#edmund x oc

[equixen]

Spoiler warning: This video is based on and contains plot spoilers for @eds-gryff's fanfic, ‘Alliance’ (first book in the ‘Alliance’ series, all links below) and includes sequences that represent the ending of that storyline with a teensy glimpse at their future later in the overall Alliance series.

Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia Pairing: Edmund / Sanya [OC] (Edmanya) Song: ‘Poison & Wine’ by The Civil Wars

This video is dedicated to @eds-gryff and I’m also posting this on the 1-year anniversary of the day that I started reading this series. :D

Well, I don’t think I’ve ever read fanfic for a pairing with an OC before and, when I first joined the Narnia fandom, I certainly never expected to be so invested in any pairing that wasn’t Caspeter. But I quickly came across eds-gryff work through her Caspeter edits and manips and soon became obsessed with her amazing Edmanya manips/edits as well. This prompted me to start reading ‘Alliance’ and gosh, was it a ride. I think I read the whole series over 4-5 months and I can honestly say that this series and characters have come to mean so much to me since then.

Sanya is an amazing character in her own right. And Edmund, a character who I didn’t fully connect with as much as the other Pevensies when originally rewatching these movies in 2023 but one whom I have come to appreciate so much more through her writing. Also, the way that eds-gryff wove their story into canon so seamlessly is absolutely amazing. It really felt like Sanya was there all along in canon, just slightly out of frame (or off the page). And I can’t not mention her versions of Peter, Caspian, Susan and Lucy and other original characters such as Jem, Selene, Seraphina, Sameer, Bonnie… the list goes on… I adored all of them!

So, as for the video itself… this is a mix of some moments where I’ve tried to represent specific scenes from the fanfic itself—some of which were definitely inspired by eds-gryff’s incredible manips and others that I cobbled together from other scenes in the Narnia and Aladdin films (eg. Marwan Kenzari as Jafar is standing in for Rabadash instead of his official faceclaim, Shahid Kapoor)—and others where I have just put two scenes together simply because they look like their backgrounds match while also working with a particular lyric. :)

I hope you all enjoy!

The Alliance Series: - Alliance - The Heirs - Moonshine - Fairytale? - eds-gryff’s Instagram (for all the Edmanya edits)

Additional footage used from: - This promo Naomi Scott did for Chloé Nomade perfume

[raging-violets]

Caged Nightingale | Chronicles of Narnia | Chapter 03

Read on FFN or AO3

Authored By: Rhuben

Rated: T

FULL SUMMARY: Readjusting to his “old life”, Edmund finds himself drawn back into a Narnia he doesn’t recognize. A Narnia filled with ruin and loss. Much like himself. Feeling like he betrayed his beloved lands for a second time, and haunted by memories of the White Witch, Edmund will do everything he can to extinguish his lingering doubts of his royal title.

Witnessing the effects of war on her father, Issi has dreamt of a life of healing. Following the honeyed voice only she hears - the spirit that leads her straight into becoming a Telmarine prisoner of war – Issi promises to nurture Narnia (whatever that was) the best way she knew how, but found herself rebuilding a King desperate for some sanctuary, all the while fighting off the growing urge to do him and his family harm.

-

Excerpt:

“It’s better he doesn’t know.” Peter’s words caught in his throat as he tried to justify himself before managing to get out, “We shouldn’t even have a radio, Professor.”

“Nor should we have sugar with which Ivy, Margaret, and Betty have made us delicious meals; nor any coffee that you’ve grown to wanting to taste, nor any cheese.” Professor Kirke let out a soft laugh, ending with an even softer sigh. “But we do have them, and it’s ok that we do. You are safe here, Peter.”

“We were told that London was safe, too,” Peter replied in a solemn tone. “And then they told us we had to evacuate - some of my friends just disappeared - and then nothing happened, and then dad left, and then...”

“And then you found yourselves here. Yes, yes, I can understand how unsettling that all is.”

“So why unsettle him even more? Or Susan and Lucy?”

“You know your father never wanted any of this to happen, I’m sure. Nor your mother. They’re doing what’s best—"

“And I’m doing what’s best for them.”

Professor Kirke said nothing in response. Peter had clearly made his final decision on the matter. Edmund was just shocked to hear Peter interrupt the professor, let alone the tone of voice in which his brother had used to do so. For if there was one thing about Narnia that Edmund remembered, it was that High King Peter never spoke to anyone like that.

Shout out to @purpleyearning for the fic cover!

Tag List: @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @arrthurpendragon @andromedalestrange ​ @darknightfrombeyond ​ @ocappreciationtag - If anyone else wants to be added, just let me know :)​

[riordanness]

cardigan — [e.pevensie]

wordcount: 1.5K

warnings: not technically x reader as ‘reader’ is named Belle

requested: no

“She won’t stop staring.”

“Then stop looking.”

Belle has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the ridiculous Telmarine soldiers. They’re both clearly terrified of their mission, and are both riddled with anxiety about the entire thing. Which is hilarious.

“You could just let me go,” she says nonchalantly. “Save yourself the risk of aggravating the woods’ spirits.”

The Telmarine facing her gives her a glare. His grip on the sword across his lap tightens.

Belle decides to shut up.

“Here will do,” the other soldier says, the oars in his hands slowing. “Let's just dump her and get it over with.”

The soldiers get to their feet unsteadily. The boat rocks, and Belle wonders what would happen if she tried to tip all three of them into the water. But before she can come up with a good way to execute that plan, the Telmarine snatches her up, grabbing her roughly by the arm.

“Drop them!” An unfamiliar female voice rings out, and stories of ghosts in the woods run through Belle’s mind. She half turns, and just has time to see four figures on the shore before she’s dropped, literally, into the cold water.

Bubbles surround Belle, and she’s disoriented instantly. Her bound wrists make it impossible to swim, so she sinks, struggling furiously to get loose. Her dress is heavy and sticking to her legs. Her chest is tightening, and black is crawling at the edges of her vision.

Then, something pulls at her, arms slide around her waist, and she is yanked out of the water. Belle gasps, practically drinking the air.

She’s pulled to shore, and laid down on the sand. Something cuts the ropes from her hands. She coughs for a second, getting her bearings back. Drowning was a very awful experience. Belle did not recommend it at all.

“Are you alright?” A girl’s voice asks her, a different one from before, younger.

Belle reacts, twisting as she rises, her dagger, which was previously concealed in her skirts, at the young girl’s throat within seconds.

Shouting erupts from behind them, and Belle glanced to see three others, two boys and an older girl, all with weapons at the ready. The girl has an arrow aimed at Belle’s heart, and both boys have their swords raised.

“Drop it,” the older boy tells her, and his voice is hard and commanding, like he’s used to giving orders.

The girl at Belle’s side doesn’t look particularly scared. “It’s okay,” she promises. “We’re friends.”

Belle narrows her eyes. “How would I know that?”

“Well,” the older girl says, “we did just save your life.”

“Actually, that was me.” It’s the younger boy this time. Belle focuses on him. He has dark hair that’s slightly curly and wet. He looks about her age, and his clothes are wet too. “Don’t worry,” he says to Belle. “We are friends. We won’t hurt you. Just please let Lucy go?”

Belle takes a step back from Lucy, still watching them all carefully. “Fine. Thanks for saving me. Bye.” She turns, but doesn’t even make it three steps before the older boy calls after her.

“Wait!”

She sighs, and looks at them.

“We don’t even know your name.” The older girl has her bow away now, but her eyes look plenty vicious enough for Belle. She doesn’t trust them; any of them.

“I’m Belle,” she says flatly. “Now can I go?”

“Why were they trying to drown you?” Lucy looks up at Belle, and her childlike innocence warms Belle’s heart. She has pretty eyes, too, Belle thinks, full of bravery and fearlessness and determination.

“Because I ran away from the castle where I was, well, a servant of sorts. Because I’m on the side of the true king. And because Miraz is a tyrant,” Belle says.

“Whoa Miraz?” the older boy asks.

Belle raises an eyebrow. “Where have you been living lately? Under a rock? He’s the sort of King? Of Narnia?”

“Narnia?” Lucy gasps. “So it is Narnia!”

Belle frowns. “Uh. Yes. This is Narnia. I’m confused.”

The four all exchange looks. “We’ll tell you,” the older girl tells Belle. “But you have to tell us your story first.”

Belle shrugs. “Whatever.”

Soon enough, the five of them are seated around a campfire. The sun is going down, and Belle’s still-wet dress is chilling her to the core. She doesn’t say anything about it, though.

“So,” she starts, accepting a toasted apple from Lucy. “I’m a handmaid in Miraz’s palace. He’s the brother of the king, but he’s basically put himself in the role of king ever since King Caspian the Ninth died. His son, Caspian the Tenth, should be king, but Miraz doesn’t want that. He wants the throne to himself, you see. Anyways, I’m on the side of Caspian and the old Narnians, so I helped him escape a few nights ago. Miraz’s wife had a baby boy, so he wants to kill Caspian and make himself the king, now that he has an heir.”

Belle takes a bite of the apple, and it’s surprisingly good. “I was going to be executed because they somehow found out I helped Caspian.”

“Yikes,” the younger boy says, throwing his apple core into the flames. “Cool story.”

The older girl is watching Belle. “So what’s your plan now?” she asks.

Belle shrugs. “Go into the woods. Find Caspian and help him to get his throne back, I guess. We were always really close at the palace, since I grew up there and we’re not too far apart in age.”

The emotions in her voice must have been more obvious than she thought, because Lucy shuffles over to sit beside her, their shoulders touching. Belle gives the girl a soft smile, before she glanced up at the other three.

“So?” she says. “What’s your story?”

The older two exchange a glance. “We’re the kings and queens of old,” the older boy says. “I’m High King Peter, the Magnificent.”

Belle isn’t even that shocked. She’s kind of guessed it by now, even though it was impossible. “You know you guys should be about 1200 years old now, right?”

The younger boy chuckles. “I’m Edmund.”

Belle nods her head at him. “I figured. And you must be Queen Susan?” She glances at the older girl. Susan smiles gently.

“Just Susan is fine.”

Belle salutes. “Whatever you say, Just Susan.”

Edmund laughs again, but tries to hide it with a cough.

Belle stands, shaking her heavy skirts as best she can. It’s an awful material, still holding most of the water from earlier in its skirts. She lets out an angry sigh.

“What’s wrong?” Lucy asks.

“Oh, it’s my dress,” Belle sighs, sitting back down. “They didn’t let me change for the execution and I was doing heavy cleaning this morning. It’s a really terrible dress to wear while it’s wet.”

Lucy looks at Edmund. “Do we still have our school things?” she asked excitedly.

Edmund nods, slowly at first but then he seems to get the idea. “I’ll get them.” He hurries over to the rowboat, which now has a small pile of their things next to it. He brings back over a white shirt and black pants, as well as a strange black skirt.

“Here,” he hands them to Belle. “Sorry—they’re mostly boy’s things but you look about my size and Susan ruined her shirt earlier. But there’s my shirt and pants and Su’s skirt if you'd rather that.”

Belle offers him a smile. “Thank you, King Edmund.”

“No need to call me King,” he says back, as he lays himself back onto the sand. His black hair is messy and reflects the fire’s flickering light.

“I’m just going to go get changed in the tree line,” Belle tells the group. “If I ain’t back in five, panic.”

The others grin as she heads off, the clothes bundled in her arms. Behind a tree, she pulls her dress off over her head, depositing it in a bush. She then peels off her petticoats and corset, leaving only her thin under-bodice and under-shorts on. Belle then tried on Edmund’s shirt, which fits surprisingly well. It’s an odd kind of shirt though, a lot stiffer than ones she’s used to mending. She buttons it up, rolling the sleeves up to her elbows and leaving the top two buttons undone. Now that she isn’t wet, it’s a pretty warm night.

Belle decides to wear the skirt, as she is shorter than Edmund and doesn’t want to wear his pants if they’ll be too long. They’d just be a tripping hazard. She instead pulls on Susan’s skirt, buttoning it up on the side. It’s also very strange, but comfortable, and very freeing and easy to move in. It stops just above her knee. Belle runs her hands through her hair, which has long since come undone and is tangled and knotted due to the water.

Feeling somewhat presentable, Belle scoops up the clothes from the ground and heads back to the fire.

Edmund’s eyes are on her at once, and she isn’t sure if the heat in her cheeks is from him or the fire.

“Oh—“ Edmund stutters a little. “That… you look good in those.”

Belle smiles, a little triumphant. “They’re quite comfortable. Thank you, Edmund.”

“Anytime,” he replies softly. “Anytime.”

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Extremely disappointed by how disgracefully small amount of Henry Winter fanfics there are. What happened to being nothing in our souls if not obsessive?

[mechanicalanakal]

oh yeah, i made a TURN OC! her name is adeline. simcoe x adeline 4 life. babey.

[the-great-empress]

Kings & Queens of Narnia

Once a king or queen of Narnia, a king or queen forever.

May their wisdom guide us until the stars fall.

[missameliep]

Second Chances - Chapter Twenty Five: It starts with a kiss

Book: Desire and Decorum – Modern AU 

Pairings: Prince Hamid x Elizabeth (OC); Briar Daly x Edmund Marlcaster

Characters: Elizabeth Foredale (OC); Prince Hamid; Briar Daly; Edmund Marlcaster.

Rating: M (see trigger warnings in the notes bellow)

Word count: ~8k

Summary: After the drinking games at Edgewater, before sunrise, someone will reveal their feelings; and fortunately those suffering with a hungover, won't need to deal with it alone.

A/N: 

All characters belong to Pixelberry, except OC. Turkish words are translated in the notes in the end.

Trigger warnings: mentions of past drinking and drug consumption. Reader discretion advised.

This is my submission to @choicesprompts ' Flufftober 2024 Choices - prompts 1 (First Kiss)

September, 2018 – London – Friday night – six weeks before the weekend at Edgewater 

Slumped onto one of the large armchairs settled in the middle of the game room, Edmund used one controller to adjust the lights, a softer blueish hue surrounded them, and the other to select an option, starting the gameplay and its characteristic music blasted. 

Elizabeth sighed and asked, “Are you sure you’re not going? It’ll be fun.” 

“I avoided Theresa’s boring soirée at the Holloways and am finally free to enjoy a quiet night leading an assassin through Ancient Egypt, so unless a raging fire erupts, I’m not leaving this house.” 

“It's Friday night, Ed! I can’t believe you’d rather play video games instead of going out with us… Didn’t you say you and Annabelle were friends?” 

“I’ve said she was Harry’s friend, and we share a few common interests, but pubs crawl or whatever you folks will be doing is not one of them. Could you please move a bit to the left? You’re blocking the screen...” 

Crossing her arms, she huffed and stepped aside.  

“You complained you’re a twenty-four-year-old that lives a seventy-year-old man’s life and yet I’m inviting you to a night out with fun people and you’d rather stay home…” she shook her head slowly at him. 

“Not tonight, Eliza! Maybe next week I can go out and pretend to be young. But give me a few days’ notice to prepare myself...” 

A light tap on the doorframe and Elizabeth’s face darted to the brunette standing with a wide smile framed by flamming red lips.  

“Lizzy, I hope I’m not interrupting… but Annabelle and Luke texted they’re already there.” 

“I was just saying goodbye to my stepbrother. I don’t think you’ve met, have you?” 

The man sighed, before pausing the game. His gaze slowly moved from the screen and when he turned around to face the friend by the door his jaw almost dropped to the floor. The sight of the woman in black skinny trousers and a burgundy blouse waving at him with the most beautiful smile he has ever seen stole his breath away. 

“Hi, Edmund!”  

“Hi. Hello. You... Ah... Hi,” he mumbled, unable to control the increasing racing of his heart. Is this what a heart attack feels like? he wondered, while brushing his clammy hands against his trousers. 

Conscious of the impact she caused, Briar huffed a quiet laugh and shifted to address her friend. 

“Nice to meet you, Edmund,” she said while shaking his hand. “I hope we meet again.” 

“I am going with you!” he blurted out. 

“You are?” Elizabeth’s head whipped in his direction, and she stared in disbelief as he turned off the game and put the controller down at the coffee table. 

“I just need to go to my room,” he said rising from the armchair and brushing past them, “Five minutes. I’ll meet you by the door.” 

Briar’s eyes followed the man almost running down the hallway, and she giggled. 

“Does it run in the family?” 

With a puzzled look, Elizabeth’s eyes darted to the same direction Briar was staring and she caught a glimpse of Edmund sprinting down the hall, “What does?”  

“Being cute and a dork?”  

October 28th, 2018 – Edgewater – Sometime after the drinking game 

It’s hard to tell when Edmund realized it was not the best idea for an engaged man to go knock on the door of a woman who is not his fiancée. It's even worse to do so in the middle of the night while slightly drunk.

He should’ve taken a cold shower to get rid of the idea that wormed its way into his mind, overshadowing every other thought concocted by his brain.

But he didn’t.

Anyways, he hates cold showers.

Staggering out of his room didn’t clear his mind or brought the realization of how bad that idea was. Crossing the few meters that separated his room from Briar’s door didn’t do it for him either. Not even when he tapped lightly with his knuckles, praying she was already sleeping and wouldn’t hear it - however, even then, his heart was clutching at the hope she would. So that was not that enlightenment moment either.

When the door slightly cracked open to allow visual confirmation of the night visitor, Edmund took a deep steadying breath, but it did little to stop his hands from shaking.

A moment later, Briar leaned against the doorframe smiling at him with such warmth that it was impossible not to think she cherished him. Maybe the only woman who ever did. And that was the moment he realised it was either the most brilliant move or his worst idea ever. Still, he once more was torn between the options. 

Playing with a long lock of her hair, her gaze lingered on his face, and she asked with a smile, “Trouble sleeping?” 

“I need to talk. To get this out of my chest. Can I come in?” 

Masking her surprise with another smile, she nodded and moved to the side, no questions asked. 

That was their thing, wasn’t it? Heart to heart conversations in the middle of the night... Only this time, he would also see her face while talking... and maybe he would find the answers he wishes. 

The man zigzagged until his knee bumped in the bed, and he slumped on the mattress. Giggling, she closed the door.

“You’re sloshed, Eddie!” her giggles fanned his face when she sat on the bed beside him and helped him sit up.   

“I’m certainly not. How dare you imply – No, I’m utterly sloshed. I can’t even pretend I’m not.” He let out a heartfelt laughter, and she used a hand to cover his mouth and shush him.  

His clear blue eyes crinkled with a smile. The gentle touch of her hand and the proximity of their bodies made his heart race. It was a shame this blurriness prevented him from seeing her eyes more clearly and the natural form of her lips without any lipstick. But he could tell he loved them nonetheless.

“Quiet or you’ll wake everyone up,” she hissed, but there was no edge on her voice, while her hand slowly retreated. “What do you want to talk about?” 

“You’re beautiful,” he sighed, and a tentative hand reached out to rest on Briar’s cheek, who didn’t flinch. “The most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Even more, when I’m sober, because I can really see you... You’re a bit blurred now... and I can’t see your eyes... and I adore your eyes… they are so… so… intense… and warm... and kind... But my mind already knows you’re beautiful. Inside too. Not your insides... insides... like your guts... but your mind and your heart –” He stopped talking when she failed to stifle her giggles.  

“You’re laughing at me!” he mumbled, and pulled his hand away. 

Trying to stifle her giggles, she tried to remedy the situation, placing her hand on his bouncing knee when his uneasiness drove him to the edge of the mattress. She wasn’t certain if she wanted him to stay, but she didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Was that the urgent matter you needed to ‘get out of your chest’?” she questioned with a soft voice, matching the proximity shared. His attention immediately returned to her, and a timid smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

“No, but your beauty is too distracting…” There was a lilt of laughter in his tone, and his fingers combed his ash blonde hair back and rested at the nape of his neck.  

“I won’t apologise for that,” she huffed a laugh, and her cheeks were noticeable darker from blushing because of his words, and this alone almost sobered him up.  

Edmund leaned forward, closing the gap between them, and his breath carried the scent of mint flavoured toothpaste mixed with a hint of liquor – more than a hint, actually.  

She suspected the liquor fuelled this unexpected audacity, considering how shy and restrained he was during their ride this afternoon; however, if asked, he would say this was all about her, her presence was intoxicating, and his self-control reached its limit tonight. 

Her breath hitched when his hand touched her cheek this time. Closing her eyes, she revelled on the feather light touch of his thumb caressing her velvety skin, following a path towards her mouth. When he traced the curves of her lips, it quietened everything else but her thunderous heartbeats. 

Her tongue was emptied, no flirty or funny words ready to fly away... In fact, every brain cell was screaming for her to shut up and kiss him; and his were probably doing the same, considering the way his hooded eyes fixed on her mouth when he leaned even closer. Without any warning, he bowed until his lips were a hair’s breadth away from hers. Their gazes locked for a second that lasted an eternity, a silent dialogue between their yearnings.  

The pull of her luscious lips became so irresistible.  

Waiting for permission, his lips ghosted hers and they were so close he could almost taste her exhales. 

Briar said nothing, licked her lips and closed the gap.

At first, his lips touched hers delicately, then more insistently when his hand slid to the back of her neck and brought their faces closer. It was awkward for a few seconds, too much tension, noses bumping and eyes wide open staring at the other; until her hands cradled his cheeks and gently tilted his head to adjust his position.  

This was enough to make it more and more enjoyable. Her lips glided over his, and when she captured his lower lip between hers, he let out a barely audible gasp. And she made a mental note about his reaction.  

More confident, one of his hands caressed her knee while the fingers on the one nestled on the nape of her neck delved into her hair, eliciting goosebumps and she let out a sigh.

The moment he parted his lips, allowing their tongues to meet for the first time, it felt as if the sole purposes of their lips and tongues were to kiss one another.  

When she pulled away to try and catch her breath, his lips followed hers, and she smiled to herself satisfied, both hands cradling his face.  

Meanwhile, Edmund’s entire body tingled, and there was a pleasant warmth enveloping him, as if being swaddled by a duvet someone else warmed just for you.

Looking at her, his brain buzzed with a swarm of thoughts. Did he drink too much or was there really something different about kissing Briar? A spark. An energy. A connection. 

“Did you feel it too? Tell me I’m not bloody crazy…” he asked, leaning his forehead to touch hers. 

“I’m not a psychiatrist, Eddie… but I think you lost your mind. I definitely did, too.” 

With a huff, his head tilted back, and before another loud laughter escaped his mouth, she covered it with her hand. This time, he grabbed it and kissed her palm gently, and her eyes fluttered close. 

“We’re both too sloshed for this...” 

“I can’t… I can’t think of anything else. Only you, Briar.” 

Hearing those words was bittersweet. It was exactly what she hoped for, but not like this. Not a drunk confession. And especially not after spending time with Theresa and knowing she’s oblivious to their flirting and growing affection. And now they’re kissing while she sleeps! 

“You shouldn’t say things like that...” she chided, “Your fiancée is asleep somewhere... over there...” Her free hand pointed randomly at the wall beside them, and he grimaced.  

“This has nothing to do with her… let’s pretend for a moment I’m not engaged.”  

Frowning, she pulled her hand from his grasp.  

“What a nasty thing to say!”  

“Briar,” Edmund called her name, his voice softer and more slurred, but she didn’t look back at him and pushed his chest. “I told you, Theresa and I… that is not real… she doesn’t love me either… she loves… loved… somebody else… not me… but you and I… I –”  

“Is she aware of how you feel? Because the engagement seems pretty real to her! She showed me pictures of bloody wedding dresses!” 

Edmund’s hand rubbed his face, and he exhaled loudly.  

“If you’re here for a one nightstand, just... own it! Don’t sweet talk me...” 

“Briar, I think – not think, I know… I fell for you.” 

Slack jawed, she gaped, and it took her a few breaths to find the words again. “Eddie… You shouldn’t say that either. You do have a fiancée and you’re sloshed… I know you’ll regret everything tomorrow... and leave me heartbroken.” 

“Never. You got me head over heels… I’m yours.” 

Briar’s face tilted upwards, and she stared at the ceiling for a long moment and let out a loud frustrated exhale. If cupid was a real thing, she would murder hers slowly and painfully. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” she muttered under her breath. 

“Is it Woods?” 

“Arthur?” Her head whipped to look at him. “What does Arthur have to do with this mess?” 

“Do you love him?” 

“I-” she paused and pressed her lips together. “I could... eventually... but not when... because of this..." Her finger pointed back and forward at them. 

There was too much satisfaction in hearing those words, and he let out a relieved sigh. 

“You feel it too?” he asked, and his voice was barely above a whisper. 

“What if I do? Does it change anything?” 

Edmund tentatively touched her face and guided her eyes to look back at him. “It changes all!”

“How?” she asked, but immediately changed her mind and waved her hands. “Please, don’t tell me... or... I’ll believe you.” 

“Believe me.” 

He pulled her in for another kiss, and all the fight left her when his tongue swirled with hers. He was already leaning to push her down on the mattress, but she pushed him back.

“No more kissing.” Out of breath, Briar placed a hand on his chest to put some distance between them and held her head high. “Talk. Tell me what you’ll do. I won’t be anyone's playtoy.”

Edmund obediently complied. It felt invigorating to make plans for his own future without consulting with his mother first, and especially plans that included Briar. They talked some more and kissed one last time before sleep claimed their eyes sometime before dawn.

Briar's face was the last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered close, and he thought that was heavenly.

A persistent buzzing noise invaded Elizabeth’s dreamless sleep, almost like the sounds of cicadas in scorching summer nights demanding the world’s attention to their performance. Answering the compelling call, her eyes fluttered open, but it was the same as if they didn’t. Surrounded by darkness, the coldness kissing her feet that escaped from underneath the duvet reminded her it wasn’t summer. She immediately pulled it, rubbing the cold feet against the mattress.  

While her body reluctantly woke up and her brain regained consciousness, she was confronted by confusion and immense discomfort all at once, reminders of the insane amount of alcohol she ingested last night.  

Her head ached as if samba percussionists were beating repeatedly their instruments out of cadence to punish her. The parchedness in her mouth seemed like she had wandered the desert for days. Trying to alleviate it, her lips parted, but her mouth had dried out and it was difficult to swallow and get rid of the disgusting taste sitting on her tongue.  

The buzzing sound echoed again, attacking her ears, and she realized it was probably the mobile vibrating with incoming messages over the nightstand. Even though she wondered what time it was, the identity of the caller or texter and their reasons to be trying to reach her in what she assumed was the middle of the night didn’t pique her interest at all, if anything it riled her up for disturbing her rest. Mustering the strength to reach the nightstand to turn off the phone, she tried to roll over, but something blocked her path and restrained her motion. Not something, but someone. 

In the dark she couldn’t rely on her sight, but her other senses worked perfectly, collecting information of quiet sounds of breathing behind her, the light pressure of a body against her back, and the arm she finally noticed dangling over her waist underneath the covers. And lastly, the fragrance that reached her nostrils was unmistakable. 

“Hamid?” her voice sounded hoarse in the quiet room, almost unrecognisable.  

The body stirred, and he hummed his response. His warm breath fanned her neck, and if she wasn’t so overwhelmed, she would have enjoyed it. 

Why are you in my bed, dude? The question died in her tongue, but not the surprise stirred by his presence. 

“Do you need to go to the toilette again?” his sleepy voice reached her ears.  

Again? When did I even go to the toilet?  

Her mind raced, trying to cling to any memory that could explain Hamid sleeping on her bed. But she found none. Maybe she should take the hint, get up, go to the toilet, wash her face, and drink some water. And definitely get some aspirins before her head explodes, and something for the burning stomach and nausea too. And maybe if she feels better, she will remember. 

“I’m thirsty,” she said fighting the dryness of her mouth. 

His arm retreated, and his hand lightly brushed the skin of her abdomen, and soon was gone, but not the goosebumps on its wakening.   

“The glass is empty, but if you give me a minute, I’ll get you some more…”  

“Don’t worry. I’ll get up…” she said without moving to get off the bed right away.  

His weight shifted in the mattress. Hamid rubbed his eyes and stretched his arm aimlessly until his fingers reached the switch in the wall. The room was flooded by bright light.  

“Turn it off, please!” she squealed scrunching her eyelids. Her hands flew to her eyes, mostly because of the bright lights, and only partially because of the brief sight of his bare torso. “Why are you shirtless? Are you naked?” 

“Don’t you remember?”  

“I-I don’t…” 

“Allah Allah, I thought that was memorable...” 

The pacing of the tiny percussionists inside her brain grew even faster and stronger, and her heart joined the rhythm.  

“What are you talking about?” she dared ask with a strangled voice. 

“The re-enactment of the projectile vomit scene from the Exorcist,” he said very slowly, and realization dawned on her. 

“Oh, my god! I puked? On you?”  

“Fortunately, you had asked me to take you to the toilette, and my t-shirt was the target and not my face.” 

“I puked on you?” she repeated, shocked by the idea. 

What the flying fudge cracker! That's a whole new level of stupidity, isn’t it? Why did I drink this much? 

“I’m so sorry!” she mumbled, hiding her face in her hands. “That’s so gross… I-I… Sorry.”  

She wanted to run away and hide forever, but her body was so tensed it froze. 

“Hey,” he said softly, but she didn’t uncover her eyes. After calling her name, his hand reached one of hers, which she reluctantly let him grab – she couldn’t understand why on earth he was anywhere near her.

“It’s okay, Liz. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I’m pretty sure that’s untrue... I’m mortified... What else do I have to apologise for?” 

“Don’t worry, aside from the vomiting and being horny and handsy, drunk Liz makes delightful company...”

The joke did little to lessen her embarrassment. How can he be so chill about it? 

“What do you mean by ‘handsy’?” 

“You tried to kiss me and grab my butt.” 

“What? I would never!” she protested, knowing well enough that she prefers his sculpted torso and arms to his bottom, even though it has a nice round shape... And she's clearly still a bit horny. 

“You also took ‘no’ for an answer, which was remarkably respectful.” 

She let an exasperated huff through her mouth and pressed her hands against her face. “I can’t have this conversation now...” 

“We can revisit it some other time, I’ll gladly share the details.” 

“How about never?” 

Smiling, he sat straighter and lighted the lamp on the nightstand. His eyes, cleared of sleep, stared directly at hers, “Drinking like that is unusual to you, I understand. And you don’t have to feel embarrassed about what happened.” 

“That’s impossible...” she sighed and looked at him, wondering what else she has said and done. “Just to clarify, you’re not naked…” 

“No, I’m not. And I’d never cross that line. You were drunk and asked me to stay, and I did. To keep you company. That’s all.” 

Relief washed over her, and she smiled. “Thanks. For not… you know… and for sticking around.”  

“Don’t mention it. Someone had to hold your hair up, prevent you from dancing and falling on your magnificent bottoms, and bumping your head on the furniture.”  

“Oh, God! It did happen then!” Hamid nodded. “Is that why my head hurts?” Her fingers raked her hair, searching for any sign of a bump.  

“I’m pretty sure that’s the alcohol.” 

“What time is it?” 

He picked his mobile in the nightstand. “7:45.” Stealing a sideway glance at her worried face, his finger caressed the back of her hand, and he asked softly, “Are you sure you don’t want me to get you something to drink? Annabelle brought a bottle of isotonic drink. And I can get you something to eat…”  

“I – No, I’m fine now. Even thinking about food makes me sick… I’ll go to the... you know… and you... go back to sleep. Excuse me.” 

Hamid let go of her hand, and Elizabeth rolled to the opposite side of the bed, moving away from him, and not looking back even when she felt his stare. She swung her legs touching the carpet and noticed both her socks were gone. Her feet were heavy, just like the rest of her body, and she dragged them on her way to the en-suite. The touch of the frigid floor against the soles of her feet, caused her to shiver, and she mentally cursed not putting on the slippers. 

Closing the door, she barely had the time to turn on the light before her legs started giving away underneath her. Pressing her hands against the cool marble of the sink to support her weight, she avoided stumbling or collapsing to the floor. Performing every little task took too much energy, and she almost gave up on washing her face, but the invigorating cold water gave her the necessary boost to continue. By the time she took the toothbrush to her mouth, she needed to sit down. Flopping down into the wooden bench near the bathtub, she noticed Hamid’s white t-shirt soaked-wet dangling over the rim of the tub, and two pairs of socks hanging on the faucet.  

Suddenly, a panicked Hamid kneeling on the floor in front of her, begging her to keep her eyes open flashed before her eyes; was it a memory or her imagination? 

Her hand barely moved to brush her teeth, and her heavy eyelids were impossible to keep open with all the light around her. She would close them for one second, maybe two.  

The sound of the toothbrush falling and hitting the floor didn’t wake her up, but she couldn’t ignore the soft but persistent rapping on the door. 

“Liz,” Hamid asked softly, “are you alright?” 

Her hand rubbed the foam from her lips and chin, and she picked up the toothbrush from the floor. “I’m fine,” she replied getting up, and the movement made her dizzy. Slowly moving back to the sink, she heard him speaking again.  

“You’ve been in there for a very long time…” 

“I’m brushing my teeth.” 

She washed her mouth, took another gulp of tap water, and tied her hair in a high bun.

When she opened the door, Hamid was standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a worried look. It surprised her that he didn’t go back to sleep or to his own room. 

“How are you, really?” he asked, carefully speaking in a low tone that wouldn’t be uncomfortable considering the aftereffects of the alcohol.  

“I brushed my teeth, but my mouth still tastes like a smelly old brolly –” 

Hamid chuckled and it eased the frown of his brows. “That’s very specific. How do you even know what it tastes like?” 

“My mind does,” she sighed. “My head hurts. My stomach is on fire, and I could drink a bucket of water. And mostly I’m feeling incredibly dumb for drinking this much again...” And puking on you. 

“For now, we can take care of the head and stomach.” 

Walking past her, Hamid crouched and opened a door of the cabinet under the sink. With familiarity, he produced a white box with a red cross painted at the top from the first shelf and took a bottle of antacids and another of aspirins, both were placed on the sink in front of her.  

With a grimace she drank the liquid as instructed and the pill sat bitterly on her tongue while she waited for him to come back with the bottle of Gatorade.

Watching her swig half of the content of the bottle without stopping to breath, an amused smile parted his lips. 

“And for the dumbness –” 

“You’ll keep mocking me endlessly and not let me forget it...” her tongue was quicker and sharper than his ever would, and she huffed in frustration, letting her shoulders slump. 

“Why would I do that?” he asked softly, brows knitted together while trying to meet her gaze. 

She pursed her lips and said nothing in return. Shame taking over, her eyes focused on anything else but his face.  

“A word from you and I’ll never speak about tonight. A joke is not worth it, if it causes you pain. You can expect nothing but understanding from me. Like I said before, I truly believe you deserve kindness, hayatım[1], and not more criticism.”  

Her eyes flicked from her folded hands to his eyes, his expression changing from one of concern to a more relaxed one while he reminisced about the night before.  

“Last night, you have laughed, joked and been the most open around a group of people since I met you. You looked happy, truly happy. Relaxed. And that wasn’t just the alcohol. You were in a safe place and let your guard down. I agree drinking this much isn’t good for you... But why shaming yourself? Why not learning from it instead? You can’t change anything that happened, but you can make different choices in the future, if you desire, no? And if you don’t, I’ll hold your hair up again.” 

There was so much empathy in his tone that if she wasn’t so dehydrated, her eyes would be watering. She mouthed a soundless thank you and he inched closer. 

Standing behind her, he gently squeezed her shoulders, and they looked at each other’s reflections in the mirror.  

Instead of the pink plaid PJs, she was sporting a long sleeved green one with no buttons, and she wondered if Hamid was the one who changed it.  

As if reading her mind, he said softly, “Annabelle changed your clothes, after we cleaned you up.” 

“I must thank her later.” 

That was the first time she truly looked at herself.  

The reflection looking back at her was pale, her usual tan had completely vanished these past months; smudged eyeliner and dark stains of mascara accentuated the dark circles under her reddened eyes, which seemed smaller due to the puffy eyelids. She looked spent. The entangled hair had been pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head, and a few shorter curls had escaped the imposed restraint, sticking out close to her ears and neck. All in all, she was a complete mess while Hamid looked unfairly handsome with slightly flattened bed hair, the shadow of a beard and a big smile that caused the corners of his eyes to wrinkle; somehow, despite the vomiting, and deprivation of sleep she imposed him, there was so much adoration in his eyes that even in her current state was impossible to miss. 

“Hamid, can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Why are we all here, Liz? Isn’t that the fundamental Philosophical question?” 

“Silly,” she chided, and his chuckle was so very close to her ear when he leaned forward that raised all the hair in her body and fogged her brain for a while.

“You know what I mean! You could be sleeping tight in your bed right now... instead, you spent the night taking care of my dumb drunk arse... when you had no obligation to.” 

“I like your cute dumb drunk arse...” He winked, and she rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious.” 

“So am I! I’m a fan.”

Chuckling, Hamid hugged her from behind, his arms wrapped around her waist, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Someone needed to hold your hair, and let’s say I know what it feels to be so utterly sloshed and not having anyone to look after me.” 

“You do?”  

He hummed. His breath fanned the bare skin of her neck.  

“But I won’t bother you with such an inane story. Let’s get you to bed.” 

“I wouldn’t mind listening to it...”  

His lips twitched, possibly surprised by the request, and he looked at her reflection in the mirror for a long moment, the way she hid a yawn against a palm, but still tried to keep her eyes focused on him. 

“Maybe some other time...” he replied while gently turning her around, but keeping her in the circle of his embrace, “You look about ready to fall asleep in my arms... not that I’d ever complain about that….” He winked at her, very flirty, in that Hamid-like fashion that makes her knees weak, and even though it wasn't far from the truth, she recognized the diversion right there in his words.

“I like a good bedtime story...” she said softly, tilting her face up to meet his gaze over her shoulder, “And your voice...” She might’ve learned a thing or two about charming someone with him.

“Then how could I not humour you?”

Smiling, Hamid helped her sit on the bed and pulled the covers over her legs, and she remained sitting, looking expectantly.

In the dimly lit room, Hamid sat in front of her, legs crossed, took a deep breath and broke the silence.

“I only got really sloshed a handful of times... My sisters took care of me, helped me hide it from my parents... But one time, it happened during a trip with friends... We went to Amsterdam for the weekend to celebrate my 19th birthday. Most of my memories are fogged... You must have seen what happens to six lads with loads of cash partying at Amsterdam...” 

“I actually never been there...” 

“Haven’t you? I must take you there. It's lovely in the spring.” 

His fingers reached her hand, and his thumb was very distractingly caressing the back of her hand, following the paths of green veins till her wrist and back. Another distraction, she realized. Caressing the back of his hand with her free hand in return, she asked, “What happened to you?” 

He hummed, and she suspected he was carefully choosing the words to continue. 

“Everything went brilliant until the night before our flight... We went clubbing and met these girls, very friendly, seniors at uni, gorgeous… and had us wrapped around their fingers.” He chuckled. “We followed them like puppies to another club and to another... By the time we got to the third one, I was so wasted, I could barely stand on my own, but I didn’t want to admit it and go back to the hotel... So, my friend Lewis stayed with me, but while he was away hitting on one of the girls or whatever… I don’t know… I guess I accepted a pill that was definitely not aspirin…” 

“Someone drugged you?” her voice shrieked, piercing her own brain, and she looked at his face over her shoulder, and he clicked his tongue. 

“Nobody was sober at that point, and I probably said I was cool with it...” Hamid paused at her concerned expression and tried to explain, “The day before, I tried space cake and smoked a little hashishe... anyway... It was a harmless experience. We laughed for hours sitting at the grass...” 

“But you were already drunk! You couldn’t consent!” Elizabeth snapped, head racing with all the legal issues this story poses. This was the sort of thing she worried about whenever going our to clubs and parties and one of the reasons she was vigilant with her and her friends’ drinks, and to hear something like that happened to Hamid not in theory made her chest tight, even though he sounded so nonchalant about it.

Hamid’s shoulders raised almost to his ears, and he let out a deep breath; the smile faltered a little and his expression transformed entirely.

Was he regretting telling me?

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “I’m doing it again...” 

“It’s alright.” He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Maybe I should stop, so you can sleep.” 

She shook her head, widening her eyes to fight the sleep.

“I woke up at the hospital. Someone had found me lying on a bench at Oosterpark and called emergency. I had no documents, no coat, and no shoes... It was winter. My clothes were drenched from the rain…” 

“Wow... that's... you could have died...” Elizabeth pointed out the obvious, and instantly regretted it.

“Trust me, I know. The doctor gave me a long and detailed speech about hypothermia. And drugs. And unprotected sex, even though I don’t remember even kissing anybody… They poked me with needles, ran tests and gave me some pills just in case…”  

“Dude…” Elizabeth muttered but stopped before any of the concerns bubbling in her brain escaped again.  

He looked expectantly, but she didn’t know what to say. Taking a deep breath, she struggled to shut down that voice in her mind whispering judgmental and useless advice about something that happenend to him years ago, and listened to her heart. Pushing the covers aside, she moved on the bed and sat on the balls of her feet right in front of him.

“I – I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said softly and genuinely, and his expression eased when no chiding came out of her mouth.  

“I’m not,” he said, and the smile was back on his face. “Almost dying in such a stupid way had positive outcomes.” 

She gaped. “How can you see a bright side in this story, Hamid?” 

“There is always a silver lining,” he said with a familiar cheerful tone, but still soft enough not to bring her discomfort. “First, I realized I didn’t like drinking that much or getting hungover… I dance better, and my jokes are funnier when I’m sober. And from that day on, I’m an advocate of remembering the things I do and not losing my passport. So, I decided not to drink. Unless it is raki with babam and dedem[2]. Second, I don’t know if I’ll live a short or long life; but I can choose how to live my best life, with no regrets, appreciating the beauties, welcoming the joys... and obviously, adrenaline rushing through my veins fuels me!” He looked pointedly at her, and she remembered the incident with the horse. 

“Not with disregard to my safety,” he let out the words with a chuckle, holding her hands in his. “And, when my time comes, hopefully it won’t be blacked out drunk in a park bench...”

She held his hands tighter, as if possible to shield him from such a fate with sheer will. 

“I hope your learning process included finding a better group of friends,” she mumbled, and he chuckled.  

“Don’t be so hard, güzelim[3]. They are good people. At the time, we were too young and sheltered… mortality was not part of our vocabulary.”  

How incredible it must be to be so careless and not have this sort of concern!  

That was never the case for her.  

Death and sickness have been her companions in life for so long that her identity is linked to those grim subjects. In the past five years, no decision in her life has been made without considering either of them. Letting out a long and loud sigh, she pondered how different they were in so many more ways than she first assumed.  

“Gosh, if it were me… I’d…” she trailed off, and he jumped in to complete her sentence, “You wouldn’t leave me alone.” 

Lowering her gaze, but unable to control the blush that bloomed in her cheeks, she admitted he was right and that she wouldn’t leave him alone. 

“However,” she added, “I was going to say that if I were you, I’d never want to see those people again! How could they leave you like that? What sort of friend does that?” Her indignation transpired in her tone and disgusted face. 

“I don’t blame them. It wasn’t their responsibility to take care of me... I’m responsible for my choices, good or bad.”  

Meeting his eyes, there was no shame in them, on the contrary, Hamid’s countenance expressed relief. Noticing the attentive gaze studying him, he smiled. 

“I never spoke about any of this; not even to my sisters.” 

“Why not?” 

“They would gang up on me, obviously… and everything turned out alright. My friend Burak found my coat at the club, my passport and mobile were in the pocket... A happy ending.” 

She watched his face and the wide and bright smile directed at her. 

“You didn’t need to tell me either, so, why did you?” 

“There’s a simple explanation for that,” he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “In case you haven’t noticed, you are very special to me, Elizabeth Foredale, and I want you to know me. The real me. Isn’t this what people do? To get to know each other?” 

Even in the low light, his eyes were shining. His gaze could be described with many words, none of which was a synonym for friendly.

Touched by his words and without giving herself time to change her mind, Elizabeth’s hand cradled his jaw, and her lips touched his dimpled cheek in a gentle but lingering kiss.

After a fraction of a second to overcome the surprise, Hamid revelled on it, letting his eyes flutter closed to fully appreciate the gentleness of her touch, and his lips stretched into a wide grin.

It was nothing like the fleeting air kisses they often share. 

Before she considered ending the kiss, his hand covered hers, keeping it in place.

The alchool had drained her body, but right now every nerve was suddenly alight by his presence, by the warm touch of his hand on top of hers.

His eyes fluttered open to meet hers in a sidelong glance. They knew. They had crossed the line. They were no longer in friends’ territory. And, for the first time, she let herself want more, ignoring the boundary she herself tried to place between them.

She got greedy. 

When her lips slowly but steadily glided over the roughness of the slight growth of beard of his unshaved face to the turned corner of his smile, Hamid let out a soft exhale through his nose. The warmth of the air travelled over the skin of her hand and wrist inflaming her entirely, and her heartbeats sped up.

Taking a deep breath, her lungs were filled with Hamid's fancy perfume. It was intoxicating in an unexpected way: it quietened the entire world. Actually it quietened her mind. For once, her brain was entirely focused on this moment and all the overwhelming feelings Hamid stirred on her.

Any hesitancy slipped away at the sight of his tongue moistening his lips. And that was the last thing her eyes registered. Her brain could no longer focus on anything that was not Hamid's lips smoothly moving over hers.

His lips were very soft, incredibly so against her own. They brushed against hers for a brief quiet moment, but it was enough to irradiate a heat, an electricity throughtout her body. It was like a dam breaking, and she was flooded with so much want. The second time her lips brushed against his, she was certain this wasn't like any kiss she had before.

She pulled away enough to gaze into his eyes, the corners crinkled by an adoringly smile; even such a diminute distance seemed unbearable to Hamid, and his hand cupped her cheek to close the distance between their mouths almost entirely.

The tip of his long curved nose brushed against the tip of hers, and she could hear the smile in his voice when he said her name in awe, even with her eyes closed. His thumb brushed her lips, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

In her mind, Elizabeth envisioned more than once where and when their first kiss could happen. It always envolved a perfect romantic scenario, careful planning, fancy dinners and Hamid probably literally sweeping her off her feet. However, the reality was unplanned, and her brain might have short-circuited at some point... There's not even a carefully selected soundtrack playing in the background, just the sounds of their breathing and the pitter-patter of rain.

Yet, nothing could be more perfect than the way his lips welcomed hers. Her fantasies couldn’t compete with the reality of the tenderness of every gesture of his, the pressure of his lips, the light touch of his tongue over her lower lip, or the hand cupping her cheek so very gently.

When Elizabeth pulled back, his nose nuzzled her jaw and down her neck, and she gasped. The sound pleased Hamid, who hummed against her jaw and captured her lips one last time.

Her eyes met his briefly, but she quickly lowered her face, overcame by embarrassment and doubts of what to do or say.

The backs of his fingers caressed her cheek, and he whispered, “I could kiss you forever, Liz.”  

When her eyes raised to meet his, Hamid was already staring at her. His gaze could be described with many words, none amongst them was a synonym for friendly, and she rolled her lips inside her mouth.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

She shook her head, and took a deep calming breath.

“You make me feel many things,” -- happy, giddy, confused, excited... and several other she'd be mortified to admit even to herself... -- “’Uncomfortable’ is not one of them.” 

His lips split into the widest grin she’s ever seen, before he swallowed and asked in a low and husky voice, “Care to tell me how I make you feel now?”  

“Right now?” Her lips rolled inside her mouth, and she focused on the feeling of being in his arms earlier. Except for her dear father, she can’t remember feeling safer around a man nor willing to spend a lifetime in an embrace. “Happy. Safe.” 

“I am glad you do. I want you to trust me.” 

She met his stare again, and he was flashing a broad unabashed smile. They didn’t move an inch, staring into each other's eyes. Was she even breathing? She couldn’t be certain she was. 

“Aren’t you curious about how you make me feel?”  

His question startled her. Of course, she wanted to know that, but how could she speak over the thunderous beating of her heart and risking dozens of butterflies flying away if she opened her mouth, like in the Brazilian soap operas with magical realism she used to watch with her mother as a kid. She pursed her lips and nodded, which was enough for him to carry on. 

“You also make me feel many emotions, Liz. The most frequent is happiness. A complete, perfect and unwavering bliss whenever I am around you. And even when we’re not together… My days are more vibrant since you are in my life…” 

“Even after tonight?”  

“Why would tonight change anything?” 

“Aren’t you even a little upset? Tired?” 

“Tired?” He clicked his tongue. Leaning impossibly closer, he whispered into her ear, “Inşallah[4], someday you’ll see how long I can keep going without any sleep...” When Elizabeth shivered, the pleased smirk in his lips indicated that was the intended effect, and he rubbed his hands against her arms. “However, you, my dear, seriously need to rest.” 

“Actually, father wanted to have breakfast with me and after brunch I promised to go with Annabelle and Briar to this spa at Moorfield and –” 

“As much as I believe you to be an overachiever, you need to rest, Liz,” he cut off the flood of words. “Besides, the last Annabelle checked on you was around 4am... So, trust me on this, go back to bed, we won’t see any of them before lunch. And message your father, tell him you have a minor headache and will be staying in your room until you feel better…”  

Elizabeth listened to his reasoning and bit one thumbnail. Judging by the way she looked, no amount of coffee would keep her functional long enough to perform any social activity. Finally, she gave in to the irresistible call of the bed.  

Hamid went to the en-suite, while she typed the message to her father, ignoring the stinging feeling in her stomach, that could be guilty from skipping breakfast with him or due to the hole the alcohol probably burnt there. But Hamid was right, it was past the time to prioritize her needs, even if it meant disappointing others. 

After texting her friends, she was about to go through the several notifications in the screen, when the en-suite door opened and closed. Hamid’s silhouette strolling toward the soft light of the bedroom was all broad shoulders and strong arms. Over the screen of the mobile, her gaze fixed at him, admiring his confident swagger towards her.  

The blue light from the screen denounced her attempt of appreciating the sight inconspicuously, and Hamid grinned at the attention but for once chose to say nothing about it. 

When he turned around to settle the medicines and a glass of water over the nightstand, Elizabeth admired his taut muscles, and noticed the dimples on his lower back right above the waist band of his jeans. Her fingers craved to map every inch of his uncovered skin, and the thought alone sent a flow of heat all over her body. She forced her eyes back to the screen and turned the airplane mode on before putting the mobile away.  

Leaning forward, he touched the side of her face gently and kissed the top of her head. 

“I think you’re all set,” he whispered against her hair, “I’ll let you sleep now.” 

“You’re leaving?” her tone didn’t conceal the surprise and disappointment. 

“Don’t you want me to go?” 

“I-I wouldn’t mind… If you wanted to... stay... it’s a big bed…” She fidgeted with the hem of the shirt, without raising her gaze to meet his, and couldn't find the right words to speak, and stuttered the ones she found, even if they didn't make sense, “It doesn’t... mean that we... anything... I guess... but you don’t have to go. If you don’t want to.” 

“I understand," he said, smiling to himself. "If I stay, do we get to cuddle like before?” 

She swallowed and couldn’t prevent the smile from curling her lips whem she nodded.  

Without another word, he sat on the bed.

She moved aside to give him space, and went under the covers, lying on her back. The fragrance of his perfume on the pillows was inebriating.

When the mattress shifted with his weight, she took a deep breath. The lights were dimmed to their softest glow and a moment later, Hamid was lying beside her on his back, stirring the flutter of thousands of butterflies in her stomach. 

He stretched one arm, adjusted the pillow over it, and, with a nod of his head, invited her to rest her head.

Elizabeth obliged, moving closer and let her head rest in the pillow. Hamid's arm encircled her waist, he kissed her temple and whispered in her ear, “Sleep tight, Liz!”

Her answer was an almost inaudible “You too, Hamid.”

In Hamid's embrace, Morpheus visited Elizabeth unsurprisingly fast, not giving her any time for second guessing her decisions.  

A familiar melody invaded his dreamless sleep and Edmund stirred in the bed, failing to recognize his whereabouts.  

The mattress shifted when the woman sleeping beside him turned around, facing the other way. Flashes from their conversation and kisses invaded his mind, but were soon chased away by the persistent melody getting louder.

His hand patted his pants first, and then the space between them until he found the mobile that slipped from his pocket.  

It was dark and he could barely open his sleepy eyes, but he would recognize the caller’s picture anywhere.  

His gaze flicked to the black hair sprawled over the duvet, and he jumped out of the bed, instinctively shying away from the incriminating scene. Moving closer to the wall, he coughed twice, clearing his throat, before accepting the call, and prayed for silence. 

“Hello, mother,” he spoke in the lowest but clearest tone possible trying not to wake the woman in bed. 

“Let me talk to Theresa,” the woman barked the order, forgetting any rule of politeness – not that she reserved that kind of curtesy to her eldest son, especially not after he became the only one. 

“She’s currently not...” Edmund stuttered and considered what to answer. “We’re not together... at the moment. I was sleeping.” 

“She’s not with you!” The woman muttered something under her breath he could only assume were not compliments about his fiancée’s competence to follow orders. “Find her. And have her call me. Immediately.” 

“Alright, mother. I’ll let her know you –” 

Before he could finish the sentence, the call ended.  

The conscience of where he was standing and with whom and the possibility of a scandal was enough to force out of his body any sleep. A last longingly gaze focused on the woman sleeping before he cautiously sneaked out of the bedroom. This was just the beginning.

Notes:

[1] Hayatım – Turkish – term of endearment that means “my life” or “my dear or darling” in this context. 

[2] Babam and dedem – Turkish – father and grandfather. 

[3] Güzelim – Turkish – mean “my beautiful”. 

[4] Inşallah – In Turkish, the word inşallah or inşaallah means "If God wishes and grants" 

[ouro-bones]

They make me fucking sick /aff

[websidian]

so um

here's my find us alive oc x canon

the newspaper thing isn't canon btw, I just used it to fill up space

anyway this is Sullen Pluto

my guy

my stupid stinky records employee

you might recognize him from my commission information sheet at the top of my page!

I love him and his stupid stinky communications bf

[theaawalker]

a christmas memory ❆ susan pevensie.

Pairing: Susan Pevensie x fem!oc Song Inspo: Graveyard by Halsey Word Count: 2,162 Summary: a Christmas dinner promises snow, reminiscing, s'mores, cuddles, hot chocolate, and a life-changing phone call. Warnings: mentions of death Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly)

The heavy snow had been falling for hours, carpeting the streets and rooftops of London in a thick, white blanket. Inside a cozy townhouse tucked away on a quiet street, warmth radiated from a crackling fire in the living room fireplace. The scent of roasted vegetables and spices lingered in the air, mixing with the sweetness of hot chocolate and the crackle of the fire. Susan Pevensie stood in the kitchen, her hands busy chopping vegetables for the Christmas dinner she had been planning for weeks. Her movements were purposeful, but there was a gentleness to them — a love for the moment she was about to share with her family, the people who meant the world to her.

On the couch across the room, you sat nestled into a thick, knitted blanket, sipping from a mug of hot chocolate. You were absorbed in your book, Count Luna by Alexander Lernet-Holenia, a gothic, WWII novel that Susan had initially thought too dark for her taste but had come to appreciate for its complexity. The dim light of the room flickered off the pages of the book as you turned them, the snow outside casting a soft glow through the window.

"It's going to be perfect, Susan," you said, looking up from her book and catching Susan's eye with a soft smile. "The dinner, I mean. Everything's ready for your siblings. They’ll love it."

Susan smiled back, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she leaned against the doorway, feeling the warmth of the moment.

"It’s important to me," she admitted, her voice soft. "Christmas means so much to them, to all of us. And this dinner... it's a chance for us to be together, after everything we've been through." Her gaze softened. "I want them to feel at home, to feel loved. They don’t visit often enough."

You nodded, a knowing look in your eyes. "I get it. I’ll make sure it’s all perfect. The rooms are all set up for them. They’ll be comfortable, and after dinner, we can all relax with some s’mores by the fire."

Susan chuckled, the warmth of the moment filling her heart. "You really do think of everything."

Your lips quirked upward. "It’s what I do."

The conversation drifted as Susan resumed her work in the kitchen, her hands moving as though on their own accord. You returned to your mystery book, but the atmosphere was peaceful, a shared understanding between the two of you.

Eventually, the conversation returned to the book.

"I think Count Luna is a bit like a reflection of the past," Susan said thoughtfully, breaking the silence. "It's about escaping reality, about running from the things we can’t change."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Susan hesitated, her mind drifting back to a time long ago, to the days when she was just a child, before everything had changed.

"When I was younger," she said slowly, "I was running from something, too. From a life that was too complicated. From a war that made no sense. My siblings and I were sent away to the professor’s house during the war, to be safe. But I can hardly remember how we passed the time there... it's all a blur."

A flashback unfolded in her mind.

[ Flashback: The Train to the Professor’s House ]

The sound of the train was a constant hum beneath Susan’s feet, the rhythmic clacking of wheels on the track almost lulling her into a trance. She was just eleven years old, her mind still struggling to grasp the magnitude of what had happened. The war. The evacuations. Her parents’ sudden disappearance. She sat in a corner seat of the train, her siblings clustered around her: Peter, ever the protector, Edmund, looking sullen, and Lucy, wide-eyed and uncertain. They had been sent away to live with a professor in the countryside, far from the bombings and the chaos.

Susan couldn’t remember much about the journey itself—just the way the world seemed to blur through the train window, and the hushed voices of her siblings, trying to reassure each other. The journey was long, silent, as if the train itself held its breath.

"Do you think we’ll be safe, Susan?" Lucy asked in a small voice, her tiny hands clutching her sister’s sleeve.

Susan smiled softly, though she wasn’t entirely sure. "We’ll be fine, Lucy," she replied, though she wasn’t convinced herself. She looked at Peter, who gave her a nod of reassurance, but there was fear in his eyes, too.

Edmund broke the silence, his voice full of bitter edge. "I don’t even know why we’re going," he muttered, "It’s not like we’re any safer in the countryside."

Peter glared at him. "Stop being difficult, Ed. We don’t have a choice."

But Susan didn’t intervene. She only gazed out the window, watching the world rush by in a blur of grey and green, wondering what the future would hold.

[ Flashforward: Susan and Yours Townhouse ]

Susan snapped back to the present with a deep breath, trying to shake the memories loose. Looking from the living room and sensing Susan’s shift in mood, you put your book down and stood, moving toward the kitchen.

"That sounds like such a difficult time," you said softly, your arms wrapping Susan from behind in a comforting embrace.

Susan leaned into the embrace, savoring the warmth.

"It was. I can’t even remember how we passed the time at the professor’s house. It’s all a haze — just bits and pieces. But I know it was when I started to realize how much I wanted to protect them, to keep them safe." Her voice dropped. "I promised them that I would."

You kissed the top of her head. "I can see that. You’ve always been their protector, Susan."

Susan smiled faintly, then pulled away, her thoughts drifting. "I think about that time sometimes. How we came from a place of so much fear. But when I think about it, I remember how we all stuck together. Even Edmund."

Your eyes softened. "The bond of family. That’s what matters most."

Susan nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of all those memories. "I think that’s why it’s so important, this dinner. To remember those bonds. To keep them strong."

You smiled and kissed Susan’s cheek. "We’ll make it perfect. And we’ll make new memories, too."

The conversation shifted then, to lighter matters.

"How did we even meet, I wonder?" Susan said, her tone playful. "I remember you were so… irritable."

You laughed softly. "I was not!" she protested.

"You were," Susan said with a smirk. "You bumped into me at the train station and gave me such a look."

You grinned, recalling the memory. "It wasn’t my fault you were standing in my way."

Susan shook her head, grinning.

[ Flashback: The Train Station ]

The bustling train station was a cacophony of hurried footsteps, clattering suitcases, and the distant screech of arriving trains. Susan Pevensie stood in line at the ticket counter, her mind preoccupied with the journey ahead. She was on her way to Doncaster, a trip she had decided on a whim, hoping for a change of scenery. The cold winter air nipped at her skin as she adjusted her scarf, the December chill biting at her exposed cheeks.

She was lost in thought when she heard a voice behind her.

"Excuse me, but I think you're standing on my foot."

Susan turned sharply, a mixture of surprise and irritation crossing her face. Behind her stood a woman, clearly annoyed, with a raised brow and arms crossed. Her dark hair was pulled back by a furry headband, and her sharp eyes were fixed on Susan with a mixture of impatience and amusement.

"Sorry," Susan muttered, stepping back. She was not in the mood for a confrontation. "I didn't notice."

You tilted your head, eyeing Susan for a moment before a wry smile crept across her lips.

"You’re one of those people, aren't you?" You said, tone laced with sarcasm.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "One of what people?"

"The type who don’t notice anything outside their own little bubble," you said with a shrug, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.

Susan blinked, momentarily taken aback. "I’m sorry, but I don’t think—"

But before she could finish her sentence, the announcement over the PA system blared to life, drowning out the rest of their conversation. You sighed, clearly frustrated by the interruption.

"Great," you muttered under your breath. "I’ve already missed my train, and now I’m stuck with this."

"Maybe you should watch where you're going next time," Susan retorted, not ready to back down from a challenge.

You gave her a look of incredulity. "Oh, I’m sorry, am I ruining your perfect day?"

For a moment, the two exchanged sharp glares, their personalities clashing like two magnets with opposing poles. But then, without another word, you turned and walked toward the train platforms, leaving Susan fuming behind you.

[ Jump to: The Train to Doncaster ]

As fate would have it, both women found themselves on the same train to Doncaster. The train car was crowded, the scent of coffee and stale newspaper filling the air. Susan had already claimed a window seat and was about to settle her luggage when she heard the unmistakable sound of heels clicking on the floor.

The woman from the station approached with purpose. Your eyes met Susan’s, and a flicker of recognition passed between them. Susan frowned, her annoyance from the earlier encounter creeping back.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" you asked, her voice more resigned than polite.

Susan hesitated for a moment.

"I'd rather you not," she said, not willing to back down so easily. The last thing she wanted was to share space with someone who had already rubbed her the wrong way.

Your expression hardened. "Listen. I’m not asking for much. There’s no room anywhere else."

Susan could feel the irritation rising in her chest, but before she could reply, a man appeared, sliding into the seat of hers with a smug look on his face. He glanced at both women and then focused entirely on Susan.

"Excuse me," she said, "I believe this seat is taken."

"I'm afraid not anymore." The man said, his voice grating. His gaze flicked briefly to you, the woman next to Susan, a sneer crossing his lips. He looked back to Susan, wearing a façade of a sweet smile. "Yes. You, sweetheart. You’ll have to find another place."

Susan and you exchanged a brief, wary look. Then, in unison, you both turned to him, glaring at the man who had taken what was Susan's.

"This is my seat," Susan said, her voice low and firm, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

You stepped forward as well, her eyes blazing with defiance. "And this is my seat," she added, her voice sharp with irritation.

The man smirked, clearly thinking he could intimidate them.

"I’m not interested in what you think," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Without warning, the you reached out and grabbed the man by the arm, feigning a horrible sneeze. He wiped his glasses and gaped in shock.

"Apologies, I have- have..." You sneezed again. "Terrible allergies. It's the leather of the train seats, it-" you sneezed once more, taking him aback.

The man wiped his glasses again and gave Susan a look of bewilderment.

"You heard her," she said coldly. "Best not to catch something in this season."

The man stumbled, clearly taken aback, and after a few moments of hesitation, he backed down, muttering curses under his breath. He stomped out to the aisle and off to the other side of the train car, leaving both women standing in the aisle, victorious.

Susan couldn’t help but laugh, the tension that had built between them suddenly evaporating. "Well, that was... something," she said, glancing at you.

You grinned, arms crossed as you gave a small, satisfied shrug. "I do hate being underestimated. And it’s always nice to watch someone get put in their place."

Susan raised an eyebrow, still uncertain but intrigued.

"I didn’t think you had it in you," she teased, stepping back to let you sit.

"Oh, I can be surprisingly stubborn," you replied with a smirk, settling into the seat beside Susan. "You wouldn’t believe the number of people who’ve underestimated me." Your gaze softened. "And you? You’re not so bad yourself."

The remark caught Susan off guard, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words. She hadn’t expected any kind of warmth after their heated exchange. But something in your eyes told her there was more to you than met the eye.

As the train pulled out of the station, the cityscape of London fading into the distance, Susan found herself feeling oddly comfortable in your presence. The cold, tense atmosphere between them had dissolved, and in its place was something else — something unexpected.

You two spent the rest of the journey talking, your earlier tension giving way to easy conversation. You discovered you were both headed to Doncaster for different reasons, but both had a certain openness to the unknown, a curiosity that drew them together. By the time the train neared its destination, Susan realized that the woman sitting beside her was no longer a stranger. In fact, she wasn’t sure when the animosity had faded into something else entirely.

[ Flashforward: Susan and Yours Townhouse ]

Susan chuckled. "It was the start of something good."

The memory filled her with warmth, the way you two had both defended each other, slowly becoming friends, then more. It was a story she would always hold dear.

You leaned in and kissed her, a tender kiss that lingered for a moment.

"I love you," you whispered. "This evening will be perfect."

Susan smiled, feeling the warmth of the kiss linger. "I love you too."

"Now, what do you say we finish those s’mores before your family arrives?" You quipped.

Susan nodded.

"Yes, let's. They’ll be here in," she checked her watch, "ooh! Twenty minutes! I have to get the casserole out and--" But before she could finish, the phone rang in the hall. "That must be them. I'll get that. Would you get the casserole and begin setting the table? Remember, Edmund likes sweets, so put his furthest from the centerfold cake."

"I will. I will." You rubbed her arms and nodded, seeing her off to the ringing telephone. Susan hurried to answer it, her mind distracted by the thought of her siblings arriving.

She answered. "Hello, Peter? How far are you?"

The voice on the other end was cold, official. "Is this Susan Pevensie?" Susan knit her brows. "Speaking. Who is this?"

"Merry Christmas, ma'am. This is the London Police Department. I'm sorry to report there’s been an accident on the Bradley Manor train. A crash, you see." "Oh, God." Susan grabbed the phone with both hands. "Are they alright? My siblings. Peter, Edmund, and Lucy. W-what hospital are were they sent to?

"Ms. Pevensie. Your family... your brothers and sister, they... they didn’t make it."

The words hit Susan like a physical blow. She stood frozen for a moment, unable to comprehend what she had just heard. Then, slowly, she hung up the phone and turned back toward the kitchen, her face pale.

You, in the process of cooling off the casserole, looked at the kitchen counter with a smile. "The casserole came out great, my love. Oh! Lucy's going to love it. You said it was her favorite dish, yes? Did you tell them merry christmas for me, Susan?" There was a pause. "Susan?"

As soon as you turned around and saw the expression on Susan’s face, your smile faltered. "Susan?"

Susan stood motionless, the weight of the news sinking in. Your voice trembled as you approached and asked, "What did they say on the phone?"

Susan swallowed hard, her cracked voice gutting out but a whisper. "They’re not coming home."

The world seemed to stop as the reality of those words settled between them. The fireplace crackled softly, the s’mores and casserole forgotten, as the snow outside continued to fall, blanketing the world in an endless white.

[mags0142]

Nobody’s Son, Nobody’s Daughter

Hello my loves, I started working on a little bit of an Edmund fic. Although I am trying to develop something of my own the Narnia franchise is definitely a source material.

It’s an Edmund x Reader fic for now with a few original characters.

Tags : major character death (his siblings), smut, mentions of suicide (no further development on that though)

Please let me know what you think :) enjoy!

——————

Grief is a goodbye from love. It is the final gift we receive when we have wholeheartedly and honestly loved and were loved. It is the flag we wave around that screams “look at me, I was loved. I loved, I still love” and so we must carry our grief with pride and hold it high for it is proof of the sincere emotions we felt for one another which transcend life and death. We should cherish the grief and welcome it into our arms like we once welcomed our loved ones for it is their gift goodbye. And yet we run from it. We run from it until it finds us.

Edmund was currently running from it. Or rather towards it, seeing as he was trying to eliminate the source that caused it.

The men that had taken the lives of Edmunds most precious beings, his beloved siblings.

When Edmund heard of his sibling’s death he had long been aware of it. A wave of pain had overcome him. He had felt as if he had lost part of his soul and in a way he very much did. The boy who had burged into his chamber was carrying a message his heart had already received. Moreover he knew that their death was most unfair considering he was the only one deserving of being killed. they had been good people through and through their entire lives, they had been true to themselves and their morals.

Edmund couldn’t say the same for himself. He had betrayed them and risked their lives for his foolish desires. He was the only one deserving of being killed. He knew in his heart that he had betrayed them once again by not dying instead, by being spared of this terrible faith, by not being with them when they spoke their last words.

He felt himself a traitor of the highest degree.

His first thought had been to take his own life. To join his siblings and apologise to them. But he realised this would be the weak way out. If he wanted redemption he would have to suffer for it. He could only redeem himself and avenge the people closest to his heart if he lived through the pain.

And if he killed whoever took their lives. His siblings had been noble people, they rarely resorted to killing, even in times of war. Edmund wasn’t as pure. His soul would be tarnished anyway, there was no need to hold back now, not when his heart was aching and his lungs were burning and the image of their tortured faces haunted his thoughts.

He walked through the now empty castle. It was as if all life had left it, for Edmund it did. The kingdom was relieved in a way because they had still one monarch left. They had lost their compassionate and loyal queens and their brave king but they still had someone left, even if it was their least favourite one. Edmund had known that the popularity of his siblings surpassed his own by a landslide, but now was not the time to focus on his image amongst the people he ruled, not for him anyway. In a way he felt he had also betrayed his people by being the only one left, they didn’t deserve to lose their rulers the way they did. He knew taking over their responsibilities would be a difficult task but one he was willing to take on.

The king gathered his best swordsmen and ordered his smiths to forge the best weapons they possibly could.

“They’ll be long gone by the time we arrive, your Majesty, they most likely left right after .. after the .. the incident” Althea tried to suggest. Edmund turned to his advisor and studied his face. He had a look of worry in his eyes mixed with a hint of pity. Edmund frowned at the idea that Althea was pitying him. “Perhaps they have, but their elaborate scheme couldn’t have been orchestrated by a far, they must have had a base somewhere near the temple. If anything it should give us a clue to where they are headed next.”.

With that Edmund got up and moved towards the door “We leave at dawn, I suppose you’ll be joining us?” he turned slightly to Althea but only enough to catch a glimpse of him in the corner of his eye. “Of course your highness.” Althea replied softly, bowing to his King. “Good, thank you for your help Althea, I appreciate your support” Edmund replied quickly and left the room to disappear into his chamber.

It was late at night, he knew that he should be in bed right now but how could he ? How could he rest knowing his sibling's killer was still out there? How could he ever rest again knowing he had failed to protect the only people ever dear to him. Ever since the murder Edmund had been consumed by this disgusting, rotting guilt. It had infested him as soon as the life left their bodies and was now consuming every part of him. It ran through his veins and blackened his heart, draining it of love and replacing it with grief. It crawled up his body. Higher and higher until it reached his eyes and blurred his vision. He saw nothing but injustice and evil no matter where he looked. His own reflection disgusted him by far the most. How dare his cheeks be rosy with life and his chest beat with every breath of air he took.

He slowly undressed in the dim candle light and mindlessly put on his sleeping gown. He could have washed his face but there was no use in doing so for him. On one hand he was far too exhausted and occupied by other things to care for himself. On the other hand, probably unbeknownst to him, he refused to take care of himself as a form of punishment. He didn’t deserve to be taken care of, not even by himself when he hadn’t taken care of them. His physical appearance was to be as soiled as his soul. Everyone looking at him should know that he was a filthy traitor. He would run around dirty for the rest of his life if it meant repenting even a fraction of the sin he committed.

Through all his self inflicted pain and unavoidable grief he made an attempt to be rational and laid down in bed.

His sword, which used to belong to his older brother initially, and his armour were waiting by the foot of his bed, ready to be worn and used for revenge.

Edmund laid in his bed tossing and turning trying to shake off all these memories and thoughts of guilt. Even once he fell asleep he was moaning and twitching uneasily in his sleep.

Althea pressed his ear to the wall of his chamber that shared a wall with the King’s room. He listened intently to all the sounds Edmund made regardless if they were conscious or not. Secretly he hoped that Edmund would call out to him. Not as a King looking for his advisor while making rational decisions, but as a friend, perhaps a lover, looking for a shoulder to cry on, searching for a safe space to be vulnerable in. He was grateful to be so close to Edmund throughout all this time, but even with his held back discrete demeanour he could not deny that he was secretly lusting for the King. He had breached Edmund's privacy many times. Sneaking into his Chamber during bath time just to catch a glimpse of his beautiful porcelain skin, glistening in the water of the bath. He would relish in the sight of Edmunds dark hair clinging to his forehead and he counted the freckles on his lovely rosy cheeks.

Althea would take himself in hand and imagine those strong arms grabbing him and pushing him against the nearest wall. He imagined those plush lips hungrily devouring his and these hard abs to press against his slender frame. He would come thinking of deep brown eyes, pale skin, strong muscles and a large cock inside of him.

Afterwards he would feel soiled yet satisfied, he would retreat into his Chamber and go on as normal while Edmund was none the wiser.

A dirty part of him was glad they died. It made him the one closest to Edmund and gave him an opportunity to develop their relationship. He was aware that his desires were selfish but he wished so dearly that in his desperation and pain Edmund would turn to Althea in search of love. And Althea would give it to him willingly. He was ready to give up his body and soul for even the slightest touch of the King.

Edmund was aware of Althea's sexuality, in fact he was an active defender of Althea in front of everyone who thought to criticise who Althea chose to love. However he wasn't aware that Althea only really cared for one, Edmund himself. Edmund had never even suspected it, perhaps it was a lack of self-esteem or perhaps he thought their deep-rooted relationship was based on strictly platonic feelings. Either way the king never entertained the idea of being Althea’s object of desire.

Althea had no intention of correcting him. As much as Althea longed for his touch and craved his affection he would not dare risk their good bond. Even if it left him heartbroken he would rather moan into his pillow in the dead of night then potentially lose his king forever.

[raging-violets]

Caged Nightingale | Chronicles of Narnia | Chapter 02 - Read on FFN or AO3

Authored by: Rhuben

Rated: T

FULL SUMMARY: [REWRITE] Readjusting to his “old life”, Edmund finds himself drawn back into a Narnia he doesn’t recognize. A Narnia filled with ruin and loss. Much like himself. Feeling like he betrayed his beloved lands for a second time, and haunted by memories of the White Witch, Edmund will do everything he can to extinguish his lingering doubts of his royal title.

Witnessing the effects of war on her father, Issi has dreamt of a life of healing. Following the honeyed voice only she hears - the spirit that leads her straight into becoming a Telmarine prisoner of war – Issi promises to nurture Narnia (whatever that was) the best way she knew how, but found herself rebuilding a King desperate for some sanctuary, all the while fighting off the growing urge to do him and his family harm.

-

Excerpt:

Peter had been the first to stop talking about it. He had more important things to worry about, as he had reminded them. Being in touch with their mom. Learning what he could from the professor. If they were to get back to Narnia, he would say, then it would happen when it happened. Still, Edmund could see his frustration in the way he rolled back his shoulders when he was spoken to by teachers, held deep in his eyes when people tried to withhold information from him. Could hear it in the way he wondered why Edmund and Lucy couldn't just "do what they were told" without complaining. Susan had soon followed Peter's example. She was more patient with Edmund and Lucy, and how often she found them in the room with the wardrobe. And how often she would usher them out. She grew out of the more childish games Lucy wanted to play. Quickly, yet gently, stopped discussions on what they "would be doing in Narnia right now" as they had already lived a full live there, and didn't need to dwell on it anymore. After a while, Lucy knew not to bring it up. Yet, Edmund could still find her on occasion, just sitting in the room with the wardrobe, looking up at the big heavy door. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. Would smile a secret smile as a memory came to her. How patient she was with everyone that deemed her to be a little girl with her head up in the clouds. She had never lost faith. It was almost annoying. They were told they wouldn't be away home for long. They were told they would be able to return to Narnia. He had been told he could be made a king, and all he had to do was bring his brother and sisters to Jadis. It had been a year.

Shout out to @purpleyearning​ for the fic cover!

Tag List: @foxesandmagic @witchofinterest @arrthurpendragon @andromedalestrange​ @darknightfrombeyond​ @ocappreciationtag​

[ollierachnid]

long time sufferer

[greenandsorrow]

IMPORTANT FOR MY TSH MULTI CHAP!!!!!

'What once was.' -> Henry Winter x OC

I've been rereading the book to help me pace the fic. I've been spending time drafting. Also, Rita (the oc) has become her own person and less of a self insert, which I like. But, I need your opinion on something!!!

Tartt has left some room for interpretation on Henry and Camilla's relationship. I just want to decide what I'll do with it in my fic.

Also, I'll post an irrelevant Henry smut before the first chapter of this.

YOU CAN TALK ABOUT YOUR OPINION IN THE COMMENTS. I'll love to hear it❣️

Tag list; @futurecorps3 @gxdsmonsters @waterisnotreal0 @breathingstarlight @anonymousewrites @sunlightempire @f4iriypng @yourlocalloser-core @riddledarkness @lady-darknessa

[lyriciste]

Partie 2

Warnings: not

Time/Era: Modern AU, OC and Edmund are 17-18

Word count: 2033

Summary: OC and Edmund’s first meeting in UK highschool

-

They were face to face, a few meter between each other. Nobody seems to notice her or even him. Putting her sun glasses on, she starts to smoke too. Edmund just let himself drift his eyes on her, collecting her aspects of beauty. She wasn't smiling, she even seems to be sad, like a natural sad face. But like a godess the sun set on her cheeks and then she smiles like she was mourning the sun's ray touch. Edmund see her smile and he tought he couldn't be more mesmerized by a woman before. In fact he just cared about what they seem, but with her she reflected what she is. He was sure she looks the way she was is.

Like a seventeen years old boy he was, he lets his sight longing her legs covered by a skirt the same color of her blazer and his. Her bare skin was drapped by her converse and coloful socks on her ankle. Edmund's eyes lift back to her face and he felt his heart races like it never raced before. She was looking at him, or more staring. He swear he could feel her eyes on him behind her tinted glasses. He couldn't stand how her hair became warm by the light. She then put her glasses off and locked her sight with his. After a few second Edmund didn't realize he stoped breathing to the vision of her Y/E/C eyes and cheekbones as she smiles. Yes, she was smiling at him with her shy but warm smirk. Like a mirror he couldn't help but share his emotions toward her by a thankful smile.

'Ed?'

Lucy's voices cut this moment, the most beautiful moment Edmund ever have (out of his family of course). He shook his head and turn to Lucy.

'You're lucky i love you not to tell mum and Susan about this shit.'

She was pointing his cigarette, which he forgot the existence.

'You're lucky i love you to wait for you after school.' he said inhaling a last drop of smoke

He looked back to the girl, she wasn't here anymore. Only her unfinished cigarette left on the ashtray. They both sat on the car and Edmund felt something missing.

'So, she noticed you at least.' said Lucy waving at her friend in front of the school

His brother looks at her and said 'If you had been late like always, maybe we could have talked.'

'One day, when you will not look, i will kill you in your sleep.' said Lucy with a glare

'Thanks Lu, i appreciate your love toward your dear brother.' said Edmund as he makes a smirk

'Peter has always been my favorite brother anyways.'

She now turns her sight to the window.

-

The day after, at break, Edmund was lying down on a low wall waiting for Philip. Since he saw her smoking yesterday, bathed on the sun, he has waited all day for this last to show up. It reminds him the warn sensation he felt seeing her.

'What's up?' greets Philip

'Hi. How was your day?'

'Fucking long. It's messy at home and school is boring me. I hope summer will be much better.' Philip said it sitting next to the dark haired one

'School feels good these days.'

'Easy for you Ed. You are a genius without any effort.'

'Shut up i hate this place as much as you do, but something caught my intention lately.'

His friend look up at him with a questioning face. It wasn't usual for Edmund to be interested by something new. He has always been fine by himself with his novels and music. What could have changed that?

'What thing?' finally asks Philip who was intriged

Edmund thought if he could tell about this girl. Not because he doesn't trust his friend, but mostly because he doesn't know what to say about that.

'I saw a girl.'

'God you finally fell for someone!' said Philip who had stood up to look at his friend

'I'm not in love with her! I don't even know her.'

'Is it her?' said Philip pointing at someone

Edmund turn his face to where the other guy's sight was. She was here, at a table with a headphone. She has two braids with few hair strands surrounding her face. With a confused look he said :

'How do you know?'

'I know you. She's kind of like you, a weirdo.'

'Lucy told me the same.'

'So she's the woman for you.' he said with a solemn face

'You take it to seriously.'

'Look, i was thinking about doing a party this weekend. So to help my dear mate i will find a way for her to be present.'

Looking at her way again, Edmund was surprised to see another girl sat next to her.

'Look i know the girl with her. Hopefully you girl will come with her.'

'Phil, i'm a growing up person i can manage with my stuff.'

'You already told Lucy anyways, you know she wille take care of that even if i don't help you. And you know how Lucy can be.'

'Too much?'

'That's how i could describe this little Pevensie.'

They laughed about that, they love mini Pevensie so much.

[jonahs-arks]

Some Rockwell's Offer AU writing; specifically for something on Extinction </3

Brandon lied down on the operation table, awaiting his partner. He had a blank expression on his face; there was nothing new to anticipate. It was always the same on days like these.

He heard the familiar click of Edmund's shoes on the floor, drawing closer.

He let out a sigh. We can finally get this over with.

Rockwell stepped into the room, adjusting his black gloves. He always looked handsome when doing such simple actions... He acknowledged Brandon with a curt nod, walking closer to the table.

Rockwell brought the surgical trolley over to the table, the light reflecting off of the scalpels.

Routinely, Edmund tapped his fingers on the scalpels, though Brandon knew which one he'd choose. It's always the same. He closed his eyes as he heard the sound of the scalpel being picked up.

Rockwell stared at the sharp object in his hand.

It was always quiet in the operation room. They rarely spoke to each other here; there was nothing to discuss. Everything was routine in this room: cut, fiddle, inject, and maybe die if you're lucky.

Rockwell started humming as he brought the scalpel to Brandon's chest; his unoccupied hand resting on Brandon's, a small reassurance.

He opened his eyes, sighing as he felt his skin tear. He rubbed his thumb along Rockwell's hand.

He watched as his chest was cut open, almost ritualistically, in an upside down triangle shape. Brandon drew in his breath as the skin was peeled back; revealing his ribs.

Rockwell placed the now bloody scalpel back on the table, and removed his hand from Brandon's to grab the rib shears.

Brandon missed the warmth, but this was routine. He knew his partner needed two hands for this portion of the session.

He jolted as the shears were placed upon one of his ribs and broke it. It didn't hurt, though. It stopped hurting forever ago.

He looked up at Rockwell, who was continuing to meticulously open his ribcage.

He was so handsome when doing this. Covered in his blood. Using some tool in his chest. It was like bliss watching him work. It's part of the reason Brandon agreed to be experimented on.

The only thing he didn't like was when he was dying. It was awful every single time. The convulsing, the hammering heart, the darkening vision. It fucking sucked, to put it bluntly.

But then, it would be peaceful serenity. A nice, comfy darkness would take him, and everything would be fine. And then he'd awaken, to the same face every time.

Brandon always got lost when staring at Rockwell's face. The wall torches would always illuminate his features in an almost beautiful way. He loved it.

He was taken out of his daze whenever Rockwell placed the rib shears down.

Brandon shivered when his partner started maneuvering and displacing his organs by hand. He's felt Edmund do this countless times, yet his body always has the same reaction. He'd chuckle if he wasn't so focused on Rockwell's hands in his chest.

Rockwell exhaled as he removed his hands from Brandon's chest cavity. He strolled over to his new set of vials; deciding on which one he'd test today. All of them were glowing that sickening purple colour, and all had labels in that precise, curly handwriting.

Brandon couldn't read them from where he was, but he didn't care what they were. Sometimes a surprise is needed for these days; even if the result wasn't pleasant.

Edmund picked up one of the vials carefully before returning to the table.

He picked up one of the syringes and inputted the concoction into it.

Rockwell tapped the bubbles out of it, and Brandon could see little shimmers within it. Corrupted Edmundium, he could tell.

Wonder what it'll do..

No matter, he'd find out soon enough.

Rockwell finally made eye contact with him. It was nice. Brandon could get lost in those purple-tinted blues all day.

They stared into each other's eyes for a couple moments longer, before Rockwell leaned in to kiss Brandon on the head.

Brandon wanted to say "I love you", but he knew it'd ruin the moment. All he could do was smile as he watched Rockwell inject the unknown concoction into his chest cavity.

He could feel it as soon as it entered his body. It was like his veins and arteries were on fire. It fucking burned. It fucking hurt.

Brandon cried out. He grabbed Rockwell's black apron; made just for these sessions. All Brandon got in response was a hand placed upon his.

His whole body started to feel like it was on fire. His chest fucking hurt. It was bubbling and mutating.

Can hearts do that?

A fleeting thought, cast aside as he started seeing shit in the corners of the room. He wasn't sure what it was. Shadows, maybe. He didn't know. It was incomprehensible to him. Maybe it was his vision going out, that warm darkness coming to take him again.

He started coughing up blood.

Tears started welling in his eyes. He could feel his heart hammer like a horrible drum throughout his entire body.

He started hearing things: Rockwell. Voices he didn't recognise. Helena-Deus. Himself. He couldn't understand what they were saying. It was all screaming. All of it agony and ear-splitting. His head rang.

His grip on Rockwell's apron tightened.

He wanted to claw his brain out of his skull. Everything fucking hurt. Every sense heightened. He could smell the fibres in the walls. He could smell the Edmundium in his blood.

It was all too much. He wanted it to stop.

He reached out for Rockwell. He needed more than his apron.

He sobbed as Rockwell put a hand on his cheek. He wanted nothing more than to be with Rockwell. Wanted nothing more than him in this moment.

He started to convulse as that darkness tried to claim him once more. All he could do was look into those cold, blue eyes.

He fucking hated that look. That blank look. It reminded him that he was nothing but a subject. A toy, even.

But he clung onto Edmund nonetheless.

He still loved him.

His body convulsed harshly once more, before that wonderful darkness took him away from everything again.

Everything will be fine.