Pansy placed a hand over her heart and gasped dramatically as she took in the scene before her.
"Merlin's beard," she muttered under her breath, swaying slightly as though overcome. "What fresh hell is this."
Friendship.
With Luna Lovegood.
Surely this was how she died.
She drew in a deep, theatrical breath and squared her shoulders, glaring up at the grand entrance as if it had personally offended her. The manor rose above her, all elegant stone and quiet authority, standing in sharp contrast to the unsettlingly whimsical landscape surrounding it. It looked like something pulled straight from a fairy tale, and Pansy hated fairy tales on principle.
Still, she was no coward.
With a final moment of indulgent hesitation, allowing herself the full drama of the situation, she lifted her hand and knocked.
The sound echoed through the stillness, heavy with implication.
She was stepping into an entirely different world. One that felt far too bright, far too cheerful, and frankly exhausting already.
But Pansy Parkinson had conquered worse.
If this was some ridiculous kingdom of sunshine and kindness, then fine. She would conquer that too.
The door swung open at last, revealing Theodore Nott, whose expression immediately settled somewhere between irritation and disbelief.
"What are you doing here, Parkinson?" he asked, one brow lifting with clear suspicion.
Pansy rolled her eyes and lifted her chin, assuming the haughty posture she had perfected in childhood.
"I'm here to make friends, Theodore," she said with a long, exaggerated sigh, as though the very concept exhausted her. "Apparently that is something I am lacking."
Theo stared at her for a moment before replying, his tone slow and dripping with sarcasm.
"Leave my wife alone. She's too sensitive for you."
Before Pansy could respond, a light, airy voice drifted from inside.
"Who is it, my Sun?"
Pansy blinked, turning sharply.
Theo barely hid his smirk. "It's a spoiled brat."
She clutched her chest in mock horror. "Draco's here?"
Luna answered before Theo could, her voice bright with amusement.
"No, it's the other one."
And then she appeared.
Luna moved toward the doorway with effortless calm, as if she had floated there rather than walked. Her smile warmed the entire entrance, disarming in its sincerity.
"Oh, hello, Pansy," she said cheerfully.
Pansy felt her defenses wobble.
Just slightly.
She recovered quickly.
Turning back to Theo with a syrupy smile, she asked sweetly, "Care to explain the 'spoiled brat' comment, Theodore?"
Her glare promised violence.
Theo shrugged. "Are you not?"
Pansy planted a hand on her hip, outrage radiating from her posture.
"Oh, why don't you just fuck off, Theodore," she snapped, though the edge was dulled by familiarity.
Luna laughed, genuinely delighted.
Sensing opportunity, Pansy turned to her with an exaggerated sigh. "Luna, darling, we absolutely must do something about your husband. He is entirely too cheeky."
The words lingered for half a second.
Then Luna laughed.
Warm, unrestrained, and real.
Pansy felt something strange settle in her chest.
Maybe this would not be unbearable after all.
Luna smiled at her. "I believe you are more than capable of handling him."
"Oh, don't worry," Pansy said, flipping her hair. "I have methods."
Theo rolled his eyes. "You think you can handle me?"
She leaned toward Luna conspiratorially. "I know I can."
And just like that, something clicked.
Later, seated with tea, Pansy found that politeness was far more difficult than expected. Every civil word felt dragged from her against its will.
Luna, on the other hand, was effortlessly pleasant.
Pansy leaned closer, narrowing her eyes. "Luna, have you ever done drugs?"
Luna blinked. "I have experimented."
Pansy nearly dropped her teacup.
"Why?" Luna added calmly. "Are you offering?"
"No," Pansy said quickly. "That is not the point. The point is why are you always so cheerful? It is unnatural."
Luna considered this. "I suppose I enjoy joy."
"Joy," Pansy echoed flatly. "I demand to know where you are hiding the rest of it."
Luna giggled. "Perhaps I just choose to see beauty."
"You are exhausting," Pansy muttered, though something warm stirred beneath the annoyance.
Then Luna tilted her head thoughtfully. "Maybe you should try shagging Neville."
Pansy froze.
"Excuse me?"
"Affection helps," Luna said dreamily.
"I am not uptight."
A pause.
Then Pansy smirked. "Did you take Theo's virginity?"
"He offered."
Pansy gasped. "He was obsessed with you."
Luna nodded serenely. "He still is."
And just like that, something unmistakable formed between them.
A whimsical storm meeting an unstoppable hurricane.
~~~~~~
Their world had become a kind of sanctuary, quiet and still, untouched by the noise and demands that lived beyond the manor's walls. It was easy to forget the rest of the world when everything they needed existed within these rooms. Time didn't press on them here. It drifted, shaped by the soft rhythm of shared mornings and the warmth of a life they had built together.
Theo had changed in ways he hadn't expected. He had once been defined by his discipline, by the sharp edges of ambition and duty, but those pieces of him had shifted without resistance. What mattered most now wasn't work or reputation or legacy. It was her.
Luna, growing rounder each day with the weight of the life they had created, had become the center of his world. He called her his star, his light, his reason. The words sometimes made her laugh, but he meant them all. Every moment of his day seemed to orbit around her, and the love he felt settled into everything he did.
Each morning, before the first slant of sunlight touched the floor, he would kiss her forehead gently, the touch more habit than thought now, a quiet promise that began and ended each day. He had taken to making breakfast, even though he was objectively terrible at it.
The toast came out too dark. The eggs were almost always too salty. But Luna never complained. She smiled as she ate, her eyes soft with affection, knowing that each meal was made with love and a little too much effort.
And for Theo, that was enough.
The manor had once been a place of echoing footsteps and closed doors, its marble halls cold and untouched, its corners weighed down by silence. Since she had arrived, everything had shifted. Her laughter found its way into rooms that had long been forgotten, warming spaces that had never known comfort. Even his office, once rigid and austere, had softened under her influence.
He had brought in a deep armchair and placed it near the window so she could sit and watch the trees sway in the wind. When she was there, reading quietly or simply observing the sky as it changed, his work came easier. Her presence grounded him, even when she said nothing at all.
Evenings became something sacred. Time slowed, set aside for the two of them alone. Sometimes he read aloud, his voice steady and unhurried, letting himself sink into the rhythm of whatever story she had chosen.
Other nights he talked about his day, dull meetings, irritating memos, bits of gossip that meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. He spoke because she listened, because she smiled when he complained, because she made the ordinary feel like it mattered.
The way she looked at him in those moments, eyes soft and attentive, made the rest of the world fade into irrelevance.
Still, even in comfort, fear lingered.
Any small shift in her posture, any quiet sigh she did not intend to make, tightened something in his chest. He tried not to show it, but at night he woke just to listen to her breathing, to feel the steady rise and fall beneath his hand. His fingers skimmed over her skin, light and careful, seeking reassurance in her warmth.
He knew she noticed. He knew she felt the weight of his vigilance.
She never pulled away.
She never asked him to stop or teased him for worrying too much. She simply let him love her as he knew how, fiercely and without restraint, with every part of himself.
When work took him away from home, his thoughts stayed with her. He sat through meetings half present, nodding at the right moments, hearing little. His mind circled back to her again and again, drawn by something steady and unbreakable.
He counted the hours until he could return, and when he did, he rarely came empty handed. A book she had mentioned once in passing. Wildflowers gathered just before dusk. A small charm he thought might amuse her. Anything that might earn a smile.
One quiet evening, the sort that carried no urgency, they sat together by the fire. Her head rested against his shoulder, her fingers moving lazily over his hand, tracing shapes without thought.
She looked up at him, her face softened by the firelight, her eyes holding something deeper than affection.
"You've done so much for me," she said, her voice gentle but sure. "I don't know how I would have managed without you."
He did not answer right away. His throat tightened as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her temple, letting the moment settle around them.
"You are everything to me, my moonbeam," he murmured. "If I could move mountains for you, I would. But I do not need to. As long as you feel safe, as long as you are happy, that is enough. That is all I will ever need."
She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing softly over his skin. Her touch was warm and familiar, steady in a way that quieted every other thought.
In that stillness, with the fire crackling low and her fingers resting against his jaw, he understood something simple and absolute.
Nothing mattered more than this.
Not the world beyond their walls. Not expectations. Not even the future.
What mattered was her.
The love they had built, quiet and constant, held firm. And while the world outside continued in its endless rush, here, in the warmth they had created, they had shaped something lasting.
Something that felt like forever.
~~~~~~
The manor had taken on a different kind of life, warmer and louder, and it all seemed to follow Pansy Parkinson like perfume.
Ever since Luna's pregnancy had become visible enough to invite comments, Pansy had declared it her sacred duty to visit as often as humanly possible. Her energy clashed spectacularly with Theo's steadily escalating protectiveness, and somehow, against all logic, it worked.
If Theo was the constant shadow, always hovering with a furrowed brow and a protective hand at Luna's back, then Pansy was sunlight crashing through the windows, loud, unapologetic, and entirely uninterested in subtlety. She breezed in with too many bags, too many opinions, and too many stories, each delivered with the confidence of someone who refused to be restrained.
Every visit began the same way. The door burst open, Pansy's arms full of pastel parcels, her voice echoing down the hall before she was even fully inside.
"Look at this," she would announce, holding up a tiny sweater so soft it looked illegal, or a magically humming rattle shaped like a golden snitch. "Tell me that isn't the most perfect thing you've ever seen. I dare you."
She always insisted she had no self control around baby shops, and Luna, seated nearby with one hand resting protectively over her growing belly, would smile at her with endless patience.
"You really don't have to keep doing this, Pansy," Luna would say gently, though the warmth in her eyes gave her away.
Pansy waved her off with a dramatic flick of her wrist. "Nonsense. This is the sacred duty of a godmother. Besides, your child deserves only the best. If I have to choose between fiscal responsibility and a fabulous baby, the baby wins every time. Malfoy himself would weep at this nursery."
Their afternoons blurred into something easy and warm. Tea pots were emptied and refilled, ribbons and tissue paper piled up around them, and conversation leapt from Hogwarts memories to wildly confident predictions about the baby's first words.
For all his muttering and pacing, for all the suspicious looks he gave any enchanted toy that moved too aggressively, even Theo softened around Pansy. He smiled more. He worried a little less.
Even if he still hovered.
Just enough to double check that the baby blanket was not enchanted to fly, and that Pansy's idea of a harmless charm did not involve glitter detonations.
"Theo, sit down before you carve a trench into the floor," Pansy drawled one afternoon, one perfectly arched brow lifting as she watched him pace. "Honestly, you act like she's about to shatter. She is pregnant, not cursed by Morgana herself."
Theo sighed like a man who had aged a decade in the last half hour. He rubbed the back of his neck, muttered something unhelpful, and finally dropped into the armchair with the air of a martyr accepting his fate. "I just want to make sure she's comfortable."
"She is comfortable," Pansy replied flatly, pausing just long enough for her smirk to bloom. "Unlike you, who looks like you haven't seen daylight since Beltane. Do you even remember what the outside world looks like, or have you decided the manor walls are your only companions?"
Luna turned toward him, amusement sparkling softly in her eyes. "Pansy's right, my Sun. I think you need a little air."
Before Theo could protest, Pansy was already on her feet, shepherding him toward the hallway with theatrical urgency. "Theodore, take that ridiculous dog for a walk and let the grown women gossip in peace. Luna and I have very important matters to discuss."
He stared at her as if she had just challenged him to a duel. "What do you mean, secrets? What secrets require my banishment from my own home?"
"Scandalous ones," Pansy said sweetly, eyes alight with mischief. She rested a hand on Luna's shoulder with exaggerated gentleness and looked back at Theo as if daring him to object. "Intimate ones. Sacred ones. Very pink ones."
Luna lifted her hand to her mouth, laughter escaping despite her efforts to stop it. "Go on, love. We'll be here when you return. Try not to duel a squirrel."
Theo narrowed his eyes but obeyed, slow and dramatic, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a curse aimed at the universe. He cast one final look over his shoulder before grabbing the leash and stepping into the evening air. Lady, the tiny pug, yipped with boundless enthusiasm and immediately began attempting to escape her harness.
He had not made it ten steps down the gravel path before he realized this had been a catastrophic error.
The dog, small and feral in spirit, dragged him forward with alarming strength, barking at everything in existence. A breeze earned a bark. A falling leaf earned a full alarm. Her reflection in a puddle prompted a shriek of canine outrage and an aggressive leap.
Theo attempted dignity. He truly did. Unfortunately, dignity was difficult to maintain while being dragged by a creature that weighed less than a kettle and possessed the temperament of an angry pixie.
Lady Lemongrass.
What an absolutely ridiculous name for an absolutely ridiculous dog.
The estate's usual tranquility shattered the moment Lady slipped free.
What had been a peaceful afternoon, with fairies drifting lazily on the breeze and nymphs stretched out in sunlit patches of grass, dissolved into complete madness as the tiny pug tore through it all like a creature fueled entirely by confidence and spite.
Winged creatures shrieked and scattered, vanishing into the trees or diving into the undergrowth in frantic retreat. Even the garden gnomes, veterans of mayhem in their own right, decided this was not their battle and disappeared without hesitation.
Theo chased after her, already muttering a string of curses under his breath as the leash dangled uselessly from his hand. Lady charged ahead with unhinged enthusiasm, barking at anything that existed within her field of vision.
A sprite zipped too close to the path and barely escaped, letting out a high pitched squeal as it veered away. Theo was just about to give up and call the walk a failure when Lady made the worst decision of her short, chaotic life.
She saw the hippogriff.
The massive creature stood near the orchard, wings folded neatly at its sides, eyes half closed in the warmth of the afternoon. It had been enjoying the quiet. It was no longer enjoying the quiet.
Lady released a sound that could only be described as a declaration of war and sprinted across the grass, skidding to a stop mere feet from the startled hippogriff. She barked with such intensity that her entire body wobbled with each furious yap.
The hippogriff reared back, feathers flaring, talons scraping against the earth as it let out a piercing screech that made Theo's blood freeze.
"No. Absolutely not," Theo groaned, lunging forward with the speed of a man who had accepted his fate but preferred it without beak related injuries. He grabbed the leash just as Lady launched herself again, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion like a wildly flailing sack of potatoes. "For Merlin's sake, you are one biscuit away from becoming a feather duster."
The hippogriff fixed him with a glare full of ancient disdain, clearly offended by the entire encounter. Theo gave a tired nod of apology, turned on his heel, and marched back toward the manor with what remained of his dignity dragging behind him alongside Lady's stubby legs.
As he climbed the front steps, laughter floated out to meet him. It was light, melodic, and unmistakably feminine. It spilled through the open doorway like music, warm and teasing, and for a moment it almost erased the humiliation of being bested by a twelve pound menace.
Almost.
When he stepped inside, Luna stood near the entryway, eyes bright and lips twitching with barely contained amusement.
"How was the walk?" she asked sweetly, far too pleased with herself.
Theo stared at her, soaked in sweat, lightly scratched, and holding a wriggling embodiment of chaos disguised as a dog. His eye twitched.
"I want it on record," he said slowly, "that I was tricked, abandoned, and deliberately set up for failure."
"You were gone for fifteen minutes," she replied gently.
"I lived an entire lifetime of trauma in those fifteen minutes."
Her laughter rang out again, fuller this time, as she reached to take the dog from his arms. Lady immediately repaid the gesture by licking Theo's cheek as if she had done nothing wrong.
He closed his eyes in surrender and leaned against the doorframe, sighing so deeply it could have extinguished a candle.
Pansy lounged nearby with a cup of tea, one brow arching with wicked satisfaction. "Did my precious baby terrorize the hippogriff too?"
Theo collapsed into the nearest chair with all the grace of a man completely defeated. "The hippogriff looked personally insulted. I am fairly certain it was preparing to challenge me to a duel."
The women dissolved into laughter, abandoning whatever conversation they had been having in favor of enjoying his suffering. Luna's laugh wrapped around him, soft and bright, and despite himself, the corners of his mouth lifted. If nothing else, he had clearly served as entertainment.
The manor, once filled with quiet anxieties and careful routines, had changed in ways he never could have predicted. Pansy had brought with her something lighter, something brighter. What had once been a home of hushed footsteps and constant worry had become a place where laughter carried through open doors and joy settled easily into every room.
Still, his love for Luna remained the steady center around which everything else turned. His habits, even the obsessive ones, were simply how he loved. He would have bottled the stars for her if she had asked. He would have learned to cook like a professional chef if it meant keeping her smiling through a single meal. He needed to know she was safe, cared for, and at peace.
Somehow, Pansy had shown him that love did not need to be heavy to be fierce. That vigilance did not have to erase joy. That devotion could be protective and playful at the same time.
As the days stretched into weeks and the waiting grew heavier, the reality of the baby's arrival settled over them gently but firmly. They were no longer just two people bound by strange fate and Ministry paperwork. They were a family, small but fiercely held together by trust and tenderness.
And Theo, his heart cracked wide open in the best possible way, knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Luna was surrounded by love. His. Pansy's. And soon, their child's.
It filled the walls of their home. It filled him.
And for that, he would be grateful for the rest of his life.
~~~~~~
A few months before the baby was due, Luna and Theo decided to host a quiet dinner at the estate. Just the four of them. Only the soft hush of a summer evening and the comfort of familiar company.
The sun had begun its slow descent, brushing the sky with gold and coral, the last light spilling through the tall windows and bathing the manor in a warm, drowsy glow.
Outside, a breeze whispered through the trees, stirring the leaves in a slow rhythm that matched the steady calm of Luna's breathing. Inside, the dining room had been softened by candlelight and small arrangements of flowers gathered from the garden, each place set with quiet intention. The scent of dinner drifted through the room, roasted vegetables, warm bread, herbs still earthy from the soil, the kind of aroma that settled deep and made everything feel safe.
When Pansy and Neville arrived, they were greeted at the door by Luna herself, lavender clinging faintly to her apron. Her hair spilled over her shoulders like liquid silver, one hand resting instinctively over the gentle swell of her belly.
She welcomed them with her usual ease, her presence calm and luminous, and Theo stood just behind her, offering hugs that came easily, relief visible in the way his shoulders finally relaxed.
They moved into the dining room as though they belonged there, coats set aside, shoes nudged out of the way, laughter blooming before anyone even sat down. Neville produced a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin, immediately apologizing when he remembered Luna could not partake. Pansy rolled her eyes and passed over a neatly wrapped tin of lemon biscuits instead, declaring them a peace offering in case the wine proved disappointing.
Dinner unfolded gently. Stories overlapped and wandered the way they always did when comfort ruled the room. Hogwarts memories surfaced, old pranks, awkward dances, teachers who once terrified them and now existed only as fond anecdotes. Neville launched into an enthusiastic account of his latest greenhouse experiments, hands waving as he described cross-pollinating two notoriously stubborn plants into something faintly glowing and possibly healing. He swore it hummed if you hummed back.
Then the atmosphere shifted.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it settled into the room all the same. Luna's voice softened as she turned toward Pansy, her fingers resting against her teacup as if grounding herself.
"Pansy," she said quietly, her words gentle but sure, "Theo and I have been talking. We would be so honored if you and Neville would be our child's godparents."
Silence followed, brief but profound.
Pansy's eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth as though trying to hold onto the breath she had lost. She looked to Neville, who stared back at Luna and Theo with a kind of stunned reverence, then returned her gaze to them, emotion trembling beneath her composure.
"Oh," she said softly, blinking fast. "Oh, Luna. Theo. We would be honored. Truly."
Neville reached for her hand and squeezed it before turning to them with a steady, heartfelt smile. "It means more than I can say that you would trust us with something like this."
Theo leaned forward slightly, his expression open and sincere. "You've always been there for us. We cannot imagine anyone better to help guide our child. You are family to us."
Luna nodded, her eyes bright with quiet certainty. "Our baby will be very lucky to have you."
Pansy reached across the table without hesitation, her fingers closing around Luna's in a firm, tender grip. "We will be there," she said. "For everything. Whatever this child needs."
It felt like a vow. Quiet and sacred. Spoken without ceremony but held with the full weight of their love.
The moment softened into laughter, emotion spilling into joy as if the room needed the release. Pansy joked about the baby inheriting Luna's dreamy nature and floating off mid conversation.
Neville insisted the child would be practical and organized, probably categorizing herbs before their first birthday. Theo added, with a rare smirk, that if the baby took after Luna's courage and Neville's heart, the world would not stand a chance.
Later, when the candles burned low and the evening had settled into something slower, Theo lifted his glass. The soft clink echoed gently through the room.
"To family," he said. "To friendship. And to beginnings."
They drank not in silence, but in something softer. Something closer to peace.
They stayed long after the plates were cleared and the tea had gone cold, wrapped in conversation that wandered and deepened with time. The kind of night that settles into your bones and stays there.
Outside, the stars blinked quietly against the dark, bearing witness to promises made and love freely given. And as their laughter drifted into the night, they knew without needing to say it that they were no longer just friends.
They were family, chosen and cherished, built from trust, time, and a love that endured.
~~~~~~
Theo knew it would not be easy.
Asking Blaise to be a godfather was not the sort of thing one did lightly. Blaise had built an entire personality around deflection. He hid behind charm and silk and clever remarks, turning sincerity into a joke before it could touch him. Emotion was something he handled sideways, with a raised brow and a smirk that suggested he was never quite taking anything seriously.
But Theo knew better.
Beneath all of that lived a heart that was loyal to the bone. Fierce. Steady. The kind that did not waver once it chose you. And that was exactly why this mattered.
So he planned it carefully. Just a quiet dinner at the manor, warm light, good wine, and the people who mattered most gathered around the same table.
Luna prepared the meal with her usual ease, laughter drifting through the house as she moved between the kitchen and the dining room. It settled into the walls like a blessing. Ginny arrived with a bottle of wine and pressed a quick kiss to Blaise's cheek, earning a dramatic eye roll that did nothing to hide how pleased he was.
Dinner passed easily. Conversation flowed without effort. Ginny teased Blaise for not knowing the difference between rosemary and thyme. Blaise pretended to be deeply offended.
Luna guided the talk toward constellations and odd bits of magic, and Theo watched quietly, taking it all in, feeling the strange fullness that came from seeing the people he loved gathered in one place.
When the plates were cleared and the fire had burned down to a soft glow, they moved into the sitting room. The space was bathed in gold from the hearth, shadows shifting gently along the walls.
Theo knew it was time.
He looked at Luna. She gave him a small nod, calm and steady, and he drew a breath.
"Blaise," he said, his voice level, stripped of anything unnecessary. "We've been thinking a lot about the future. About the kind of people we want around our child. The kind of people we trust."
Blaise paused, his glass hovering near his mouth. One eyebrow lifted, curiosity sharpening his expression.
"And," Theo continued, quieter now, "we would be honored if you would consider being our child's godfather."
The words settled into the room without drama. Honest. Intentional.
For once, Blaise did not respond immediately.
His smirk faded, replaced by something open and unguarded. He looked to Ginny, who met his gaze with a soft smile that said she had known this moment was coming. Then he turned back to Theo, eyes wide in a way that made him look almost startled.
"You're serious?" he asked.
There was no bravado in his voice.
"Completely," Luna said. Her hands rested calmly in her lap, her expression serene. "You've always been part of our lives. We cannot imagine doing this without you."
Blaise blinked. Looked down at his drink. Looked back up.
"Well," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he could not quite decide what to do with himself, "I suppose I could make room in my outrageously glamorous schedule for a child."
The words were light. His eyes were not.
He blinked again, slower this time, and turned slightly away as he swiped at the corner of his eye with his sleeve.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," he muttered. "This is deeply undignified."
Ginny leaned into his side, laughter soft, her head resting against his shoulder. "You'll be brilliant," she whispered.
"I know," he replied, voice thick. "But now they've made me emotional, and I will never forgive them for it."
Theo lifted his glass, a genuine smile breaking across his face. "We will take that risk."
Blaise sniffed, recovering just enough to glare at him. "If this baby inherits your social skills, Nott, I am enrolling them in etiquette lessons immediately."
Luna laughed, light and unrestrained. Ginny elbowed him gently. The tension eased, folding back into warmth and noise and affection.
But for the rest of the evening, Blaise did not let go of Ginny's hand. And when he thought no one was watching, his gaze drifted toward Luna's belly with a kind of wonder he did not bother hiding.
Big, terrifying boy. Absolutely shedding tears.
Ginny squeezed his hand, her smile soft and sure. "You'll be perfect, amore."
Theo nodded once, voice low and sincere. "Thank you, Blaise. It means more to us than you know."
The night wound down slowly after that, conversation lingering, bonds quietly reinforced. And for once, Blaise let himself feel it fully. The weight of the honor. The depth of the trust.
~~~~~~
As the final weeks of her pregnancy unfolded, discomfort settled into her body and refused to leave. The effortless grace she had always carried softened into slower movements now, each step taken with care, each shift measured. She was still radiant, still glowing in that otherworldly way that seemed to belong only to her, but exhaustion lingered beneath her smiles, visible to anyone who truly knew her.
Theo knew.
If he had been devoted before, now he was everywhere. Constant. Watchful. He hovered so close he might as well have been part of her shadow, his presence steady and unyielding.
His hands were always finding her belly, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns across stretched skin as if drawn by instinct alone. Sometimes he rested his forehead against her and spoke in a low voice meant only for her and the child they were waiting for, telling quiet stories, murmuring promises, narrating the world as though their baby were already listening.
Every kick stole his breath. Every flutter beneath his palm felt like a miracle he had no words for. Awe lived openly on his face now, a reverence that made his love impossible to miss.
"Theo, I'm fine," she told him gently more than once, fondness threaded through her voice. "You don't have to worry so much."
But fine had never been enough for him. Not now. Not when she was carrying something so precious. Not when she was.
"I know, love," he would murmur, though his vigilance never eased. His gaze stayed fixed on her like he could will comfort into her bones, like attention alone might shield her from pain or strain or the uncertainty waiting just beyond the horizon. "I just need to know you're safe. Both of you."
She always smiled then. Soft. Certain. The kind of smile that unraveled him without effort.
When she placed her hand over his and laced their fingers together against the gentle curve of her belly, something in him finally loosened. The tension never disappeared entirely, but it quieted, settling into something steadier.
"We are," she whispered, the words a promise rather than reassurance.
And for those moments, nothing else existed. Not the past. Not the future. Not the weight of what was coming.
Just the three of them, bound together in closeness and anticipation, wrapped in a love that felt unshakable. Whatever waited for them beyond this quiet stretch of time, they would face it together.
~~~~~~
The door creaked open, and she stepped in, ethereal as ever. The glow of candlelight flickered over the room, casting long, golden shadows across the carefully arranged flowers, their petals scattered like poetry across the bed. The air was thick with warmth, a quiet hum of anticipation woven into every detail.
Her eyes swept over the scene, a slow smile curving her lips. "What's all this, my love?"
Theo turned, his gaze drinking her in, as though he could imprint the sight of her onto his soul. "It's for you," he murmured, his voice hushed with reverence. "Because you deserve to be worshipped."
She stepped closer, the air between them charged, pulling them together like magnets. "And how do you plan to worship me, my Sun?" she teased, though her voice wavered with the same heat that simmered in his gaze.
His hand reached out, fingertips tracing along her jaw before tilting her chin up to meet his. "With my hands," he whispered, letting his fingers drift down her throat, over the curve of her shoulder. "With my lips." He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "With my cock."
A shiver ran through her, her breath hitching as she held his gaze. "Confident, aren't you?"
He smirked, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. "With you? Always." His hands ghosted down her arms, fingers lacing with hers. "But I promise, love, I'll make it worth your while."
Her eyes gleamed with challenge. "Then you'll have to work for it, my Sun."
He grinned, sweeping her into his arms before she could protest. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Their mouths met in a searing kiss, tongues tangling, bodies pressed flush against each other. She felt the hardness of him against her stomach, and a soft moan escaped her lips.
"Your eyes," he murmured against her mouth, his hands gripping her waist.
She arched against him, pressing a kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw. "And your hands," she whispered, guiding them to the curve of her hips. "An artist's hands. I wonder what they could do."
His gaze darkened, his voice dipping into a husky whisper. "Would you like to find out?"
She nodded, her heart hammering. "Yes."
With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingers down the front of her dress, his touch featherlight, teasing. "You're beautiful, my moon," he breathed, tracing the fabric along her curves. "I want to paint you—with my hands, my mouth, my cock."
She gasped at his words, her nipples pebbling beneath the thin silk. "Theo… you're shameless."
"Only with you," he growled, capturing her mouth in another deep kiss. His hands roamed freely now, cupping her breasts, squeezing her ass, pulling her against him like he could press her into himself.
"Fuck, sugar," he groaned against her lips. "I need you. Now."
He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the bed, laying her down with care despite the heat racing through his veins. He hovered over her, his eyes smoldering. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."
She reached up, brushing her fingers through his dark hair. "I want you to make love to me," she whispered, her voice dripping with desire. "I want you to make me come."
His lips curled into a wicked smile. "As you wish."
He started slow, his kisses trailing down her body like brushstrokes, painting her in worship. He kissed along her thighs, his hands massaging, kneading, until she writhed beneath him, desperate for more. When he reached the damp fabric of her knickers, he smirked against her skin.
"Already wet for me, sugar?" His voice was dark, teasing.
"Yes," she gasped, her hands fisting the sheets.
With torturous patience, he dragged her panties down, baring her to him. He pressed a reverent kiss to her inner thigh before lowering his mouth to her. The first stroke of his tongue sent a sharp moan through her, her back arching off the bed.
"Theo," she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair.
He groaned at the way she reacted to him, the way her body yielded, trembled. "You taste so fucking good," he murmured against her, before licking a long, slow stripe through her folds.
She cried out, her legs trembling as he feasted on her, his tongue circling, flicking, teasing. His fingers slid into her, curling, seeking, finding that spot that made her toes curl.
"Yes, oh gods, yes," she gasped, her hips rolling against his mouth.
"Come for me," he murmured against her clit, before sucking it between his lips.
Her body tensed, her cries breaking into breathless gasps as she shattered beneath his touch, waves of pleasure rippling through her.
When he pulled away, his lips were slick with her, his gaze heavy-lidded with hunger. "You're perfect, my beautiful pregnant angel," he murmured, licking his lips.
She barely had time to recover before she was tugging him up, her fingers working at the buttons of his shirt with desperate urgency. "Fuck me, Theo. Please."
His shirt hit the floor, followed by the rest of his clothes, his cock standing thick and ready between them. He crawled over her, caging her beneath him.
"Now, Sunny," she urged, her voice breathless.
He lined himself up, pressing the head of his cock against her slick entrance. Their eyes met, locked, as he pushed inside, filling her inch by inch.
They moaned in unison, her body stretching to accommodate him.
"Fuck," he groaned, resting his forehead against hers. "You feel so good—better every time."
"Harder, Theo," she demanded, her nails digging into his back. "Fuck me harder."
He obeyed, his hips snapping against hers, driving into her with deep, unrelenting thrusts. The room filled with the sound of their bodies meeting, the mingling of moans and gasps.
Her climax built quickly, the pleasure so intense it left her gasping. "Oh, Theo—I'm coming, I'm coming again—"
His fingers found her clit, rubbing, circling, pushing her over the edge. She screamed his name, her body clenching around him, pulling him with her. With a shuddering groan, he followed, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her.
They collapsed together, bodies damp with sweat, limbs tangled. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in.
"That was..." she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest.
He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. "We've only just begun, my love." He leaned back, his eyes smoldering. "I want to paint you in every color, in every sensation. I want to make you come until you forget your own name."
She laughed, her eyes dark with promise. "I can't wait."