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raven-dor · 3 months ago

Note

I saw your recent Edmund fic and I’m obsessed!

Could you do one where Edmund gets super jealous/overprotective with reader? I love possessive Edmund!

mine all mine

the four times in which edmund discovers that he is overprotective of his wife, and the one time she proves to him she can take care of herself

PAIRING: edmund pevensie x wife!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, overprotective nature, sword fighting, typical Narnia violence, fluff ending

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

AN: This is set during the Golden Age, so all of them are adults!! also your title is fair, as in an adjective for just, not at all a description of what the reader looks like!!

part two (mine, all mine, all mine)

one.

He hadn’t meant to listen in to his wife’s meeting, really. But when he noticed Lord Eluna raising his voice, he couldn’t help but linger outside of the door, his hand on his sword's hilt. Y/N’s constantly calm voice interrupted the seething lord. “While I understand the importance of this situation, it does not warrant you to act poorly towards your queen, Lord Eluna.”��

The man scoffed. “By marriage. A marriage which could be easily annulled, seeing as you have not produced his grace any heirs.”

Y/N laughed, seemingly not phased by his comment. “We are not in desperate need of any heirs, my lord. If you haven’t noticed, we have a plethora of rulers. Unless you are planning something that would warrant the need of heirs.” She paused, and Edmund could only assume the look on her face, the one she typically made when she was proving him wrong. "Are you?"

“How dare you insinuate-”

Edmund forced down a laugh, barging into the room. “My lords.”

The table of twelve men stood, bowing to their superior. Half hearted ‘Your Grace’s’ were thrown Edmund’s way, but he could not care less. He looked at the man who was still glaring daggers at his wife. “Lord Eluna.”

“Your Grace.” He tore his eyes from the young queen. “We were just-”

“Yes.” Edmund raised an eyebrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I heard. And while I appreciate your obviously kind and thoughtful concern, my wife and I do not need your advice on that particular matter.”

Y/N turned bright red, widening her eyes when all the lord's jaws dropped. “Edmund-”

“I’m sure whatever you were meeting about can be postponed.” Edmund looked around the table, waiting for an answer. “Well?” The lords clambered, nodding quickly in agreement. He smirked and walked over to his wife, holding out his arm for her to hold. “My love.”

She rolled her eyes but still hooked her arm through his. “You are quite dramatic.”

He laughed, ignoring the prying eyes around them. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” The couple walked out the doors, giggling when they knew the lords could no longer hear them. Edmund frowned, rubbing her arm comfortingly. “Do they always treat you so horribly?”

“You cannot keep doing this, Ed.” She sighed.

“What am I do-”

She glared at him. “You know what you’re doing. They will never learn to respect me if you keep coming to my defense.”

“It’s been two years. They should have respected you the minute I married you. Actually-” He scoffed. “They should respect you because it’s the right thing to do.”

They walked into their chambers, collapsing onto the bed. Edmund wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in as she traced shapes into his chest. “You're a gallant and honorable man, Edmund, much more than your lords. But you know as well as I that those old malcontents will never respect me until I give them a reason to.”

“I wish it wasn’t so.” He leaned down, kissing her temple. “You are a much better leader than me.”

She scoffed, leaning into his touch. “Not true.”

“Yes.” He nodded, staring at the ceiling. “You are.”

“If I am..." She appeased him. "It is only because I’ve watched you and your siblings rule with kindness and justice for so long. Please do not put yourself down for my sake.” She stretched up, kissing him gently. “Never put yourself down; you are too perfect for that.”

“If you insist.” He smiled, feeling lovesick. How could he not? The most beautiful woman in all of Narnia, or, more accurately, the universe, lay beside him.

Of course, he felt lovesick.

two.

“Happy Birthday, my love.” Y/N smiled mischievously at her husband. “How old are you now? Eighty?”

He glared, kissing her cheek softly. “What a charmer you are.”

She nodded and took a deep breath, straightening her dress as they prepared to enter the ballroom. “Well, you didn’t marry me for my baking skills.”��

He rolled his eyes. “Your baking skills are perfectly adequate.”

She scoffed, looking up at him once more. “Don’t lie to me, Edmund Pevensie.” She fought the smile that threatened to break her act. “You flatter me too much, I think.”

He felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her senselessly. He had that urge constantly, but it was especially difficult at that moment. “You are a true beauty. Have I told you?”

She blushed, turning her face back towards the grand doors. “Behave.”

He nodded, still looking at her in awe, enjoying the way her flushed cheeks complemented her dress. He had always loved her in the color blue. “Yes, ma’am.”

The ushers opened the doors, and they stepped forward. “King Edmund the Just, and Queen Y/N the Fair.”

The room exploded into applause for the Just King, and the pair descended the stairs, focusing on not falling in front of all their subjects. Peter, Susan, and Lucy sat on their thrones at the bottom, smiling brightly. Lucy gestured toward the Maestro, and Edmund led his wife to the middle of the ballroom. “I do wonder what they'll play.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What did you do?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Y/N's smile grew as their wedding waltz’s familiar intro echoed through the hall. “This isn’t fair.”

He laughed at the irony. “Why not, my love?”

“It is your birthday, not our anniversary.”

He spun her around the room, whispering. “I happen to like this song.”

“Edmund…” She blushed again. “You should have chosen a song that you love.”

“I did.” The waltz ended, and he bowed. “It reminds me of you; why wouldn’t I love it?”

Her eyes were watering, and he suddenly felt horrible, his stomach twisting. “I’m sorry, did I-”

She leaped up, kissing him soundly. The crowd gasped, but Edmund didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned back, their foreheads touching. “I don’t deserve you.”

His heart felt full. “Quite the opposite, really.” He kissed her once more, nuzzling his nose with hers. “I love you.”

Lucy clapped her hands, pulling the crowd's attention away from the happy couple. “Thank you all so much for attending my brother’s 24th birthday ball!” The room erupted into cheers. Lucy smiled. “Help yourselves to the buffet, or take to the dance floor. Happy Birthday, dear brother.”

The crowd dispersed, and the pair walked up to the thrones, sitting beside each other, still holding hands. Peter muttered, smirking. “Couldn’t have waited until later?”

Edmund rolled his eyes. “Just because you don’t have a love li-”

Y/N scolded her husband. “Ed.”

Peter glared playfully at his brother. “My love life is none of your business, thank you very much.”

Susan laughed. “How is she?”

Peter blushed. “She has a name.” He straightened his posture, looking out into the crowd for who Y/N could only assume they were talking about. “As perfect as ever.”

Lucy giggled. “Have you tried talking to her?”

Peter closed his eyes, leaning his head back against his throne. “I am getting attacked from all sides, it seems.”

Y/N smiled. “I think it’s sweet. You seem very in love.” He smiled back, looking longingly at the buffet table, where a gorgeous maid stood handing out desserts. Y/N nudged him lightly. “You could ask her to dance.”

He laughed, and when he realized his sister in law was not laughing, stopped. “I fear she would not like the fuss.”

“Ah.” Y/N looked over at the girl again. “I will be right back.”

Edmund whined. “Where are you off to?”

“None of your business, Edmund.” She kissed his cheek quickly. “Do have fun at your own birthday party.”

He sighed as she walked away. “How can I when you’re leaving?”

The fair queen glided across the floor with the intention of making conversation with the girl the High King was infatuated with. She had almost reached Peter's love when a hand wrapped around her waist. She gasped, pulling herself out of the stranger’s hold. The visibly drunk lord bowed teasingly. “My Lady, would you care-” A hiccup interrupted his question. “Would you care to dance?”

She smiled politely. “I’m afraid my card is full for the night. But thank you for the offer.”

The man tried to speak again, but she turned around, walking back towards the maid.

Edmund had seen the entire interaction, gripping the handles of his throne tight enough to break the solid stone. Peter whispered. “Edmund, don’t do anything rash-”

“He just-”

Peter gave him the stare, that older brother stare that he tried to reserve for hard moments. “He will be dealt with, trust me, but you need to be subtle-”

Edmund stood up, stalking over to the drunken lord. Peter sighed once more. "He will be the first to give me gray hairs.”

Susan rolled her eyes. “You are twenty-seven, Peter. You’re not graying anytime soon.”

Edmund grabbed the lord’s arm, dragging him out to the balcony. “A nice night, isn’t it?”

The lord was in shock, nodding. “Yes, Your Grace.” He grinned. “It is truly an honor to have been invited to your-”

“It was a nice night.” The young king smiled condescendingly. “Until you harassed my wife.”

“I-” The old man stuttered. “I meant no disrespect.”

“Don’t lie to your king.” Edmund seethed. “If you ever do that again, I will rue the day, believe me.” He took a deep breath. “You will apologize to my wife, and after that, you will leave immediately. You are fortunate that I don’t ensure you are barred from the castle grounds.”

The lord looked upset. Good, Edmund thought, serves him right. “But Your Grace-”

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” The old man nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.” He stumbled back into the ballroom, making a beeline for Y/N. Edmund watched from afar, smiling as she smiled, actually genuinely smiled. Then he frowned when she let him kiss her hand. Oh, how he wanted to have him banished.

Y/N made her way to the balcony, shaking her head at her proud husband. “What have you done?”

“Nothing. Why do you assume-”

“Edmund.” She crossed her arms. “You must stop.”

“What?” He laughed. “Stop protecting you?”

“Yes!” She yelled, exasperated from his constant watching eye. “I had it handled.”

“He harassed you.”

“Thank you Edmund.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm, something Edmund did not appreciate at the moment. “I wasn’t aware.”

“My love.” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. “As long as there is air in my lungs, I will protect you. It pains me to see you go through these things.”

She smiled, placing a hand on his cheek. “You are a good man, Edmund.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But if we make a fuss about every lord who gets handsy while they’re drunk, the ballroom will be empty.”

He rolled his eyes. “Good. Get rid of the whole lot of them. I would rather it just be you and I anyhow.”

Y/N gasped, smacking his chest lightly. “Edmund!”

“No one should have to deal with that.”

“Well, I agree. But you can’t-”

“Good.” He nodded, ignoring the fact that he just interrupted her. “Who were you talking to after that incident?”

“Peter’s love.” She smiled. “That girl is quite kind. Spirited, too.”

Edmund laughed, pulling Y/N in. “Perfect for Peter then.”

She hummed, leaning her head on his chest as they looked back into the ballroom. “Perfect for Peter.”

three.

It had been Edmund’s idea to go on an afternoon ride. Y/N had reminded him of the recent attacks that they were investigating, but he’d ignored her. Their horses galloped through the fall woods, leaves falling as they flew through. Phillip muttered. “Her horse is much younger than me, no wonder she keeps beating me.”

Y/N’s horse, Vilja, laughed. “Perhaps you are simply slow, Phillip.”

Y/N fought against the laugh that threatened to spill out. “Now Vilja, play nice. Remember, Phillip has to hold Edmund and his ego.”

Edmund scoffed, shoving his wife playfully as they slowed. “What happened to playing nice?”

They tied the horses beside each other, walking through the woods leisurely. “It is perfect outside, is it not?”

Y/N nodded, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “It is.” She smiled as the lantern came into view. “It’s been too long.”

Edmund hummed. “We’re happy here.” He looked down, his heart beating fast. “You would tell me if you weren't happy, I hope.”

“Of course, Edmund.” She smiled. “I'm very happy here. I only meant we’ve been here for a long time. After all, it has been thirteen years.” She looked back at the lantern, pulling Edmund along with her. “I wonder how long it’s been there.”

He laughed, kissing her temple gently. “Who cares?”

“Edmund…” She leaned into his touch. Feeling mischievous, she pulled out of his hold, sprinting further into the woods.

Edmund groaned, chasing after her. “This was funnier the first time.”

The nymphs giggled as they watched the couple run through the woods. Edmund spun in the clearing, squinting as he tried to find his wife. “Y/N, you know I’ll find-” A piercing scream broke the joyful nature of their fun, and his heart sank. “Y/N?” He waited for her response, another scream echoing through the forest. He ran towards her, unsheathing his sword. “Y/N!” He broke through the woods, finding his wife backed against a tree, a wolf growling in front of her. Edmund stood in between them, pointing the sword at the wolf’s head. “We don’t want to harm you.”

The wolf simply growled. Odd. Edmund whispered. “Stay still, my love.” He stepped forward, addressing the wolf once more. “You have one more chance to leave us. We won’t harm you if you do so, you have my word.”

The wolf leaned back, lunging at Edmund, and he slashed his sword, killing the animal in a single blow. Y/N stood silent behind him, staring at the ground. “I thought all animals spoke in Narnia.”

“So did I.” Edmund knelt beside it, checking for any witchcraft of any sort.

Y/N smiled sympathetically, kneeling beside him. “She’s gone.”

“He was wild. There had to have been-” Edmund was silenced by a gentle kiss. He blushed. “What was that-” She kissed him once more, smiling.

“Edmund, she is gone. For good. And you saved me.” She mumbled. “Even though I could have reached for my sword-”

He rolled his eyes, standing up and extending his hand. “Let me guess? You had it handled?”

four.

She was radiant in that blue dress, Edmund observed from afar. After he had expressed his love of her in the color, she had ensured that almost all her dresses were that light blue. The rest of her dresses were her favorite color, which Edmund loved on her almost as much.

Unfortunately, others enjoyed looking at his wife as well. Lately, in Edmund’s opinion, her sworn guard had been looking at her for much too long. He was a conventionally attractive man, Edmund could admit, but he didn’t like that the young knight was looking at his wife the way Edmund himself looked at her.

He hadn’t brought it up to Y/N, not wanting to be called overprotective for the hundredth time. So he watched from afar, making sure that the knight didn’t make any untoward actions towards her.

They were currently in the garden, and Y/N was smelling the flowers, laughing and making polite conversation with Ser Ellington. The young man laughed back, reaching out to stable her when she stumbled over a root. Edmund clenched his jaw, forcing himself to remain calm.

It was his job after all, to make sure his queen was safe.

But when he reached out and grabbed a flower, extending it to the kind woman, Edmund snapped. That was not his job. He practically stalked forward, interrupting whatever conversation the two had been having. “My love.” He called out. “You look radiant.”

She blushed. “Edmund, I thought you had your meeting.”

He nodded. “I did, but we finished early, I thought I would accompany you for the rest of the day.”

“Of course.” She looked over Edmund’s shoulder at Ser Ellington. “You are excused for the day. Thank you, Ser.”

The knight bowed. “My Queen. Your Grace.”

Edmund watched suspiciously as the young knight walked away, only turning back to his wife when he turned the corner. Y/N smirked, tilting her head just so. “You have no need to be jealous, my love.” She turned back to the flowers, smelling them.

Edmund smiled guiltily, following after her like a puppy. “Can you blame me? Ser Ellington is not exactly unappealing.”

She nodded, still not looking back at him. “He is. But I am not married to him, nor do I sleep in the same bed as him every night.” Edmund turned bright red. “Am I wrong?”

“You are not, but you have to understand. You’re a beautiful woman, I can’t help but worry that someone will steal you away.”

She rolled her eyes, turning around. “Do you really think I would hurt you so?”

“No-”

“What have I done to make you assume so? I love you; I made a vow to you.” She crossed her arms. “Am I just a prize to you that you desperately need to cling to?”

“Of course not.” He grabbed her hands in his. “I’m madly in love with you, and the thought of you leaving me, the simple thought…” He pulled her closer, whispering. “Drives me mad.”

“Edmund.” She glared, pulling out of his hold. “You are exaggerating.”

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her gently back to him. “Do you really think I do not love you?”

“I never said that.”

He laughed. “You act as if we were not a love match. Like we didn’t discover Narnia together. I love you; I think I have since we were young.” He kissed the back of her hand delicately. “I know that I am too overprotective, and I am sorry for that…”

She smirked with satisfaction. “Good.”

“But can you blame me? You are a treasure, surely any other man would act that same way.”

Y/N nodded. “Perhaps. But you are not any other man. You are Edmund Pevensie, and I know you know deep down that I can handle myself. I do not need you to watch over me like a mother hen.” She raised an eyebrow. “I also fought the White Witch, I also helped you form peace treaties, I also-”

Y/N stopped, becoming more irritable by the second when she realized Edmund wasn’t listening. He stared at her so lovingly it made her sick, and she scoffed. “I am going to the library.”

He nodded, following after. “I shall accompany you.”

She shook her head. “I would like to go alone.”

He frowned. “Are you-”

“Edmund, please.” She sighed. “I love you, but I need to be alone with my thoughts.” Without a second glance, she walked out of the garden, leaving Edmund helplessly staring at her.

the time she proved him wrong

They had been gone for too long, Y/N thought as she stared at the woods. They had been gone for hours longer than they said they would. She should have gone with them; who knows where they were, where Edmund was.

She tried to calm herself down and reminded herself that neither Edmund nor his siblings would leave her in Narnia alone, but it was difficult when all of the hunt’s participants were speaking to her at once.

“Where are they?” Lord Eluna’s voice sounded over the rest. She tried not to glare at him; she could tell the man was enjoying the sight of her under pressure.

“I understand everyone’s worries; I have them myself, but we all know that the Kings and Queens would never leave their subjects so suddenly. Have no doubt that they will return. I am certain High King Peter and King Edmund dragged their sisters along a trail of the deer’s tracks.” Light laughter echoed through the crowd, relieving her stress slightly. Her stomach fluttered, and she pressed a hand to it, rubbing it slightly. “Does anyone else have any immediate causes for concern?”

The crowd erupted into chaos once more, and she took a deep breath, clearing her throat. “I will take meetings with all of you individually in the main tent.”

meanwhile...

Edmund sighed, staring at his older brother as he tried to convince himself the deer was nearby. “Peter, we’ve been gone for hours. If we haven’t found the deer by now, who’s to say we’ll find it later?” He practically pleaded. “We should return to camp.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just because you want to get back to your wife-”

“Peter, Edmund’s right.” Susan interrupted. “This deer isn’t important, and Y/N is there alone with the entirety of the court.” She frowned. “If it were me, I would be rather overwhelmed.”

Edmund fell into his thoughts, staring at the ground. Lucy whispered, nudging her brother lightly. “Edmund, don’t-”

Edmund tightened the reigns on Phillip, racing back towards the camp. Peter sighed, riding not far behind him. The dark-haired king didn’t look back; his only thought was that he had left Y/N alone with the egotistical lords of the realm. Phillip slowed, and Edmund jumped off, running towards camp.

Everything was fine, almost too fine. It was quiet, with a slight buzz of chatter but no worried voices. He stalked toward the main tent, whipping it open.

There sat his radiant wife, talking calmly with Lord Dolitmov. The older man saw Edmund and immediately stood, bowing. “Your Grace.” He looked back to Y/N, kissing the back of the queen’s hand gently. “Your Grace.”

Y/N smiled, waving as he walked out of the tent. Edmund tilted his head, smiling. “What happened?”

She laughed. "The better question would be, what happened with you?” She hugged herself, rubbing her stomach once more. Edmund made a mental note to address that later. “You were gone for so long I assumed you had returned home.”

He shook his head, frowning as he realized how stressed she had been. “I’m sorry for the worry we caused you; I fear Peter was too fixated on finding the white steed.”

She nodded. “I wondered.”

He took her hand in his, rubbing the back with his thumb. “I’m sorry that I worried you. But I must say, it is rather calm here.”

She smirked. “I told you I can handle myself.”

He laughed. “I believe you. Truly I do.” he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing the back gently. “I love you.”

“And I you.” She walked into his arms, burying her head in his chest. “I would have died from heartbreak if you had left me.”

“I would never.” He kissed her temple. “You know that.”

She nodded. “I know you would never leave us.”

He nodded back. “Correct. I would never leave-” He paused, tilting his head. “Us?”

Y/N looked up sheepishly. “I-” Her eyes started to water. “I’m pregnant, Edmund.”

“What?” Edmund grinned, staring at his wife in disbelief. “Really?”

She nodded, and Edmund grabbed her waist, spinning her around the room. Y/N cackled, smacking his shoulder. “Put me down; you’re going to hurt the babe.”

“I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I can’t help it.”

She laughed, kissing his lips softly. “I love you.”

Edmund leaned down, kissing her soundly. “And I you.”

taglist: @beebeechaos

#edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie #peter pevensie #narnia #narnia fanfiction #fanfiction #golden age #literature #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #prince caspian #the dawn treader #the silver chair #the chronicles of narnia #edmund pevensie fanfiction

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tending-the-hearth · 8 months ago

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a version of chronicles of narnia where those closest to the kings and queens get put into a sleep when the pevensies are brought back to their world, from which they're awoken only when their beloved four rules return, something à la sleeping beauty.

so the pevensie siblings return to narnia, and logically, it's been thousands of years. their closest friends, those they viewed as family, are, to their knowledge, dead, and they are completely alone now.

until peter and caspian encounter each other in the woods, and are about to get into their fight. it's the moment where peter's back is turned, and caspian has his word raised. lucy is screaming, tears in her eyes, susan and edmund are too far away to do anything, and there's a moment of chaos before caspian's strike is blocked by a larger, longer sword.

oreius, completely disgruntled and still very out of the loop, but only focusing on the fact that his king, his friend, his son, is in danger, glares daggers at caspian, not looking away for a second, even as tumnus gathers a now-relieved, sobbing lucy up in a tight hug, and edmund and susan shriek with joy upon seeing the beavers and mr. fox.

and any feeling of tension or fear immediately seeps out of peter, who drops the rock he had picked up, and stumbles to his feet and to oreius' side, being able to lean on the centaur for the first time in a year, and not have to worry about his safety or his siblings' safety. and oreius, without taking his eyes off of caspian and his followers, just puts an arm around peter.

and caspian remembers. he remembers the stories of the high kings and queens of narnia, and their beloved inner circle, and the absolutely terrifying centaur who called them sons and daughters of his heart, and he can't quite help but think about how utterly fucked he is.

#i have a vision in my mind #of a “don't touch my daughter you bitch” moment #and it's oreius giving caspian THE death glare as he stands protectively in front of peter #that's his son your honor #NOT a caspian bash #i just think its funny if caspian realizes that he's just fought with peter in front of his narnia dad #and is absolutely prepared to die for it because of the stories he's heard of oreius' protectiveness #also the group makes their way back to the how #and hear someone absolutely verbally tearing caspian's army to shreds #and edmund completely lights up because he'd recognize philip's voice anywhere #and he gets to reunite with his sarcastic shit of a best friend #this is going to be a fic btw #the chronicles of narnia #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #prince caspian #peter pevensie #oreius #lucy pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #mr tumnus

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the-jules-world · 1 year ago

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thoughts on the Pevensies returning home

Peter Pevensie was a strange boy. His mind is too old for his body, too quick, too sharp for a boy. He walks with a presence expected of a king or a royal, with blue eyes that darken like storms. He holds anger and a distance seen in veterans, his hand moving to his hip for a scabbard that isn't there - knuckles white. He moves like a warless soldier, an unexplained limp throwing his balance. He writes in an intricate scrawl unseen before the war, his letters curving in a foreign way untaught in his education. Peter returned a stranger from the war, silent, removed, an island onto himself with a burden too heavy for a child to bear.

Only in the aftermath of a fight do his eyes shine; nose burst, blood dripping, smudged across his cheek, knuckles bruised, and hands shaking; he's alive. He rises from the floor, knighted, his eyes searching for his sisters in the crowd. His brother doesn't leave his side. They move as one, the Pevensies, in a way their peers can't comprehend as they watch all four fall naturally in line.

But Peter is quiet, studious, and knowledgeable, seen only by his teachers as they read pages and pages of analytical political study and wonderful fictional tales. "The Pevensie boy will go far," they say, not knowing he already has.

His mother doesn't recognize him after the war. She watches distrustfully from a corner. She sobs at night, listening to her son's screams, knowing nothing she can do will ease their pain. Helen ran on the first night, throwing Peter's door open to find her children by his bedside - her eldest thrashing uncontrollably off the mattress with a sheen of sweat across his skin. Susan sings a mellow tune in a language Helen doesn't know, a hymn, that brings Peter back to them. He looks to Edmund for something and finds comfort in his eyes, a shared knowing. Her sons, who couldn't agree on the simplest of discussions, fall in line. But Peter sleeps with a knife under his cushion. She found out the hard way, reaching for him during one of his nightmares only to find herself pinned against the wall - a wild look in Peter's eye before he staggered back and dropped the knife.

Edmund throws himself into books, taking Lucy with him. They sit for hours in the library in harmony, not saying a word. His balance is thrown too, his mind searching for a limp that he doesn't have, missing the weight of his scabbard at his side. He joins the fencing club and takes Peter with him. They fence like no one else; without a worthy adversary, the boys take to each other with a wildness in their grins and a skillset unforeseen in beginner fencers. Their rapiers are an exertion of their bodies, as natural as shaking hands, and for the briefest time, they seem at peace. He shrinks away from the snow when it comes, thrust into the darkest places of his mind, unwilling to leave the house. He sits by the chessboard for hours, enveloped in his studies until stirred.

Susan turns silent, her mind somewhere far as she holds her book. Her hands twitch too, a wince when the door slams, her hand flying to her back where her quiver isn't. She hums a sad melody that no one can place, mourning something no one can find. She takes up archery again when she can bear a bow in her hands without crying, her callous-less palms unfamiliar to her, her mind trapped behind the wall of adolescence. She loses her friends to girlishness and youth, unable to go back to what she was. Eventually, she loses Narnia too. It's easier, she tells herself, to grow up and move on and return to what is. But her mourning doesn't leave her; she just forgets.

Lucy remains bright, carrying a happier song than her sister. She dances endlessly, her bare feet in the grass, and sings the most beautiful songs that make the flowers grow and the sun glisten. Though she has grown too, shed her childhood with the end of the war. She stands around the table with her sister, watching, brow furrowed as her brothers play chess. She comments and predicts, and makes suggestions that they take. She reads, curled into Edmund's side as his high voice lulls her to sleep with tales of Arthurian legends. She swims, her form wild and graceful as she vanishes into the water. They can't figure out how she does it - a girl so small holding her breath for so long. She cries into her sister, weeping at the loss of her friends, her too-small hands too clumsy for her will.

"I don't know our children anymore," Helen writes to her husband, overcome by grief as she realizes her children haven't grown up but away into a place she cannot follow.

#narnia #the chronicles of narnia #the pevensies #high king peter the magnificent #queen susan the gentle #king edmund the just #queen lucy the valiant #peter pevensie #susan pevensie #edmund pevensie #lucy pevensie #pevensie siblings #narnia thoughts #helen pevensie #the chronicles of narnia prince caspian #the chronicles of narnia the lion the witch and the wardrobe

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phsychobanana · 1 year ago

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A Memorable Goodbye

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Reader, some Caspian x Reader (Platonic though)

Summary: When Edmund has to say goodbye to a girl that he has slowly fallen for, something unexpected happens.

Word Count: 983

~A/n~ This is my first story on here so I hope you like it!

"I wish we had more time together." Caspian says to Susan from Y/n's side, a soft smile on his lips. Y/n glances between the two and backs away, sensing the slight tension there.

Once she makes it back to her spot, a few gasps are heard and she looks over at Susan and Caspian. The two stand there, swapping spit like there is no tomorrow. Which, for them, is true.

See, the Pevensie siblings were leaving once again. They saved all of Narnia, had a party, had a few makeout sessions as you can see, and are ready to go back to their world.

Y/n was sad, to say the least. Her and Edmund had grown quite close these past few days and she didn't want to have to say good bye to him.

"I'm sure I'll understand when I'm older." Y/n hears Lucy say from her left. Peter laughs and smiles softly in his younger sisters direction.

"I'm older and I don't think I want to understand." Edmund shakes his head, but instead of looking at his siblings or the two kissing teenagers when he says this, he looks at Y/n.

Peter smiles knowingly at his brother and Lucy simply furrows her eyebrows with a confused smile.

"If you like her, you should tell her before we leave." Peter says, rubbing Edmund's back.

Edmund shrugs his brothers hand off, "What's the point? What if she likes me as well? What, I just tell her, get her hopes up, and leave forever? I can't do that to her."

Peter nods, not having thought of that.

Edmund continues staring at the girl as she makes a disgusted face at her two friends that were still kissing. She turns her head, making eye contact with Edmund.

'Gross' She mouths to him, pointing at his sister who was surprisingly good at holding her breath.

He lets out a quiet chuckle at the girls face and she makes her way over. He panics slightly in his mind but remain calm on the outside.

"I'll miss you, King Edmund." She says with a teasing smile.

Edmund swears he could've melted just from her smile alone. It was one of the most beautiful things about her, he absolutely adores it.

"I'll miss you, Queen Y/n." Edmund says, making her eyes widen.

"Queen?"

"You are my wife, no?"

Y/n chokes on her spit, not having prepared for those words to leave Edmund's mouth. She had long forgotten about the stupid promise he had made when they were fighting at the castle.

Edmund was being attacked and Y/n ran to help him. He was meant to use a torch to help signal all of the Narnian's, but he had been compromised.

Y/n gripped her sword as tightly as possible, running as fast as she could to get to him. She burst through the door and slashed the man across the back, he groaned in pain and dropped Edmund to the ground, turning to Y/n with a furious glare. Edmund rushes to grab his own sword but he couldn't find it.

Y/n glares at the man as he pulls out both his and Edmund's swords. Y/n was not one to test,especially while angry. Edmund knew this, hell all of the Narnian's knew it. She used her sword to make both swords fly out of the mans hands. She steps forward and stabs him in the stomach, when he falls to his knees she pulls her blade from his stomach and kicks him in the...sensitives.

Edmund looks at her as if she placed the stars in the sky, "When all of this is over, I'm gonna marry you."

Y/n raises a brow and smirks, "I'll hold you to that."

"You never did put a ring on it, though. How dare you break your promise." Y/n pushes his shoulder and pouts jokingly.

Edmund smiles and lowers his gaze, "Sorry about that."

Aslan's voice brings the two from their conversation.

"It is time you leave, children."

Y/n looks over to Edmund, "Goodbye, Pevensie. Love ya."

Edmund's heart beats wildly at her words and he gains a boost of courage. He leans down and places a soft kiss to the girls cheek, making her grin.

"You missed."

"Huh?"

"You missed."

Y/n grabs Edmund by the collar and pulls him into a sweet kiss. Her soft lips meet his slightly chapped ones in one of the best kisses Edmund could have ever imagined. He places is hands on her waist just as she pulls away.

"I-I l-love you, t-too." He stutters out, heart beating so fast that he's struggling to breath.

Y/n smiles and pulls herself out of his grasp, kissing his forehead and walking away.Edmund watches her as she walks past all of his siblings giving them each a wave.

"What, no kiss for me y/n/n?" Susan asks as a joke, pouting at Y/n.

"You've gotten enough action." Y/n says, smirking at Caspian as said boy looks down with a pink blush spreading across his face.

Y/n walks over to Caspian and stands next to him as he wraps an arm around her shoulders. She lays her head on his shoulder as they both watch the people they are in love with leave.

Caspian rubs her shoulder in comfort as they stand there in a comfortable silence, Edmund stepping through the portal first.

Then Peter who waves to everyone, including all of the people who are watching this scene.

Then Susan, who blows a kiss in Caspian's direction before stepping through the portal.

Then Lucy goes, smiling at everyone before leaving.

"Well that was a memorable goodbye." Y/n says, touching her lips in slight disbelief of the fact that she actually kissed the boy. The boy she had fallen for. The boy she had trained with for days. The boy who made her laugh within that awful time. The boy of which she loved.

Edmund Pevensie.

#x reader #narnia #edmund pevensie #edmund x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie imagine #imagine #narnia x reader

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celestiamour · 7 months ago

Text

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ one loss after another ]❜

ft. peter pevensie x gn! reader — prince caspian, the chronicles of narnia

╰₊✧ peter realizing that his lover didn’t get past the gates┊1.1k words (prt two)

setting: the telmarine age (prince caspian) contains: angst!! prince caspian spoilers, guilt, descriptions of battles, mentions of death & murder, open ending, maybe ooc/lore inaccurate

➤ author's note: mmmm, narnia brainrot…

all around him was the state of his troops being massacred, the same troops who swore to follow him to the very end and were now paying the price of his foolishness with their lives. they were heavily outnumbered and deep in enemy territory while more and more telmarines joined the battle from seemingly nowhere. the call to retreat has been made several times, but some narnians were dealing with as many as three soldiers at once and the wave of archers from above raining arrows on them all certainly wasn’t helping. they were being held back, and as much as peter wanted to stay and help as many escape as possible, there were too many and the brave minotaur giving his life to hold the gate open wasn’t going to be standing forever.

he could feel his heart beating up to his ears and the wind rushing past him as he rode his horse past the archway with several others, but it wasn’t loud enough for him to ignore the battle cries and the howls of pain of those who didn’t make it behind him slowly becoming distant. as soon as he managed to flee, the minotaur collapsed on the spot and the heavy iron gate crashed atop his body. there were so many who were still trapped, trying to climb the metal bars in a futile attempt while getting stabbed in the back while some others decided to kill as many of the enemy forces as possible until their dying breath. whatever they were doing, they were all yelling at their noble king to turn back around and get away before miraz could chase after him.

it was difficult to listen to them and tear his eyes away from the entrance of the castle, but it was even more difficult to resist the urge to cry as he got to a safer distance. he failed them, he failed them all. he didn’t dare to look at the survivors, keeping his head down in shame and disbelief. he was supposed to be a king, the fabled magnificent high king of old who once saved the land from the white witch, but it was time for him to look the truth in the face and admit that he was still the troublesome schoolboy from finchley who wasn’t fit to rule anymore, much less mythical beings who were threatened to being driven to extinction.

when he finally lifted his head to address the remaining few, he felt his heart now drop. “w-where is…?!” panic was setting in as his world started spinning. lucy was back at base, susan was right in front of him, edmund just flew in with the help of a griffin, but you weren’t anywhere to be found. he thought he was going to be sick, tightening his hands on the reins and ready to go speeding back, “they must still be in there…! i-i need to go back!”

“you can’t!” susan exclaimed, the centaur whose back she hopped earlier on was now blocking his way.

“i have to! they’ll die in there!” despite being one of the most proficient with swords (even more so than him) and one of the best fighters at his disposal, he never wanted you to endanger yourself in battle and now regrets not trying harder to convince you not to join them.

“peter, you need to stop and think! you don’t have any way to get back in there— even sneaking in wouldn’t work now that they are high-alert! you’ll just get yourself killed while we need you to lead us. besides, you know that if anyone can make it out alive, it’s them, and if they can’t, then you need to stay alive to avenge them!”

she was right, and he knew that he should be listening to her since he still has the narnians and his younger siblings to protect, but his mind was racing even faster than his heart was earlier. he doesn’t know how he’ll handle the grief if you don’t make it, not after the massive scare of assuming you were already gone while he was away from narnia just to find you frozen in time thanks to aslan’s magic. ever since then, he’s kept you as close to him as he could, but now he’s afraid that fate is continuously trying to rip you away from him.

he took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts and swallowing his fear to put on a brave facade in an effort to lift the spirits of his troops, telling everyone to head back to aslan’s how before they will figure out how to recover and their next plan of action. he didn’t follow them immediately, not wanting to see the likely spiteful look in their eyes and hear the possible gossip about how incompetent he is, and instead looked back at the telmarine castle. it was much quieter now and darker with the looming knowledge of death indirectly by his hand, but the faint sound of metal clashing against metal was enough to give him a glimmer of hope you were still alive.

and alive you were, swinging your sword like the battle just started! they just couldn’t seem to pin you down, tripping over each other as they tried to swarm you and arrows hitting their own men instead of you. there might have been even more deaths by friendly fire than there was from you, but you were only here to raise hell for them to avenge your fallen friends. if you were going to die behind these walls, then you were going to take down as many of them as possible with you! you didn’t really know if there were other narnians still alive or if it was only you, but it didn’t matter right now when you were putting all of your strength to defending yourself.

the general leaned over to catch the attention of his king who was focused on you, “that one might single-handedly wipe out everyone in the palace if we don’t intervene right now…”

miraz couldn’t help but smirk, what was a warrior like you doing serving the boy king of a lost cause? you would be much better suited in his own army, maybe as a captain or as a lieutenant. “indeed… capture them and bring them to me after a night in the dungeon, perhaps they would make a good ally with a bit of convincing…” too bad for him, your loyalties are to the high king peter pevensie the magnificent and none other. that single night that he foolishly allows you to spend in his prison will be more than enough time to break out and make your way back to camp.

#📜. her works #the chronicles of narnia #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia x reader #narnia #narnia x reader #narnia fanfiction #peter pevensie #peter pevensie x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

The Assistant 13

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive and some triggers may not be specified for plot reasons.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: We came back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

Your new life is more of a death. The old you is dead and can never be again. Not quite a true death, it’s a purgatory you’re slogging through, waiting for the ultimate end.

Your first days are bleak. The house is filled with a stagnant pall as you wile away the hours playing your role. It’s easier when you pretend you're a character in a book, just like you did as a girl. When you became Elizabeth Bennet or one of the Pevensie kids. You escape in your mind because there is no other way out.

A routine quickly falls into place. You wake up, though sleep is sparse and hewn in wretched nightmares that mirror reality, and wait until Clark stirs. He never rouses very long after you. You open yourself to him, laying on your back, legs splayed as he grunts and ruts.

Tender, you dress in one of the thin dresses he collected for you and you go to work. You cook him breakfast. Sometimes, he takes you back to bed after he eats. Others, he pins you to the counter or the table. Then you clean up; the table, the dishes, and yourself.

When he stays, he sits and reads. You hover around him, busying yourself with a broom or just watching him, weighing the minutes. Not yet, not yet.

Lunch comes and you take care of that too. Then him. His appetite never wavers. The heavy pain sticks in your pelvis but he can’t think the limp is from anything more than the chain tugging at your ankle.

You pace, restless and wait. That’s all you do. Wait. For the first chance or his next whim. Whichever comes before the other.

You stand at the window and watch the wildlife. You feel him watching you in kind. When he leaves, he closes the shutters, latching them tight on the outside. Locking you in like a toy in a chest. A doll he can pick up to play with whenever he likes.

Dinnertime. Another meal. You’re not very hungry but you make yourself eat. If he lets you have a bath, you can puke it back up when he goes to get a towel. That is the last marker of time before bedtime…

Sleep is not won without a final surrender.

That day, as you wrap potatoes to cook in the oven, all noise seems louder, every movement more strenuous. The staleness in the air is suffocating. Your ears buzz from the constant silence. You crinkle the foil around a potato and drop it, rubbing your lobes.

You keep your hands on your ears and stare at the counter. You could scoop out your brains with a spoon. Are you going crazy? Your head feels itchy on the inside and you would be all to happy to scratch right through the bone.

“Honey?” Clark’s voice ripples through the air. “Is something wrong?”

You close your eyes and cringe. You drag your hands away and wrap the other potato, wincing at the aluminum's raucous wrinkle. He stands and you shudder. He’s coming close.

“It’s too quiet,” you say at last.

He nears and looms beside you. You put the potatoes aside and drag over the pan of marinating steak. His large hand rests on the counter.

“Can I help?” He offers. You shake your head.

“No, thanks, I got it, honey,” you reach to touch his hand. You just want him to back off. Sweat stains your skin as his proximity sets you on fire.

He leans in to kiss your crown, his hand dancing down your back. He gropes your ass and growls. His hand lingers and you brace yourself. It isn’t unlike him to interrupt.

“Love you,” he grits before he draws away.

You let your breath out in short spurts. You don’t want him to hear the relief in you. Your thighs quiver, bruised and raw. You carry on without pause. Keep yourself busy and he’ll let you be. For now.

🖊

The next day, Clark leaves you. You don’t know what he does when he isn’t there. Sometimes he brings back groceries or little things he’s forgotten. Others, he’s gone for hours and returns only with stress in his shoulders. You try not to think too much about what happens outside these walls, that only makes them close in tighter.

When he comes back, just around lunch time, he presents you a radio. An orange and black radio you’ve seen used by those in remote regions. He sets it on the counter as he flicks it on and adjusts the knob, searching for a station through the crackle. You cross your arms as you watch around his elbow.

The stringy tune comes through and warbles against the static. The music soothes you. You only realise then, you’d never thought you’d hear it again. Clark turns to you as you stare at the speakers.

“Do you like it?” He asks.

You nod and unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, “yes, thank you.”

Is this all you have? A radio?

“Do you… wanna dance?” He murmurs shyly.

You look at him. You reach for his hand in acceptance. Nothing he gives comes without a price. He takes you into his arms wordlessly, his face brightening as he leads you into a slow shuffle.

‘I bless the day I found you I want to stay around you And so I beg you Let it be me’

The song is older. You’re not sure who it is. By your guess, it’s even older than your parents… you know you won’t see them again. Even if you do get your chance, you can never go back to the life before this.

“I remember the first day I saw you,” Clark says as he pulls your head to rest against his chest, “you were wearing that little pink plaid dress…”

His words hang in the air. You remember the day too. The day you thought you’d figure it all out. You’d pay your dues as an assistant, work your way up to a writer one day, and maybe, in your wildest dreams, an editor…

“I love you, honey,” he pets your head.

“Love you too,” you eke out.

He pulls back to look down at you. You gaze up as he brings his fingertips under your chin. He leans in to kiss you and draws away reluctantly. He hums as his other hand closes around yours.

“Let’s take a bath,” he lets go of you and follows the chain to its end, unhooking it from the loop in the floor. He tugs you after him as he lets the radio play.

You let him take you into the bathroom. He’s intent on his mission. He drops the chain, the links hitting the floor heavily. You stare at it, just for a second, not too long for your heart to spike.

He bends over the tub and cranks the faucet. You watch him, fingers tingling, as he puts in the stop and holds his hand under the water’s flow. Stay calm.

You move closer to him as he undresses. You help him lift his shirt and you pet the soft hair along his torso. He turns to you, that foggy look in his eyes. You bring your hands to his pants and undo them, biting your lip as you hold his gaze.

You pull down his pants and let them fall down his thick legs. You tilt your head at the sudden thought, tweaking your ear towards the music. He reaches to stroke your chin.

“What is it, honey?” He snarls.

“This song,” you stop and listen to The Ronettes' iconic beat, “can I turn it up?”

He rolls his thumb across your chin and exhales, “sure, honey. I like this one too.”

You smile and shift your head, taking his thumb into your mouth. His eyes round as you swirl your tongue around his salty fingertip. You pop your lips off as he sighs.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Mmm, baby,” he breathes.

You turn slowly, measuring your steps and your heartbeat. You go out into the kitchen, the chain rattling with each step. You peer around, taking in the place. You hear the water swish as he lowers himself into the tub. You peek over as the end of the chain trails just outside the bathroom.

You stop by the radio and glance over your shoulder. Now. You turn up the radio, just loud enough. You bend and tug the chain inch by inch towards you, the noise disguised by the drumbeat. You coil it around your hand, allowing enough for you to walk.

You peer over at the bathroom doorway.

“I’ll bring towels,” you call over the music.

“Hurry,” he booms back as he lets out another gritty sigh, “baby, I need you.”

You turn without hesitation. This is it. You march into the front room and to the front door. Of course he wouldn’t lock it, not with the cuff on your ankle hooked to the loop. You glance over at the hook in the floor and steel yourself.

You open the door, lifting it on the hinges to keep it quiet. The radio drones behind you as you let yourself out into the cool air. You take one step, then the other, each one quicker than the last. You approach the trees and take a breath.

It’s now or never.

You plunge into the woods, your gait uneven as you run with the chain yank with each step. You don’t know where you’re going or where to go, you just need to get far away from here. You can’t live like this. You can’t die like this.

Your feet hit the forest floor, unfeeling to the jab of sharp rocks and the scratch of twigs. Don’t look back, just go, just go. You sprint until your lungs burn, until your mouth is parched and scratchy, until your limbs ache.

You stumble onto the ground and gulp. You can’t go any further. You’re too weak.

You shake on your hands and knees, fighting to catch your breath, trying to urge yourself on.

Then you hear it. A giggle. A chirpish yelp and the splash of water. People? You crawl forward towards the noise. You lift yourself to look over the overturned trunk at the edge of the incline. There’s a lake below, there’s bodies splashing through the waters, screaming and laughing.

Oh, god! You stand and throw your hand up, mustering your strength to cry out. Help!

As you open your mouth, your voice shrivels up as your throat is clamped in a vice. You're dragged back away from the drop off and turned to face your villain. Clark stands naked amid the trees, seeming as towering and thick as any of them, as he grips your neck. He lifts you off your feet, your toes dangling above the ground.

You claw at his forearm as you wheezes. Your eyes well as he glares at you, shaking with rage. The chain falls from your hand and hits the floor, weighing on your ankle. He bears his teeth and hisses.

“Why would you do this?”

You can’t speak. Your head throbs as you reach to bat at his chest, begging silently for him to release you. ‘Sorry…’ you mouth, ‘sorry…’

“I love you, sweetie, I love you so much,” his voice quakes as he squeezes tighter, “why did you do this?”

Your lips open and close as your head swells violently. Your arms feel heavy as you grasp at him desperately. I can do better, I can do better. Just one more chance, honey. Please.

“You’re the one, you’re the one,” he chants tearfully, “I never loved anyone like I love you.”

“Cl-Clark,” you force out, “ple-ease—”

“No,” he crushes your throat so not a single wisp can get through, “I will never… love anyone that way I love you. Never…”

Your cheek twitches as your lashes glazes with tears. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind swirls. His eyes fill with red light, glowing hotter and hotter. You see yourself in the scarlet glare; you in your tub, reading your favourite novel, that first day at the office when you nervously introduced yourself, your days in school, running between classes, your high school graduation, the little girl dancing in the fields, a princess out of time.

You see it all behind you and you see the emptiness ahead of you. You shake your head above his grip and use the last of your effort to mouth the words to him. The truth.

‘I….’ you make certain the movement is clear, even as your eyes threaten to roll into your skull, ‘hate.’ Your lips twist in a cruel smirk, ‘you.’

Your head lolls and you stare into his glowing irises. You’re ready. This is ever after.

The world is consumed in a red flash and a striking heat. It sears to the bone and ends just as quickly. All is black and gone. A life burnt to cinder.

Stayed tuned for the epilogue

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the assistant #dc #dcu #superman

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vinnieswife · 2 years ago

Text

She’s not you

Peter Pevensie x fem! reader

words: 1,8 k

warnings: smut!, fingering, oral (fem!receiving)

Peter was lying on the sofa in his flat, spending the evening watching the new Hobbit trilogy, when he heard the door open and close again.

You came in sighing. It was so typical. You didn't know how you did it, but you always manage to pick the wrong person. After tossing the keys into the container by the front door, you made your way to the living room.

"You're home already?" Peter didn't pretend to be happy about that.

You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the couch next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Why do I always hang out with idiots Pete? Why can't everyone be like you?”

Peter laughed humbly. "I don't know." He lifted his arm, and you quickly snuggled into him kicking off your shoes. "What are we watching?"

"The Hobbit."

You nodded and relaxed, grabbed a blanket and covered your body and Peter's "Marie left already?"

Peter covered his legs before sighing. "She didn't come," he admitted. You looked up from your position, your face full of confusion.

"Peter Pevensie" Peter was sitting across from you. With one arm on the back of the couch and one leg propped up against the couch, you couldn't help but smile. "Oh no, my full name," he said, pretending to be scared.

"I can't believe it! You could have made a move," you scolded him, and he scowled with a laugh "What's so funny?".

"Y/n... I don't want to make a move. "

"Why, she's beautiful!" Peter laughed again, scratching his neck lightly before shrugging. "I don't even like her that much”

In case you didn't know, Peter's heart was pounding in his ears right now. This will be the end of your friendship; God you and Peter have been friends since the crib and he would rather repress his feelings than be nothing. "You'll never get a girlfriend if you go on like this, Pevensie! What's the matter with her?"

It was the drop that filled the glass.

"Nothing, nothing, it's just that she's not you" Your eyes widened like plates; did he really say that?. Suddenly you realised how closely the two of you were sitting together. You were still leaning on his arm. The warmth of his skin seeped through his torso and touched the exposed skin of your back. Your whole body shuddered under his gaze, your throat so dry you couldn't swallow the lump that had formed in your throat. "Don't lie to me," he regretted saying that.

"I'm not," Peter replied quietly. All confidence left him. He regretted what he said. They both stood in silence for a while, trying to figure out what had happened. "Why didn't you say anything?" you asked.

Peter sighed and clenched his jaw. "I guess I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I would have had to find somewhere else to live, and the atmosphere would have been uncomfortable" He adjusted his seat and looked down. "Like now."

"You're stupid," he laughed. You took a deep breath before continuing. "I've loved you since we were little, Peter."

His head snapped up. Now he was the one who was surprised. "You, what?" You nodded, confirming that what you just said was true. "You were seeing someone else, I thought you didn't like me."

Peter gulped. The air in the room changed. You could feel the heat under your skin, like someone had turned up the heat. You were still looking at Peter trying to see if you were joking. It was a joke, wasn't it? You took a deep breath. It didn't lead anywhere. You clearly weren't the type of girl to make the first move, but this was different. It was Peter. And you'd do anything for him.

One of your hands moved over his arm before placing it behind his neck. You approach him hesitantly, but Peter knew you to well, and he just leaned in to meet you lips.

You kissed me a couple of times and it all felt the same. This was wrong. It was full of love and adoration and the sweet taste of it amazed them both. But there was something else. Passion surged and took my breath away. You didn't expect Peter to kiss like this. His hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer as his kiss became more artful.

You climb onto his lap caressing his face. Peter holds you tighter. His fingers pressed against your skin, digging into the fabric of his high-waisted jeans. You practically writhed under his grip, your body pressed against his chest as you kissed, both of your minds filled with dirty thoughts.

After waiting so long, you couldn't wait to get there because the opportunity really did come. "God, y/n". You gave him a breathtaking smile before slowly pulling his shirt off.

Peter grabbed you around the waist again and pulled you closer as he began to kiss your neck. Your hand ran down his chest, tugging at his shirt, running your hand under the fabric, caressing his warm skin, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen. He kissed your collarbone as you whispered and moaned. His lips were still kissing your skin, moving slowly over your bare breasts.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to do that." He towered over you, supporting her weight in his arms, staring down at you and pulling her to you. You couldn't believe he was really kissing you.

"Are you going to keep your eyes on me or kiss me again?" you bite your lip and smile as you look into his eyes.

He gasped and moved closer. When he pressed his lips against yours again, his hips almost crashed against yours, making you let out a choked moan. Your hands moved over his skin, down the hem of his trousers, he lets you slide your fingers under the fabric and he moaned as you begin to plan him through his trousers.

The air in the room was overwhelming , and it was burning your skin. They were already panting, gasping for kisses, devouring each other with a hunger to kill each other.

You push Peter up and reach into your tight jeans, but he grabs your hand and stops you from undoing the top button. You held your breath, waiting impatiently for Peter to finish what he had started. His hands moved painfully slowly, caressing your spread thighs, thumbs digging into your clothed skin, making you squirm before unbuttoning and unzipping your trousers. "Lift your hips for me, my dear," he murmured, concentrating more on his actions than his words. Now, you lay on the couch beneath him, wearing nothing but a pair of black panties, and you saw his expression darken, biting his lip again.

All right. "Good girl." Peter looked sophisticated and different. Flattering and seductive was a new side of him. After all, the sweet, shy boy had a dark side.

His hand stroked your leg again, you felt the goose bumps on your skin, and when his hand finally reached the edge of his black underwear, you couldn't help but gasp as you shivered. Peter looked up, finally met your gaze and leaned down to kiss you again. His kiss travelled down your body, hitting the sweet spots on your collarbone, your sternum and down your abdomen, leaving a wet trail that made you shiver.

You stood up and reached up to pull Peter closer to you. You kissed and sucked on his neck as you felt your underwear slip completely off your legs. You started touching his trousers again, feeling his erection under the fabric. "don't tease" Peter growled, gently but firmly pushing you back on the couch as you made another mark on his skin.

Your lower belly was tense, waiting to be touched and tended to. When his lips brushed the inside of hers, you moaned and felt a kind of relief and frustration at the same time. So you didn't want him to kiss you.

"Peter," you whisper, closing your eyes and concentrating on the feel of his lips against your skin. Your head dropped back onto the pillow, your hands gripped the edge of the wide couch and you felt his tongue caress your aching clit. You hadn't had sex in a long time. Peter loved teasing you about that.

He began to move slowly, up and down and side to side, deftly turning you into a moaning mess beneath him. And when you felt one of his fingers slide inside you, you couldn't even think anymore. All you were thinking about was him, Peter.

And he pushed you over the edge. A current of pleasure exploded in your lower stomach, and the knots that formed exploded, clinging to Peter's blond hair. "Fuck" you moaned, "I'm about to-" Peter laughed, wiped his mouth with his palm and said, "Your room or mine?" he asked with a grin. Now you're skin to skin, completely exposed.

"I don't care, just fuck me."

He took you to the next room. Lying quickly on the bed, he gently laid you down and jumped on top of you. Mocking your gentleness, he looked down at your face and saw your face pucker with pleasure and a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Peter, if you don't start fucking me now, I'll do it myself" With a thrust he filled you and paused to give you time to adjust to his size. When he was sure he wasn't going to hurt you, he pulled back almost all the way before thrusting his hips into you.

It was simply heaven. It had to be. His movements quickened as he realized his hands were taking advantage of your hips, pressing your body into the mattress and plunging you into oblivion.

"Look, you're taking me so well," he said, panting heavily. His eyes were on your face, his blue eyes and messy hair made him stunning.

You felt your lower abdomen tighten again and you let Peter know you were close again, but so did he. His thrust became unsteady and he held his weight by clinging to the headboard. Both jumped off the cliff at almost the same time.

Peter sank to the mattress, rested his head on the corner of your neck and took a deep breath. He was still clinging to the headboard and didn't want to crush you with his weight, but you didn't mind.... Panting, you gently stroked his neck.

You had no words to say. We both knew how we felt. Rising slowly, Peter got up and went to the closet. He pulled a shirt and black boxer shorts out of his wardrobe and handed you the shirt as you sat down.

Peter grabbed you again, pulled you tight against his chest and pulled the sheets over the two of you. "y/n?" he finally said.

"Huh?"

"Thank God your date went wrong”

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rthstewart · 2 months ago

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So is John Pevensie still an antagonist in Stone Gryphon? (Am I asking this because I love Helen and Mrs. Godwin? Yes. I am also asking because I love a furiously protective person and John seemed like that in the snippets from his perspective)

@becauseforoncethisisme asked:

First, thanks so much for reading and reaching out about the first chapters of Heart and Crow Make The Peace.

Ware below for LONG meta/history/ruth stewart blather

For many years, the first and last look readers had of John Pevensie was a scene in the posted Apostolic Way. It’s a disastrous dinner at the Rainbow Room in New York City, where Col. Walker-Smythe has brought Edmund to America to work as his aide and batman. John is, as presented in the story, a writer and editor, recruited by the SOE, to work on the generation of pro-British propaganda. He is a serial philanderer, is bitterly disappointed that it is Edmund, rather than Peter, who has come to America, and the dinner is excruciatingly painful as John’s memories of his children are several years old and certainly pre-Narnia, leaving Edmund to, once again, be far kinder than his father deserves and Walker-Smythe is furious. It’s made worse by numerous women who have obviously enjoyed John’s attentions in the past stopping by the table to say hello.

Meanwhile, Helen Pevensie is back in London, and true to what was more common in 1943 than it was in 2020, has been in a sexual relationship with Mrs. Beatrice Goodwin, the widow next door.

I was probably too successful in the scene as John can come across as a craven and cruel person. Readers’ sympathies (and mine) have always tilted to Helen.

With the reposted story, I slightly tweaked the previous version of the Rainbow Room scene and have introduced in text that a part of John’s issue is untreated PTSD. So, is this signaling a change of heart for me in John's role? and what about Mrs. Goodwin and Helen?

John's untreated illness is an explanation, in part, but not a justification to be sure.

I’ve always intended for Helen and Beatrice to go their separate ways. As broad-minded as the Four are, it's different when your parents are involved and I’m finding it hard to push myself to writing that as a resolution or where it’s all just one big happy polyamory. From discussions with readers, I could see Beatrice moving to a small market town for economy, meeting another widow with young children and you know, there are only 2 bedrooms in the cottage, so of course…. Post-war England was filled with these kinds of relationships of economy and convenience and, presumably, potential romance amongst widows.

As a writer, I also want John and Helen to both put some work in and try to rebuild their relationship. This is something millions of people had to do post-War and I’m interested in how and whether couples can overcome infidelity. I’m not sure I could, personally (I’ve been married for over 30 years!) and I’m interested in developing it. TSG itself presents numerous different takes on bonding and infidelity which, while true to the time period, is also intended as a contrast to Edmund and Lucy’s own sense of loss for their partners. Something I’ve not decided is whether Morgan and Aidan, respectively, went on to have their own relationships some period of time later.

There’s another reason for introducing John’s PTSD. TSG was originally supposed to be a two-fer, Peter-centric story. I was going to do a time-skip after the conclusion of Ox 1942 and jump to post war, with Peter starting an affair with Mary, dropping out of uni, finally finding his path, and then everyone dying, with Susan left behind (I had this about half-written, even). I never, EVER wanted to touch the 1940s UK educational systems or Peter’s potential service in the military as I deemed bothway beyond my storytelling skill.

[TQSiT was never in the cards – that’s the fault of an early reader, Miniver on ff dot net long since gone, who asked, Well, given these adventures for Peter, and Lucy and Edmund off on the Dawn Treader, surely Susan is up to something exciting in America, which coincided with me reading a WaPo review Connant’s The Irregulars. Oops.]

So to avoid having to write Peter in the service, from the very beginning, back in Ox 1942, I wrote that Peter’s parents are opposed to his service and he’s willing to go along with it because he thinks he’s an insubordination risk. I never explained why they are opposed which is really not especially consistent with the patriotism of the time.

So, in the story I’ve picked up again 12 years later, John’s trauma at Dunkirk as now part of the reason for that opposition. He goes to War to protect his family and early on is deeply traumatized by the failures to evacuate soldiers on the beaches; he hears the screams of men and ships going down in his dreams. In his own protective misguided way, he wants to protect his family from that horror. And when he finds out that Aslan plucked his children out of England and turned them into warriors, he is going to be PISSED.

Oops.

Thanks so much @becauseforoncethisisme!!

#narnia #narnia fanfiction #chronicles of narnia #fanfic #the chronicles of narnia #the stone gryphon #rthstewart rambles #self-indulgent blather

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promptthebear · 1 year ago

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🐰 Edmund Pevensie #14 please

Edmund Pevensie x Reader- "Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Part 1/2 <- ***UP NOW!!!!***

Summary: Soulmate AU. Set during the "Golden Age", Edmund thinks he's doomed to be alone for the rest of his life. Until his fated match appears in the most unlikely of places. 2nd person, reader is written as "you"

A/N: Hey guys, sorry I've been go so long. Part two for this is literally being written right now and will hopefully be up very soon. I just thought I should give y'all SOMETHING to end the dry spell. Enjoy!

TW: None that I know of, but please message me if you need something tagged.

Rain was falling in sheets outside his study window, and the sound of the drops against the panes had soothed Edmund into a light doze. It was late, most likely past midnight, and his candles had burned down to almost stubs in their holders. He’d been reading for hours, lost in tomes of Narnian history and retrospects on ancient magic traditions. As fascinated as he’d been, he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes from growing heavy, and the blue velvet chair felt almost like a lover’s embrace.

Not that Edmund would have any idea what that actually felt like, though he could muster up a pretty good guess. Over the years, he’d watched his brothers and sisters find partners, wed, and have children of their own. Even little Lucy had been married last summer, leaving Edmund as the last bachelor among the family. That was one of the many reasons he’d been taking solace in his study over the last few weeks. He was plenty used to being alone, but there were only so many nights in a cold bed one could take before it started driving him a little mad.

Another man may have sought out comfort in the village pubs, but the idea of a hot, stuffy room and the press of drunken, sweaty bodies held about as much appeal to Edmund as driving straws under his fingernails. So, instead, he filled his waking hours in the company of books, often choosing to fall asleep among them than make the long, solitary walk back to his dark and empty chambers. This would be the third night in a row he’d spend here, and regardless of how Susan chided him that sleeping in his chair would ruin his back, Edmund also knew it wouldn’t be the last either.

A sudden, sharp rap at the door startled the young king from his near stupor. With a snort and a grumble, he rose from his chair, rubbing at his stiff muscles and silently cursing whoever chose to disturb him at this hour.

The hallway felt far too bright after the dim, golden light in the library, and for a moment after he opened the door, Edmund stood there, dazzled and blinking away stars from his eyes. When his vision cleared, he found himself staring into the face of one of the city guards. The young man seemed nervous, shifting from side to side and not quite able to meet Edmund’s gaze. Aside from the familiar uniform, the young man was little more than a stranger to him, and Edmund wondered why the captain would have sent someone so young to speak with one of the high kings.

“Your majesty. I beg forgiveness at the disturbance, would this matter have waited until morning I assure you I would not be here now.”

His voice betrayed his age, confirming Edmund’s suspicions that he was a new recruit, barely older than sixteen and almost twelve years his junior.

“Speak your piece and be on your way,” he replied, running a hand over his face to try and clear away any drowsiness that still clung on “It is far too late for either of us to be away from our beds”

The guard jumped at the sound of Edmund’s voice, and did some sort of half nod, half bow that made him look like a fish jerking around in a net.

“Again, my most sincere apologies your majesty. Once more, if it were not for the urgency of the situation I would not have caused you upset. My captain insisted that you be spoken with directly and that this message reach no ears but your own. I tried to tell him you’d be abed by now but-”

“Out with it, lad. The longer you speak, the longer the hour grows and the more weary I become.”

The edge to his words almost made Edmund wince. He hadn’t meant to be so sharp with the boy, but Susan had been right. Spending nights in his chair had made him incredibly sore, and had kept him from having a decent rest for far too long. The combination of both was not providing him with an overabundance of courtesy.

“We caught a pick pocket, your majesty. In the market, earlier this evening.”

Edmund reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to ease the throbbing that was starting to grow behind his eyes.

“Please, tell me this is not why you woke me up.”

Yes, Edmund acted as the King’s Justice and presided over all cases brought into court, even trifling ones like pick-pocketing. However, as far as he could tell, there was no reason something that simple would bring a guard to his door in the middle of the night.

“It is, your majesty”

“And? Have you all suddenly forgotten how to do your jobs? The thief can spend the night in lockup with your other petty criminals, and I’ll be there to preside over their trial in the morning. If that’s all you came to tell me, then I suggest you be on your way before I take it upon myself to serve you with a demerit and suspend you from service for the next week.”

The door was halfway closed when the young guard’s boot wedged itself between the door and the wall. Edmund stared down at it for a moment, trying to process the sheer gall of this otherwise seemingly placid young man. Nobody, in his recent memory, had ever kept him from closing a door when he wished. If he wasn’t contemplating sending this man to scrub out the barracks privvies for the rest of his natural life, he almost would’ve been impressed at his tenacity.

“Alright, that does it, I’m giving you until the count of three to get out of my sight and if you aren’t gone by two then so help me-”

“She has the mark, your Majesty”

It felt as though someone had just dumped a bucket of freezing water upon Edmund’s head. For a moment he stood, still as a statue while his mind raced at frantic speeds to try and make sense of what he was hearing. The lad had to be joking, there simply was no other explanation. This was all part of an elaborate prank someone was pulling on him, like Peter maybe, and Edmund would walk all the way down to the dungeons only to find a sow or donkey painted with a mark that matched his own rather than the girl he’d been promised.

He opened his mouth to tell the young guard he was a liar, along with a few other choice phrases, only to find his voice had left him. What was the worst that could happen, if he followed this boy? Experience told Edmund that he could end up being the kingdom laughingstock the next morning, but what of it? Most of his subjects, noble and common alike, either ridiculed him behind closed doors or pitied him to his face, which was somehow worse. The Lonely King, they called him. A solitary man in a world where everyone was fated to find their perfect match at some point or another. Would a lifetime of isolation be truly worth avoiding a few moments of ridicule?

The carved animals in the wooden door stared blankly back at Edmund, and though the flickering candlelight made their faces seem to dance and move among the shadows, they had no more answers for him than the young King had for himself. With a sigh, he clasped the edge of the door and pulled it open. It creaked loudly, a sound made louder still by the otherwise hushed air in the sleeping castle. The young guard waiting beyond started at the noise, and took a step back towards the far wall as though he expected Edmund to leap out and bite him.

Now standing in the full light of the hall, Edmund saw in earnest how young the guard really was. He may have been a youth of sixteen, but he had the face of a twelve or eleven year old, making him look like a squire rather than the soldier he was. A light dusting of fuzz across the boy’s cheeks, a hint of a beard, was the only thing to suggest he was near manhood and it made Edmund feel all the more guilty for being so hard on him.

“Come on,” he said, clapping a friendly hand down on the guard’s soldier as he moved past him “Let’s get this over with.”

#easter askbox event #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie x you #edmund pevensie #narnia fic #narnia imagines

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