#one step closer to narnia

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

to many more | s.r. x liaison!fem reader

“what’s your favorite book?”

spencer looked away from his open files to turn in his chair to see you standing behind him, a couple of manila folders held close to your baby blue long sleeve dress shirt. he had to keep his eyes from dropping lower to get a glance at the curves that hugged to your black pants.

he coughed as he blinked a few times behind his glasses, “uh, well there’s- there’s too many to choose from. if you’re asking about general literature i’d probably say-“

you held a hand out with a shaky smile, “sorry. don’t mean to interrupt. but um, i’m asking if there’s a book or story that’s very meaningful full for you.”

spencer straightened his mouth, feeling it form into that usual line. he let his mind scour for a moment, “uh maybe… alice in wonderland. my mom used to read it as a bed time story from time to time in between narnia and fifteenth century literature. she used to read me valentines poems.”

he saw your brows raise for a moment, “that’s sweet. which did she recite the most?” you readjusted the files.

spencer tapped his fingers over his thighs, “mostly chaucer’s parlement of foules. The poem, which is in the form of a dream vision in rhyme royal stanza, contains one of the earliest references to the idea that St. Valentine's Day is a special day for lovers…” he stopped short when he saw a bored expression draping your face. “sorry, rambling.”

your eyes widen and you took a step closer, “no, no. you’re fine. your voice soothes me, probably looked a bit drowsy.”

spencer scrunched his face, “most people would look tired cause i’m boring them to sleep.” he saw your face fall at his words, he didn’t like the sight.

“well i like hearing your information. i find what you know quite fascinating, like last week you told me that flamingos feathers are actually white or pale gray, but appear pink cause of algae and shrimp. i would’ve never know that.” your smile pushed your cheeks, pupils beaming alight as he felt them ghostly tracing his face.

bashful your eyes directed to your feet, “i enjoyed our date last week.” moving some fingers to run behind your ear, “i’ve always wanted to visit the planetarium, but never found the time.”

spencer smiled fondly, “i’m glad i was able to get you the chance. sometimes they do thirty minute segments on each zodiac sign, it’s when i see a lot of ‘psychics’.”

you chuckled lightly, spencer’s grin widened. “i should take you to one for fun. just to test how real they are.”

he couldn’t help rolling his eyes, “don’t waste your money.” you shrugged simply, “could be a fun third date. she can verify that we’re a match.” giving your upper body a slight twisting at the waist.

before spencer could say anything in reply, you both turned to see hotch calling you from his upper office. “shit, forgot i had to drop these off. i’ll see you later.” and you stepped into his space to lean in an leave a kiss to his forehead. he could feel the residue of your fading gloss. he was happy there wasn’t many people in the bullpen, he didn’t want to deal with morgan’s teasing right now.

the only possible person to have witnessed that display would be hotch. “reid, a word,” his stern voice causing him to flinch in his seat. he quickly made his way up the steps and into the office, closing the door behind him and standing beside you with his hands behind his back. he wasn’t planning to have this conversation a month early.

“is there something you both would like to inform me on?” hotch letting either of you confirm your new relationship instead of assuming.

“uh,” you started to say before spencer interrupted more confidently, “y/n and i are currently seeing each other. it’s only been about two months.” he turned to you, eyes locking and both of you smiled at each other, “but i’d like to believe this will last awhile.”

“well,” hotch cleared his throat, “since you’ve probably read through the handbook spencer, there isn’t anything wrong with fraternization between employees. i would just need both of you to fill out some paperwork.”

you both nodded in agreement. “and please, try not to let this distract you in the field. otherwise you’ll have to be in separate rooms, hotel and assignments.”

“yes sir,” giving a playful salute as he dismissed you both. you decided to pull spencer by his hand in the direction of your, shared office, already knowing jj was busy elsewhere.

“i hope that was-“ you spun into spencer, palms on his cheeks as your lips pressed onto his. he went still for a moment, but you knew he just needed a second to process. his fingers curled along your hips, his warmth seeping through your fabric and onto your skin.

you sighed into his mouth as he worked your lips apart, taking the lead he moved both of you further into the office. your thighs hit the edge, a small gasping allowing for spencer to boldly slip his tongue into your mouth, your heart was pumping in your ears.

if you weren’t in the office you’d let your greedy fingers start to work at unbuttoning his shirt, but instead you were stopped short when someone groaned out, “holy shit!”

spencer was the first to jump away and you saw that penelope and jj were at the threshold with jaws dropped and bugged eyes. “you freaky love birds!” penelope screeched.

“i need to burn this room,” jj groaned as she turned on her heels.

[trumpkinhotboy]

I'll keep an eye on you - II

pairing: jacob black x reader

type: not requested

genre: bit angsty and fluffy

warnings: none

word count: 3400

requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia, heartstopper

a/n: hope you enjoy this lil part 2 !! also I really want to thank @tgarrett26 for helping me with this fic (you are awesome) + they are the reason there is even a pt.2 hehe

part I part III

*gif is not mine

summary: After one night of respite, the reader confronts the day to realize the shadows haven't quite disappeared yet.

There's a timid sunbeam lighting up your cozy little room. Nothing scary or menacing in view. You look over to your nightstand with barely opened eyes to see your mushroom light still on. The clock on your desk shines the time. 7:00am. 

7am?!

You sit straight up, immediately noticing the big dent on the left side of your bed. Yes, of course, Jacob came in last night. Your cheeks flush with the thought of having slept so soundly next to the heaping mountain of muscles that is your friend. You feel so confused and well-rested. For the first time in a few weeks, you awoke calmly. This might have been the best night of sleep of your whole damn life, and it's 7:00am! You managed to wake up before your alarm. You wouldn't have to be rushing to school for once. You were usually only able to fall asleep when the sun started shining and chased away the threatening shadows of the night. So, being late to school was a recurring occurrence for you. For once, your father wouldn't have to come in to try and wake you up. You were pushing away your blankets to get up when there was a knock on your door before it slowly cracked open.

"Sweetheart, time to wake up. Don't want to be late for sch-"

Your father's traits lifted up in surprise, and honestly, you couldn’t really blame the man. You didn't keep track of all the mornings he found you all tangled up in your blankets, hair sprawled everywhere like a bird's nest, saliva drooling down your chin.

"Did you sleep well?"

You nodded eagerly, a sincere smile spreading on your lips. Charlie seemed incredibly thrilled by that piece of news. He was no stranger to the nightmares haunting your nights and was brokenhearted to see you so tired and on edge all the time.

"Well, then. Better get down and eat breakfast before you head to school." He gave you a timid smile before softly closing your door.

You had your first breakfast with your dad in a long time. He was particularly chirpy, and you kept catching his relieved gaze. You left for school on time and had a really great day. You felt awake and energized. Participating in class and your little social circle once again felt like a rush. Your efforts were welcomed with gigantic smiles from your teachers and friends. For a second, you thought the weeks of anguish and terror might finally be behind you. Maybe a night with Jacob had been the only thing you needed to put this whole thing behind you. However, as the sun went down and shadows stretched on the ground, you got more flinchy and twitchy. Once more, you turned at every odd sound, looking over your shoulder as you left the school grounds. You almost ran to your car, locking all the doors, and left a trail of dust with how fast you headed back home on the powdery roads of Forks. 

Dinner with your father was much more somber than the breakfast you shared this morning. You felt like a dagger to your heart, his disappointment when he saw you jump as he caught you by surprise in the kitchen. You usually were always careful about hiding your internal conflict from Charlie. Yet the frustration you felt tonight weighed much more than the want to hide everything from him.

Once dinner was over, you climbed the stairs with heavy steps, feeling the dread in your body get worse the closer you got to your bedroom. You opened the door to find a space very different than the one you had left when you awoke this morning. Your still unmade bed didn't feel so inviting tonight. Long gone were the rays of sunshine that scared the shadows away. The room you faced was now dark and gloomy. Nothing about it felt safe or secure.

You rushed in to turn on your mushroom light and sat on your bed, trying to summon all your courage to breathe calmly. 

It's over now. Nightmares are just that. They aren't real. I'm safe now.

No matter how much you would repeat it, those words felt empty and fake. You got up, put your pajamas on, and as you were ready to get in bed, you noticed a piece of clothing jutting out from under one of the pillows. You lifted it up to find the T-shirt you lent to Jacob. He didn't keep it. He left your house shirtless so you could keep the stupid piece of clothing. You grabbed it and held it up to your nose. Immediately, your senses were overpowered by his woodsy scent. You fell to your bed, shirt still pressed on your face as you let a deep sigh leave your lungs.

Grabbing your phone on the night table, you hesitated. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you closed the device and threw it away.

The clock had just struck midnight when you heard something scratching outside. You almost had a heart attack when you saw Jacob hanging onto your window, motioning for you to open it.

"Jacob Black. What the hell are you doing? Do you want to kill me?!"

Your tall friend let out a deep chuckle as he swiftly stepped into your room without making a noise. His gaze fell onto the fort you had built yourself. There were pillows and blankets lined all around your bed, a very feeble attempt at a barrier. The tv screen was paused on one of your favorite movie. He gave you a worried look and took a second to really take in the state you were in. You didn't look like the relaxed girl he had, reluctantly, left in a peaceful slumber this morning.

"What?" you defensively crossed your arms on your chest, already sensing where this conversation would be going.

"What are you doing?" he quietly asked, his head slightly leaning on one side.  

"I was watching a movie." 

You immediately saw a shadow pass in his dark eyes and felt a familiar pain ring in your chest. You couldn't live with disappointing both your father and Jacob. Worse, you couldn't live with the pity in their eyes. If only the bad dreams could stay away. 

"What are you doing," you finally asked, a bit more roughly than you had intended.

He hesitated, sensing you had been offended in some way. "I just did a quick run around the perimeter, but then I saw the light open and just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Your expression softened at the concern painted on his handsome face. Fear did make you more on edge, but you knew Jacob had done nothing to deserve that anger. You sighed before plopping down on your bed.

"That's very nice of you, but I am okay. I just didn't feel tired yet." 

You felt adamant about telling him of the return of the paranoia. You were already so disappointed in yourself. You couldn't even muster the bravery to be in your room alone at night. What would it even do if you told him the truth? It felt so shameful to ask again for his help, to ask him to watch over you while you were sleeping. Just because, like a child, you were afraid of the dark and the beasts it hid. You were instantly relieved when he gave you a suspicious glance as if he might believe your lie. You gave him your best smile, trying to prove how relaxed you were. You only wanted to chase the worries away from his chocolate eyes. 

That could have worked if only the sound of your house creaking under a strong gust of wind and a branch scratching on your window hadn't made you flinch so damn hard. 

Jacob's gaze hardened over your tense figure. You expected him to make a comment, to confront you. As you waited anxiously for the ax to drop, he finally walked over to your bed, sat, and pointed to your television.

"May I join you then?"

You initiated him to one of your best comfort movies. It required absolutely no brain power and just helped you feel better. Always a good player, Jake obliged and even seemed to enjoy it. When you were done, you spent another hour just chatting about nothing and everything. You tried hiding your clock from his sight and hoped he wouldn't notice time flying away, but sadly, there wasn't much your figure could hide from his wolfish sight.

"It's getting late. I should probably go," He muttered after an hour of mindless chatting. His dark eyes fixed on your features, you faced each other, forearms tucked under your head while you lay on your side. You couldn't help your shoulders and jaw from tensing up at his words. The happiness and carelessness he had brought you vanished as if it never occurred. Fear crept up in your belly at the thought of being alone in the dark again. 

You gave him a tight smile as you nodded. He hesitantly got up, giving you another weird look. You barely registered it, too focused on avoiding falling into a panicked state. He walked to the window, and as you thought he was about to leave, he turned around on a whim.

"I really don't understand you. Even in this state, you won't ask for my help?" 

His outburst surprised you and unintentionally made you recoil at the swift motion. He sighed deeply, "Please don't look at me like this. I want to understand. Why don't you want my help?" he repeated, annoyance rippling in waves from his body.

"I- I'm not sure what you're talking about," you responded, determined to hang on to the shred of dignity you had left.

He let out a sarcastic laugh. It was dry and reeked of disdain towards this fluke you were trying to fool him with. "Stop playing Y/n. You reek of fear." 

His words were like a punch in the gut. You felt shame hitting you as you realized how stupid you had been. 

"See? Your reaction only confirms what I already knew. What I don't understand is why you insist on facing this alone. You can always call me, and I will always come through for you. Have I not proven that?" 

"You did, but it's not your responsibility to fix me. To fix this."

"Not my responsibility?" he scoffed. He turned around while dragging his hand through his hair. He was a mix of so many emotions you couldn't pinpoint what was brewing in his brain. He stayed silent for so long that you thought he would leave you like this. You were about to add something when he raised his voice. "I would give everything to go back to that night. To be there by your side. Maybe you wouldn't have to go through that, or at least I would have been the one to rip to shreds that bloodsucker." Flames of rage danced in his eyes while you stood speechless, gawking at him. 

You were at a loss for words. You had seen Jake in many different states in your friendship, but he never looked so conflicted. Anger and sadness seemed to be battling out the right to overpower him. For a rare moment, he looked incredibly vulnerable. He was back to being that innocent teenager you had always known. You approached, unsure whether that would make him lash out, but he stayed put, his eyes fixed on the ground. You knew Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you. What you didn't know is that he tortured himself with it. Your heart ached at the thought, and any frustration you had felt up to this point melted.

Softly, you grabbed his hand. "Jacob, look at me."

When he finally turned around and lifted his gaze, tears hung on to the line of his long lashes. The sight of it made your throat close up. 

"Why won't you let me care for you," he whispered, inches from you. 

His gaze was so deep and carried a tsunami of emotions. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed his face. Both of your hands cradled his soft and warm skin. You saw goosebumps creep up his muscled arms, mirroring the one on yours. Bringing his forehead to your own, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to be a burden."

Saying the words that'd been ringing in your head for so long felt almost exhilarating while also being incredibly relieving. Contrary to the belief of your messed up head, the world didn't end or break in two once the thought left your lips. 

"I've always thought you were such an incredible person and couldn't help but always want to be better for you. Ever since you phased, that feeling only got more intense. You've evolved so much in the past few months, and I'm still old me. When I got attacked, it was the most horrible experience of my life, but it also reinforced that concept. I couldn't even walk from yours to Emily's cabin without being attacked. The boys had to risk their lives to save me. I didn't even get one scratch, and still, I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid to sleep alone. I'm afraid if I let my guard down for one second... it'll happen again. Which means that I'll either die or be a burden for you guys once more because I can't even defend myself against something like that. You're already so good to me. I don't want to add this to your list of things to worry about." 

Your eyes stayed closed even after you finished and controlled your breathing again. Saying it aloud was incredible, but to open your eyes to face his reaction felt nerve-racking. You were about to when a strong pair of arms wrapped around you. 

"You are not and will never be a burden to me." His tone was soft and felt a little strangled. In your dimly lit little room, while the rest of the world was in a peaceful slumber, Jacob's words felt like the only thing that mattered.

He pulled back after a moment but still held you close. "I don't know what gave you the impression that you were a burden. If it ever was something I did, I want to apologize."

"I remember so vividly the look on your face when the boys brought me back to the cabin. You had the same disappointed expression as you have just now. I promise I'm trying to heal as fast I can, but this... this is harder than I thought it would be."

Confusion was now the only emotion on his face, clear as day. "Disappointed? Y/n, I never was disappointed. It was the worst, terrifying, shit your pants kind of fear I've ever felt. It's agony to know you're so ridden with fear. I was disappointed to learn that tonight was still hard for you, not because I think you're not healing fast enough, but because I hoped I finally helped you feel better. I feel so bad you have to live with these memories for your whole life. I just wish I could make them disappear." 

That's when you understood the slim difference between disappointment and defeat. One was channeled towards you, and the other wasn't. For Jacob, it had always been directed at himself.

"Jacob, you're the only one who makes me breathe a little easier. You're the only reason I slept soundly last night." A new light illuminated his eyes. You steadied yourself before you continued, your tone slightly hushed. "You've always had that specific calming effect on me. You're the only person who makes things better for me. Ever since we were kids. I have always felt safe with you. You're like my personal haven." 

It felt like a big thing to say, but you wanted that sadness to leave his face. You wanted his eyes to be filled with light again, and somehow, it felt right to tell him about all this. He spent so much time worrying about everything and everyone. He deserved to know how appreciated he was. He deserved to know what he meant to you.

Emotion thickened the air. So much so that it felt like you couldn't breathe just right. Your hands slid from his cheeks delicately. You placed one at the nape of his neck while the other grabbed the top of his hair. "Jake, I don't think you even understand how much you mean to me."

Time stood still for a moment. Your eyes focused on each other, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

 "Y/n, I-" his eyes held something heavier. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something before deciding better of it. It almost looked like it cost him to try and get the words out. He gave up in a huff, and whatever was in his gaze, whatever he thought about, vanished. Some part of you wanted to push him, to ask, but tonight had been a rollercoaster enough. You could let it go for now. He pulled you in for another hug before releasing you a little.

"So, now that we've established that you are not a burden." he started softly.

"And that this is in no way your fault," you added with a grin. 

He rolled his eyes, "Uhm. Can you tell me what you actually need? I can stay here with you if you want."

You felt a pang of your old fears scratch at your heart, but you let them all go in one breath. "I would very much like that."

You tucked yourselves in bed for the second night in a row. You hesitated to turn off the light, but always so observant, Jacob assured you it didn't bother him to keep it open. You lay side by side in silence. You were focused on becoming familiar with the ordinary and hazardous sounds an old house made at night when Jacob started to whisper.

"I know you think you aren't as fearless as us, but I can assure you everyone in our tribe thinks you are the bravest person they've ever met. Not many people would feel comfortable hanging out with a bunch of new werewolves." 

"Brave or totally crazy," you added while making a wicked-looking face. His eyes disappeared in his bright smile, and you wished you could snap a picture of it. 

"No, but really, you're the only one who stayed by my side all throughout my phasing process. No matter how dangerous it was for you. If that's not the definition of bravery, I don't know what is." He turned pensive again while his gaze darkened.

You unwillingly recalled the phasing process of Jacob. All the terrible memories flashed before your eyes. His screams of pain still rang in your ears. You remember distinctly every time you wished to take his place. If you could have taken away some of his pain, you would have in an instant. The least you could do was stay by his side no matter what. You had to fight with Billy and the rest of the pack, but in the end, even they couldn't keep you away. No one could have.

You slid into his arms, and his body tensed under the new touch before quickly relaxing to envelop you in a tight embrace. 

"I would never leave you alone," you mumbled in his chest. "I know you like to have this strong and impressive appearance, but inside, you're still the same little Jacob I've always known. I know you need me."

You lightly pressed your lips onto his chest and nuzzled farther into him. Fireworks were exploding in the boy's chest as he returned the gesture with a kiss on your head.

"And Jake?"

"Uhm?"

"Don't think I didn't notice you wanted to tell me something important earlier. For tonight, it's okay, but we'll have to talk about that."

[shirefantasies]

I loved both of your new updates, with the Hobbit characters and Fellowship reacting to you calling them pretty. How do you imagine the elves replying when you call them pretty? Such as Lindir, Arwen, Haldir, Elrond and Figwit?

Lindir and Figwit are one and the same, that’s why there's only one :) here’s how I think it would go:

The Elves’ Reaction to You Calling Them Pretty

Gets sappy: Arwen, Lindir, Legolas

Shock: Elrond, Haldir, Feren

No you: Galadriel, Thranduil

Slowly, widely grinning, Arwen’s gaze falls from yours slightly, only to slide back. “You flatter me,” she says, voice lowering to a near-whisper as she steps closer, “especially for one who knows my heart is in your hands.” Flustered is the only word you could use to describe the look that crosses Lindir’s face, especially as you reach over to tuck a strand of his long dark hair behind his ear. A smile creeps across it, oh yes, but what can he do besides respond that no word that he knows can begin his description, no song he could write, would do you justice half as proper as he should like. Legolas bursts into a big, bashful smile before you even finish your sentence, reaching to take your hand and hold it against his chest. At first he says nothing, his dark eyes simply swimming in yours before he speaks. "I know not what I did to deserve such a love as you have given me, but I hope I do it again and again."

Taken aback, Elrond nearly leans away from your touch before seemingly thinking better of it, pale skin of his cheek resuming contact with your palm and bringing a rush of warmth with it. "You see beauty in the strangest of places," he chuckles, "in all things and every face you look upon. If only all of Middle-Earth could see as you do." And with that, his lips are on yours. Haldir tilts his head in- confusion? before his eyes are searching the gaze upon them, finding nothing but sincerity swimming in the beautiful color of your eyes. A smile breaks across his face, small but deeply affectionate, as he shakes his golden head. "I know not what to say beyond thanking the Valar for the gift of your love." You almost burst into a laugh at the way Feren's big brown eyes widen, turning like saucers as if you'd shifted to some unheard tongue mid-sentence. "Yes, you," you reiterate, reaching up to caress his face, the gorgeous arch of his cheekbone, "do I not make it apparent enough all the beauty I see in you?" Flushing, Feren simply shakes his head and leans into your touch before thinking better of it, turning instead to take your hand and press a kiss to the back of it. "Not at all. I was simply thinking of all the ways I should be returning the favor."

Amusement plays upon Galadriel's lips, loving glow overtaking her at your compliment, tinging her cheeks and glittering in her fair blue eyes. “Would that you could see through my eyes, meleth nîn,” she chuckles, reaching up to trace a pale hand along your hair, down the rise of your cheekbone, and to gently brush your lips with her thumb. Each motion a silent affirmation that has your heart singing as you grant her the kiss she asks for. “Well, aren’t you charming?” Thranduil teases, but all you can see in his eyes is pure, brimming love. “These are not your words, love, but mine.” His smile is wide, welcoming as the arms that pull you against the king’s back, elegant lips pecking your neck, then your cheek. “Your sincerity is a gift to this world, though. You say what you think whether it is what I wish or not. I suppose we can say I got lucky this time, did I not? As I do every day I have you by my side.”

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn | Reply/Message/Ask to join 🥰

[mountkennedie]

Siren

Prince Caspian x mermaid!reader

Summary: Caspian goes on a late night stroll and gets intercepted by a mermaid

warnings: none

The reader has long hair, other than that, there aren't any character descriptions

A.N. I have been thinking about this so much over the past few months omg

Being a prince, Caspian had many responsibilities. But being a human, he needs to escape from those duties from time to time. What seemed to calm his mind the best was a late night stroll of the coast of Cair Paravel.

Due to the full moon, the sands glitter in a way no gem could ever replicate. He thought the only thing that could compliment the beauty of the sparkling sands was the illuminated water. Just standing there, Caspian felt the stress lifting off his body. The salty sea air was always something he was a fan of. The feeling of its breeze through his hair only made the entire scene that much better.

There were some rocks along the coastline. He would normally not pay them any mind. However, when an unusual sound emitted from them, his head whipped around. His eyes scanned to find a pair looking back at him.

He drew his sword immediately, pointing it at the creature. "Who are you," he questioned. All sorts of things can exist in the lands of Narnia, and anything that would be out at such an hour is one of suspicion. Especially one that already had its eyes set on him.

The creature shied behind the rock. From a different angle, she peered back at him. The moonlight glazed her skin in an ethereal glow, and before the prince realized, he had taken a few steps towards her. "Call me, Y/n."

Her voice was smooth and soft. He felt himself begin to drift away in it. He took yet another step closer, now only a yard or two from the rock she hid behind. With grace and caution, she climbed the large stone until she reached the top. She rested on her forearms, now at eye level with the prince.

Caspian's eyes took in the new view of her. She wore nothing on her upper half, relying solely on her flowing hair to cover her frame. His breath began to shallow, never in his life had the prince seen a woman in such an ease of wardrobe. He used his extensive self-control to bring his focus back to her eyes. And her eyes were another pool to fall into. Everything about this mysterious woman was holding him captive, and he could not figure out why. Nor did he want to put up any resistance.

"And yours?" She spoke once again in a voice of velvet. He almost didn't register that she said anything at all.

"Hmm?" He hummed. In any other context, he knew it would be rude to simply hum instead of coming up with the words to say what he meant. But in this moment, his brain was taking on more and more fog with every second he was near her. He was not focused on being the well-mannered prince as he always was.

The woman smiled, "Your name, dear sailor."

"Oh, yes," his voice was breathy. The smile she provided him only worsened his condition. The fog in his mind had crept to the rest of his body. He hadn't even realized he was up against her rock. "Caspian. And I'm not a sailor, I'm a prince." Every word that he could conjure came spilling from his lips. He wanted her to speak again, smile again, anything. It was astonishing how quickly she had gotten him under her finger.

"A prince." She maintained her smile as she reached a hand out and touched his chest. "I would have thought as much. You wear the finest of leathers." Her hand stayed on his chest. And he made no effort to remove it.

He hummed again in response. He wore a smile on his face that proved how removed he was from sanity. She moved her hand up over his heart, his hand came and met her there. The warmth of his palm sealed her to him.

"Would you like to see the rest of me, dear prince?" She spoke in a whisper. He only nodded in response. She smiled once again and lifted her tail out of the water. She allowed herself to wrap a bit around the rock to make sure the moon made her scales shimmer.

He gasped, and she looked back at him. At first, I was nervous that she had scared him off. But he only stared. His eyes soon traveled back up to hers, and his pupils were completely blown. She knew she had him.

"You are most beautiful," his voice was airy. His breath steadied, and his eyes were trained on hers. With her other hand, she placed it on the right side of his face. He leaned into the touch and, for a moment, allowed his eyes to shut.

"As are you, dear prince."

How it happened was simple. She held onto him as she descended the rock. Held his hand from the shallow water, deeper and deeper. Until the water was too high for his feet to hit the bottom. And before she dragged him to the depths, an idea of mercy came to mind. He was a prince and a handsome one at that. Maybe something could brew between them. So she kissed him and filled his lungs with the new ability to no longer rely on air. Then, drug him down underneath the waves.

[cluelessteam]

If you do Narnia fics, can you do one about Edmund Pevensie with !enemy reader? Ty <3

A/N: I just want to say thank you so much for the request! You are my second one and I really hope you enjoy this. This is a oneshot fanfic but if you want me to do a series for this prompt, I will do it just for you!

{~Between Shadows and Steel~}

Summary: In the midst of a fierce battle, you confront your sworn enemy, Edmund Pevensie, determined to end the war between your people and Narnia. But as your swords clash, Edmund’s unexpected words and actions challenge everything you thought you knew about him—and yourself. With the chaos of war surrounding you, a moment of vulnerability leads to an undeniable connection, forcing you to question whether you’re truly enemies or something more.

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1178

The battlefield stretched out before you like an endless ocean of chaos. Warriors clashed with brutal force, their weapons ringing in the air, the ground beneath them soaked in the blood of the fallen. The cries of the wounded mingled with the roar of battle, and somewhere in the distance, you could hear the chilling shriek of a centaur as it fell to a barrage of arrows.

You stood on the edge of the fray, your chest heaving, sword in hand, watching as the skirmish raged on. In the midst of the melee, a single figure caught your eye. He moved like the wind—swift, agile, and utterly determined.

Edmund Pevensie.

The Just King of Narnia. And your enemy.

To you, he represented everything you’d fought against for years. Narnia’s expansion had forced your people into a corner, and you had sworn to resist. To fight until there was nothing left. But as you watched him now, cutting through your soldiers with practiced precision, doubt flickered in the depths of your mind.

You hated him—or so you told yourself. Yet, every time you crossed paths with Edmund, it felt as though there was something more beneath the surface. Something that made your heart pound in ways you couldn’t explain.

You gripped your sword tightly, the leather of the hilt biting into your palm as you steeled yourself. Today, you would confront him. Today, you would end this, one way or another.

With a deep breath, you charged toward him, weaving through the chaos, your eyes fixed on his form. Your footsteps were light but swift, your sword slicing through any obstacle in your path. The moment you reached him, you swung your blade, aiming for his unguarded back.

But Edmund moved faster than you anticipated. As if sensing your presence, he spun around, his sword meeting yours with a resounding clang. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

“You again,” he muttered, his voice strained with exertion, but not without a hint of recognition.

“Don’t act so surprised,” you shot back, pushing against his blade with all your strength.

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with something that was neither fear nor anger, but something you couldn’t quite place. “I’m not. I just didn’t expect it to be this soon.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Then you should’ve been ready for me.”

The two of you danced across the battlefield, swords clashing with each strike, the sound echoing in the din of war. He was a skilled fighter, and you found yourself struggling to keep up with his speed. But you refused to back down. You had trained for this moment—prepared yourself for the inevitable confrontation.

Yet, as you fought, there was something different about this battle. Each time your swords connected, there was a spark in the air—an electricity you couldn’t ignore. Every time you stepped closer to him, it felt like the world was closing in, leaving only the two of you in its wake.

“You don’t have to do this,” Edmund said suddenly, his voice low, as if he could speak to you alone amidst the chaos.

You growled, frustration building in your chest. “And you don’t have to keep pretending you care!”

He blocked your next strike with ease, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “What makes you think I’m pretending?”

That stopped you for a moment. Your sword hovered in the air as you stared at him, the words catching you off guard. His expression softened slightly, and you noticed that he wasn’t attacking as aggressively as he could have. In fact, it seemed as though he was holding back.

“You don’t know me,” you snapped, stepping back to regain your composure.

He sheathed his sword, making you pause. “I know enough.”

Before you could retort, a nearby explosion rocked the ground, sending dust and debris into the air. The shockwave threw you both backward, and you hit the ground with a grunt. For a moment, your vision blurred, the chaos around you fading to a dull roar.

When the dust settled, you found yourself staring up at the sky, dazed. But then, a shadow fell over you, and you blinked up to see Edmund standing above you, his hand outstretched.

“Let me help you,” he said, his voice steady despite the battle still raging around you.

You glared at him, but the strength in your arms had fled. Reluctantly, you took his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet. His grip was firm, and for a moment, neither of you moved, your hands lingering together a little too long.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, breathless. Your heart pounded, but it wasn’t just from the exertion of battle.

Edmund’s expression softened. “Because I don’t want to see you hurt.”

The words hit you harder than any sword could. You stared at him, confused and conflicted. “We’re enemies,” you whispered. “You’re supposed to want to see me fall.”

His hand remained on yours, warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. “Maybe we don’t have to be enemies anymore,” he said softly. “We’ve fought for so long, but what if there’s another way?”

You wanted to argue, to push him away, but his words—his gaze—cut through your defenses. There was a sincerity in his eyes, a raw honesty that you hadn’t been prepared for. Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you let yourself wonder if he was right.

Edmund stepped closer, his voice barely a whisper now. “You don’t have to fight this war alone. You don’t have to carry this burden anymore.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening as he inched nearer. The battlefield, the chaos around you—all of it seemed to fade away. There was only him. And for the first time, you realized how much you had been fighting against yourself, not just him.

“Why do you care?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing against your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine. “Because… I think I’ve been fighting against myself too,” he admitted. “I’ve hated this war as much as you do.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit, but there was none. Just vulnerability. A rawness you hadn’t expected to see in him.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, your breath mingling with his. His eyes flickered down to your lips, and for a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then, slowly, cautiously, he closed the distance between you.

His lips met yours in a tentative kiss, soft and warm, like a promise. Your heart raced, and for a moment, you forgot everything—the war, the pain, the years of hatred. All that mattered was this. Him.

When you finally pulled back, your breath was shallow, and his eyes were filled with a mix of relief and something deeper. “We don’t have to keep fighting,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours.

For the first time in years, you let yourself believe him.

[s-acchar1ne]

lacy, oh, lacy ⟢ p. pevensie

synopsis ➻ In which you finally unload all your nasty, ugly jealousy to peter, and he doesn’t really take it well

author’s note ➻ hi, this is my first ever piece of work on tcon based on lacy by olivia rodrigo, lmk if you like it :) just a little short blurb! I was thinking of making it a full fic with other tropes (keeping them a secret!), would anyone be interested? Ik the fandom’s kinda dead, so if u see this..let’s be moots!

“LET GO OF ME,” you huffed, your arm whipping back from the gentle hold he had on it as you turned to meet his eyes.

Doing so just made you even angrier than you were. There he was, looking as perfect and regal as the day he arrived in Narnia. The moonlight casts its glow over the room for his glistening skin to shimmer. Silky, golden hair falling across his forehead, almost covering his deep, cerulean blue eyes.

While your hair was falling out it’s updo despite all the pins you had secured it with, corset coming undone from all the angry breathing and running up the castle’s stairs you were doing.

“You think you’re sooooooo perfect. Don’t you? You don’t have any regard for anyone OTHER than yourself. Do you think everyone worships you, huh Peter? It disgusts me to see you prance around this castle, in war meetings and in balls, giving orders and expecting everyone to follow them!”

Your finger comes up, jabbing it sharp into his annoyingly sturdy chest.

Peter takes a step back.

“‘Oh look at me, I’m High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion. I’m so gorgeous, and charming that nobody can resist me. Does it ever get so tiring being the person everybody looks to in a room full of people? Oh no, because I’m Arrogant High King Peter, I make everybody and everything stutter over their words and—WHO EVEN CARES! You’re so full of yourself and stuck up, GOSH! Nobody cares about your titles and I’m ALSO sure nobody cares enough to know them!”

An eerie silence falls over the two of you, Peter staring so intently into your eyes you feel as if he can see the true reason why you just said all of that—And you, finally coming to your senses and realizing what you dared to utter to your King.

Peter licks his lips and looks to the side before his eyes meet your own again.

“Well, you seem to know them. Considering you recited them all perfectly.”

Your face crumbles into shock, burning as you look anywhere other than his face. You want to kill yourself. You want to storm outside and maybe find a guillotine and then chop your own head off and you want to kill yourself—

Peter still looks mildly offended and takes a closer step to you. His cologne fills your senses and almost enchants you. He smells so good and he’s so perfect. And how could you say that to him?

“Almost like, you repeat it to yourself everyday.”

Your trembling hands fist the skirt of your dress, bringing it above your ankles so you don’t trip as you stumble backwards away from him, away from Peter..away from your king. Like you always should be.

“You think I don’t see the looks of yearning you send my way? Are you really that oblivious to think I can’t feel eyes burning into my back or my face everytime I’m a few feet away from you?”

You’re scared. You’re scared of what came out his mouth and what’s going to continue to come out his mouth. You’re so stupid, and God why did you say all of that? He knows, and he knows, and he knows..he’s going to ruin you. He’s going to tell everybody and they’re going to laugh about it and, and throw you into the dungeon and God, he’s going to ruin you.

“You say one thing yet you mean another,” Peter whispers, biting his full, pink bottom lip. His eyes racing back and forth as he tries so hard to get an answer, a reaction—out of you.

“Doesn’t it get embarrassing?” He questions, face morphing into a sarcastic expression. And you can feel it; feel him mocking you. Your colored eyes welling up with tears—and a reaction he gets.

“Everybody can tell. Everybody can tell when ‘Arrogant High King Peter’ walks into the room, you want him. You need him.”

And with that, he turns around and walks away. High King Peter, your King Peter, the love of your life—walks away from you.

﹒ © euna ᡣ𐭩﹒est. 2024

[imagines--galore]

||Masterlist||

Please read rules before sending requests.

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(Always Uploading new Fics)

Avatar The Last Airbender

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Never Leave Me

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Two Spirits Meet - Wishing on a Snowflake I,

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Take All The Time You Need

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The Chronicles of Narnia

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader

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The King and the Commoner

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You Are Safe

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My Prayer, My Light, My Fëa

A Little Introduction to Rock Music

A Promise

Written In The Stars

Treasure Planet

Pairing: Jim Hawkins x Reader

A Little Competition Goes a Long Way

[promptthebear]

Edmund Pevensie, Soulmate AU

Part two of this

CW: Some violence but nothing super graphic. Some swearing. Serious enemies to lovers vibes. Telmar!Reader, so some physical description to match that sorry.

Cair Paravel was a testament of shining marble, fine tapestries and golden fixtures. It was the envy of many a nearby kingdom, most of whom had tried and failed to imitate its beauty. The same, however, could not be said of the dungeons.

The moment the dank, frigid air rose from behind the barred door, Edmund realized just how appealing his empty bed suddenly was. Everyone swore this part of the castle was haunted and though Edmund personally didn’t believe in such foolishness, he very much understood how those sorts of rumours came to be. He tried to stand tall and play at being courageous and stoic as he walked alongside the young guard down the winding steps, but his heart just wasn’t in it. Before long, Edmund found himself jumping at every distant sound and balking at every shadow cast in the flickering torch light, even when in fact said shadows were none other than his own.

Despite the fact that his young guard had been so anxious among the fine tapestries and clean rushes of the upstairs halls, the young man seemed completely comfortable among the dripping walls and dirt floors that created the bowels of the castle. He strode beside Edmund with an easy confidence, his grip on the torch he carried not wavering once, even when a rat ran nearly beneath his boot and announced its arrival with a piercing squeak.

When he managed to recover some of his wits and find enough voice with which to speak, Edmund asked the guard about it, more than a little curious on how such a skittish man could remain so calm in a place that left greater men shaking. By way of response, the youth merely shrugged and said “Everything that could hurt a fellow down here is already locked up, and the rats never bothered me none. S’far worse out in the forests”

While Edmund could see the guard’s side of things, he personally would have much rather been out in the forest tonight. He’d been riding those trails since he was a boy, and in that time he’d communed with all manner of creatures, magic and mundane alike. However, in his many years, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anything quite like you.

Opposite to the castle in every way, the dungeons were incredibly small by the usual standard. They consisted in their entirety of three cells, while the rest of the space was mostly used as a recreational area for the various guards to play cards and the like. Usually, any prisoners awaiting trial were spread evenly between the three cells to avoid overcrowding and the potential for fights and disease to spread. That was not the case tonight, however.

Someone had taken the liberty of placing every inmate into the leftmost cell, and despite still having some room to move about or even lie down, the people locked inside had all crammed themselves into the back corner like bees in a hive. Edmund nearly thought the first cell was empty, until he caught a glimpse of several wide, fearful pairs of eyes that gleamed back at him in the ruddy torchlight. When he approached the cell to have a closer look, he was met with an eerie silence rather than the usual sighs, shuffling and coughs that occurred when you had a small crowd of people together. While Narnia was not known for housing a particularly nasty sort of criminal, the bulk of which were pickpockets and street hustlers, they were also not the type to scare easy.

Whatever was making these people frightened was bad enough that the guards had felt the need to keep the middle cell completely empty. This provided around ten more feet of space between the leftmost cell and the right most cell. Edmund stared between the middle cell and the occupied one on the left, trying to puzzle out what was so awful it had everyone this nervous. Even the guards seemed tenser than usual. They played hands of wist in almost completely silence, and had barely given Edmund a glance since he’d arrived. Normally, every soldier within spitting distance would be tripping over themselves bowing and trying to greet him.

Half expecting to find a dragon or an ogre, Edmund took a deep breath and approached the last cell. His boots made a hollow, tapping sound on the floor as he walked, each one an echo alongside the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

When he reached the padlocked door he stopped, and peered between the bars into the gloom. He could barely make out what was inside, if there was anything to begin with. An oppressive sort of darkness clung to this corner of the dungeon like cobwebs, making it nearly impossible to see anything farther than arm’s length away.

The torch that hung on the wall between centre and left cell had long since gone out. It sat, cold and forgotten in its sconce as though nobody had been willing to risk coming any closer to light it. Though it had been many years since Edmund had feared the dark, the sight of the blackened torch wasn’t a comforting one either.

When his eyes finally adjusted to the surrounded darkness, he caught his first glimpse of you. Edmund was immediately struck by the fact that, for whatever reason, someone had gone through the trouble of binding you up like a Christmas turkey. A pair of steel manacles had been clamped around your wrists, with a matching set around your ankles and a chain that looped between both so that you couldn’t sit upright properly, or move much at all really. There was also a rope twisted around your body in such a way that it bound your arms firmly to your sides, and forced your own legs to rest parallel with the legs of the wooden stool beneath you.

This set up alone would have been enough to hold back a drunken Minotaur, let alone a mere slip of a girl. Whichever one of the guards had shut you up in here clearly thought immobilizing you completely wasn’t good enough. A gag of rough spun cloth had been shoved between your lips and tied so tightly about your face, that it was tugging the edges of your mouth back towards your ears.

A bubble began to expand in Edmund’s gut, something that turned icy cold and burning hot in waves and made him feel as though he was about to be sick on the dirt floor. Memories came to the forefront of his mind, as though he had slipped into a waking nightmare. He could feel a gag against his own mouth, ropes biting at his wrists and the faint sounds of a war camp in his ears. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he had to rest his head for a moment against the cool metal bars to steady himself.

In the dark, Edmund could just make out the faint outlines of your face. He couldn’t read your expression, but he could tell that you were watching him. For a moment, he thought he detected a bit of sympathy in your eyes, a softness he didn’t expect. Then, you blinked and tossed your head in a haughty sort of manner, as though you didn’t give a shit if Edmund dropped dead right then and there.

Whatever he had seen in your eyes was quickly replaced by a steely sort of rage that seemed much more appropriate, given the circumstances. Disgusted with the situation and with himself, Edmund took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and turned to face the guards.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice echoing about the otherwise silent room in a kingly fashion “You have her tied up as though she were some sort of wild animal!”

The guards stared at him dumbly, as though tying up young women was not only an ordinary occurrence for them but an entirely acceptable thing to do. Edmund took another deep breath, and bit the inside of his cheek to force back the frustrated scream that wanted to push its way out. He wasn’t sure what he had expected, it was a day that ended in y after all, and on those days, the guards always acted as though they hadn’t been born with any sense. Thankfully, the Captain stepped forward before Edmund began tearing his hair out in fistfuls.

“She may as well be, your majesty” he said, tugging at his beard while he spoke “She’s done nothing but raise hell and cause trouble since we picked her up by the docks. Screamed like a banshee the whole way down, and then flew at us like a little wildcat the second we opened the caged wagon. She’s a biter too, look what she did to one of my lads.”

From the corner of his eye, Edmund saw a young man leave the card tables and quickly approach, though the Captain had not officially summoned anyone. The soldier could have been the twin of the other guard who’d escorted Edmund from upstairs, save for the thick white bandage in place where his left ear should have been. Already, a large, dark red blotch was forming against the white cotton, and it was all Edmund could do not to flinch in sympathy.

“G’on boy, show his Majesty what’s happened.”

The boy shuffled nervously back and forth for a moment, before reaching up to unwind the bandages. It was slow work, parts of the fabric had stuck together with dried blood and with each new layer shed, the young man seemed to grow weaker and more pallid. When there was nothing left but a coil of stained cotton on the floor, Edmund took a deep breath and forced himself to have a proper look at the wound. After only a few seconds, he had to look away again, his stomach churning.

“Bloody hell.” he muttered under his breath.

The Captain gave a stiff nod in response, before placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder to hold him steady. Any colour in the boy’s face had completely drained by this point, his skin was as white as the bandages had once been and there was a sheen of sweat upon his brow. If it wasn’t for the Captain supporting him, Edmund truly doubted he would’ve been able to stand at all.

“You asked me why I had the girl locked up, your Majesty. Well, there’s your answer. Mark or no mark, I will not stand idly by and let some Telmarine harlot rip decent Narnian citizens to pieces.”

The mention of the word “mark” made Edmund’s ears prick up, but he tried to feign an appropriately sombre countenance and turned his attention to the matter at hand. Before he gave you any more thought, he had a tetchy captain and a young soldier ending the night with one less ear than he started with to worry about.

“Captain, believe me when I say your concerns are taken with the utmost severity and I will do everything within my power as Kings Justice to make sure any Telmarines remain mindful of whose land they’re docking their ships on. As for this young man, he will be given all the proper recognition and honour…once he’s been seen to by my personal physicians.”

For a moment, it seemed as though some colour returned to the lad’s cheeks, though that also could have been the torchlight playing tricks. At the very least, he managed to give Edmund a wan smile and a soft “Thank you, your Majesty” before he slumped against the Captain’s side and fell silent.

“Captain, have two of your men rouse Lucy and Tumnus. By happy circumstance, they are both here in the castle tonight. If they have any misgivings about the matter, tell them they are being summoned at my personal behest.”

The Captain gave a stiff nod in Edmund’s direction, before turning his head and letting loose a sharp whistle from between his teeth. The sound was still echoing against the stone walls when two more guards appeared. Without a word, they each slung one of the wounded soldier’s arms over their shoulders and guided him towards the exit. The Captain followed suit, stopping briefly to give some hushed instructions to another guard nearest to the door before he disappeared up the stairs.

With their direct superior gone, Edmund felt the eyes of the remaining guards immediately fall on him. As much as he wanted to let his chest drop back and slump his shoulders to regain a little comfort, he knew he must keep standing with his back rigid and his head held high. In his heart, he may have been nothing more than Edmund, a man in much deeper and much more frightened than he cared to admit. In the eyes of everyone else, however, he was still the King and would be expected to handle the current situation as such.

Sighing, he turned to the guard standing watch by the leftmost cell and cleared his throat to get the young man’s attention. The guard jumped slightly at the noise, as though Edmund had just woken him from a half sleep. It seemed an odd place to try and nap, by Edmund’s standards, but he supposed one could sleep anywhere once you were used to it.

“Your majesty?”

The guard’s voice betrayed his age, and it was all Edmund could do to keep his eyebrows from shooting up towards his hairline. If he managed to get through this without ending up in the infirmary or worse, then he’d have to have a word with the Captain about the youthfulness of his recruits.

“The keys around your belt, young sir. Give them to me, if you please.”

Despite his few years, the guard knew well enough how to take orders. Without protest, he unclipped the ring of keys from his belt loop and handed them to Edmund. They were heavier than Edmund expected, and somehow the weight of the metal in his palm was strangely reassuring.

Squaring his shoulders, he turned once more to face the rightmost cell. There hadn’t been a sound from you this entire time, and Edmund wasn’t certain if this meant you were subdued or simply lying in wait to ambush the next person stupid enough to try and approach. He only hoped that, no matter what happened, he’d be able to greet the dawn with all his extremities still attached.

You hated this country. You hated its people, it’s stinking cobblestone streets covered in horseshit, its passionless music and the bland, disgusting mush it tried to pass off as food. Most of all, you hated its idiot King and the stupid way he was looking at you.

You’d made it clear, or so you thought, that the next Narnian fool who came near you did so at the risk of his own well-being. And yet, here sat the King, no more than a foot or so away from you, hunched over on a simple wood stool and studying you like you were some sort of oddity in a menagerie. You glared back, wanting nothing more than to wrench free of your bindings and claw at his eyes so the last thing he’d ever see was the rage on your face. But those thrice damned guards had tied you up so tight you scarce had room to breathe. Not only was this a country of fools, but cowards as well, it seemed.

“I’m going to take this gag off your mouth now, and then we’re going to have a little chat, you and I.”

His words were a command, but the way he said it implied a question, as though you would give him an answer even if you could. It was all you could do not to roll your eyes. Even those with absolute power were spineless here, issuing their commands as though they required permission for them to be followed. If such a man tried to rule in Telmar, they’d be knocked on their arse and trampled by someone more capable who’d take their place in the blink of an eye.

When the King reached to remove the gag, your eyes immediately locked on his hands. You watched them with a frevored sort of intensity, preparing to use all the agility dipping into pockets and running cup and ball scams had taught you in your years on the street. As soon as you felt the knot around the back of your head loosen, you struck.

Your teeth closed around the flesh of the King’s wrist, and you clamped down hard on his forearm so he could not wrench free without causing further damage. You were rewarded with a yelp, a loud clear sound that reminded you of a pup being kicked. The taste of blood, thick and coppery, filled your mouth but you held fast despite your stomach twisting in disgust. It was only when the King brought his fist down sharply on the crown of your head and made white stars dance across your vision that you finally released him.

He staggered backwards, clutching your gag to his wounded arm and staring at you with wide eyes that betrayed a different sort of wound inside him. You wanted to laugh, but the bile in your mouth turned any sort of noise into a half choked gurgle. Clearing your throat, you turned your head to the side and spat onto the stone floor. The King’s blood turned the grey flagstone a pretty shade of pink.

“You vicious little bitch”

Surprise, fresh and delightful, tingled down your spine. Now that was unexpected. When you betrayed the King’s trust, at the least you figured he’d draw back and sulk like the Narnian dog he was. Instead, he was paying you back with the same coin, striking at you with his words as you had struck him just now. Perhaps there was more lion in him than you thought.

“Why would you do that?”

The commanding tone he’d lacked earlier had finally appeared. Despite the fact that he was dishevelled, bleeding and standing as far away from you as he could in these cramped quarters, this young man was actually starting to resemble someone you could recognize as a King. The fact that you’d managed to goad him into such a state so quickly pleased you immensely, and you couldn’t help but grin widely back at him.

“Because I hate you” you replied, almost cheerfully.

“Yeah, I gathered as much” he shot back, royal courtesy completely forgotten “But I’m only trying to help.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for it, and you’re a stranger who’s touching me without my say while I’m in a vulnerable position. Anyone else would have done the same.”

What the King said next made your shit eating grin falter slightly in place. Narnians had always confused you, but it seemed this one was playing a different game entirely.

“You’re…you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without your consent. Are you feeling alright? How’s your head? I’m sorry I struck you.”

You stared at him as though he had sprouted wings and a tail. You were the one who had bitten him, hard enough that he was bleeding through the strip of fabric he was clutching to his arm. He must be hurting terribly, and yet he was asking after your welfare, and apologizing no less.

“I’m…fine.” you said, flatly, keeping your eyes trained away from his face “I’ve…you didn’t hit me that hard.”

“The fact that I hit you at all is unforgivable. May I have a closer look? If you’re injured, you really should be seen to by someone.”

You nodded, forcing your expression into a stern mask so as not to betray your confusion. This sort of treatment was completely alien to you, in your world kindness was for those who didn't have to worry about having crusts of bread snatched from their open mouths. It was a luxury only afforded to royalty and their ilk, like spices and fresh fruit.

When the King came to approach you again, he did so with slow, measured steps. At first, you thought it was because he was trying to avoid jostling his arm around. But, as you watched his lithe frame move through the ring of golden light from the torch he’d brought in earlier, realization hit.

He was frightened. Of you.

Immediately, your heart shot into your throat and your stomach dropped into the bowels of the Earth. You swallowed, hard, and turned your face away, pretending as though you were fascinated by the flickering shadows on the far wall. They danced like living things, their movements smooth and natural, and a part of you wished you could somehow join them.

You wanted nothing more than to slip your bonds and melt away into the shadows, but it was the stone in your gut you wished to escape, not the chains about your wrists. On the Talmoren streets, feelings were another luxury that you had little use for. Guilt was as new to you as kindness, and right away you misliked the acrid taste it brought into your mouth. In your twenty five years on the Talmoren streets, you’d stolen, lied, and cheated all in the name of survival. Those sins weighed no more on your heart than a raindrop would on the ocean. You’d done far worse to better men, and yet this Narnian wretch who you’d known for maybe an hour or more had your mind twisting itself in knots. Why?

The sound of the stool scraping against the stone floor drew you from your thoughts. You watched as the King righted his stool from the floor, and set it down across from you, though closer than it had been. He sat upon it with a deep sigh, and began to wrap his wounded arm with the linen gag.

The closeness allowed you a better look at the injury, which had already started to mottle purple and red with bruises around the edge. It made for a stark contrast against the King’s creamy, pale skin. An angry red flower on a field of snow.

You’d seen many similar hurts in your lifetime, some which you’d caused while others had been inflicted on you. Almost always, they resulted in a scar, the phantom outline of teeth remaining long after the open sores had closed up.

“You’ll need an apothecary for that, and a potion of honey and turmeric.” you blurted suddenly.

The King looked up at you, not even bothering to hide his startled expression. Something about the way his brown eyes widened and his lips formed a sort of rosebud shape was oddly endearing.

“Turmeric? I’m afraid I’m not familiar.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. This was a country of idiots, after all.

“It’s a root, from a plant. Usually it’s sold in a powder, but fresh is best. Turmeric draws any illness from a wound, while the honey helps it stick and will keep your skin from scarring. I have a sachet of it in my bag, provided your guards haven’t taken it for themselves.”

The King nodded in response. If your jab at his guards upset him, he didn’t show it.

“Thank you. That’s very kind. I’ll make sure we retrieve that for you, and I may want to have you speak with Lucy about this herb and it’s uses. I’m sure she’ll find the information very helpful in treating that young man you attacked.”

“Who is Lucy?”

“One of my sisters, the younger one actually. I have two, you’d know them as the Queens. There’s also Susan, she’s older than both of us.”

You turned this information over in your mind, silently comparing it with the little Narnian history you knew. Prior to now, the only King here you’d known about was the one they called Peter. His face was familiar to you, simply because it was stamped on one side of the copper coins you’d stolen from drunken sailors in the dockside taverns. Nobody in Telmar had ever spoken about any other Narnian royalty, though a healthy hatred of Peter was as common as dirt.

“So…who does that make you?”

The young King seemed to find this funny, letting out a wry chuckle before he finished tying the knot in the bandage around his arm. He did so quite skilfully, you noticed, and you wondered how much practice he’d had patching up himself or his men on the battlefield. Most of the Telmarine emperors could not boast of such skills. Matters of the body and healing it were considered beneath them, and tasks of those nature were left exclusively to apothecaries and sorcerers. Perhaps less soldiers would die fighting if their leaders took the time to help them.

“I’m Edmund,” the King said, his voice oddly gentle “What’s your name?”

You told him, and he repeated it a couple times, as though he was trying to taste the sound of it on his tongue.

“It’s very pretty,” he said, finally “Now that we’ve been properly introduced, will you allow me to have a closer look at your face?”

You nodded, knowing that if you opened your mouth you’d most likely say something vicious again. Of course he could have a look, it wasn’t as though you had a lot of choice in the matter being tied down as you were.

Edmund’s fingers were soft, softer than the hands of any man you’d ever known, though you could feel some callouses on spots where his sword hilt would chafe the skin. He probed your face cautiously, going across your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose with the practiced touch of someone who had done this many times before. For the most part, his expression remained neutral as he focused on the task at hand, but you did notice his eyes narrow slightly when he came across your split bottom lip.

If he had asked about it, you would’ve quickly implicated the guard you’d bit. Though he’d had a boyish and seemingly innocent face, he’d struck you hard enough to knock your teeth together when you’d spewed a string of curses at him during your arrest. The ones directed at his mother seemed to sting in particular, but he’d quickly lost his bravado after you’d torn his ear off when he tried to slap a pair of irons on you. It had taken three other grown men to subdue you, which was hardly a fair fight even if you’d fought like a hellion. Your chest still ached terribly from where they’d pinned you down by sitting on you, and you knew you’d sport a fresh crop of bruises in the morning

Eventually, Edmund moved his hands from your face and pushed them into the curls at your temples. He went slowly, not wanting to miss even the slightest bump or cut. After a short moment or two, he’d worked his way up to the crown of your head where he’d struck you earlier on. As his fingers brushed over a sore spot, you winced in spite of yourself, which made Edmund draw back as though he’d been burnt.

“I’m sorry. You’re certainly going to have a fair sized bump there tomorrow. It shouldn’t be too serious, but I’d like to have Lucy take a look anyway, just to be safe. I shouldn’t have struck you so hard.”

You shrugged, the chains about your arms clanking as you did.

“I bit you. I suppose we could call that even.”

Edmund smiled and something long dormant in your chest fluttered. You cast your gaze downwards, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t notice the burning in your cheeks. That was when your eyes alighted on something peeking out from the edge of Edmund’s collar.

“What is it?”

He may not have caught onto your blush, but he certainly didn’t miss where your eyes had gone. You really shouldn’t have been as surprised by this as you were. Narnians were known for their skills with swords, and the ability to be observant would have been part of that training.

“You have a…there’s something on your chest.”

Edmund blinked at you in surprise, and glanced down at himself.

“Oh. My mark. Here, let me show you.”

You watched with interest as his fingers opened the line of buttons down the front of his shirt. Each one revealed another inch of clean, white skin dusted with freckles and a healthy amount of fine, brown hair. You squirmed slightly in your seat, your cheeks feeling like an inferno.

At first, you’d thought what you’d spotted was a tattoo. Only now, that you could see it in full, unobstructed view and highlighted by the nearby torch did you realize you were wrong.

What decorated Edmund’s chest was by no means a tattoo. Rather than the black or brown ink you were used to seeing, the image was outlined in a shimmering gold. Though you had never took a needle to your own skin, you had a feeling even the most skilled of artists would not have been able to recreate such a rich colour. The way it sat on Edmund’s flesh was as natural as his freckles, as though he’d been born with it.

“And the purpose of this?”

Your voice echoed around the dungeon, which had somehow grown silent save for the sound of Edmund’s breathing and the faint crackle of the torches. From the look on Edmund’s face, you had a feeling you’d asked something incredibly unusual, which only served to confuse you further. Was this a Narnian custom? The longer you looked at the mark, the more it bothered you. There was something about it that tugged at your memory, like an itch you couldn’t quite reach.

“It’s my soul mark,” Edmund said slowly, as he began to button up his shirt again “Everyone has one. Even the centaurs and ogres and merfolk. You get one when you turn eighteen. Eventually, you’re meant to meet someone who has a mark identical to yours and that person is your soulmate.”

You shivered slightly, suddenly feeling as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over your head. This wasn’t a story you knew, but it felt as though you had heard if before anyway, like the echoes of a dream after you’d just woken up.

Your birthday had never been a celebration back home, not truly, but you’d been luckier than most to know the actual day upon which it fell. Usually the most you’d ever done when it came around was vow to live long enough to see your next one, though around seven years ago, something very unexpected had happened.

“I…Edmund…I think I have-”

The sound of his name on your perfect, full lips made Edmund feel lightheaded. There was a slight accent to your Narnian, which caused your voice to lilt in a way that was almost melodic. He was so entranced that he nearly missed what you were saying.

“You have a mark?” Like mine?”

You nodded, solemnly and bit your lip before speaking.

“It just…appeared one day. Around my eighteenth birthday, like you said. No one else in Telmar had one and I could never figure out what made me so different. When nothing else came of it, I forgot about the whole thing.”

So the guards had been telling the truth. Edmund brought a hand up to his forehead and massaged the crease that had appeared between his brows. He’d long since become accustomed to the idea that he’d be alone for the rest of his days. To have that changed so suddenly, especially by someone as complicated and unpredictable as you, he didn’t know what to make of it.

“May I see it?”

Some part of his mind still thought that maybe, this could be a trick. He’d open your shirt and find that the guards had talked you into letting them draw a donkey or something even more obscene on your skin for a bit of coin. But if that was the case, why had you attacked them? It seemed like an awful lot of trouble for a bit of sport.

“If you’d like.”

Now, it was Edmund’s turn to blush. You’d given your consent, and yet he couldn’t help but feel a little bit perverse as he reached to undo the top button of your collar. When you didn’t flinch away or try to bite him again, he continued, his hands shaking all the while. Your skin was warm beneath his touch, and softer than anything Edmund ever felt. Each opened button revealed another inch of smooth, bronze tinged flesh, along with a cream coloured shift and the tops of a pair of fair sized breasts.

The sight of those almost had Edmund running back upstairs to the safety of his room, when his eyes alighted on the tell tale golden lines just below your collarbone. Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he reached out and gently tugged down the edge of your shift to get a closer look. He silently prayed that none of the guards took this moment to walk in, especially not the captain. He’d have a hell of a time finding a good reason to explain why he was practically peering down your shirt. It suddenly dawned on him why you may have given that young guard such a hard time, and any sympathy he’d had for the lad was pushed away by disgust.

“Aslan’s teeth.” he breathed

Sure enough, there it was. A lion, standing on its hind legs, mouth open in a snarl and a pair of crossed swords over its head. A perfect twin to Edmund’s, in size, colour, and location.

“Batshit and buggery,” he said again, parroting a favourite phrase of Peter’s.

You blinked at Edmund, trying to understand where this was coming from. He was staring at you as though every secret of the known universe had been writ there on your skin, and perhaps for him, it was.

“So, what does this mean?” you asked, hating how stupid you sounded.

“It means,” Edmund said, rising to his feet and reaching to tug at the knots that bound the ropes around your body “You and I are going to have a lot to talk about.”

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 31 - Madeleine Stowe

You make a choice.

On AO3.

You can’t fucking breathe. You stumble over nothing and Astarion’s cool hand in yours is the only damn thing dragging you on. Feet feel like meat bricks, the impact of each step aching up your shinbones. Even your hip joints start to feel trembly.

“I don’t. Think I,” you try to say through the burn in your throat.

Y’all climbed down to the base of the tree (or near enough, since it seems to be growing up through the ass crack of the world). To one side, some man wails gibberish at y’all.

You don’t stop. Neither does Astarion.

Your pack thumps against your spine. You hope all the bottles in there ain’t crashing together and mixing themselves into Faerunian mustard gas or whatever.

Astarion leads y’all down and down, around the roots. The ground smooths out below. A path disappears into the dark as y’all get away from the ghost light of the fucking weird tree. But that stitch in your side lances up into your lungs. You ain’t gonna last much longer. Which you say.

Astarion says something back, ending in darling. Tugs on your hand.

“Fuck,” you gasp.

As y’all hit the level ground and the cool darkness below, something wails behind y’all. High-pitched, ululating in a way that don’t sound natural. Some kinda horn? Jesus fuck, they’re hunting you.

Astarion swears (you don’t really need a translation by the tone.)

Fucking drow. Fucking Faerun Middle Narnia bullshit.

The magic tree and its whispers start to fade as your heart threatens to rupture.

“I gotta.” You try to breathe. Try to form a fucking word. Everything is flagging through the adrenaline now. You stumble again over nothing. “Gotta stop.”

Astarion twists around. His hand tightens in yours. Jesus fuck, you can handle a few more steps—

You ain’t never been shot. But you’re pretty sure it feels a lot like what hits you. Except ain’t no sound or baseball bat of impact. You’re stumbling along, and then something pierces the back of your mind and your whole body locks. You got enough awareness to know you’re falling and that your face is gonna take the hit—

It does. The world snaps out for a second as your brains rattle in your skull.

Then you’re lying on your stomach in the dirt and Astarion skids to drop next to you.

“Darling? Eleanor?”

Your lungs is gonna burst. Your arteries is going to split like overcooked macaroni noodles. There’s something in the dark. Some primal terror your simian ancestors know and shriek and shake the branches of your brain at.

Trapped. Watched. It’s going to get you and your body pulls tight in preparation.

“Darling!” Astarion says.

A presence in your mind. The shadow of one. Like that fuckface with the knife, only colder. Harder. Much, much sharper.

Your fingers scrabble uselessly in the dirt. You can’t run. Can’t breathe. Can barely think. Something’s got you. A fly in a web, thrashing and drawing it closer. You can feel its eagerness. It’s thrill. A successful hunt. The final memory shard.

“D-drow,” you say and bite into your tongue for the effort.

Astarion swears again. Stands. Draws his knives.

There’s more than one drow. Several. You can just about sense that in whatever holds you (one drow; one fucking magic drow clenches your brain in a raptor’s talons). The last time Astarion fought one drow he got hurt and damn near eaten by the local wildlife. Ain’t no way he’s gonna win this.

“Astarion,” you manage through clacking teeth and the iron taste of your own blood. “Run.”

“What?” he says all sharp. Then his thoughts reach to yours, only that whirling cloud of terror mostly blocks him and he recoils.

“Run,” you say.

He manages to get through: you’re being ridiculous and they’ll catch you if he just leaves you here.

But they can’t see him. Not in the dark. Fucking Predator Rules. He can get away and they won’t even know he’s out there.

Another thin wail. Gotta be a hunting horn. Your brain helpfully reminds you of stories you read as an adult, as entertainment, of the Wild Hunt. Stupid peasants caught outside in the night and carried off by mad fairies. Sometimes for good. Most times for bad. And almost never, ever seen again.

More reason for him to stay (fuck, you thought that last part too loud). He told you they see the heat of a living thing, and you surmised he could effectively hide in the shadows. He can strike from those same shadows. It’s what he was made for.

And an undercurrent he’s trying to hide. Shoving down even as his thoughts race and the fear makes his fingers twitch.

He left you before.

You catch distant footsteps now. A rush of them. And if you can hear them, they’re close. Astarion is an outline with dim features in this light, away from the tree. A couple steps and you’ll lose him.

They’re gonna catch you (it watches, coming closer, so close and if you could move, you’d throw your arms up to cover your head in an instinctive, childish attempt to hide). If they catch him too? It’s over for y’all.

They’ll kill you; Astarion knows this. Knows drow. They’ll have no use for you. They hate surface dwellers and everything not drow (and most drow). You’ll die, and it will not be quick.

Except you got something they want. That shard in your brain. They can’t just kill you, or they’ll lose what they came for, right?

So they’ll take it and then kill you.

How easy is it? To take that from a brain?

For a sufficiently powerful sorceress? As the one holding you clearly is? How in the hells should he know?

He has to go. You cannot both be caught. And then. You catch it. Like a plucked cord, the small vibration ricochets through him. The desire to run.

Cause he’s been in scrapes before, you sense. And when he could run—from Faerunian cops or bad people (sometimes both in the same people)—he did.

But other times, filled with cold horror and dread and pain, those times he couldn’t run. Physically couldn’t. An order from a hated voice commanded him kneel and his legs gave out and he could only cower there and wait for it to start and wish, wish, wish he could bolt. He’d tried that once and never again, can’t take that again—

He wrenches that thought from you. Eyes wide and wild, lips pulled back to bare his teeth. That wasn’t for you.

“Sorry,” you croak. You didn’t mean to see it. You push that through to him. Start to do your best to smooth down the hackles raised in his alarm.

Until the shining line appears. Until the whisper of an idea is just there in your head.

You pause to consider it, this time. As best you can with the voice in the dark it’s coming for you. He has to go. Has to.

So you reach for that cord. Gather the animal terror batting itself against your ribcage, and shove that at him. At that same cord in him. The memory of longing to flee.

Danger run! you shout at him. It’s good to run!

Feel it hit. His lungs jerk as it hits his body like a punch to the heart. He stumbles back two steps before he locks his own muscles. He knows what you did. Is angry about it, but so desperately wants to give in.

Across the brainworm group chat, the others are sensing some of this. Reaching for you. You imagine the door of a bank vault closing, the heavy ka-klunk of it sealing and the wheel spinning as it locks out the rest of the world from you.

“Go,” you say in English. Astarion is the only one you still let through. You say it low and smooth as you can with your jaw damn near locked and your voice straining. Like talking to a spooked horse. Like trying to convince the infuriating goblin man who you want to kiss (jesus lord) to get the fuck away from the Wild Hunt on your ass, because if he’s out there, y’all got some chance. “Astarion, go.”

His mouth opens. No words come out. But he takes another half step. And y’all are still connected enough you feel him feel your small sigh of relief. You want him to. You need him to. He wants to.

“Please,” you say.

He takes two more steps. Turns. And disappears into the dark.

You let him stay connected a little while, so he knows you approve. Knows you’re glad he ain’t here. The footsteps of the Wild Hunt get louder. The fear squeezes your brain like a goddamn vice. And maybe fifty feet away, a low imperious voice says something.

The sorceress. The one who holds you.

You cut the brainworm connection. Find yourself alone in your prone, useless body on the verge of hyperventilating.

You don’t want Astarion—or any of them—to feel this. The thought you was hiding. How badly you wanted him to stay. Stand over you with them knives and his teeth. For someone, anyone—him—to stay with you, just once. Not leave you alone. Protect you from the bad things just once, just once in your whole goddamn life. Not leave you to face it all by yourself again and again, because ultimately you are alone and always will be and no one, ever, can stop the bad things from happening.

And then the drow are on you.

[meabh-mcinness]

Hey-hey 👋

I'm absolutely in love with your writing for Narnia from M!IK!! Thank you so much for your work!

What do you think Narnia's courting human!reader will look like? Bonus points if it will be kinda rituals (since we know Naberius clan is connected with dogs 😉)

If you feel uncomfortable with that request you can ignore it, it's ok 👍

Hihi!! No, thank you so much for reading it! I'm glad you enjoyed it! I thought about waiting to start this till the big 'betrayal' of the Deviculum arc was revealed, but it'll be a two-week hiatus till the new crowns are revealed, much less that big boy of a thing. So here it is anyway!

This was written from the POV of an Iruma's parent reader, but if anyone also wants one of a non-Iruma associated reader, just let me know!

Narnia Courting a human!reader (spoilers for up to chapter 197 ahead!)

First, knowing what we know now about his feelings for humans, I honestly don't think he would have considered it in the beginning. This old dog would probably fight tooth and nail at first to deny it.

But once he admits to himself he likes you? You're in for a ride.

I'm thinking you first met at the Deviculum, having been invited as the daughter of Sullivan and as another 'guard' for Amaryllis, and he was disguised as Fenrir 'Fen-chan'.

At first, while he had set you on edge, you had simply thought him a funny little dude who had a thing for dog shaped hand gestures. And with a name like Fenrir it had been easy to write off the dog like qualities as wolf ones, probably descended and named after the Norse mythology wolf.

And so, despite your feeling, you had laughed at his jokes and little quips and thrown some back easily.

Until he scared your son.

Then all bets had been off.

You were no 13 crown head of lust, but you were a parent too. A parent who also had fangs and nails, as blunt as they may be in comparison, and was more than willing to throw down with a border patrol demon for your child.

Narnia hadn't been impressed with Iruma's quick submission, simply affirming what he thought of humans being too weak to be allowed in the Netherworld at all, much less in positions of power, but you?

You had done a complete 180 from how you acted before. The second he had leaned in to get closer to Iruma, you were suddenly there with all the rage and fire of any demon parent he had ever seen before.

Eyes that had been shinning prettily in awe of the ball were now narrowed in on him, lips pulled back in a snarl and tiny canines bared at him. Threats fired off without a second thought.

(His personal favourite was when you threatened to rip his tail off and shove it down his throat)

If he hadn't known better, he would have thought he was looking at a demon returned to origins with the feral look in your eyes.

And he was absolutely certain, that if Amaryllis hadn't stepped in and slapped him, shocking you out of that state of mind, you might actually have tried to lunge at him.

He fell in love at that moment.

Though he wouldn't realize it till later. Still reeling that a human had acted so much like a demon.

So he starts looking into you more carefully once the whole Deviculum thing is over.

Approaches you as Narnia, rather than Fenrir, so that he can get the full picture of who you are, without the negative feelings of the Deviculum in the way.

You had known it was the same person anyway from his mannerisms, the dog hand symbol he occasionally made, even in Narnia mode, was hard to forget.

The more he got to know you, though, the more he was he fell and eventually conceded that yes, humans weren't so weak, and also yes he wanted this particular human.

And once he did, he would waste no time trying to initiate a courtship.

I fully believe that demons follow courtship rituals that start with offerings.

Something meant to entice and say 'hey I'm an option, look at me' and if accepted, delve into gifts on why they would be such a good choice and spend time together.

In ancient times, this was usually a kill of some sort to prove they can provide. Nowadays, in modern times, that was far less likely and was generally more tailored to the couple in particular.

His first gift is actually an apology for the way he acted and a promise to protect both you and Iruma from any future harm.

His second gift, given right after you accepted his apology, was a circular hair brooch with two sticks chained to it, made from a material that looked most closely to rainbow obsidian.

The brooch part had an intricate design that looked quite close to Kalego's seal only with different characters, that likely spelled Narnia's name instead.

The two hair sticks had wolf heads attached where the chains met the stick. All in all it was a gift to say that you were claimed by him and therefore an attack on you was an attack on him. A rather forward gift, usually given later on in courtships, but that he felt was right. (And since you’re human, you can use it to call him when needed)

He gives plenty of other gifts too over the courtship period, from other pieces of jewellery (he custom ordered earpieces that covered the roundness of yours to give the illusion of pointed ones), to clothes in both Naberius and your favourite colours, to treats, to books, and your plenty of items to do with your favourite hobbies.

It’s canon that he has an exceptionally good nose, even among demons, and being a dog demon I firmly believe he absolutely loves and adores your scent.

So don't expect any perfumes or cologne from him.

Unless it's made from his scent, like Sullivan's pheromone perfume, so that he can indulge in inhaling the beautiful mixture your two scents combined would make.

(I personally think he smells something along the lines of a rose but darker and more dangerous, if that makes sense, and also smelling of sandalwood, parchment, and ink. Take that as you will.)

He's big on scenting you the natural way, too. Nuzzles and cuddles galore, especially when he's been away for a while.

Running his nose, and rubbing his face into your neck, was a common occurrence once you had given the go ahead.

Being in the Border Patrol and as a 13 Crown, he doesn't have a lot of spare time, so texts or letters are probably a common thing as well. Especially when he's been sent on a spy job.

While Kalego is the silent acts of service, gift giving and quiet quality time type, Narnia is much more into physical touches, quality time and words of affirmation type.

In other words, he will always be touching you and wanting praises. I wasn’t kidding about the nuzzles and cuddles galore.

With how strict the Naberius household is, I don’t think they’d be too big on touching, and doing well isn’t praiseworthy but expected. Not exactly the healthiest of households to grow up in,

Plus, I'm betting that he had to raise Kalego while also doing his schooling and training, since it doesn't look like there was a mom in the picture, their uncle is canonically lazy, and their dad was probably working like 24/7, and when he wasn't, he was training them. Bloody hell no wonder he snapped

So he craves the touch of another a lot, much like Shichirou.

I genuinely think that if the Naberius house had given them even a bit more freedom, he'd probably be somewhere in between how Clara and Shichirou acts. Not quite as in your face as Clara is, but a little more energy than Shichirou has.

But because he is trained so well in the Naberius way, he probably won't do much more than hand holding or hand on your back for PDA.

Alone, however, he's all over you. Using you as a headrest when you're cooking, head in your lap while you read, wrapped around you while you sleep, playing with your hair, letting you play with his hair

By the gods, his hair

His hair is the epitome of silkiness (minus the horn-like cow-licks, which are surprising hard yet still feel like hair. Just like over gelled hair feels, probably)

While you're courting, he will let you do whatever you want with it because he loves the feeling of your fingers carving paths through the strands, nails scratching his scalp pleasingly. It's one of his favourite things to just sit between your legs, while looking over case files, or reading, or even just laying there and just let you do your thing, whether it's a simple braid or an elaborate design.

He usually falls asleep to this, by the way.

Speaking of case files, he'll occasionally ask you for your thoughts on them.

This got so long, I had to create a new text box, oh gods. Did you know there's a 4096-character limit per text box? Because I just learned that, and now you did too!

Having your literal out of this world thinking has solved far more things than he would like to admit, but he's also so damn proud? Because yes, that's his partner solving these cases that no one else had been able too. (He constantly gets in trouble with Henry for sharing confidential info. He does not care and continues to do it.)

I also headcannon that Narnia can sing and dance will often do so for you.

Can hold long notes like a wolf howls, so very long.

Will just randomly pull you into his arms, humming a tune, and dance with you.

Also, while you're courting, he will be both surprisingly helpful and absolutely useless with Iruma. He's already raised Kalego, so he thinks he can raise a human teen too.

He's dead wrong.

So, so wrong.

But he tries, and it leads to a lot of funny moments.

(Kalego is horrified that his most troublesome student and co-worker has a very real potential of being a part of his family, but also secretly pleased)

Listen, Narnia's also pretty much confirmed as returned to origins, or at least heavily implied. The only reason he is drifting back to your side is because Baal's group would 100% hunt you for sport, along with other things.

Obviously, he can not have this. So Baal's group has to go. However, that means that all those instincts he's been letting lose? They have to be channelled somewhere, and they are. On you.

He will definitely have some yandere tendencies, is what I'm saying.

Gotta know where you are and who you're with. Needs to know your schedule by heart, and any deviancies will give him a heart attack.

Literally hates the fact that you're always surrounded by others, and he almost never gets alone time. But is also happy and proud that you're so needed and an integral part of so many demon's lives.

Tries to get you on your own so much, but you literally have the entire staff of Babyls, the misfit class, several crowns, and the three greats wanting your attention. Oh, and one deity because of course Toto wants to know all the stories and knowledge you have from the human world too, not just Iruma's.

Has thought about just straight kidnapping you and Iruma (because you wouldn't be happy without him, and he may or may not have grown attached to the little blue bean) on several occasions, but almost every single one of these beings is high ranked and 100% would hunt him down for you because of course they are.

Also thought about trying to convince you to join Border Patrol so that you could go on cases together, therefore able to keep an eye on you and spend more time together. But you enjoyed working at Babyls, and there's no way Henry would allow a human to join.

So he takes what he can get, but will pout and occasionally honest to gods whimpers when you have to separate.

He takes this out on captured prisoners. They thought he was bad before, now he's got feelings, and they're going to understand real quick what real no mercy feels like.

May or may not have tried to convince you to return to origins with him at one point, but a quick whack with the school's newspaper said what you thought of that.

In conclusion, he is a feral dog who is only tame for you.

I have more I could shove in this, but it's already so long and so all over the place ಥ ͜ʖಥ

[vincentwonhogh]

for long i struggled to create an archetype for each of the pevensie siblings and assign them all a season of the year. i think i can now safely say they remind me of transitions between the seasons.

susan is a crisp breeze and the last breathtakingly beautiful icicles of cruel winter that transition into sweet snowdrops and daffodils peeking through a soft blanket of sparkly frost. she is the bringer of new hope and beginnings, for she often needs plenty encouragement herself. narnia brought out the best of her abilities. she steps first into the forest after a seasonal hibernation and her arrow sets motion to the first violets, rabbits and songbirds to wake up.

lucy takes the blooming to a whole new level, all flora and fauna dance with her swaying hair and her singing floods the air in warmth and pollen. her soul attracts the sun's magic from all corners of narnia and into your body. she is as playful and inquisitive as a fawn, yet fierce enough for the whole herd. she breathes life into the old apple tree that is her throne, and wildflowers make her crown.

peter is the ruler of the sweet aftermath, the sap and honey dripping from harvested trees as he slices the ripe fruit with his sword in gleeful celebration. his presence in the room roars respect but puts others at ease with his easy-going nature that is so correspondent with the maturity of the sun and fine wine that can be collected at this time. good spirits are drawn to him in nights slowly creeping closer and he welcomes prosperity into the country, so that his people are ready for the harsher season to come.

edmund, most sensible of all, bears the burden of the night in his mind, and he owns up bravely to this role brought on by fate. it wasn't his fault. but he understands no one else could so wisely and calmly deal with the nightmares lurking by the shortest day of the year. he is quick with decisions and no amount of stress could ever distract him from keeping his closest ones safe and sound in the cruel talons of winter. the gloomy rainy days are spent quietly reflecting and enganing the mind and curiosity thanks to this dedicated protector.

[where-dreamers-go]

"Surprise" Edmund Pevensie x Reader

(A/N: Uh, I guess this is basically an insert reader now. I got carried away. Oops? Imagine: King Edmund finding you as you're creating art.)

~~~

A refreshing sea breeze and gorgeous weather had brought you to the shoreline of Cair Paravel. The creative need itching inside of yourself to capture the view of the Eastern Sea had not ceased.

So there you sat upon a small stool, its legs well-seated into the soft sand. A good sized canvas on your lap as you spread color across the surface.

Oh, to create and push emotions into an art piece. The flow of creativity that comes from diving into the details and motion of one's hands. One could almost lose themselves inside of their creation before it was complete. If a piece can ever be truly finished.

Hunched over a colored canvas with eyes darting back to the horizon was how King Edmund had found you.

"Hello, my dear friend."

"Your Majesty!" You jumped from your seat, fumbling with your art supplies.

"Be calm." Said he as a smile curved his lips. "I approached you because I had not seen you for many hours and I only just now spotted you from the balcony. Your solitude gave me slight alarm."

"I'm sorry to have worried you, my King." You inclined your head softly for a moment. "Time has eluded me if I have been out here so long."

His eyes glanced to your canvas and soon widened. "By the Lion's Mane, I know why!" He took a step forward and stated, "You are capturing details of Narnia on canvas as if you had plucked them out of the landscape itself. This is wonderful!"

"Thank you ever so much, your Majesty."

King Edmund's compliment sent your heart soaring to the blue skies above and beyond.

"I still have work to put into it before it is complete," you said.

"You will be out here longer?" King Edmund inquired with much less enthusiasm.

"Yes, I must capture the beauty of Narnia. It is not an easy feat."

"I should say not." He chuckled lightly. "Then I must leave you to snatch the colors you need for your art. I do not wish to interrupt more than I have done."

"Hardly an interruption." You gave him a smile.

Secretly, you wished he would stay. King and friend, you enjoyed his company.

Looking to your artwork once more, the king admired the colors and their forms that took shape.

"I should not be out here for too much longer."

"Then, I look forward to seeing you safe indoors, my friend." With a small smile, King Edmund turned and started walking towards the path he came.

Hope lingered that Edmund would gaze back or change his mind. To spend more time with your friend would easily keep you in high spirits.

But he did look back, steps slowing as he did.

For a moment, even at the distance he made, you locked eyes.

"Will you be all right? Alone?" The King called.

"I will be," you answered. "Unless . . ."

His dark eyebrows pinched together at your pause. "Unless?"

"Unless I become entirely distracted and engrossed into my art that the tide rushes up unnoticed by me until it's too late." You looked to your work and added, "I would officially put the waves into the piece."

"Say you would not."

"How am I to know what would happen?" You shrugged innocently.

He shook his head momentarily and made the walk back to you. "Then for your safety, I can not leave."

You smiled and settled back onto the stool with your canvas.

"I feel safe all ready," you beamed and started adding color once more to the canvas. You really did want to finish before all the light changed in front of you.

King Edmund stood quietly for a moment or two. That was until a question struck him. "What plans do you have for your art once you are satisfied with its completeness?"

You kept your lips closed.

"Why the sudden silence, my friend?" He leaned closer, trying to get a read on your expression. "Is it a secret?"

You nodded.

"A gift?"

Again, you nodded.

"I might guess."

"No," you said, "because then I must tell you who it is intended for and you shouldn't have seen it so early."

"My apologies."

You smiled despite it all and said happily, "I'm glad you like it."

"There was never a doubt I wouldn't. To see more of your art is a treat and honor. I look forward to seeing more."

"And if it was this very same piece, you would still like it?" You asked carefully.

"Yes."

Your smile widened.

At least you wouldn't worry of whether or not King Edmund would like his gift.

[nightxcreature]

See ya later. 👋

Summary: Reader and Team Freewill make their way to the apocalypse world and come face to face with someone they lost.

This is not based off of the post I made the other day, but it could technically be a tie in if I do a series.

pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Platonic!Cas x Reader, Platonic!Sam x Reader, Daughter!reader

Warnings: 18+, Language (reader likes to swear because so do I), slight dirty talk at one point if you squint, dead people, angst, angry dad for like two seconds, Cas feeling guilty for knowing something before everyone else, readers a big ole bitch about Jack

word count: 2492 (I busted my assssssssss, bro.)

Requests are open. 💕

The echoes from Kelly’s screams reverberated off the mountains surrounding the little cabin on the lake, sending those cries of pain and fear right back to us as if mother nature herself knew that Kelly Kline was bringing the worst of the worst right to her front door. Sitting helplessly listening to her pained wails feels like we’ve got a front row seat to the end of the world. Mary had gone to keep her company when we first arrived, but nothing she’s done has given Kelly a distraction from the child trying to rip its way out of her womb. Castiel continues to try and convince us that this baby will bring peace, but something that’s half of the biggest bad in history has no way of knowing a damn thing about peace.

                Another scream fills the house, and we all flinch. I can’t stay in here any longer, lifting my head from hands I turn to Sam, “Did you guys check the wards on the house? If we can’t move Kelly and Lucifer is headed this way, then we need to make sure that they’re strong enough stop him.”

                “Uh, no. No, not yet.” He whispers quietly, “You wanna check them?”

                I nod slightly and stand, glancing in Deans direction and pointing toward the door, “Wanna come with me?”

                He doesn’t answer, just stands, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the door. As he reaches for the doorknob, Cas tries to interject, but just a second too late.

                “Cas,” Dean starts gruffly, pointing toward what looks like a big golden tear in the middle of the air, “What the hell is that?”

                Cas sighs and follows us out the door, Sam close behind him, “It’s a tear in space and time.”

                “Uh, and that means?” Dean questions, moving down the stairs to get a closer look. I stay close behind keeping a firm grip on his hand to yank him away in case something comes barreling out at us…or he gets the stupid idea to jump in.

                Cas steps in front of us to face the rift before stoically responding, “It’s a doorway to another world.”

                “Another world?” Sam questions, coming to stand on Dean’s other side to study the rift himself.

                Dean scoffs and looks at Cas in confusion, “What like Narnia?”

                Cas slowly turns to speak, “No. No, in there it’s Earth but…but different. It’s a…a alternate reality.”

                “Like that time we got zapped to another world and you were Polish.” Dean says with a chuckle and quick look toward Sam.

                “And you were on a soap opera, ‘Eric’.” I pipe in earning a grin from Sam.

                “Right,” He says quickly, “Cas, how did this get here?”

                Cas, who seemed utterly confused at our banter, stares back into the rift before he speaks, “The child being born, his power it seems to be puncturing the fabric of our universe.”

                “As if things weren’t already hectic enough with the kid and his psycho daddy, let’s just add in a portal to the multiverse, to keep things interesting.” I mutter, earning a disapproving look from Sam, “What? Am I wrong? Who knows what could come out of that thing! Thanos?”

                “The Brain Gremlin?” Dean adds.

                “The Brundlefly!”

                Dean nods in agreement, “Good pick.”

                “What exactly is on the other side, Cas?” Sam asks cautiously.

                “You don’t want to know.” Cas replies solemnly, continuing to stare into the abyss.

                We each glance at each other in silent communication, agreeing that there’s no way we can let this thing stay here without knowing what could come out of it. With our world already experiencing potentially the biggest bad that it’s ever known, we don’t need to add another to the mix. Sam and Dean nod to each other before Dean speaks up, “Probably. But we need to.”

                And without another word, Cas touches the portal and we’re whisked into the unknown.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                Immediately we land in the middle of what looks like a war zone. Bodies impaled on spikes taller than trees surround us, those not being used as shishkabobs are thrown haphazardly throughout the maze of destruction. Bright orange fire balls raining down from above and lightning flashes of bright crimson are the only color to be found in this place.

                “Whoa.” Sam breathes.

                “Cas, what is this?” Dean asks as we survey the area around us.

                “As I said, it’s Earth. But this Earth is locked in eternal war between Heaven and Hell. There are armies of angels fighting hordes of demons, and the few humans that remain are caught in between.” Cas begins to walk ahead, being careful to avoid the dead around us.

                “Humans? You mean there are people that are still kickin’ here?” I question as we follow behind him, making sure to step exactly where he did…just in case.

                Sam stops, “How do you know that?” He asks Cas, confusion littering his features.

                “A friend told me.”

A guilty look crosses Cas’ face as he glances in my direction, but just as quickly it’s gone. I make a mental note to question him about that later and look to Dean as he starts to speak.

“Oh, good. Now you’re making friends? That’s…” Irritation begins to creep up his face and he shakes his head, “Alright, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is this?”

Sam scoffs as he moves to look around even further, “I don’t know. I gotta say a, uh, hole in reality leading to a bombed out apocalypse world? I’m gonna say eleven.”

“Sounds right.”

Cas smiles softly, “You don’t have to worry. The child, he opened this door, I know he’ll close it.”

I laugh dryly, giving Cas a pointed look, “Yeah, Lucifer’s son, right? You sure about that?”

“I have faith.”

“Really? In your unborn baby-god?” Dean sarcastically quips.

“Yes.” Cas’ stern reply isn’t as effective in ending the conversation as it usually is, it just pisses me off.

“Well, then, you’re a dumbass.” I snap, “Lucifer has literally taken everything from us. He’s possessed Sam, tried to kill Dean, tortured me for days after he got out of the cage, and killed you and my dad before taking Sam to Hell! If you think for one second that this demon baby is gonna save the world, you’ve lost your damn mind. Everything that comes from that sorry, good for nothing idijit is pain, death, and destruction. I’m sorry, Cas, but you’re wrong about this.”

Cas’ frown deepened as he stared at me, guilt appearing on his face once more, “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Confusion colors my features and I choke out a quiet, “What?”

“Your dad. I’m sorry that he died.”

 “That was years ago, and you both came back the same day. There’s nothing to apologize for.” The guilty look remains on Cas’ face as I speak, so I add, “Seriously, if you’re gonna apologize for anything it should be for is believing in the Devil Spawn.”

“No, not that time.” He says sternly, “I’m sorry about Dick. I’m sorry that you never got the chance to say goodbye. I know you wish that you had.”

“This has nothing to do with-“ I start to respond, but am suddenly cut off by Sam yelling to get our attention. Yanking my pistol out of its holster and snapping my head in the direction of Sam’s stare, I notice a strange figure slowly walking toward us. Its head covered in a checkered hood, scarves around its neck….and a bulky tan jacket that I would recognize anywhere….

“Hey! Hey! Hands in the air!” Dean yells, raising his gun and preparing to take a shot.

Cas throws up an arm and pushes Dean’s hand down, “No, don’t.”

He looks at me again, the guilt from earlier crossing his face once more and then he nods. I can feel tears pricking my eyes as I take a small step forward meeting the figure as they finally reach us. He doesn’t move to remove the hood, but I know him all the same.

“Don’t shoot me, Old Man.” I whisper as I raise a hand to touch the jacket on his frame, “You had one of these where I’m from, too. The scarves are a new addition though, don’t think I ever saw you in that.”

He chuckles, and I feel the tears start to fall as I hear the voice of my childhood for the first time in five years, “Yeah, they’re itchy as all hell, too.” He says as he removes the scarf covering his face, “I hate the damn things.”

“Bobby?” I hear Sam’s reaction behind me, and I can only imagine the shock on Dean’s face, but I can’t make myself look away for even a second, afraid that if I do, he’ll disappear. His face is dirty, and his hair looks longer under his hat, but he doesn’t look much different than he did in our world. The bags under his eyes are the same, though I’m sure for a much darker reason here than they were back home. He’s talking to Sam, and I can vaguely understand that he has no clue who they are. My eyes widen and I look back toward the boys panicked. What if he doesn’t know me? What if I don’t exist here? Or worse, what if I do and he doesn’t know that I’m not his kid?

“Bobby, it’s us. Sam and Dean Winchester.” Dean explains, pointing between the two of them.

“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something, but…naw.” Bobby replies curtly, and turns back to me, “You alright, ‘Pea?” he asks softly.

I snap my gaze up to his face again, “You know me?”

He gives me a small smile and puts his hand on my shoulder, “I’d know you in any world, Chickpea.”

The tears freely flow down my cheeks as I reach up to touch the hand he placed on my shoulder, “You died in my world. And I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

He sighs and looks down, “You died here, a couple years ago actually. I thought I would’ve eaten a bullet by now, but I got too many people relying on me. And you’d kick my ass in the afterlife if I did.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me at that and I shake my head, “Morbid old man.”

Dean clears his throat awkwardly and takes a step to stand beside me, “Listen, I know you two need this reunion, and I want you to have it. But maybe we could address a few of the other pressing matters first, you know?” He says, pointing toward the bodies next to us.

“What do you want to know?” Bobby asks.

We spend the next several minutes discussing the ins and outs of his world and ours, and compared to his, we live the high life. This is a world in which Sam and Dean Winchester never existed, therefore the Battle of the Brothers did occur, Michael whooped Lucifers fiery ass, and humanity was fucked because of it.

“Damn,” I mutter to Dean, “I was hoping there was another you running around here somewhere.”

He leans down and grins, “I thought you were thankful there was only one of me?”

I shrug and turn my head to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I would’ve liked to experience two.”

We both grin at each other, but before he can respond we’re interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat.

“Is what I have to say not important to the two of you?” Bobby barks, causing Dean to stand up straight and step away from me, “That’s right boy, you stay at least three feet away from her while you’re in my world or I’ll have you by the balls.”

I stare at Dean blankly, blinking a few times, “You’re thirty-seven, what are you doing?”

He shuffles his feet and looks down, “Sorry, must be PTSD or something…Haven’t heard him yell at me like that in a while.”

Sam pats his back and chuckles, “It was good seeing you, Bobby. Hopefully this won’t be the last time.”

“We’ll see.” He responds gruffly, grabbing my arm as we turned to go, “I know you’re not my kid, but you look like my kid and you sound like my kid, so I love you. Please be safe out there.”

“I love you, too. And I’m pretty sure I need to worry about you being here more than you need to worry about me over there.” I say as I point back to the rift, “Thank you for not shooting me earlier. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“If it was anybody else, I would have. You’re lucky that you’re you,” He says with a smile, “I hope I get to see you again soon, Kid.”

“Me too.” I fight back the tears forming in my eyes, I know what’s coming and even though I’ve spent every day regretting missing my dad’s final moments, I still don’t think I’m ready for good-bye, “What if we don’t say bye? Just see you later.”

He smiles and nods, “Can I hug you?”

“Absolutely.”

He wraps his arms around me, and I can’t stop myself from sobbing into his chest. We stay like for a few minutes until I feel the boys eyes on my back. I sit up and grin at him, “See you later, Old Man.”

His eyes glisten as he rests a hand on my cheek, “See you later, Chickpea. I love ya.”

“You too.” I reply as I turn and step through the portal.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dean has his arm wrapped around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head, “You okay?” he asks, leaning away just enough to see my face.

“That’s a loaded question.” I say with a smile, “But I think I will be.”

 He pulls me close and rests his chin on my head as he sighs, “Good, cause we’ve got a lot of work to do. Mad Max World over there is gonna need to be taken care of.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got problems of our own to take care of first. He’ll be fine.” I state as I lean into him. Looking back toward the rift, I make eye contact with Cas who smiles awkwardly. I grin back and mouth, “Thank you.” To which he gives a little nod before turning to go inside to check on Kelly; Sam, Dean, and I tagging close behind.

“Oh, come on!” Dean exclaims as we come face to face with the King of Hell.

“Hello, Boys.” Crowley gives a little wave with his bandaged hand and smirks.

“Wait,” Sam starts, “How the hell did you-“

“I improvised. And lucky I did, it turns out I’m the answer to all your problems.” He says with a nod to the rift.

                Looks like ‘later’ is coming a lot sooner than planned.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! And, I also hope it makes sense that Cas was feeling guilty about seeing Bobby first, I'm not sure how that comes across. I did this on microsoft word and just pasted it here so i hope it shows up ok. As always, I'm brushing the dust off my fanfic writing skills so please show mercy. lol

Tags: @lmhf1

[icaruskey]

Time loop au from @pillowspace, inspired by this post in particular. Celebratory ficlet because today feels good.

Thank you pillow for letting me play in your sandbox.

You sit in the unused janitor's closet, listening to people leaving and the closing tunes of the pizzeria. It's dark, nearly pitch black in the closet, but you can't turn on the light and risk one of the animatronics or security noticing and catching you.

Your coffee by this point is lukewarm, but you sip anyway, the dregs bitter against your tongue. How many loops has it been now? Ten? Fifteen? It's hard to tell anymore, the months blurring together. It's always fall, never quite to Christmas.

God, is this what it was like in the children's book? Always winter, never Christmas. Maybe Narnia had been in a time loop too.

Your cup is empty, and you toy with it idly as the chipper music slows into a final warning. The doors would be locked soon, the gate shutting you in until the morning manager comes in to give the building a once over. Still, you wait until the light shining through the crack of the door dims.

It's still winding down, a cleaning bot passing on the level lower with a little trail of wet floor signs following after it. It's cute, but where it once would have warmed you... Well, you can feel it. The want to smile and take it in, but it's like the feelings are through radio static. Maybe if you pushed... but you're too tired just maintaining to try.

Even though you know security is more for show than actual security (it's hard to steal giant sentient animatronics after all), you keep close to the wall, fingers tracing the patterns mindlessly. As familiar as you are with the way towards the theater, you still manage to misstep, foot hitting empty air. You fall down the stairs, barely catching yourself on the handrail several steps down.

There's laughter high above, outside the safety of the ambient lights set for the cleaning bots to do their work. You sit up with a sigh, rubbing the back of your head.

"Could've been worse," you decided. "Absolutely could've died again." Your ankle hurts a little, and your neck from the whiplash, but hey, you're awake.

You continue down the stairs a little more gingerly, half listening to the sound of bells. Always at a distance, always safely away from the light.

When you enter the theater, Moon comes in closer. You expected this. The theater used to have live performances, the stage worn and scratched in places from animatronic feet and claws, but now it's just a place to stream old Fredbear and Friends cartoons and find teenagers attempting to make out away from their parents. So it's darker here, not needing to be cleaned nearly as often.

"You're not supposed to be here. It's past your bedtime Assistant." The malice hits that same numbing wall of static, muzzling the pain attempting to crawl its way up your throat. Moon hated you --- and maybe Sun did too, this go around. You'd been trying to hide it during the day, the exhaustion and muted despair. The children didn't deserve that and Sun was still Sun even now.

But kids had a way of picking up on the emotions of the adults around them and they liked you. You always knew what they needed and stopped more than a few painful scrapes and bruises. So they tried to cheer you up, drawing pictures and trying to pull you into their games. Things they usually did with Sun and Moon, before Moon had been reassigned to security.

Maybe you deserved that malice. After all, weren't you supposed to save them? The plastic strap of the Fazbear watch dug into your wrist as you gripped the edge of your sweater. You were meant to be their rescuer, but everything keeps getting worse every single time.

Fingers brush over the top of your head as bells jingle softly together. You barely flinch, touching the cracked ear of your watch, rubbing your thumb where the earring was meant to be.

"Do you ever feel like you're being put through some cruel joke?" You ask. "Like... Someone decided that instead of letting you go through life they keep hitting the reset button just to watch you squirm?"

There's no immediate reply, not even a too-tight grip on the back of your neck.

"Maybe if you killed me, it would stop."

Silence. Then, slowly, and very nearly in Moon's old voice, the one you had forgotten: "Are you all right?"

His hand is still on top of your head. You reach for it, pulling it down to press your cheek against and close your eyes. Moon still isn't attacking you, but if you do or say the wrong thing, that might change.

It's too much to hope that you had found the answer here and now.

"I'm sorry sweetie," you say softly, trying to preserve this moment of peace as long as you can. "It's just been hard. I don't want you to kill me." His fingers flex, but he's still quiet, still still. Your face is hot, especially around your eyes, but that static is still there, winning over and dulling your voice. "Things are going to end again. But maybe next time... Next time." You sigh, deflating slowly. "I promise. I'll. I'll save you both."

You know any moment whatever is wrong with Moon will take over again, that you're in danger, but for a moment, just this moment, you're going to hold his hand and just pretend that it's okay you can't cry. And he lets you, for as long as you can stand.

[steveshairychest]

just watched the narnia movie and of course the first thing I thought was, 'now make it steddie'.

Steve and his adopted little brother Dustin get sent away to live with one of Steve’s many estranged uncles and they stumble upon the wardrobe while exploring the seemingly endless house. "Steve! There's snow in this cupboard!" Dustin calls out from within the sea of coats, and fearing for his little brothers safety, Steve immediately follows him in.

They tumble out the other side of the wardrobe and land in the snow.

Poor Eddie the faun is walking by at that very moment and the sight of two sons of adam in Narnia terrifies him. He's been warned about what he should do in a moment like this, but he finds curiosity gets the better of him. He cautiously approaches the humans and bows his head in greeting, his hair tumbling around his bare shoulders. "Hi, are you okay?" He asks hesitantly and is immediately met with a snowball to the face from the taller boy who sheilds the younger curly haired boy behind him.

Eddie, a little shocked, wipes the snow from his face and stamps down the building urge to run, to warn someone.

"What are you? Where are we?" The tallest boy demands, his hair is dusted with snow and his cheeks flushed from the cold. Eddie never thought humans could be so, well, beautiful. This son of Adam is tall and strong and has a beauty about him that Eddie has never seen in Narnia. It's selfish, but he wants to know him, wants to be his friend, not give him over to the white witch.

"Well, you're in Narnia. Is that not obvious? And I'm Eddie, I am clearly a faun." He doesn't step any closer to the clearly frightened boys, but he does slowly reach down to grab the hat that had fallen off the younger boys head in the tumble. He holds it out to him with a shaky hand and says, "I'm a friend. You can trust me." It wasn't exactly a lie.

The taller boy squints and looks him up and down, his gaze lingering on his lower half. Eddie fidgets awkwardly and tries not to jump away in fear when the boy reaches out to take the hat from his hand. "I'm Steve and this is Dustin. We'll be leaving now." Steve ignores the protests from his younger brother and starts pushing him back towards the way they came.

Eddie panicks. He doesn’t want them to go just yet. He hasn't felt this excited about anything in a hundred years, he wants to have the humans over for tea and fill his quiet house with their stories of the human world. "Won't you stay for tea? I promise to have you back before dark. You've just arrived, it'd be a shame to go so soon." His voice sounds strange to his own ears; desperate and needy. He hasn't spoken to anyone for a long while.

Steve and Dustin whisper argue while Eddie nervously chews on a piece of hair. If they are going to come with him, they need to go now. He can feel the trees watching them, feel the wind carrying word of the human trespassers to their fake ruler. He's just about to call out to them, when Steve huffs and faces Eddie with his hands on his hips.

"Fine. One cup of tea or whatever, and then we are going." He says this with a pointed look at his brother, who ignores him and runs up to Eddie to follow him to his home. "Dustin, don't spook the poor guy."

Eddie smiles down at the boy and tries to hide the panic from his voice as he ushers them along. "Hurry, let's get you some place warm."

He hopes no one spotted them.

[bookloover35]

Peter Pevensie/ The hidden heart.

The sound of horse hooves echoed through the forest, a familiar rhythm that made your heart leap. You were hidden amongst the trees, your eyes searching for him—the High King of Narnia. Peter Pevensie.

You weren't sure when it started. Perhaps it was that first day when he arrived, looking so out of place yet so regal, wearing that foreign suit and unsure smile. Or maybe it was when he first spoke to you, his voice full of warmth, asking about the creatures of Narnia as though they were old friends he simply hadn't met yet. Regardless, your heart had betrayed you long ago.

He was a king now, but to you, he was simply Peter.

From your perch high in the trees, you watched as Peter dismounted from his horse, a handsome bay that he had named Storm. He was wearing his armor today—gold and silver, shimmering in the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. He looked every inch the king, and it was moments like this that reminded you how far apart your worlds truly were.

Yet, your eyes could never quite look away from him.

"Y/N?" his voice cut through your thoughts, startling you. He was looking right up at you, a hint of a grin playing on his lips. "Are you going to come down or shall I climb up there to fetch you?"

You blushed furiously, hoping he couldn't see it from down below. With a soft sigh, you made your way down from the branch, landing gracefully in front of him. His eyes lit up with that familiar twinkle, the one that made your heart race.

"You're as agile as ever," he said, admiration lacing his tone. "I could use a scout like you in our army."

"I think the trees would miss me too much," you teased, trying to keep your voice steady.

Peter chuckled, that deep, warm sound that always sent a flutter through your chest. "I suppose I can't take you away from them. But I do wish you'd visit Cair Paravel more often."

You hesitated. Cair Paravel—the magnificent castle by the sea, where Peter, his siblings, and the entire royal court lived in opulence. You, on the other hand, were a simple forest dweller. The closest you came to royalty was when you were invited to festivals or ceremonies. Your place was among the woods and the animals, far from the splendor of marble halls.

"I don't belong in a place like that," you said softly, turning your gaze away. "Not like you."

Peter stepped closer, his expression softening. "Y/N, you belong wherever you choose. But I must admit... I'd like it very much if you chose to be near me."

You blinked, taken aback. His words were so unexpected that you could barely comprehend them. Could he mean it? Was it possible that the High King of Narnia—the valiant, noble Peter Pevensie—could harbor any feelings for someone like you?

But as you searched his blue eyes, so earnest and open, you dared to hope.

"I... Peter, I—" you began, but the words got caught in your throat. How could you tell him what you felt? How could you say that his smile brightened your days, that you longed for his voice in the stillness of the night?

Peter reached out, gently brushing a leaf from your hair. His touch was so light, so tender, that you felt your breath hitch. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, "there's something I've wanted to say to you for a long time."

Your heart pounded in your chest, louder than a war drum. This was it—the moment you had dreamed of, feared, and cherished all at once.

Peter took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "I've been trying to find a way to tell you how I feel, but I'm not sure if there's ever a perfect moment. So I'll just say it." He paused, his eyes searching your face for any sign of hesitation.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N."

The world seemed to stop. For a heartbeat, there was only Peter and the words he had just spoken. You could hardly believe it, but the sincerity in his eyes told you that it was real.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you smiled, unable to hold back the joy that flooded through you. "Peter, I... I've loved you for so long," you confessed. "But I never thought—how could you possibly...?"

Peter shook his head, his hands cupping your face. "How could I not?" he whispered. "You're brave, kind, and you've always been there for Narnia. For me. I don't care where you live or where you come from. I care about you."

And before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. It was soft at first, a gentle question, and when you responded, it deepened into something more—a promise, a vow that you were no longer alone in your feelings.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and giddy, he was smiling down at you. "Will you come to Cair Paravel?" he asked again, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "I can promise it's not as lonely when you're there."

You laughed, nodding as you took his hand. "Yes, Peter. I'll come. But only if you promise not to keep me away from my trees for too long."

Peter grinned, pulling you into his embrace. "I promise," he said. "As long as you promise to stay by my side."

And so you did, hand in hand with the High King, your heart finally where it belonged—with him.