back. "We don’t want you showing up at the hospital soaked."

You nodded, feeling the rush of emotions hit you—excitement, nervousness, fear. "Yeah, not exactly how I want to make an entrance," you joked, though your voice trembled.

Once in the bedroom, Matt gently helped you out of your wet clothes, his hands shaky but careful as he eased you into some fresh leggings and one of his hoodies. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his eyes full of concern, trying his best to stay calm for your sake.

You took a deep breath, focusing on staying composed. "A little scared. But I’m ready." You placed a hand on your belly, feeling the baby’s movements. "I can’t believe we’re actually about to meet her."

Matt kissed your forehead, his hand resting on your belly alongside yours. "You’re incredible, you know that? We’re gonna be okay. I’m right here."

Back in the living room, Nick was still pacing, phone pressed to his ear. "Yeah, we’re heading there now... yep, water broke... we’ll be there soon," he said, hanging up. He turned to you and Matt, wide-eyed but grinning. "Alright, hospital’s ready. Let’s go!"

Chris stood by the door, holding the hospital bag like he was guarding something precious. "Got the bag. Car’s ready. Let’s do this!"

You walked carefully back into the living room, Matt’s arm around your waist. Another contraction hit, sharper this time, and you gripped Matt’s arm, exhaling slowly through the pain. "Okay, okay... these are definitely getting stronger."

Nick, naturally, had his phone out again, recording the moment. "Alright, this is it, guys! We’re officially on baby watch. Y/N’s contractions are coming in hot, and Matt’s holding it together... kinda."

Matt shot him a glare, though there was a small smile tugging at his lips. "Nick, do you have to film everything?"

"Yes," Nick replied, unbothered. "The people need to see this."

You laughed, despite the pain. "It’s fine, Matt. Let him film. At least it’ll give him something to do instead of making stupid jokes."

"See? Y/N’s cool with it," Nick said triumphantly, zooming the camera in on Matt’s stressed face.

Chris opened the door, gesturing for everyone to hurry. "Alright, let’s move, people. Baby’s not gonna wait forever."

Matt guided you toward the car, his grip on your arm steady but his face full of barely-contained panic. He helped you into the passenger seat as carefully as possible, glancing nervously at you the whole time. "You good?"

You nodded, smiling up at him. "I’m fine, Matt. Let’s just get to the hospital."

Once Matt was in the driver’s seat, he started the car a little too aggressively, the engine roaring to life as he sped out of the driveway.

"Matt, slow down!" you exclaimed, gripping the door handle as he took a turn a little too fast.

"Sorry!" Matt said, clearly frazzled. "I just... I don’t know! I want to get you there as fast as possible."

Nick, sitting in the backseat with Chris, was still filming. "And here we go, folks. Matt’s driving like he’s in a Fast & Furious movie, but don’t worry—I’ve got the whole thing on camera." He panned the phone toward you. "Y/N, any last words before this baby arrives?"

You shot him an amused look. "My only thought is, if Matt doesn’t calm down, we might not make it to the hospital."

Matt groaned, though he slowed the car slightly. "I’m calm, I’m calm," he muttered, gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly.

Chris leaned forward, resting his chin on the seat in front of him. "Matt, man, we’ve got time. No need to speed. Also, anyone want to place bets on how long the labor’s gonna be?"

"Chris," Matt snapped, his voice tight, "now is not the time."

As Matt turned onto the main road, the streetlights whizzed by in a blur, their dim glow casting flickers of light over your face. You were gripping the door handle tightly, your other hand still squeezing Matt’s. The contractions had picked up, each one more intense than the last, and you could feel the pressure building with every passing moment.

Nick, in the backseat, still had his phone out, filming despite the tense atmosphere. "Alright, Y/N’s in full-on labor now," he narrated softly, trying to keep the tone light but clearly nervous himself. "Matt’s driving like his life depends on it. Chris, how you feelin'?"

Chris, sitting next to him, shot Nick a glance. "Me? Why are you asking me? I’m not the one about to have a baby."

Nick shrugged. "Just trying to document the vibe, man."

You groaned as another contraction hit, sharper this time. Your breathing quickened as you leaned forward in the seat, trying to brace yourself against the pain. "Matt..." you whimpered, squeezing his hand hard.

Matt glanced over at you, his face pale and full of worry. "I know, babe, I know. We’re almost there, I swear." His voice was shaky, and you could see how hard he was trying to keep it together for you.

"Keep breathing, Y/N," Chris chimed in from the back, his usual laid-back tone gone. "In and out, just like the birthing classes."

You managed a nod, following his advice, focusing on your breath. But when the next wave of pain hit, it was stronger, and you couldn’t help but let out a sharp cry.

Matt panicked, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Oh my God, are you okay? Should I go faster? I don’t know what to do!"

"Don’t speed," Chris said quickly, leaning forward to look at the road. "We don’t need a car accident on top of everything."

Nick, still filming, chuckled nervously. "Yeah, maybe keep it at a reasonable pace, bro."

You managed to laugh through the pain, though it was shaky. "I’m fine... just get me there."

As Matt pulled into the hospital parking lot, he practically skidded to a stop, parking crookedly in his rush to get out of the car. He ran around to your side, opening the door for you, his hands shaking as he helped you out.

"You’re doing so good," Matt said, his voice softer now, more grounded as he wrapped his arm around your waist, helping you walk. "We’re almost there, I promise."

Nick kept the camera rolling, filming as the nurses rushed over with a wheelchair the moment you entered the lobby. "Alright, we’re officially at the hospital," Nick narrated into the camera. "It’s happening. The baby is coming."

Chris grabbed the hospital bag as Matt helped you into the wheelchair, the pain making it harder to focus on anything but getting to the delivery room. The nurses were quick, guiding you down the hall while Matt walked beside you, holding your hand the entire time.

Nick and Chris stayed back in the waiting area, Nick lowering his camera for a moment as they both sat down. "Well, I guess this is where we wait," Chris said, leaning back in his chair.

Nick nodded, glancing at the doors you had just disappeared behind. "I can’t believe it’s actually happening. We‘re gonna be uncles."

Chris grinned. "Uncle Chris has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?"

Nick picked up his camera again, aiming it at Chris. "Guess we’ll just have to sit tight and wait for the good news."

Inside the delivery room, the atmosphere was tense, but it had a sense of anticipation. The bright lights shone down on you as the nurses helped you get situated on the bed, Matt standing right beside you, gripping your hand like his life depended on it.

The nurse, adjusting her gloves, smiled down at you with a calm and experienced expression. "Alright, Y/N, you’re doing great. We’re at 9 centimeters now, so we’re almost there. It’s going to be intense, but you’re strong, and we’re right here."

You squeezed Matt’s hand tightly as another contraction hit, the pain spreading through your body like fire. It was overwhelming, and all you could do was close your eyes, trying to breathe through it. "Oh my God... Matt..." you whimpered, your voice strained.

"I’m here, babe," Matt said, his voice full of panic but also so much love. His thumb stroked the back of your hand, though his hand was shaking. "You’re doing amazing. Just keep breathing, okay? You’ve got this."

The contraction passed, leaving you breathless, and you took a moment to relax before the next wave came. "I don’t know if I can do this," you whispered, the pain and exhaustion taking over. "It hurts so much."

Matt knelt beside you, his forehead touching yours, his eyes filled with nothing but admiration and concern. "You’re the strongest person I know, Y/N. I swear, you’re doing incredible. She’s almost here, just a little more. I’m right here with you."

The doctor entered the room, checking your progress, and nodded. "Alright, Y/N, it’s time. You’re fully dilated, and we’re going to need you to push with the next contraction."

Your heart raced as you nodded, trying to prepare yourself mentally for what was coming. You had read about this, learned about it in birthing classes, but nothing could prepare you for the actual moment.

Another contraction hit, this one even more intense, and the doctor’s voice cut through the pain. "Alright, Y/N, big push, let’s go!"

You gritted your teeth, grabbing onto Matt’s hand like it was a lifeline, and pushed with everything you had. The pressure was unbearable, and you let out a scream, your body trembling with the effort.

"You’re doing so good, babe!" Matt’s voice was shaky, his eyes wide as he watched. "Just keep going, you’re so close."

The nurse beside you smiled, her voice encouraging. "That’s it, Y/N! You’re doing great. Keep pushing."

You gasped for air as the contraction faded, your body collapsing back against the bed for a brief moment of relief. But before you could catch your breath, another contraction surged through you, and the doctor was right there again.

"Alright, Y/N, here comes another one! Big push again, you’re almost there!"

The pain was all-encompassing, but you pushed through it, literally, gripping Matt’s hand and bearing down with everything you had. "I can’t..." you cried out, feeling like you were at your limit.

"You can!" Matt said quickly, his voice almost desperate. "You’ve come this far, just one more, baby. Please, you’ve got this."

"One more push, Y/N," the doctor echoed, her voice steady and reassuring. "You’re almost there, I can see the head!"

That gave you the final bit of strength you needed. You let out a deep breath and bore down one last time, pushing through the pain and exhaustion, feeling the pressure change as your baby started to emerge.

And then... it happened. A sharp cry filled the room.

You collapsed back against the bed, tears streaming down your face as you heard her — your baby girl — crying for the first time. The doctor held her up, and Matt’s breath hitched in his throat, his eyes wide and filled with tears. "She’s... she’s here," he whispered, his voice breaking.

The doctor gently laid her on your chest, and the world seemed to stop. She was perfect. Tiny, red-faced, still crying, her little body covered in vernix, but she was perfect. You wrapped your arms around her, feeling her warmth against you, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. "Hi, baby," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. "Hi, Mavis."

Matt leaned down beside you, his hand trembling as he touched her tiny head. "She’s... she’s so beautiful," he breathed, his eyes glistening with tears. "You did it, Y/N. You brought her here."

The nurse smiled warmly, giving you both a moment to bond with her before gently speaking up. "Matt, would you like to cut the umbilical cord?"

Matt’s eyes widened, but he nodded quickly, standing up a little too fast in his nervous excitement. "Yeah, yes! Of course." He took the small pair of scissors the nurse handed him and, with shaking hands, cut the cord, his face filled with awe as he completed the task. "Wow," he whispered, as if the weight of the moment had just fully hit him.

You smiled up at him through your tears. "You’re officially a dad now."

Matt laughed, wiping his face quickly before leaning down to kiss you softly on the forehead. "And you’re officially a mom. You’re amazing, Y/N."

As you both looked down at Mavis, she was still nestled against you, her little body calming as she snuggled into your skin. The room was filled with a peaceful quiet now, the chaos of the birth replaced by the soft coos of your newborn daughter.

In the Waiting Room

Out in the waiting area, Nick was pacing nervously, his camera trained on Chris, who sat bouncing his leg anxiously. "Alright, it’s been like... hours, and we haven’t heard anything yet," Nick narrated into the camera. "This is intense."

Chris nodded, leaning back in his chair.

After what felt like forever, Matt finally came out, his face tired but beaming with the biggest smile they’d ever seen. He didn’t say a word at first, just motioned them over with his hands.

Nick immediately started filming, the camera shaky as he rushed over to Matt. "Well? Well?"

Matt grinned, his eyes red with tears. "Mavis Rose is here."

Chris let out a whoop, pulling Matt into a tight hug. "Congrats, bro! You did it!"

Nick lowered the camera for a second, wiping his eyes before raising it back up. "I’m not crying, you’re crying," he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

"Do you want to meet her?" Matt asked, smiling so wide it looked like his face might split in two.

"Uh, duh!" Chris said, standing up quickly. "We’ve been waiting for hours!"

Inside the room, you were still holding Mavis, her tiny body curled against you as she slept peacefully. Matt led Chris and Nick inside, and the moment they saw her, both of them froze.

Nick was the first to break the silence, his camera still rolling. "Oh my God," he whispered, zooming in on Mavis’s tiny face. "She’s... so tiny."

Chris leaned over to get a closer look, his face softening in a way you hadn’t seen before. "I’m Uncle Chris now," he said, grinning proudly. "Damn, she’s beautiful."

You laughed softly, still exhausted but full of happiness. "Yeah, she really is."

Nick lowered the camera just enough to lean in and gently touch her tiny hand. "Uncle Nick’s here baby girl," he said softly, his voice full of emotion. "Welcome to the world."

Matt sat beside you on the bed, wrapping an arm around you as you both looked down at Mavis, surrounded by family. You knew in that moment that everything was perfect

Matt, who had been quietly watching, grinned at Nick and Chris, the pride in his eyes evident. "Want to hold her?" Matt asked softly, glancing between the two of them.

Chris’s eyes widened, and he took a small step back. "Wait, me? Are you sure? I don’t want to drop her or something. I’ve never held a newborn before."

You smiled and gestured for him to come closer. "You’ll be fine, Chris. Just be careful with her head."

"Alright, alright, but if she starts crying, you’re taking her back immediately," Chris said, moving in slowly like he was handling fragile glass. Nick held his camera steady, capturing every moment. Matt gently helped Chris cradle Mavis into his arms, adjusting her head in the crook of Chris's elbow.

Chris looked down at her, his face unreadable for a second, until a soft smile spread across it. "Holy crap... she’s even tinier up close," he murmured. "She’s... she’s perfect."

Nick smirked from behind the camera. "Who would've thought Chris would turn into a softy."

"Shut up, Nick," Chris muttered, but he didn't take his eyes off Mavis, completely mesmerized.

Nick grinned. "Alright, my turn. Pass her over, big guy."

Carefully, Chris handed Mavis to Nick, who adjusted her gently in his arms. The change in Nick was immediate — the goofy, sarcastic vibe was gone, and for a moment, he was completely quiet. "Whoa," he whispered, his eyes wide. "She’s so light... and warm." He glanced up at you and Matt. "I can't believe you guys made her. Like... she's real."

You and Matt exchanged a look, both of you smiling through your tears. "Yeah, she's real," you said softly, brushing a hand over Mavis's tiny head. "And she’s going to be so spoiled by all of you."

Nick laughed quietly, glancing down at Mavis with a fond smile. "Oh, you better believe it. I’m gonna be the coolest uncle."

Matt chuckled. "We might have to fight Chris on that one."

Chris crossed his arms, pretending to look offended. "I’m definitely the favorite already. Just wait."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, I’ve already got some outfits in mind for her. Pink Vans. A little leather jacket. She’s going to be the most stylish baby out there."

Matt grinned, leaning against the bed, his arm still wrapped around you. "That actually sounds pretty cool. As long as she’s comfy."

You laughed softly, the exhaustion from the labor hitting you in waves but the love surrounding you making it all worth it. "You’re all going to spoil her rotten."

Nick handed Mavis back to you carefully, and you cradled her close, feeling her tiny body settle against yours. Her little breaths were soft, her tiny fist gripping onto your shirt like she never wanted to let go.

Matt leaned over and kissed your forehead, his voice soft and filled with awe. "You did it, Y/N. She’s finally here. Our little girl."

Chris and Nick, still hovering nearby, shared a look. "We should give them a little time alone," Chris said, nudging Nick with his elbow.

Nick nodded, though his eyes lingered on Mavis for a moment longer. "Yeah, you’re right. We’ll be in the waiting room if you need us. Just... let us know when you’re ready for some more uncle time."

You smiled at them as they quietly left the room, leaving you and Matt alone with your daughter.

As you looked down at Mavis, tears welled in your eyes once more. It was overwhelming — the love you felt for this tiny human, the warmth of Matt beside you, and the family you had both created.

Your little girl was finally here.

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