#pevensie imagines

[writersmacchiato]

Three Years | Edmund Pevensie x Reader

Summary: You see Edmund and Lucy again in the most unexpected of places after their departure three years earlier.

Warnings: kissing (between Edmund x reader)

. . .

Salt.

It was misting over your face, tangy as it melted on your tongue.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, the endless blues of the sea turning golden and pink as they reflected the light.

Besides the creaking of the ship, and the shuffling of feet below deck as the crew began to stir and rise for the day, all was silent.

You had been waking up early every day since the voyage had begun. Without any reason, drawn to the crow’s nest in the misty grays of dawn before the rest of the world awakened. Watching the sunrise from the perfect spot.

The day would be like any other that had come before.

When Caspian, in all his kingly charm, had requested that you accompany him on this trip to the ends of the world you had been expecting more dangerous conquests. All you had battled so far was seasickness.

“Good morning. See anything?” The aforementioned king called up his usual greeting to you, hair ruffling in the cool breeze.

“Sea and more sea!”

You don’t hear it but can imagine the chuckle he releases through the rise and fall of his shoulders as he walks away to resume his check of the ship.

The sun continues to rise higher and higher into the sky, a cloudless day stretching away. You had snuck away to catch a moment of quiet in the crow’s nest.

Watching the empty waves was beginning to bore you.

When.

It couldn’t be-

“Caspian!” You yelled, jumping over the wooden beams that held you aloft. Grabbing hold of the rope to slide down, all the while yelling Caspian’s name.

“What is it?”

“There on the eastern starboard, I saw something. Someone.”

Caspian runs to the railing, quickly yelling orders at the crew to begin a rescue.

Rescue?

You’re too stunned by the possibility of a rescue to react when Caspian himself dives into the water. You’ve been watching the waters - there have been no sightings of any boats or ships for days now. Not even a rowboat.

The creak of the pulley grabs your attention, dragging first Caspian into view and then the young girl huddled against his side.

It couldn’t possibly be-

Lucy Pevensie. Daughter of Eve.

She shouts your name and crashes into you with little grace. You don’t care that she’s dripping water everywhere, returning her fierce embrace.

“Oh Lucy.” You can’t help the wide smile.

And then you see him, standing besides Caspian with his own smile looking at you.

“Edmund.” You breathe so quietly you aren’t sure you say anything, but Lucy pulls away and beckons her brother over.

He says your name just as quietly and gets close enough for you to touch him but he doesn’t make the first move, just looking and looking.

“Well come here!” You wrap your arms around him, relishing the way he grabs onto you gently. Almost shyly.

He whispers your name again, to himself, committing every bit of this to memory. He thought he remembered everything; but now he realizes how much he’s forgotten. The way you felt against him, the feel of your hair against his face, the way you smell.

A piercing scream cuts your reunion short, and Edmund has even more reason to despise his cousin when he feels the loss of your warmth against him.

“Welcome aboard the Dawn Treader.”

. . .

Edmund tried to fall asleep, he truly did.

The creaking of the ship and the swaying of his hammock made of his stomach roll, but he could’ve adapted to it if it wasn’t for the snoring of Eustace. He also couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much his heart swelled, almost painfully, when he thought about the look on your face when you saw him. Like you were happy to see him.

He’s sitting outside now, on the eastern stern of the ship, giddy at the feeling of the wind against his face. Narnian air.

“Edmund.”

His gaze cuts from the endless water to your form, seemingly materializing out of nowhere. Like a dream. It feels too much like the many dreams he had back home, wanting nothing more than to see you again.

“Mind if I join you?”

He shuffles over on the bench, trying to contain his grin when you open the blanket you brought and drape it over your shoulders and his.

“Tell me about your world.”

You play with his hand, tracing over the lines on his palm. Edmund doesn’t know how to describe it to you; he’s fought battles by your side, danced with you under the Narnian sky while fireworks flashed across the sky. In England, he’s no one.

“There’s nothing exciting there. Nothing like what we did.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“I suppose so.”

You can tell there’s more he isn’t saying, something that is eating away from him. But you don’t pry. Not yet.

“Tell me. What have you been doing since I left?” Edmund asks.

You hum, fingers still tracing over the lines on Edmundo’s palm. Trying to reconcile three years worth of memories into something amusing or daring, but the truth is… that without Edmund, dealing with his sudden departure had left you in misery.

“Can I be honest with you, Edmund?”

He doesn’t answer right away, shifting slightly so he’s turned toward you instead of side by side. Hand gently squeezing yours.

“Of course you can.”

“The past three years have been amazing, theoretically. Caspian has managed to restore peace and order to the lands, Narnians have been rebuilding their lives and I… I missed you. I kept thinking to myself, ‘Edmund would love this’.”

“I missed you too.” Edmund says quietly. “Lucy had to drag me out of bed most days, because at least in my dreams I might get to visit you again.”

“Edmund?”

He hums in response.

You turn your body so you’re facing him too, the blanket you’d brought slipping down to your waist. Even with the chilly breeze from the ocean you don’t feel cold, feeling the warmth radiating from Edmund. From where his thigh touches yours. His hand still in yours.

You ask the question that you’ve thought about every night since he and his siblings walked through the tree back into their world.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

You don’t have to specify - when, where, what? Edmund knows exactly what you’re talking about.

The night of Caspian’s coronation, the sky lit up with fireworks. The way the colors flashed over your face, the whizz and crack of the fireworks vibrating through his chest. Your hands on his shoulder, his on your waist.

It felt like a moment torn out of a fairytale, the only thing missing was a twirl and a dip in the dance that ended in a kiss.

Instead, once the majority of the merriment commenced, the fireworks fizzled out and the food and drink all gone, Edmund walked you to your room. You remember the way your heart beat, so fast, feeling more nervous than you had on the battlefield days earlier.

“Goodnight,” Edmund had said, pressing a kiss to your hand and then he was gone in the castle shadows. The next day he was gone from Narnia.

“I did kiss you.” He has a hint of a smirk on his lips, but you can see the flush on his cheeks.

“On the hand does not count! Did you not want to kiss me?”

“Of course I did. I’ve spent three years thinking how foolish I was not to.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I knew Susan and Peter had spoken to Aslan and that they seemed upset. I had a suspicion of what they discussed. So, that night with you… I felt that if we got closer than we already had, I wouldn’t be able to bear it. Knowing how it felt and then leaving. I’m not sure I would’ve gone with them.”

“I thought I misread you.”

“I’ve spent three years regretting that night. I should have kissed you.”

“I think it’s time we rectify that, hm?”

You kiss him, and you’re struck by how warm he is. Slow and languid, the kiss is sweet. Filled with years of pent up longing finally being released.

Shaking your hand loose, your hand slides up to his neck, gently guiding his eager mouth closer to yours. He breath hitches in his throat, biting back a moan.

It gets messy, clumsy. Noses bumping against each other. His hand finds it way to your waist, your own hands slipping into the loose hair at the nape of his neck. You pull him closer and closer until he’s pressed right against you.

You pull away with a heaving breath, Edmund chasing your lips.

“I need a breather.” You huff out.

“I’ve thought about doing that every single night since Caspian’s coronation.”

“Oh, you mean after you chickened out and didn’t kiss me? And then left for three years?”

Edmund rolls his eyes, pulling away in his stubbornness. “I didn’t see you making a move either, oh fearless one.”

“I think I just did.”

“Three years later.” He mocks.

You shut him up with another kiss, this time finding a rhythm with your lips that makes your toes curl.

The voyage ahead was certain to become more dangerous with each passing day, but here, wrapped in a king's embrace, you think of nothing else but him. Edmund.

[lightwing-s]

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐃𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑

pairing: peter pevensie x female! reader

summary: stuck with royal duties all day, peter and y/n eventually need a break to have... some adult fun.

word count: 1,5k warnings: sexual content, porn without plot, breast play, p in v.

a/n: wrote this one really quickly, surprisingly, and it's here mostly so i don't disappear again because of uni.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests: open⌟

The two of you had been analyzing files, signing papers, doing the heavy (boring) duties of a royal side by side for hours now. The tiredness slowly catching up, but still concentrated on the task at hand. Or so were you, not him.

With light touches, you felt Peter’s fingers brush the hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Focus on the task at hand, Peter.” you warned him kindly, knowing even your focus couldn’t last this long.

“But it is so hard,” he said, hand placed carefully around your neck, his fingers coming to play with the hairs at its nape, and his lips leaving soft kisses on your skin. “Especially when such a pretty lady is standing right next to you.”

Bobbing your head to the side instinctively, you allowed him access to more space. His lips lingered all over, teeth biting and leaving behind marks he adored to paint you with, marking you as his own. You let out a deep, long sigh, his touch enough to leave you inebriated. 

His free hand fell on your lap, trying to pull your skirt up, desperate to touch the warm skin of your legs. However, a quiet screeching noise took your focus away from him. You took his hand on yours, away from your legs, and laced your fingers, moving your head to stare him deep into his eyes.

He lingered there for a while, too drunk on you to be able to react too quickly, too immersed in your eyes to pay attention to anyone else. Getting closer to you again, you felt his breath hitting your neck before giving you another bite, stronger than the ones before, full mouth meeting your skin, dragging a long, drawn out moan out of your throat.

”Close the door behind you,” he ordered, looking at the guard standing in his office, just some feet away from you, from behind your head. “And tell your comrades they don’t need to stay too close.”

Watching the guard leave from the corner of your eyes, awkwardly and in a rush, you couldn’t help the smirk from spreading on your face as you felt Peter’s tongue touch the same spot he’d bitten just before, full on making out with your neck now.

“Better?” he asked, moving your chin so you could face him again. Now you, too drunk on him, could only reply with a simple nod of your head. “Great.”

The hand that once rested on your lap, and was then tangled with yours, freed itself from your hold and pulled at your cleavage, exposing one of your breasts that was soon covered by your husband’s lips.

Peter’s tongue flickered and toyed with your hardening nipple, his mouth spreading wilder to fit almost your entire tit inside of it. He sucked on hard, deep, while his tongue still tortured your reddish, sensitive nipple.

You were sure you could’ve come just from it, but perhaps knowing you way too well, your husband stopped right before your high could’ve been reached, climbing up your chest with kisses until his lips touched yours for a long deserved, passionate kiss.

“Come here.” he demanded, breaking away from your lips and pulling at your waist. Obliging, you sat on his lap, pulling your skirt up so your wet underwear met the hard bulge tightening his pants, resting your knee on his sides as his hands slid under your dress and you started to ride him while you were both still fully clothed. “Calm down, Yn…”

He tried, but your movements didn’t stop, and you crashed your lips together to shut him up, tongues fighting in a rushed, wet, desperate battle for control, neither wanting to give in. His hands slid up your tights, nails scratching along the way, taking a hold of the hem of your underwear, a hand on each side, pulling away ripping it apart, and without wasting a single beat, he threw it away to the other side of the room.

With the speed in which the underwear was pulled from your made the soak fabric rub rashly at your clit and leave behind a painful yet arousing sensation, only turning you on even more. Now, your sticky honey left a puddle on his pants, and you could feel his thick cock way better than before, as he too was now grinding rapidly against you.

The sensation, making your head spin and your legs tremble, stopped you from noticing his hands untying his pants, pulling it down while holding you up just enough for his cock to break free, hitting against your belly as you continued to grind on his tight. You also didn’t notice him rubbing himself up and down his length, movements conveniently hidden under your skirt, as you were too involved in your little tongue dance, sucking on his and trying to assert dominance. It was out of nowhere that you felt his cock entering you without care, stretching you out, feeling like you were ripping apart just like your underwear did.

“P-pete!” You screamed as you tried to adjust to his size, years together and still not used to it. But Peter was also impatient, the long hours of work boring you two to no end, leading to a desperate need for ecstasy and release.

He thrusted hard into you, as you tried to meet him halfway, bouncing up and down his length. At this point, he had already untied the laces of your dress and ripping open the remaining bits, fully exposing your breast as they bounced up and down with your movements. 

He pulled you towards him by the hips, closing every inch of space between you two as he tug on your arms, setting them over his shoulders and you wrapped them around his neck , all the while his own strong arms embraced you by your waist, trapping you against his own bare chest.

Your movements were never ceasing, never slowing down. Quite the opposite, actually, as the sound of skin hitting against skin only got louder, your own screams following,  and the chair beneath you cracked, trembled, threatening to break with every one of his thrusts.

All day you were unaware of how much you’d desired, of how much you needed your husband inside of you, touching you, adoring you. You were too busy to focus on that, but you kept secretly always thinking about it. 

When the tips of his fingers graced over the papers, following along the lines he read, the maps he analyzed, making you wish it was your skin he was playing with. When he bit his bottom lip when concentrating, every time he found a word he couldn’t understand, mistranslated or misplaced, or a topic that left him wondering, how you wish it was your lips he was biting instead. 

When his hands rested on your back whenever he called you over, pulling you to his side asking for assistance, and his fingertips lingered on the side of  your breasts, how you wished they were wrapped on them instead, playing with them bare.

You were hungry for him all day and only now realized. The ongoing sway of your hips a testament to this truth. Bodies all sweaty, dripping, clothes gluing to each  other’s skins. Your naked chest, your hard nipples rubbing against the warmth of his own sweat soaked chest.

A knot forming on your stomach announced the coming of your high, as you begged your husband to “Please, baby, cum with me.”

With your request, you felt his load shooting up inside you soon after, filling you up with his thick seed, your husband a whimpering, moaning mess underneath you, his sound alone enough to bring you to your climax as well, your own release mixing with his inside your aching walls.

As you both try to ride down your highs, you lay on his chest, head resting on his shoulder, both breathless, messy and numb from all the pleasure. He held your chin, leaving peck  all the way up till he felt the touch of your plump lips, giving you little kisses as he waited for you to recompose, pride blooming high inside of him, glad it was him and no one else making you feel this way.

There was, perhaps, nothing Peter loved more than watching you getting drunk on his dick, getting dumb on his touch, head completely empty from anything else. Your post sex glow his favorite version of you.

“Should we move to our chambers?” he whispered, not wanting to startle you, who still rested, with your eyes closed, on his shoulder.

Looking at him through long lashes, his dirty smirk adorning his well crafted lips, you found yourself obsessed with him all over again, just like every time he fucks you senseless. Obsessed with him just like the day you met, and the day you stood on the altar, and every single day after that and for the rest of your entire life, so you wished. 

Kissing his cheeks over and over, you take a look around the otherwise empty office, made warm by the fire burning in your fireplace, darkned by the lack candles, and now filled with the smell of sex.

“We have plenty of space here.” you told him, meeting his lips once again, royal business forgotten.

[thepremedthatwrites]

Possessive

Summary: Driven by jealousy, Edmund decides to remind you that he’s the only one worthy of calling you theirs.

warning: smut below the cut

I let out a laugh, placing my hand on the strong chest of the man. The music from the orchestra weaved between the words of our conversation as we danced across the floor. The ball had been Lucy’s idea. She had been wanting an excuse to dance all night long, and my arrival to Narnia had been the reason she was looking for.

Now, I was quietly thanking Lucy as the handsome man twirled me around before pulling me back into his strong arms. “I hope you are enjoying Narnia,” he said as we fell in step with everyone else around us.

“Thank you, Felix. I have found Narnia to be quite an enchanting world.”

“Most likely not as enchanting as you,” he said with a smile.

I smiled back, feeling warmth creep up my neck.

“Excuse me,” a voice called out. It was familiar yet laced with a subdued anger I had never heard before.

Felix and I both turned to see Edmund standing before us. He bowed and I smiled at the king. He had become a close confidant to me since I entered Narnia.

“Hello, Edmund,” I said.

He reached out his hand, looking only at me as he spoke. “May I steal her from you?”

It took Felix a moment to realize Edmund had been addressing him. Upon realization, he stuttered a quick yes, noticing the clenched jaw the king had. Without another word, Edmund whisked me away and towards one of the far corners.

“You know, I was quite enjoying myself with him,” I said, letting out a sigh.

“Oh please, I was just saving you from the boredom bound to come eventually.” His cheeks were a light pink, making me wonder if the crowded room was making him warm.

“When you’re that handsome, you can never be that boring.”

Edmund rolled his eyes at this. “He’s not that handsome. If anything, I would say he’s mediocre.”

“And since when did you care so much?” I asked, letting out a small chuckle. When I looked up to meet his eyes, there was no sense of playfulness. Instead, a wall of seriousness hit me at I locked eyes with him. My mouth fell open into a small “o” as I started to wonder if seeds of jealousy were being planted in his brain.

He seemed to notice this, clearing his throat before saying “It’s getting hot in here. I’m going to have to excuse myself for a moment.” He walked away from me, leaving the ballroom in hurried steps.

I watched for a moment, still relaying the thought of Edmund being jealous of me talking to another guy. It seemed preposterous. He had always been light hearted, never hinting at the thought of wanting anything more than friendship. Yet, the thought of him desiring me in any romantic way made my heart flutter. I had always found the young king attractive, yet the fear of him not feeling the same stopped me from ever allowing myself to desire more. But now, I found myself slowly following him out the ballroom and into the hallway where the cool night air blew in from a window nearby.

“Can I keep you company while you cool down?” I asked, offering a small smile.

“I thought you were too busy flirting,” he spat out. He focused on the floor in front of him instead of turning to me as he spoke, and his cheeks were turning into a deeper pink.

“Are you still on that?” I rolled my eyes as I walked closer to him. “Why do you even care?”

“Because he doesn’t deserve a slice of your attention. I watched him all night going from girl to girl, and you don’t deserve someone like that.”

“Then who do I deserve?” I asked. I felt the heat return to my neck and start to spread up to my cheeks.

Edmund turned to look at me. His lips were pressed in a thin line and his eyes bore into me. He first studied my lips that had been painted a deep red for the ball before focusing on my collar bones that peaked out from underneath the fabric of my dress and finally settling on my wide eyes watching him. “I don’t think anyone is good enough for you,” he finally said, keeping eye contact with me. “But I think that I might be the closest to that title.”

Silence surrounded us after he spoke. I studied his brown eyes, looking for any hint of this all being a joke. I couldn’t find any such clues and instead noticed how his eyes had left my own and were now tracing the outline of my lips. I took a step closer, placing a hand on his chest. I could feel his heart beating relentlessly underneath his tunic. His hand covered mine, and I let out a content hum as his warm skin enveloped me. “I find myself agreeing with you,” I said, barely above a whisper.

“So what are you going to do about it?”

Urged on by the single question, I reached up and placed my lips on his. I could taste the faint sweetness of the wine that was being served as my tongue brushed his lower lip. Edmund let out a slight groan and cradled my face with his hands as he deepened the kiss. What started out soft and tentative was now strong and passionate. When we pulled away, both of our chests were frantically raising up and down and Edmund’s hair was slightly tussled.

Music and conversation leaked out from the door that concealed us from the party goers. Edmund turned towards the door before looking back at me. We stayed quiet for one, two, three seconds before he spoke. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?” he asked, keeping his voice hushed as if we risked being found out. I nodded in agreement before rushing to keep up with him.

I found myself soon slammed against the wall of his bed chambers. A soft whimper escaped me as he littered my lips and neck with kisses.

“No one could ever worship this body like I do,” he muttered, his grip on me tightening as he sucked harshly on the sensitive skin that sat between my neck and shoulder.

“Edmund!” I exclaimed, both shocked by his bold words and the fact that he was now leaving a mark on my body. He only groaned at the sound of his name, pressing himself closer to me.

“Please let me taste you,” he whispered into my ear. His hands were already starting to wander down my body, tracing my curves and hiking up my skirt inch by inch.

“Edmund, what do you mean?” I asked. The reality of the situation suddenly dawned on me as he got down on his knees. His fingers had started to delicately hover over the area I needed him most. I held my breath as his brown eyes looked up to meet mine

“Please, let me taste you. I need to know what you taste like. At least once in my life. Please.”

A soft moan left my body as he spoke as my hands instinctively grabbed onto his hair. He groaned in response, already holding up the skirt of my dress so that I was on full display for him.

“Yes,” was all I could manage before he buried his face into my folds.

I gasped at the new feeling, his tongue sliding up and down teasingly before settling on the bundle of nerves. My back arched in response, not prepared to feel such a wave of pleasure rush over me. “Oh Edmund,” I moaned, letting my head fall back against the door.

He looked up at me, and the sight of his eyes already drunk off of my taste turned me on even more. I experimentally pulled on his hair, earning a groan from him and his tongue adding more pressure.

“That’s it,” he said against me, “Keep moaning my name. I want the whole castle to know who’s making you feel this good.”

I had never known Edmund to have such a possessive streak but the way he spoke only created more butterflies in my stomach as he continued to suck on my clit. I let my moans spill out freely as he continued to work on the sensitive bundle of nerves. I felt the knot in my stomach growing tighter and my grip on my reality was starting to fade as I got closer to my high. Suddenly, he stopped. I looked down at him in confusion. My wetness had started to spill onto his face, and the look in his eyes were as if he had found heaven for the first time.

“Edmund, why did you stop?” I asked, trying to hide the frustration in my voice as I attempted to grind my hips closer to him.

“Tell me no one can ever make you feel this good.”

“Edmund,” I moaned, almost unable to completely understand what he was saying as my mind felt cloudy with pleasure.

“Tell me,” he said, with almost a hint of desperation in his voice. His grip on my hips tightened as he watched me.

“Yes, Edmund. No one else could ever make me feel this good.”

He hummed with contentment as he let one of his hands leave my hips and started to draw circles on my clit with his pointer finger. I gasped at the contact. It was not enough and yet just right with the amount of stimulation I had already received.

“And Felix?”

“Hmm?” I asked, almost unable to comprehend what he was saying when he was being so mean, teasing my clit with his finger.

“Felix could never make you feel this good, right?”

“Yes Edmund,” I said, gasping as he added more pressure. “He could never make me feel this good.”

A smug look appeared on Edmund’s face as I said this. “Atta girl,” he said before diving back into me.

I gasped as I felt his tongue travel further down until it was hovering over my sopping entrance. He teased me at first, only allowing the very tip in. I whined in protest, wanting more. I wanted to feel all of him in me.

“Please Edmund,” I gasped, gripping onto his hair.

“You belong to me. Tell me you’re mine and I’ll give you everything.”

“I’m all yours Ed. I will always be yours.”

My words seemed to be his snapping point, and he began to fuck me with his tongue. The noises I let out were borderline pornographic as I inched closer to my orgasm. I repeated his name like a mantra as his finger drew lazy circled in my clit and his tongue bullied my entrance.

“I’m close,” I gasped, feeling myself get lightheaded. My words urged him on. He was like a starved man seeing food for the first time. As if none of the meals our servants made could ever come close to this feast before him. “Oh Edmund!”

Before I could comprehend what was happening, my head snapped back and my mouth fell open in an ‘o’. I felt myself come undone as my entire body shook, only being held up by Edmund as he greedily drank all of me. He eased me down from my high until the ringing in my ears subsided and I could finally catch my breath again. I looked down to see him already looking at me. A stupid grin was on his face and my slick glistened down his chin.

“You look absolutely divine,” he said. His voice was soft now and he rose to his feet, now face to face with me.

My chest was still rising up and down with the thumping of my heart beat. He gave me a bruising kiss and I could taste myself as his tongue mixed with mine. I let out a moan at the sweet taste, at how absolutely perverted the whole thing was.

“Thank you,” I managed to get out when we pulled apart.

“No, thank you.” His gaze fell to my neck and he smirked. I touched the sensitive area, rushing to the mirror to see a mark on the skin, already darkening into a scarlet.

“Edmund! How can I go back out there now?”

“Easy, darling,” he said, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “You walk back in there by my side and let everyone know who you belong to now.”

I wanted to protest, to scold him for being careless. Instead, I let out a soft moan and felt my thighs press together in arousal. It was at that moment, while looking into his dark eyes in the mirror and feeling his grip tighten on my waist, that I realize how utterly screwed I now was.

[tetragonia]

Hello! I don't know if you have open requests and this is not my language but I wanted to request Peter Pevensie reacting to deleting his kisses as a joke. Thank you anyway!

hii Anon! thanks for requesting this prompt, it's so cute (also since Peter was my childhood crush, this isn't a hard one to write)! I'm going to write this as a fic, I hope you don't mind<3

Peter Pevensie x F!Reader headcanons

warning: none, pure fluff

You were on a picnic on the beach, feeling the summer wind hit your face

You laughed as the wind suddenly flew Peter’s hat. You got up and reached it, extending your hand to give it back to him

“Thanks, dear.” Peter pulled you down, kissed your cheek

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, wiping your cheek where he kissed you. “Your lips feel warm, it’s a hot day already.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Oh, you're quite the mischief-maker, aren't you?"

He looked at you, trying to figure things out. You were unable to hold your laughter as he grabbed your arm

But you were quick: you got up and ran away from him, bare feet touching the warm and soft sand

Peter ran after you, “Oh, you’re going to pay for that, Ma’am.”

Your laugh rang as he grabbed your waist, spun you to fully facing him. He ran his fingers through your disheveled hair, loosen braids hitting the wind.

“Now, why did you wipe my kiss?”

“Because it was warm.”

“That doesn't even make sense," Peter countered your argument. You laughed in his embrace

"You’re infuriating,” you giggled.

Peter rolled his eyes, before smiling and kissing you on the lips.

[luunaz]

[Morning with Peter Pevensie]

pairing: Peter Pevensie x reader

type: fluff 🍀

an: i have a hyperfixation on Narnia again 😔 English is not my native language, so sorry if there are mistakes. You can write to me and I will correct them.

It was early morning. The sky had already lightened, but the sun was not yet visible due to the dense row of trees. A chill ran through your skin when you went out on the balcony. Cair Paravel was so beautiful now. From mountain and forest areas to the gently blue sea. You leaned against the railing and closed your eyes. The fresh air filled your lungs and besotted your mind. This place has always calmed you down, given you a slight feeling of happiness. It seemed as if everything in this world was solvable. There are no problems, sorrows and bitterness. Just you and…

— Go back to bed, — a quiet voice sounded in your ear. You smiled gently at Peter, who had just woken up and looked so adorable with his disheveled hair. He gently put his arms around your waist and pulled you to him. His embrace was hot, which contrasted sharply with the cool and fresh air. Involuntarily, you snuggled even closer to him.

— I'm sorry, did I wake you up?

— Not really. I woke up and didn't see you next to me, — Peter looked at the sea, which gradually began to turn fiery colors. The sun is rising. — We have a little more time to just lie in bed before I have to go about my business.

— I want to stay here a little longer, — you looked pleadingly into his bright blue eyes. Peter turned you around to face him. He touched your cheek, and then he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. At that moment, all you were thinking about was that time would stop. You just wanted to stay here, in the arms of your king, forever.

— No matter how much time passes, my heart will beat as fast as the day I first saw you, — you said, smiling.

There was a twinkle in Peter's eyes. Yes, this man was definitely very passionate about everything he does, and when it comes to expressing his own feelings, he doesn't even think to hold back. Before you knew it, Peter kissed your lips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to adjust to such a passionate kiss. First, he kissed your lips, then he moved on to your cheeks, nose, forehead and neck. You gasped when his soft lips touched your collarbone.

— I think we should go back to the bedroom,— Peter said, and picked you up in his arms.

— I think so too, — you said with a smile, flicked the man on the nose.

[softguarnere]

Something He Can't Have

Edmund Pevensie x fem!reader

A/N: Not me falling back into one of my oldest hyperfixations after watching the movies this past week for Christmas 🥴 I honestly don't know what to say for myself, other than that I had fun writing this and it may have single-handedly saved me from my recent writing slump. Anyway, hope y'all like this, byeeee ✨💕 Warnings: none

Lucy lets out a groan that sounds so annoyed that it instantly draws Edmund back into the present moment. “Can I ple-ease say something now?” She asks Susan, who sits to her left at the banquet table.

Susan shushes her, but there’s no malice behind it. In fact, when she does allow a disheartened look to grace her face, she directs it toward Edmund. “No. I suppose we shouldn’t meddle.”

They’ve captured his interest. Which is something that seems nearly impossible, considering that he’s spent so much of this banquet staring at Peter and (Y/N) on the dance floor, watching his older brother enjoy dance after dance with her. And trying hard not to take it too personally when (Y/N) throws back her head to laugh every now and then at something that Peter has said. Usually, she only laughs like that at his jokes, and usually only when they’re alone together.

If Peter is making her come undone, allowing her to feel comfortable outside of the carefully crafted polite and diplomatic persona that (Y/N) has created for herself to use in Cair Paravel’s court, then she’s become relaxed with him. And who knows where that will lead?

“What are you talking about?” For good measure, Edmund tosses one last glance at the dance floor before turning his attention to his sisters.

“That!” Lucy exclaims, gesturing between Edmund and the crowd that swirl on the floor before them. “This!”

Edmund raises an eyebrow. “The ball?”

His younger sister groans, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, I give up!”

“Edmund,” Susan says sternly. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t get involved, but this has gone on long enough.” For a split second, the gentle queen loses her composure, though only ever so slightly. “I mean, for God’s sake! It’s downright painful to watch!”

Still confused, Edmund isn’t sure what to say that will clarify whatever his sisters are talking about without further upsetting them. Instead, he settles for biting his lip, glancing between his sisters and the dancing, trying to work out their meaning himself.

Susan sighs, turning to Lucy. “He’s either a better actor than we give him credit for, or he’s downright daft.”

“Help me out here,” Edmund says.

“(Y/N)!” Lucy hisses, leaning across Susan so that she can scold her brother without causing too much unwanted attention. “You’ve been following her around all lovesick for ages now, but you haven’t done anything. And now you’re all jealous watching her dance with Peter.”

“Am not!”

Lucy swats his arm. “You’ve been staring at them all night. If you like her so much, then you better do something before you lose her forever!”

In other situations, Susan might chide the youngest Pevensie sibling, telling her that she’s being a bit overdramatic before offering Edmund some sort of good-natured advice. Edmund looks to her expectantly, only to find her brown eyes full of disappointment; she agrees with Lucy.

“We can all agree that you wear green better than any other, Ed,” she says. “But jealousy is not a shade that suits you.”

“Me? Jealous?! Of who?”

But his sisters only fix him with knowing looks. It makes Edmund want to wither away from existence on the spot. He spent most of their lives before Narnia being jealous of Peter. It’s been hard, but it’s something that he’s worked on since they were crowned. He really thought that he had overcome it. Now, though, his sisters’ words, coupled with the funny feeling in his stomach . . . He feels like a man, trapped, full of guilt, and caught in the middle of something very private. Which innocent people with nothing to hide do not feel in situations like these.

I fancy (Y/N), he realizes, admitting it to himself for the first time. It feels demeaning, somehow, to put a label on the feelings that he’s been harboring in secret for so long. And I’m jealous because she likes Peter more than me, says the next one, which makes him feel even worse.

A warm hand takes hold of his and squeezes. For all the annoyance that Lucy has felt toward him in these past few minutes, she offers him nothing but a kind look and encouraging smile. “You have to do something, Ed.”

“I – “ The words clog in his throat, causing him to swallow thickly, trying to find some of the air which has suddenly become very scarce. As you spin by on the dance floor, Edmund can see how you’re smiling at Peter like he hung the moon, and how his older brother beams at you like you created all the stars. Who wouldn’t want to bask in the sun’s warmth like that? And what sort of evil would dare separate two people who appear to be so . . . so in love. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Susan reassures him. “Trust me, Ed.”

Edmund, however, can’t take his eyes off of you. “I can’t ruin that.”

“You won’t,” Susan says. And if Edmund had his wits about him, he would recognize that she says it with the tone of someone who is very sure of herself because she has access to information that no one else has. (She, after all, is your best friend. But facts like that tend to fall by the wayside in moments of intense anxiety such as this.) “Ed, it’ll be fine. Trust me.”

To unstick the words in his throat, Edmund reaches for his goblet and takes a swig of the drink from inside. If he’s really going to do this, he’ll need all the courage he can get, no matter where it comes from.

As the song ends, he pushes back his chair and begins to make his way around the table. Lucy squeals with delight from behind him, and both his sisters offer nods of encouragement and thumbs up when he turns back to them, unsure.

The next thing that he knows, he’s on the dance floor, maneuvering his way through the crowd to reach you –

He catches sight of you just as you excuse yourself from the dance floor. You disappear into the crowd before he can call out to you, though he reaches out a hand, like he might be able to catch you from afar.

“Edmund!” A well-meaning slap on the back announces Peter’s presence. His older brother throws an arm around his shoulders. He radiates heat after all that dancing. “I wondered when you might join us on the dance floor.”

“I’m not. I’m just looking for (Y/N).”

Peter’s smile doesn’t falter, despite the fact that the next words out of his mouth are devastating news. “I believe that she’s retiring for the night.”

“Oh?”

“She said that she needed some air, that she might go to bed.”

As one of Narnia’s kings, Edmund is inclined to stay present for the majority of this banquet. You, being a courtier, are free to go as you please, seeing as there are no diplomatic negotiations, no fates of any nations, resting on your shoulders. If things were different, he would find a way to go after you.

And he’s actually looking for an excuse to do so when Peter says something that makes him stop.

“I wish she would have stayed,” the High King sighs. “We were having such a good time.”

Edmund nods, hands involuntarily clenching into fists at his sides. His voice feels hollow when he replies, “It looked like you were having a good time.”

“I was thinking – “ A laugh cuts Peter off as he shakes his head, looking half embarrassed, half giddy. “I was actually just about to ask her to be my – my girlfriend.” On the last word, something most unusual happens – the High King blushes. Actually blushes! Who would have known that such a thing was possible?

To say that it catches Edmund off guard would be an understatement. He’s never seen Peter so vulnerable . . . so happy. It makes Edmund’s mouth go dry. He and Peter have had their differences throughout their lives, but he can’t just ruin his older brother’s chance at happiness.

“Oh.” Is all that Edmund can think to say. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “What do you think she’ll say?”

Peter laughs, breathlessly, happily. “Well, I’m hoping that she’ll say yes, of course. In fact – “ He glances in the direction that you disappeared in. “ – I would go talk to her now, if not for my responsibilities.”

“Go,” Edmund finds himself saying. He can feel Peter’s look of surprise mirrored on his own face. But if Peter is going to do this, if this is all really happening, he’d honestly rather get it over with. “I’ll cover for you here.”

Now it’s Peter who hesitates. After a moment, his face breaks into a wide smile. He claps Edmund on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Ed.”

I wish I were better, the Just King thinks as he watches his older brother chase after the girl that they both love.  

From the banquet table, Lucy and Susan are giving him confused looks. Edmund only shrugs, then quietly rejoins them. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to explain what’s just happened. He recedes into himself, letting the party whirl by without him.

If only he were paying attention – then he would see the knowing look on Susan’s face.

. . .

It’s late when the banquet ends, and later still when Edmund slips into the library. He’s exhausted, but his mind is racing and won’t let him sleep. You and Peter had disappeared from the banquet hours ago. That’s plenty of time for his brother to have confessed to you and for you to have accepted. Dread fills him at the thought of the two of you happily announcing your new relationship the next morning at breakfast. He’ll have to face the two of you sometime, to muscle through his own pain and begin navigating a world where he has to accept that you’re in love with his older brother. But tonight, he can be amongst his books, which are a comfort.

He's so distracted that he doesn’t immediately notice you sitting by the fireplace, an open book on your lap, but a distracted look on your face as you watch the flames dance before you.

“Oh,” you both exclaim at the same time when you notice each other. The synchronicity makes you both laugh.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologizes.

“I didn’t mean to take your hiding spot,” you say in turn. You shut your book, but Edmund holds out a hand to stop you.

“You don’t have to leave on my account.”

You squint, studying him for a second, before nodding and settling back into the cushions behind you. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Carefully, Edmund takes a seat opposite you, gazing into the fire to gather his nerve. He didn’t expect to find you here. Didn’t expect to find you looking so . . . distracted and lonely as you stare into the fire, your book forgotten. He really shouldn’t pry. But you’re his friend, first and foremost, and he doesn’t want that to change. “Is everything alright?”

Delicate fingers pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh, collecting yourself before looking up at him through the firelight.

“Peter asked me to be his girlfriend,” you confess. Though the library is quiet, your voice is dull, hard to hear. You do not look as joyful as he imagined you would when delivering this news.

“Oh,” Edmund offers. He fumbles for words. You look upset, so he can’t congratulate you. But then again, he’s not sure if he should console you.

You stare at him for a moment, studying him just as intently as he’s studying you. “I said no,” you finally explain.

“Oh,” Edmund says again, for lack of anything better to say. “I’m . . . sorry?” Except that he’s really not. He feels quite relieved, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your brows furrow. He’s said the wrong thing, but he’s not sure where he went wrong.

“I said no,” you repeat. “Because I have feelings for someone else.”

Edmund’s heart, only on the mend for a split second, plummets. “Oh. I see.”

“No you don’t,” you scoff. “Edmund, you’re the one I have feelings for! Have you really not noticed by now?”

The words echo through the still library. They hang between you for a moment. A glorious, albeit confusing, moment where Edmund can do nothing but stare at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly. Narnia is a magical place, but there’s no way that you could have said the very thing that he would do anything to hear.

“You do?” His voice comes so quietly that when you don’t immediately reply, he worries that maybe he hasn’t spoken at all.

“Yes. And for quite some time, I might add.”

“But – “ Images of the night swirl in his mind. You had danced with Peter for ages, looking so happy. Everyone likes Peter. They always have. And much, much more than they like Edmund. To say that you have feelings for him . . . “Why?”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . Everyone likes Peter. He always gets what he wants.”

Even in the dim glow of the firelight, he can see your gaze soften.

“Oh, Edmund.” You leave your seat, coming closer to him. He rises, meeting you halfway, so that the two of you are standing together in front of the fire. Gently, you take his hand, intwining your fingers. Your hand is warm in his. You squeeze, and on instinct, he squeezes back. “That’s not true.”

“What’s not?”

“People like you, too. I like you.” Your grip tightens on his hand. “And Peter doesn’t always get what he wants. I know something he can’t have.”

“What’s that?”

A smile tugs at your lips when you gaze up at him and say, “He can’t have this.”

[wrenwreads]

a glass... or two!

sick of seeing his little brother and their best-friend just simply ogle at each other, peter decides to take matters into his own hands.

request for @edmundpevensielover : EDMUND PEVENSIE X READER

LOTS OF FLUFF AND ED AND READER HIDE THEIR FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER MAYBE SHE (READER) GETS TRICKED BY PETER (AT THE PEVENSIES' CHRISTMAS PARTY) TO DRINK AND SHE (READER) GETS DRUNK AND MAKES OUT WITH EDMUND AND THEY PRETEND IT DIDN'T HAPPEN AND SUSAN CATCHES THEM MAKING OUT AGAIN.

pairing/s: edmund pevensie x fem!reader

warning/s: mentions of alcohol and reader being drunk a bit tipsy

genre: fluff, friends-to-lovers (or is it?)

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this has been in my requests for god knows how long, i do apologise for only getting to it now. i did change it up a bit from what anon originally requested, hope that's okay!

How do you make two obviously in love individuals realise their feelings for each other when the said two individuals are also too oblivious for their own good?

That was the same question Peter had going on in his head.

It has been too long.

Way too long since his little brother — Edmund, admitted he has feelings for Y/N — someone he has grown close to over the years, who also happens to be Edmund’s best friend since forever. Also including the fact that same Y/N did the exact same thing Edmund did, only a week later.

Some would say that Peter is in a huff. Jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he walks down the halls of the castle towards the library. A bit too niche of a topic for him to be in a huff about — but he's only human after all, and only wants happiness for the two. Gratefully, as a king, he can hide the reason behind his frustration by blaming his duties — claiming they were starting to get too much. People seem to buy it, except for two. 

“Peter, are you alright? You’ve been sighing like a mad man since you sat down.”

Lucy’s question only had the young king sighing again, not missing the way Lucy and Susan shared a glance before him.

“It’s those two,” he answers, nodding towards the two figures who had seemed to tuck themselves against each other under one of the castle’s big library shelves.

Both Lucy and Susan follow Peter’s gaze, faux fatigue lacing their shoulders as they watch Y/N and Edmund share fond looks to each other as they immerse into a novel. Y/N was holding the book, conveniently keeping it up between the two of them to read. Edmund had himself stood as support for the young girl who had relaxingly rested upon his chest, his arm behind her — flat against the surface to keep his weight on, allowing both of them to stay upright.

It would be a moment for couples — only if they were one.

“Who do you think will confess first?” Lucy loudly wondered. Although, not too loud to pop the bubble Edmund and Y/N had themselves in. Peter hummed, suddenly alert as if he wasn’t just huffing a few minutes ago. His sisters looked at him, eyes waiting for him to say something.

“What? Isn’t it obvious? I’m sure Y/N will say something first.”

Susan silently scoffs, mouth opening as if someone had just offended her. “Don’t think so lowly of Edmund, would you? I know it’s going to be him.”

“Ed, do you know what colours Peter’s planning for this year?” the young woman asks as she welcomes herself into Edmund’s bedroom. Upon hearing no answer and only the sounds of water running, she assumes he’s still busy giving himself a wash. Thinking he’ll be taking a while, she sits on the four-poster — fussing herself around as she gets comfortable, crossing her legs underneath herself. Relaxing in her seat, she opens the book she had on her hold — continuing where she had left off.

Getting herself lost in the plot, she fails to realise the sound of water stopping nor the fact that Edmund had come out of the washroom and had asked a question himself. It was only when the mattress beneath her dipped did she look up from her page, seeing Edmund looking fresh — wet hair dripping all over his sheets. “You’re not laying down with wet hair, are you?” Y/N asks, eyes narrowing at the sly smile growing on Edmund’s face. “No.” he simply answered, further provoking her as he slowly ascends on to his pillows.

Y/N only sighs, rolling her eyes as she stands up from her position to grab the stray towel the boy had half-mindedly discarded. “Come on,” she says, tapping his thigh lightly, “this way you won’t be waking up tomorrow, complaining about a mind-blowing head ache you have.”

Edmund scoffs at her dramatics, swinging his legs off to the edge of the bed. Y/N settles herself between his thighs, hands under the towel as she carefully dries Edmund’s hair.

He sighs, eyes closing and his hands making its way to her waist. He keeps them there, finding himself getting drowsy at the feeling of Y/N’s fingers through his hair and the soft humming she emits. “I like it when you dry my hair for me,” he whispers, eyes still closed. Y/N laughs softly, giving his hair once last swipe before putting the towel aside. Combing the strands lightly, she finishes her routine with a soft kiss to his head. “I know you do.”

“You’ve really outdone yourself this year, Pete! The party’s amazing!”

Peter laughs, amused at the unnecessary volume Y/N spoke. “I can hear you perfectly you know. No need to shout,” he teases, laughing again at the pout forming on her lips. “Do you know where Edmund went?! I’ve been looking for him all night, I have something to say to him!”

His eyes widen at the girl’s question. Could this finally be it?

As if on cue, Edmund presents himself — although a bit tipsy himself, not as much as Y/N is though. “What’s going on?”

“Ed!” she squeals, wrapping her arms around Edmund’s torso. The boy manages to catch himself from falling, giggling to himself as he too reciprocates the hug. “Oh dear, how many have you had?”

Y/N removed herself from Edmund, hands on her hips as she appears to be deep in thought. Edmund looks at his brother for an answer, only that Peter remains silent. Raising his arms halfway up in the air feigning innocence. She suddenly gasps in her place, quickly spinning around to face Peter. “You gave me two! And then… I think I grabbed another two. And maybe… Idunnoanymore, Ithink…” her words began slurring into each other, earning a chuckle from both brothers. Edmund feels himself slowly sobering up at her antics, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. “It’s bed time, don’t you think?”

“No… nonono, notyet—”

Peter remains silent from where he had stood himself, not before moving a little further away from where the pair were standing. He watches as Edmund remains calm, a dopy smile on his face as he dotes on you and your blabbing. He mentally pats himself on the back, triumph enveloping him as he hopes his initial plan of getting you together (finally) happens.

“Come on, my love, just a few more steps…” Edmund encourages, guiding his very drunk girlfriend back to his bedroom in one piece.

One day he’ll get Peter’s head for this.

As soon as the door opens — Y/N escapes Edmund’s grasp, almost catapulting herself onto the bed. She relaxes herself, taking a few deep breaths in before sitting back up. “Do you think… they know?” she hiccups, eyes barely open to look at Edmund.

Edmund feels his heart swell at the sight, his eyes giving nothing but love as he slowly helps Y/N get ready for bed. “I don’t think so,” he begins, wiping a damp wash cloth over her face – a hand gingerly placed under her chin to keep her from swaying. “But I do think Peter wants us to quicken up a bit, be together officially. Maybe that’s why he gave you too many to drink.”

She lets out a small huff, a pout on her lips. “But we already are together, Ed. It’s not our fault they remain oblivious.”

“I know, my love. What about we tell them tomorrow? How does that sound? Surprise them during breakfast, hm?”

Y/N laughs, a sound never failing to sound like music to Edmund’s ears. “That’s… good…” yawns break her words apart. Edmund slowly guides her to lay down, ensuring his actions are not too sudden for her to suddenly feel nauseous. “Let’s go to bed then, now, shall we?”

Not even finished with his sentence and Y/N’s were already closed, hands tugging onto the blankets to snuggle herself in further. Edmund smiles, standing up from where he perched onto the edge of the bed to now get himself ready. Right as he enters the washroom, a question is suddenly asked.

 “Ed, are you even drunk?”

He just laughs, not having the heart yet to tell you that he had caught on to Peter’s game very early on to the night. Not that he can for your soft snores had followed your question aright after.

thank you so much for reading until the end! as always, leave your thoughts/comments - i love reading them. constructive criticism is appreciated! •.˚⚘ ⋆.*.ゞ

[promptthebear]

Peter Pevensie x F!Reader

Summary: You end up stranded in Narnia after a routine errand with your family goes awry. The Pevensie siblings take you on an outing to a nearby lake to help pass the time. Chaos ensues. Fem!Reader, set during The Golden Age, written in 2nd person with reader referred to as "you"

A/N: So...this is also using the prompt "Oh look, my will to live, it's gone" bc the anon who sent it also requested Peter and after I did the Tormund version I couldn't get this idea out of my head so...Peter anon wherever you are. Enjoy.

The whole thing was, as usual, Edmund’s fault.

You and your parents had come to pay the Narnian royal family a visit. It was meant to be a quick trip, your father only wanted to petition King Peter for some rights to more farmland when the simple errand was waylaid by a broken carriage wheel. Thankfully, the accident had happened just outside city limits but had left you with an injured driver and no way home.

Since then, you had all been guests at the Cair for nearly three weeks while a solution was found. Under normal circumstances, being stranded anywhere would’ve been tedious at best, with nothing to do but wile away the long days in some dusty inn. You instead found yourself quite enjoying your little detour, given that you were of an age with King Peter and each of his siblings give or take a couple years. They hadn’t hesitated to bring you into the fold, filling your waking hours with various distractions and excursions.

Today’s particular trip had been to the lake, a pleasant little spot with a pebbly beach, calm green waters and a dock for fishing about an hour’s ride from the castle. While Narnian summer wasn’t quite in full swing, it was still a much hotter country than you were used to and you appreciated the cool breeze that danced across the water and gently caressed your skin.

“Do you swim, my Lady?”

At the sound of Peter’s voice, you turned, and gave the King a shy smile.

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. Ettismoor is a frigid land, barren and mostly made of mountains. There aren’t any lakes that I’m aware of, so I never really had the means to learn.”

“Pity,” Peter replied “These waters are perfect for it.”

“We could always teach you, couldn’t we Peter?” Lucy piped up from where she was skipping rocks along the shore line “You’re practically part fish, yourself. Everyone always says so.”

The tips of Peter’s ears suddenly turned red, though whether that was from heat or something else, you couldn’t say.

“You and Susan might have to do the teaching, Lu.” he said, clearing his throat “I don’t think our guest is quite ready to have me prancing about in my smallclothes just yet.”

Lucy let out a giggle, before turning back to searching the ground for flat rocks.

“I suppose you’re right. I’m so used to all of us swimming together, I forgot we aren’t exactly dressed in “proper” clothes when we do.”

You quickly ducked your head, and stared fixedly down at the water. Whether you had wanted it to or not, your mind had snatched up the idea of Peter in a state of undress and run with it. The more you tried to push it away, the more insistent the idea became and the hotter your face grew.

What would he look like, you couldn’t help but wonder, stripped of his doublets and tunics? He’d be well muscled, certainly. You knew he was strong, the other day he’d lifted you onto the back of your horse as easily as someone else might lift a cup of tea. The question was whether that strength was in his arms alone, or if he’d been blessed with a wide chest and chiseled stomach as well? And would he be smooth skinned under his clothes? Or would he have a healthy dusting of hair across his torso, not unlike the reddish beard that adorned his face?

“Penny for your thoughts, my lady?”

The sound of Peter’s voice made you start slightly, and you turned to him, hoping you didn’t look as frantic as you felt. You longed to come up with something witty and clever, something that would make him laugh and flash that devastating smile your way. Though, given that your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears you could hardly think, perhaps coherent was a better choice.

“I-”

A sudden, loud shriek from the general direction of the shore saved you from having to answer. Thankful for the distraction, you glanced over your shoulder and were surprised to see Susan running towards you at full pelt, with Edmund hot on her heels.

“Edmund! You get that disgusting creature away from me, this instant!” the young queen shouted, all decorum forgotten in her panic.

“Oh come on, Sue, it could be a prince! Why don’t you kiss him and see?”

As the two came closer, you glimpsed something small and greenish clutched in Edmund’s cupped hands. You knew right away it was a frog, and shuddered sympathetically on Susan’s behalf. You didn’t much care for the beasts either. Their wet skin and bulging eyes made your stomach turn.

“Will you behave yourselves?” Peter bellowed, his voice taking on a distinct kingly quality “For Aslan’s sake, Ed, we’re not children anymore!”

Neither Susan nor Edmund paid any attention to their brother’s admonishing. Instead, they kept on their chaotic race, down from the grassy shore, across the beach where pebbles flew in their wake and right onto the little dock where you and Peter currently stood.

“Edmund, I’m serious, if you don’t stop it this instant I’m going to thump you so hard-”

“Pucker up, Susan! You don’t want your betrothed to think you don’t like him, do you?”

“Oi! Watch out!”

You’d taken a step backwards to try and escape from the fracas, only to find your boot sinking through thin air rather than onto the dock like you’d planned. All too quickly, the rest of your body followed suit, sending you backwards towards the water, shrieking and flailing like a windmill.

The cold hit you first, making you feel as though someone had just dumped a bucket of ice over your head. You opened your mouth to scream again, perhaps on the slim chance someone would come to your aid, only to have your nose and throat immediately fill with water. Now the cold was inside of you, clawing into the pit of your stomach and freezing your bones in place. You could feel your body tensing with shock, making your feeble attempts to swim to the surface all the more impossible.

Then again, what difference did it make if you tried or not anymore? In order to get to the surface, you needed to know where it was and after being tossed and turned around in this frigid, murky nightmare you weren’t even sure which way was up anymore. The fact of the matter was that you were going to drown, your young life cut short all because you’d never learned to swim.

With your lungs burning and your heart pounding in your ears, you closed your eyes and let your body go limp. Once you stopped fighting, the water seemed to respond in kind. For a moment, you felt strangely peaceful, as though the lake was cradling you in its embrace. You allowed the weight of your shoes and dress to pull you down further into the darkness, imagining you were snuggled deep beneath the blankets on your own bed at home. You were going to die anyway, so why make your last moments fearful ones when you could simply…let go?

You had no sooner accepted your fate when you found yourself suddenly being wrenched in what you assumed was an upward direction. Someone, or something, had managed to hook itself beneath your armpits and was tugging you free of the water with a surprising amount of strength.

Faintly, you recalled that there were merfolk living in Narnia, though the idea only confused you further. Surely if there were such a people, they would be living in the oceans by the coast? And not in some little lake way off in the forests? Whatever this thing was, it seemed determined to save you, and who were you to be ungrateful?

All thoughts of mermaids and otherwise vanished as your rescuer finally brought you to the surface. The moment your face broke through the water, you took deep gasping breaths even though each one stung as though your lungs were filled with angry hornets.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

You tried to place the source of the voice, though when you looked up you could see nothing more than a hazy silhouette, haloed by the bright afternoon sunshine. The shape was human enough, but aside from that there was nothing human about it.

Where people were made of flesh and blood, this being was made of diamonds and spun gold. Nothing in the mortal world could be this beautiful. You reached up to touch your rescuer’s face, your addled mind convinced that if you could just make contact with them somehow, then all that goodness and beauty would flow into you and make your head stop aching so abominably.

It was only when your fingers brushed against the curls of a beard that you finally clued in.

Peter.

“I’m okay!” you all but shouted, sitting up so quickly you nearly smacked your head off the King’s chin. He had been kneeling over you, almost cradling your body within the frame of his arms as he’d inspected you for damage. It actually would’ve been rather nice, were it not for the fact that you were utterly mortified.

“Steady,” Peter said, bringing one of his hands to rest against the small of your back “You don’t want to move too quickly, my lady, otherwise-”

Right on cue you began to cough, your lungs rejecting all the water within them as a fish’s gills reject air. You clung to Peter’s arm for dear life as your body trembled with the effort, your fingers tangling in smooth silk of his sleeve.

The King sat with you while you shook, his blue eyes clouding with concern as he rubbed your back soothingly and murmured faint words of encouragement you couldn’t quite hear. When the spasms had finally run their course, he slipped his arm around your middle and gently guided you to your feet. The simple act of standing made your head spin, and you clung to Peter all the more tightly, far less worried about propriety than you were about not falling back in the lake.

“I’ve got you,” he said softly, adjusting his hold on your waist before rounding on his siblings.

“Are you happy now, Ed? Now that you’ve nearly killed someone? I hope your foolishness was worth it.”

“I’m sorry,” the other king mumbled, his expression of boyish contrition making for a strange contrast with his manly features “I wasn’t thinking.”

“Why am I not surprised? Could you perhaps try and look at her when you apologize? I think you owe her that much, at least..”

“I’d…I’d rather not.”

Peter’s brow creased, the eyes beneath them flashing with rage. He was no longer a King, but rather an exasperated older brother, just like a hundred others in his kingdom.

“Ed, of all the disrespectful-first you practically drown the poor girl and now you don’t even to have the decency to look her in the eye when you-”

“Peter.”

Four heads, yours, Edmund’s, Lucy’s and Peter’s, all turned towards Susan. The young Queen’s face was serenely calm, which was at odds with her bright pink cheeks. Susan didn’t strike you as the type to get embarassed or angry often, so what exactly was it that could have her in this state?

“Peter. She’s…she’s soaked.”

You stared at Susan, equally as puzzled as her brother. Of course you were wet, you’d just gone for a surprise dip in the lake. Why was that such a cause for concern?

Unfortunately, you and Peter happened to glance down at the same moment. Your pale green, silk dress, which had seemed like such a clever choice this morning given the heat, was sticking to you like a second skin. Every part of your body was visible, from the divot of your navel to the outline of your breasts and the curves of your thighs and ass. For all the good your dress was doing you, you may as well have been standing there as naked as the day you were born.

“Oh look,” you said to no one in particular as you brought your hands up to preserve what little modesty you could “My will to live, it’s gone.”

“Damn it all” Peter said, flushing red to his hairline “Come here, let’s get you sorted.”

No sooner had the words left Peter’s lips then you became aware of movement from the corner of your eye. You stole a glance up from your feet, and were surprised to see Peter’s fingers flying down the length of buttons on the front of his shirt. With each one opened, another inch of the King’s skin became visible, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t help but stare. Was this really happening?

Your fantasies hadn’t been too far off. Peter was strong, the muscles in his arms flexing as he shrugged his shirt from his shoulders. A dusting of curly, reddish hair adorned his chest and stomach, growing in thickness and darkening in color the closer it got to the waistband of his pants. He was also covered in freckles, which spread across his shoulders like a cloak and most likely went down the length of his back.

If Peter noticed your staring, he thankfully didn’t seem bothered by it.

As soon as he’d removed his shirt, he was draping it over your shoulders, guiding your arms into the sleeves and doing up the buttons as though you were a child. You stood, dumbfounded, your mouth dry and your throat tight. The shirt still held the warmth of Peter’s flesh, and smelled faintly of soap and sweat.

“Thank you, your Majesty.” you said, your voice noticeably hoarse.

“You’re welcome.” Peter replied, giving you a warm smile and placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. He seemed far more comfortable now that you were covered.

“I think it’s time we head home, don’t you?”

This was from Lucy, who had been rather silent throughout the whole debacle, but as always had a keen knack for jumping in with the perfect suggestion at the perfect moment.

“High time,” came Edmund’s answer, and he quickly turned heel and started walking back towards the shoreline, as though if he ran quickly enough he could outrun the fact that he caused this mess in the first place.

The other Pevensies followed suit, Susan going after Edmund, Lucy following Susan and you and Peter bringing up the rear. Much to your surprise, the King was holding your hand, gently guiding you back towards shore, as though he was afraid you’d drift off if he let go.

As you walked, your eyes were drawn to the lines of Peter’s back, hungrily tracing his shoulders and the slant of his waist like you were trying to commit them to memory. Much like you’d thought, his back was covered in freckles, the faint dots forming constellations across Peter’s smooth, tanned skin. You wanted nothing more than to reach out, wrap your arms around his middle and plant a kiss between his shoulder blades.

“You sure you’re alright?”

Peter was still walking, but he’d turned his head to the side so he could glance at you over his shoulder. The sight of his blue eyes, looking at you so intently, made your pulse quicken.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you said, hoping against hope he hadn’t felt your stare.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I’m sorry Edmund is such a prat. We’ve been waiting for him to grow up for ages, but somehow I don’t think it’s ever going to really happen.”

“No harm done, your majesty” You replied, keeping your eyes trained downwards so you wouldn’t slip on the rocky shore and make yourself into an even bigger fool “Thank you, for rescuing me, and for loaning me your shirt.”

Peter chuckled softly, and shook his blonde curls from his eyes before speaking.

“You’re welcome. I actually think it suits you better than me, anyway.”

[eds-gryff]

The Weight of Beauty

Edmund Pevensie x Reader

(Requested by @popsixsquish

‘Could I perhaps request some Edmund comforting an insecure reader?’

Again, very sorry it took me over a year to finally get to this! 😬)

A/N: So, this is kind of a confession- I write all my requests and x Reader one-shots with my OC, Sanya, in mind. I write her name and her country and her hair colour, and then I change it to Y/N, etc, after I finish writing.

If you would like, I have a four-part Narnia series on my Wattpad, which is Edmund x (plus-size, POC) Original Character; it is called The Alliance Series (‘Alliance’, ‘The Heirs’, ‘Moonshine’, and ‘Fairytale?’, with ‘Sultana’ as a companion AU), which you might enjoy! If you enjoyed my fics here, and if you liked the Y/N in them, you’ll love Sanya as well as her relationship with Edmund. The marriage and overall background of Edmund and Y/N in this fic are actually based off Edmund and Sanya in Alliance!

Here is the link to my Wattpad⤵

A/N2: You know, I am personally very insecure myself and I am pretty chubby, so writing this down was actually rather cathartic. I’m not madly in love with Edmund like I was when I was sixteen (when I started writing The Alliance Series, btw), but it is still quite comforting to write one of my favourite characters being so complimentary and sweet about something most people are not.

Anyway-

Y/N= Your Name, Y/C/N= Your Country's Name, Y/N/n= Your Nickname, Y/H/C= Your Hair Colour, Y/E/C= Your Eye Colour. Reader is plus-size.

Happy Reading!

---

Y/N knew she had a terrible expression on her face as she strode back to her bedchambers, and she knew it wasn’t the most fitting expression for a Queen whose main work that day had been a diplomatic excursion- but she could not help it! She was usually very good at hiding her innermost emotions, but today had simply gone too far.

“Ugh.” Was the first word- or, sound?- that left her lips as she shut- rather violently- the door of the bedchamber. She let her feet carry her to the large canopy bed that stood in the center of the room, and she immediately fell back on it, absolutely uncaring how it would mess up the hair that her maid had carefully arranged. She couldn’t care less about what she looked like in this moment.

And then she let out a hacking laugh at the irony. This whole predicament was because she cared too much about what she looked like.

After a few minutes- or perhaps hours, Y/N did not know, she was prone to dissociating from reality- she heard the door open. If it had been any other room, she would’ve sat up quickly, ready to fight if it was an intruder, but there was only one other person with the key for this room- and thus, it could only be one person to be coming in the bedchamber currently, for it was his bedroom as much as hers.

Her husband, King Edmund the Just.

“Y/N/n.” Edmund’s tone was rather humorous, and Y/N felt the urge to throw a pillow at him. “I know you are prone to sleeping in, but didn’t you have a diplomatic tour today? With- Terabinthia?”

Curse his good memory.

She made a sound that resembled Troll, but thankfully Edmund knew her well enough to know that she was simply affirming his question.

“Did the delegation not arrive? I am sorry I could not be with you,” Edmund sat down next to his wife, and smiled when she automatically held her hand out to him, which he clasped in his, “but the matter with the villagers took all day. Lucy is still there, I only had to return for a courtier needed a signature very urgently.”

Thankfully, Susan had already signed for it by the time he’d reached, and so he had made his way to his bedchambers instead, for some rest and relaxation.

“They arrived.” Y/N mumbled, eyes closed. She did feel slightly better, though, just the simple act of her husband holding her hand was a comfort. “And they left.”

“Already? Good for you, my antisocial darling.”

She felt the corners of her mouth lift despite herself.

But she said, “I made them leave.”

“Er- not a diplomatic action, that.”

“No, husband, not like that.” Though, she had done that many times before. She was absolutely not the royal who was the first choice for such missions. “They were too embarrassed, so they excused themselves after an hour. Because of me.”

The Just King’s brows furrowed, “Why were they embarrassed?”

She did not answer, but she did open her eyes. Edmund’s chocolate-brown eyes looked down at her, concern and some amusement in them, and she let out a sigh.

“Don’t you wish you were married to someone thin?”

There were not many things or people that caught Edmund off-guard, but his wife was very much an exception, as he learned more and more ever day.

As such, he could only say, “What?”

Sluggishly, the Queen sat up, “Well, you didn’t want to marry me.”

“You didn’t want to marry me, either.” Edmund pointed out immediately. Their marriage had been arranged, part of a political alliance between Narnia and Y/C/N, Y/N’s land. The bride and groom had not been pleased. “And we both loathed the state of our marriage for the first few months.”

This was true. Y/N- who had been titled the Y/N/T not long after this hated wedding- had actually taken to hiding in the Stables to avoid her husband.

Then things had changed and evolved, and they had spent time together and grown closer- and now, now she was so besotted and in love with him, she felt like one half of a couple from some dramatic romance novel.

And she was rather sure he felt the same way.

“Well, yes. But I was attracted to you from the beginning, you know. You are so beautiful, husband. If there is any human worthy of the title of the God of beauty, it is you.” Her voice was soft, and Edmund almost instinctively moved closer to her. “I may have hated you and our marriage, but the saving grace was your beauty and your respectfulness. Oh, and your freckles.”

The accent didn’t hurt, either.

He grinned, “Oh, speak on, please. I am enjoying this turn of conversation very much.”

To her surprise, she laughed out loud, “Of course you are.”

But it seemed she had spoken too soon, for at the same time, Edmund had spoken, “But I would like to finish the previous topic first. What was that about me wanting a thin spouse?”

“Um.” Y/N was regretting saying that suddenly. She was not one to bare her innermost emotions and thoughts often, unless it was in a diary. “Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

Oh, it really was serious if he was calling her by not a pet-name.

“What exactly happened with the Terabinthian delegation?”

The Queen groaned, and fell back in bed again.

“Your Majesty!” The head of the Terabinthian delegation, came over to the carriage in front of which Y/N stood. Curtseying, she spoke, “I am the Duchess of Terabinthia.”

She curtseyed as well, “The Y/N/T Queen, at your service.” While in Narnia, she preferred to use the epithet awarded to her because of her marriage to a Narnian King. If this had been her country, she’d have called herself the High Queen of Y/C/N. “Welcome to Narnia.”

“Thank you verily for making the time to meet us. We are grateful.”

“No need for gratitude, it was our honour.” Y/N said, wishing she could go home already. Why had Peter assigned her to do this? He knew she hated this- oh, that must be exactly why. She was absolutely going to bonk her brother-in-law on the head with her sword the next time they had a duel. “We are most glad you visited Narnia on your tour. And Y/C/N is next, I believe? I will make sure you have the best guide for your travel in my country.”

The Duchess bowed her head in gratitude, and her eyes widened.

“Oh, I did not know! My most heartfelt congratulations.”

Y/N blinked, “Thank you, but for what?”

Yes, she had new shoes on- not by her choice, but her most comfortable pair had actually fallen apart- but that wasn’t something to be congratulated upon.

“You are expecting! It has not been announced, as far as I know, so that must be why you are surprised.” Her face broke in a wide smile, and she did not notice as the Queen’s face withered. “You and King Edmund must be over the Moon.”

Y/N could not say anything. What could she say? That, no, she wasn’t pregnant, she was simply fat. That, no, her breasts had not grown because they would soon nurse a child, but because she had always been ample? That, no, the weight around her middle was not because there was a babe in her womb, but because she was unhealthy and unfit and always had been?

“How far are you along, Your Majesty? I imagine it must be the second trimester- Your Majesty?” The Duchess’s smile faltered. “Is everything- is all well?”

“Yes.” She had to be gracious, diplomatic. She could take off her new shoe and throw it at her, or go hide in her carriage and have a breakdown like she was a teenager again. “But I am not with child, my Duchess, my husband and I have yet to be blessed in that way. I am simply- this is simply how I am.”

The other woman’s eyes widened, and she took a nervous glance back, to the rest of the delegation, who were surely wondering what was taking so long.

“I am so- I cannot apologise enough, Your Majesty, I had no idea- I thought that, because of what you- because you are- I- forgive me.”

“Yes.” Y/N said, though she did not. It wasn’t the Duchess’s fault, she was fat, she knew, which was not common among royalty or nobility.

Still, she couldn’t help but harbour a grudge.

“Well. Shall we on?”

“Oh, I will be sending them a very strongly worded letter.” Edmund said, his face even paler than usual and his eyes burning with anger. Who in their right mind would speak to his beautiful, wonderful, courageous wife in such a way? “How dare-”

“Because it’s the truth. I am fat.” Y/N said, and looked down at herself. She was still garbed in exactly what she had been wearing then. “I can’t even tell myself that she misunderstood because I was bundled up in a cloak and shawl- I wasn’t and am not.”

It was a warm day, in summer. She’d worn a gown with cap-sleeves that the Royal Tailor had recently delivered, with intricate embroidery in an art style belonging to her homeland around the hemline, bodice, and sleeves. It was scarlet and purple and gold, and she had liked it, even loved it, but now she did not think she’d ever wear it again.

Not to mention, she was no beauty, but at least the jewels and crown distracted from the ugliness of her face.

“Y/N/n, you aren’t-”

“Oh, please. You have seen me naked enough times to know I speak the truth!”

He had seen, felt, touched the pudginess of her stomach, the curvy rolls around her sides. He’d gripped her thick thighs, he’d kissed them, and he’d slid his fingers over the dark-red stretch-marks that were present all over her body- her flabby arms, her fat thighs, her plump sides.

She squeezed her eyes shut, “I hate feeling like this. I know my weight does not equal my worth, I know it doesn’t matter that I’m ugly, and I know getting so upset is utterly stupid, but I cannot help it.”

She had felt insecure about her body for as long as she could remember. Even as a child, as one with little care for anything but her playthings, she remembered how she’d been upset when a pretty outfit gifted to her did not fit her, or when she’d preferred to wear something oversized to conceal her heaviness. Granted, no healer had ever said she, then the Princess, was overweight, simply that she was healthy and stout- but when compared to the slender, picturesque folk around her, she had felt and still felt like an elephant in silk.

“How could you not want someone thin- someone beautiful? Someone- someone who’s not me.”

Edmund felt rather at a loss. He always knew what to say, how to take charge of a conversation, how to keep the other person calm- but he felt utterly speechless in the moment. His oft-praised silver-tongue had all but disappeared.

But he knew one thing- he did not agree with his wife.

“My darling.” He lay down beside her as well, and pulled her to him, nestled in his arms. He felt a soft breath of comfort escape her lips, and he was glad. “You say you were attracted to me the moment we met?”

Y/N nodded, hiding her face in his chest, “Even more so when I heard your accent.”

He held back a laugh, and went on, “And you know how I felt when I saw you?”

She shook her head, her Y/H/C hair falling over his blue-and-grey tunic, and Edmund berated himself for never telling her this before.

“I was mesmerised.” He said softly, so softly that Y/N had to look up, her Y/E/C eyes wide. “I would say enchanted, for that would be very true, but you know I have a rather difficult past with enchantments, so let’s stick to mesmerised. I could not take my eyes off you.”

Y/N muttered something that was probably ‘because of the corset’, but her cheeks were on fire.

Admittedly, his wife’s breasts had been rather pushed up and obvious because of the corset she’d worn under her outfit during their first meeting- and, yes, Edmund had not been able to stop himself from blatantly staring for a few seconds- but he was not speaking of that.

“You were rolling your eyes as you were formally announced-”

Almost predictably, she rolled her eyes again, and her husband did laugh softly this time.

“And I remember you were holding onto your own arm, as if comforting yourself, as if reminding yourself to be strong.” He spoke, dipping his head to press a kiss to her forehead. “Just by those two actions, you had my respect and my admiration, and then your beauty had my enthrallment as well.”

“Edmund...”

“You may not be what utterly vapid folk all over the world consider to the epitome of beauty,” which he absolutely did not, “but that did not stop me from thinking you to be the goddess of my dreams.”

She pressed her body closer to his, almost instinctively, as if her very skin wanted to be nearer to him.

“A thought I still have every single day.”

Emotion sparkled in her eyes.

“Really?”

And she still doubted him. Of course.

“Yes.”

“Even though I’m fat, and lumbering, and don’t even get me started on my nose-”

He wanted to throw a pillow at her, but restrained himself to saying, “Would you do me a favour?”

“I would die and kill for you, Edmund.” Y/N gave her husband a fond look. After what he had just said- oh, she had not thought she could have loved him any more than she already had, but she did! So, so much. She wanted to kiss him already. “Yes, of course, what is it?”

Edmund’s lips curved, “Could I undress you?”

Well, she would never be saying no to that.

She nodded, far too excited yet far beyond caring about seeming pathetic- and, soon enough, Edmund’s clever fingers were undoing laces and pulling down fabric and ghosting over her bare skin.

Once she was naked, Y/N reached for her husband, to make the situation equal, but he took her hands in his instead, before she could grip and tear at his tunic.

“What?” She asked impatiently. She wasn’t insecure in front of him anymore, she hadn’t been in years, not since the first time they had made love. All she thought when she was nude around him, was that she wanted him to be that way as well. “Let me undress you already, so we can-”

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, his freckled cheeks blushing. His wife cocked her head at him, and he elaborated, “I want you to know something- see something.”

Her eyes narrowed, “If you’re going to stand me in front of the mirror to look at my bare body, I will get my sword right now and tear your limbs instead of your clothes.”

Edmund’s intentions may be noble, but there was nothing Y/N hated the sight of more than her ungainly figure in the mirror.

Except vegetable mash. Ugh.

Ah, how delightfully murderous his darling wife was. Her country and his own was lucky to have her.

“No, no.” And he lay Y/N down on their bed, her hands clasped under her breasts, and she was giving him with a quizzical look the entire time.

He climbed carefully on top of her, half-covering her body with his, and pretended he didn’t notice Y/N rolling her hips against a part of his body that was extremely fond of his wife and extremely susceptible to her- to her everything.

“I want you to know exactly how I see you- and, hopefully, one day, via you gaining some sense or via osmosis or whatever, you’ll see it, too.”

What was osmosis?

Y/N was about to ask, but her words and her breath was stolen when she felt Edmund’s kisses on the space between her breasts.

But his hands were not on her breasts, as she’d hoped- they were on her plump upper arms, and he was speaking in a whisper to the hollow of her throat, “I see these as strength. I see these as proof that you are the most skilled swordsperson I know, the strongest person I know.”

His hands wandered down her arms to the pudgy rolls of her stomach, and Y/N squirmed. She could not help but think she was glad she had missed breakfast and had yet to have lunch, otherwise she’d be even fatter.

But Edmund was not thinking about her diet, he was speaking, still in that soft, reverential tone, “You call these pudgy, you think this is fat? Even if it is, I don’t care. Because I see this as you being healthy, as a sign that you will be with me for a long, long time, that you won’t be snatched away from me by cruel disease or anything like that.”

“Never.” Y/N vowed breathlessly- she would never leave him, she would fight time itself if necessary. “We’ll always be together.”

His response was a kiss to her throat, and his hands finally reached her breasts.

She wanted to close her eyes, to revel in his touch and know no other senses- but he was looking at her, his dark twinkling eyes never wavering from her face, and she could not look away.

He squeezed them, fingers glancing over her hard nipples, and said, “Want to know what I think of these?”

Y/N could only nod, too eager and too wanton and too in love.

“Fucking sexy.”

And his mouth met hers, finally, finally, finally.

It was a passionate kiss, for there had not been a single day in their lives together they had not desired each other- but as much as there was lust, there was love. As they kissed, Edmund’s heart was soothed because Y/N’s lips were warm on his- and Y/N’s soul was comforted, because Edmund’s mouth was steady against hers. His hand grazed against her breast again, and she slid her tongue inside his mouth, and they both drew even closer together in their embrace.

One of Y/N’s hands slipped inside Edmund breeches, inside his boxers, and wrapped itself around him. Edmund gasped into his wife’s mouth as he felt her touch, and Y/N’s hips rolled against his, her hands already stroking her husband’s cock.

But all too soon, Edmund pulled away, panting.

“Too daring, darling.” He said, as breathless as she’d been minutes ago. “I was trying to make a point, not-”

“Make love?” Y/N asked, her brows raised. She was sopping, needy, and she didn’t think she’d ever loved him more. Please, please, please could he take off his clothes already? “If there is a vote between the two, husband, I will be voting the latter, just for your information.”

“Noted,” Edmund kissed her shoulder, “but I am not done.”

He drew away from her, and Y/N groaned. Sitting up between her parted legs, Edmund took a moment to look down at his wife. At the expanse of her soft skin, occasionally marked with a mole or pimple or scar. At the curves that had made her ravishing to him the first time he’d seen her, and which had continued to only grow in loveliness over the years. At the valley between her legs, at the dips in her sides as her hips flared out.

Y/N was curves and dips and valleys, and he could not help but be glad she was not thin as a lamp-post, and Edmund thought of how- to him- her body was perfect to kiss and hold and caress and love.

He smiled suddenly, “You know, sometimes when I can’t sleep, I look at you, and I try to decide which is my favourite curve on your body.”

She blinked very rapidly. That was far more romantic than counting sheep- or dragons, as she preferred.

Sometimes, in her most lovelorn moments, she would count Edmund’s freckles. She usually got too distracted by them to actually sleep, though.

“Have you- have you ever made a decision?”

Edmund shook his head, his unruly bangs falling into his eyes.

“Sometimes I think it’s this.” He ran her hand down the bend of her right side, “sometimes this-” he gripped her left thigh just above where it met her knee, “and sometimes- often, actually- your tits.”

Y/N giggled.

Edmund bent his head low then, still holding her thighs. He peppered kisses to the stretch marks painted over her thighs and her waist, and felt a tight, hot coiling inside the pit of his stomach as Y/N trembled in pleasure underneath him.

“What do those tell you?” Y/N asked, her voice a murmur. She wrapped her legs around him, locking him in place. If she could keep him here forever, she would. She felt so content, so calm in his arms- apart from the raging want to fuck him. “My stretch-marks?”

“You’re marked by the Heavens.” His voice caught, almost, and he almost shivered at the intensity of her eyes. “They resemble lightning strikes, you know? And lightning, like storms, like the rain, comes from the Heavens.”

Hm. She’d compared her stretch marks to dead worms before, because they were roughly the same shade, but beautiful rain, which covered the earth with an even more beautiful smell whenever it fell?

“How am I supposed to keep thinking of myself as ugly, if you keep saying things like that?”

It was not quite a victory, but it was close enough.

“Exactly. You’re not supposed to think of yourself as that, because you’re as far from that as I can imagine.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and seemed to grow. They had made love so many times in- in so many ways, so many places- but she was certain that this was the most intimate moment they had ever shared.

“You can’t just kiss away all of my insecurities.” She spoke with a small laugh, as Edmund lifted his head up to gaze at her. She really wished he could, but neither of them could wholly and fully heal the pain inside each other. “Try as you might, it’s not possible.”

“Well, I’ll still keep trying.” He shrugged, and pressed a very light kiss to her clit, which made Y/N moan out loud. He would absolutely have to lavish more attention there, he decided firmly, he was as amorous as she was. “I love you. I love you, and you are the love of my life, Y/N/n, and you are beautiful.”

She pulled him down next to her again, and she nestled herself closer to him. Edmund’s arms encircled her, and she was glad to be the little spoon. She was usually very glad to be the big spoon, holding her husband in her arms, but she loved this position very much, too.

Y/N didn’t think of herself as truly beautiful, and perhaps never would; Y/N did not think of her being plump in a positive light, and perhaps never would- but in this moment, and many other moments after this, Y/N would look down at herself, and she would not recoil, she would not grimace, she would only remember her husband’s words, and she would remember her strength and her bravery and the fact that she was alive, and she would no longer be cruel to her own self.

In this moment, and in many other moments after this, there was peace- in her mind as well as his, and in their hearts and souls, which perhaps were as joined together as the Moon and the stars.

Until there came knocks on the door minutes later, and Y/N all but shoved Edmund to open it. He gave her a look, but could do nothing more- she was naked, after all, she couldn’t open the door. Drat, he really didn’t want to get up.

Regardless, he kissed her nose, which scrunched up in the most adorable manner, and got out of bed.

Ah, the struggles of Kingship.

“I’m sorry to disturb, Your Majesty, but Queen Susan asked to inform you and Queen Y/N that lunch has been laid.”

“Oh, thank you very much,” Edmund said, after a glance back at his wife, who was smiling lazily at him over the tops of her breasts. He felt a blush coming on again. “But my Queen-wife and I are both feeling a bit under the weather, and I was about to request someone to bring our meal up to our chambers. Perhaps after half an hour?”

The faun bowed, “I shall have that be done, Your Majesty, thank you very much. My well-wishes for you and Her Majesty Y/N to soon feel better.”

Edmund nodded his head at him, a gracious smile on his face- and once the faun had departed, he closed the door and returned to the bed.

He snuggled close to his wife, who wrapped her arms around him. He felt perfectly, incandescently warm, and spoke into her shoulder, “I figured you would not want to face the world again today.”

She kissed his hair, saying, “You assume right, but what about you?”

“Oh, I prefer you to the world, by leaps and bounds.”

“I love you, husband.” Y/N said simply, and he pressed a short, chaste, yet endlessly loving kiss to her lips. “Anyway, now will you take off your clothes?”

Edmund matched her smirk with his, “How about you take them off for me, Y/N/n?”

Not another insecurity was thought of again that day, and the faun had to return with their meals four times before the King and Queen finally opened the door.

--

[saltwaterburns]

giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair while being 3 hours into peter pevensie edits

[tending-the-hearth]

edmund absolutely adored snowy weather. waking up to snow on the ground was his dream come true, and he rarely waited long enough to be bundled up before rushing outside and leaping into the fluffy, cold snow. it was his favorite weather, and that was one trait about him that always made his mother and father laugh.

but upon the pevensie's return home, their mother notices the shift in edmund.

one evening, as it gets closer to christmas, she notices the snowfall outside, and smiles, calling to edmund, announcing the snow with the expectation that he'll rush to the glass, press his nose up against it, and ask delightedly if they can go sledding in the morning.

instead of the joyful shine in her youngest son's eyes, however, she sees nothing but horror as he abandons his chess game with susan in favor of scrambling backwards, getting as far away from the window as possible, curling up into the tiniest ball, his face pressed into his knees.

she's left at a loss for words, and reaches out for him, but she's too slow compared to his siblings. immediately, lucy's at her brother's side, crouching in front of him and holding his hands tightly as she whispers soft things in a nonsensical language. peter's grabbing the warmest blanket from the couch, and sitting beside edmund, wrapping it around his shoulders and tucking his brother against his side. susan's returning from the kitchen where she had rushed off to as soon as her mother announced the snow, a steaming mug of tea (not hot chocolate, never hot chocolate. the taste makes edmund want to vomit, memories of cold touches burning his skin, and tempting whispers of power in his ears) held tightly in her hands before it's passed off to edmund.

their mother can only watch as edmund shakes, eyes firmly fixed on lucy's face as she holds his hands with a smile, as peter begins speaking softly, a whispered story only for his siblings' ears, as susan gently runs her fingers (warm and firm, never cold and frail like the ones that haunt edmund's dreams) through his hair.

edmund doesn't love snow anymore.

[lightwing-s]

𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

pairing: peter pevensie x female! reader

requested: yes. summary: war times are complicated and feelings tent to get overwhelming. when jealousy hits peter, he doesn't know what to do, you don't know what to make of it, and you two end up... "confessing".

word count: 1,3k warnings: light swearing, battle themes, anxiousness

a/n: it was supposed to be a short blurb but i got excited.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

⌜masterlist⌟ ⌜requests: open⌟

Hordes of narnians worked frantically on preparing weapons, armors and other supplies for the incoming battle against the telmarines. The sounds of metal hitting metal flooding the hollowed tunnels of Aslam’s How, giving Peter the eerie and anxious feeling he was growing unused to while in England, the one he always felt before a fight.

He had been looking for you, wanting to talk about battle plans, contingencies, numbers. Or just talk about anything at all. He needed to clear his mind, especially after what had just happened with Jadis and Caspian, after the failed battle at the telmarine’s castle and the growing tensions of a war. 

Truth is, he didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t think he could win it this time, not in the state their army was, shrunken and weakened. Not without Aslam.

He needed to find you, talk to you. He needed you to tell him it would all be alright and you’d win this battle no matter what, like his mother did to soothe him down. Like you once used to back in your first time in Narnia.

“Have you seen Lady Yn?” He interrupted a faun’s work to question about your whereabouts, not managing to find you anywhere.

“I believe I saw her with Prince Caspian, your majesty.” the faun replied after standing from a bow.

With Caspian. Yet again.

You’d seemed to spend an awful amount of time with him lately, something Peter hadn’t imagined would piss him off so greatly as it did. Every time he’d come looking for you, or every time he spotted you around, somehow, Caspian would be by your side. Sometimes sharing laughs, others with your arms interlaced. It drove him furious.

He didn’t understand why you had to be around him so much. He wasn’t hurt or in need of help, he wasn’t your friend like he was. What was it you two talked about so much? And why was it that it drove him so insane to just think about?

Asking for instructions on where he’d last seen the two of you, Peter lets the faun return to his work, not managing to hide his unsatisfied look before heading out in your direction. Torch in hand, he followed through the empty and darkened tunnels until he found you and the prince sitting by the Stone Table, deep in conversation, so much so that you didn’t notice his presence at all.

He stood there, watching you two chat. Caspian’s arms moved everywhere in front of him while he explained something that had your eyes glued on him, an amused smile creeping to show up on your face.

His blood boiled. His face reddened, and it’s muscles curved into a frown. Spinning on his heels, he returned to where he came from. It wasn’t until you heard his heavy footsteps walking back into the tunnels that you noticed him, the torch fire reflecting on the walls and disappearing along with him.

Excusing yourself, you screamed his name and rushed after him, not understanding what was going on at all. The quick glimpse you had of his face showed you a displeased frown, leaving you worried something might have happened while you and Caspian discussed battle plans.

“Peter, wait!” you screamed after him, almost begging him to stop and talk to you. “What happened?”

“What happened?” he suddenly stopped and turned on his heel to face you. “Nothing happened, Yn.”

His anger ridden voice only confused you more, your head bobbing to the side to stare at him in deep thought. “Then why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” he argued. “It’s just that we’re preparing for a battle and you’re just hanging out with Caspian and…”

“That’s what this is about then?” you cut him mid sentence. “Me spending time with Caspian?”

“It’s not about you spending time with Caspian.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Then what is it?”

“It's not… I-it’s…” he failed to come up with an explanation, opening and closing his mouth several times. “I’m just worried for my family’s and your safety, thinking of countless plans on how to keep everyone safe while you two are just chatting away.”

“Outrageous!” you exclaimed. “Peter, if me and Caspian are spending any time together is with this fucking battle in mind because you’re so damn stuck in your own head that you won’t listen to anybody!”

“I fucking always listen to you.!” he stated in return, moving forward towards you but you didn’t even flinch..

“Yes, but what about Caspian? Your own brother? They all care about this too, they all want to bring the Narnians to safety, not risk their lives again.”

“You know it wasn’t my fault.” he defended himself, clearly getting what you were hinting on.

“I know!” it was your turn to approach him. “I know you never intended to lose them like that, I was there with you remember, I saw it in your eyes.”

You could've sworn you felt a single tear escaping from your eye, but you weren’t sure and either way, you weren’t too attentive to it to care. “But you’re too stuck in your own head, too worried if you can or not do it to listen to people that actually believe and want to help you. And what was it with the White Witch?! What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.” he let out quietly, you barely managed to hear. The space between you a mere inconvenience now, as you both neared each other as words spilled out of your mouths.

“And if you think that I don’t care about your safety too, you’re so wrong because I worry about it day and night. I can barely sleep thinking about your safety and if we’re going to make it out alive, because I know how impulsive and stubborn you can be, Peter, and I can’t even fathom the thought of losing you to Miraz a-and…”

Cupping your face in his larger hands, Peter ended the last bit of space between you by pulling you forward into a kiss.

At first, you didn’t know how to react, how to respond to it, simply staying put and letting his lips touch yours, too surprised by an action you’d never expected from Peter. Your Peter, the stubborn and annoying Peter that made you lose your mind constantly with crazy battle plans and insufferable jokes, now making you lose it with his lips in yours.

His warm breath hitting your cheeks and the soft caress of his thumb on your skin melting you into his embrace, returning the kiss with careful and passionate movements. Your hands tugged on his shirt bringing him, if possible, even closer.

Growing needier, hotter, more desperate, you continue your kiss without breaking for air. His lips dancing above yours, your breathing getting shorter and your chest speeding away. You felt the tip of his tongue sliding inside your mouth, touching yours in a sensation you’d never once felt before, but that you now felt desperately hungry for.

And just when you were about to return the action, stumbling steps and rolling stones broke you apart from each other.

“I-I…” Caspian tried to muster, sliding his back against the painted walls of the tunnels, feet rushing away from you two. “... Just need, erm, to be somewhere.”

Peter had pulled you closer, hiding you in his chest like a protector of your virtue, and you laid your face in it, smelling his strong and woody scent emanating from his skin. His hand rested carefully on your waist now, as he watched Caspian disappear into the shadows over his own shoulder.

“He really admires you.” you called back his attention, wrapping your arms around his torso in a comfortable embrace. “You should listen to his ideas.”

“I know,” he simply replied. “I will.”

And like that you stood for a few more minutes. Wrapped around each other, lullying to the sound of each other’s breaths. A brief moment of quiet, peace and solitude in the chaos that was battle prep.

A moment for you two, that Peter prayed with all his heart wouldn’t be the last.

[phsychobanana]

A Memorable Goodbye

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

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

Word Count: 983

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter nods, not having thought of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Queen?"

"You are my wife, no?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aslan's voice brings the two from their conversation.

"It is time you leave, children."

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

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

"You missed."

"Huh?"

"You missed."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then Lucy goes, smiling at everyone before leaving.

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

Edmund Pevensie.

[sweetpandorabox]

Peter Pevensie as a Boyfriend ⚔️🛡️

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨sweetpandorabox୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…⋙

Warnings ⚠️: Slight mentioned of sexual themes and some spicy stuff.

Dating this incredibly attractive, loyal protector and brave older Pevensie sibling could include:

👑👱🏻‍♂️🏰

He's really protective of you and often expresses how much he loves and cares for you, so much so that if anyone even tries to come close to hurting you by words or physically he won't hesitate to eliminate them.

He's quite a gentleman and believes that he has to take care of all the ladies in his life including his Mother, Susan, Lucy, and especially you. He would offer his arm when the two of you are waking together, he would bow to you when he greets you and he never lets you carry anything, Peter has that timeless chivalry personality about him.

Sword fighting lessons with him only for it to turn into an extremally spicy make-out session after, because of the build-up of sexual tension over time and the fact that he always wins with him pinning you down on the floor without even trying.

You are the only one that can calm him down after he blows up after fighting with his sibling or is stressing out about ruling Narnia.

He would see you falling asleep nearby the entrance of the castle waiting for him to return from a patrol ride around Narnia which he finds to be the most precious thing, then he'll pick you up in his arm and carry you to sleep in his bedroom and not your own one.

He calls you cute nicknames like Darling, Pretty, Lovely, or Princess.

Likes when you call him Pete, Darling, Sugar, or Your Highness (He likes when you call him that because it sounds so seductive coming from your mouth).

His love language is probably Acts of Services, sure he loves a good PDA once in a while and all the things you both did together as a date, but he's a natural server and protector. He shows his love by protecting you, making sure you're fed well and healthy, or the little things like helping you take off your gown, brushing your hair for you, or helping bathe you.

Ask for your input before making a big decision because he trusts you and relies on you for support especially if he has to debate it with his siblings first.

Horseback riding around the beach in Cair Paravel to watch the sunset, but the both of you would ride and share one horse with you sitting and wrapping your arm around his torso, while he leads the horse.

Whenever he sees you doing something and looks about busy he comes up behind you, and turns you to face him by spinning you around by the waist before caressing your cheek softly and then pulling you into a sweet yet passionate kiss.

He requests you specifically when he's hurt/injured after a battle or some tough fight training days to take care of him, like cleaning his wounds, being there to kiss him, holding his hand to lessen the pain, or performing some oral sex on him if he's in the mood (😏) instead of choosing his other loyal servants.

The two of you are always smiling around each other before it erupts into a fit of laughter out of nowhere ending up with you and Pete on the floor dying.

Lucy and Edmund would catch the both of you kissing or showing PDA somewhere then they'd look at each other and get grossed out saying "Eww" or "Get a room you two, there's a billion inside this castle", then you and Pete would somehow share the same mindset and start teasing them by kissing even more, or exaggerating the PDA until both Lucy and Edmund can't take anymore and run off, giving you and Pete a good laugh after.

When it comes to sex he's very gentle with you making sure to put you first before himself, despite how much you drive him crazy with lust because of how attractive you are to him, so it's mostly slow, passionate sex but he does love giving you a good hickey mark all over your neck and chest area or when you give him a bit of ear play to get him turned on.

He's actually quite funny intentionally most of the time and can be quite sassy as well which you find hilarious especially when he's annoyed, hungry, or frustrated.

Let's you wear and steal his white long-sleeve tunic for bed instead of proper pajamas because it looks adorable on you and fits slightly larger.

He falls for your cute puppy eyes every time, even if he says no multiple times or refuses your request at this moment it always works and he always says "Oh come on don't do this to me Darling" but then you'd plead and he would sigh before smiling and boom he says yes.

He never goes to sleep without solving a fight and he wouldn't let you sleep either until the both of you have a makeup kiss.

He doesn't seem to be the jealous type on the inside because he hides it so well from you, but when he sees someone staring at you for more than 5 seconds he rolls his eyes and kisses you out of nowhere.

Taglist:

@igncrantbliss @milivanili99 @thatdummy-girl @nighttimemoonlover

[luunaz]

Kissing with Pevensie (Peter and Edmund) + Caspian

pairing: Peter Pevensie x reader, Edmund Pevensie x reader, Caspian x reader

type: fluff 🌸

Masterlist

Peter

At first, his kisses are very careful and caring. Despite the fact that Peter is very passionate, he primarily thinks about your comfort. As soon as he feels that you reciprocate, he will definitely deepen the kiss and show how much he is in love with you. His kisses always cloud your mind, they make you dizzy. Peter prefers to kiss you when you're alone so that no one bothers you.

Edmund

His kisses are very domineering. He likes to leave quick kisses on your lips. Watching your embarrassed reaction, he always grins. Edmund always holds you very tightly and hugs you to him. He looks down at you and then kisses you. He also likes naughty kisses, when he can run his tongue over your lips or leave a quick peck on your nose after a passionate kiss. Edmund likes to kiss you in front of everyone, showing that he is the only one here who can make you feel butterflies in your stomach.

Caspian

His kisses are very gentle and sometimes uncertain. There is love and care in his every movement. Your eyes meet, he puts his arm around your waist and slowly approaches you for a kiss. You feel his smile on your lips, and you smile involuntarily. Caspian likes to hold your hands and kiss you on the forehead. It's like a way for him to show you that he's ready to protect you from everything.

[softguarnere]

Memories Feel Like Weapons

Edmund Pevensie x gn!reader

Summary: “People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.” A/N: What's up, y'all?! It's been freezing these past few days and I hate it! 🥴 So this is for all you other lovelies who are currently being plagued by SAD 🫶🏽 Also, in case it's not clear in the fic, for the purposes of the story, we're just gonna assume that reader's parents also sent them off to the country during the war to stay with the professor, that they met the Pevensie's there, and went to Narnia with them. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! ❤️ Warnings: Edmund has SAD but it's Narnia so it's never actually called that, the author is (once again) overusing commas

As interesting and as magical a place as Narnia is, you’re willing to admit that diplomatic negotiations are something that usually bore you to tears.

You try to take an interest, you really do, for Edmund’s sake. Political wheeling and dealing is his bread and butter. You’re not particularly adept at it yourself. Edmund has tried to explain the finer points to you many times, but it’s not something that you can wrap your head around. But maybe that’s just because you get too distracted thinking about how good looking your tutor is. Sometimes you raise a question or a particular point that you know he’ll jump to answer just to see how passionately he talks about his favorite subject. As far as you know, he hasn’t caught on yet.

Today proves to be different, though.

A chill in the air greets you when you awake. A crackling sound from the corner tells you that a servant has crept in at some point and started a fire in the hearth to stave off the cold. Blinking to adjust your eyes to the light, you’re greeted by the type of cold, white sunlight that announces a wintery morning and the season’s signature magical touch that often appears overnight – snow.

You leap out of bed, gasping when your feet kiss the cold floor. Hurrying to put on slippers, you wrap yourself in a fluffy robe and hurry to the door.

Edmund hates the winter. He hates the snow even more. No one can blame him for that. But you’re the only person he’s confessed this to.

Sure, his siblings might suspect as much. Those first few years in Narnia, no one dared suggest that they play in the snow whenever it arrived, for fear of what it might imply, and for fear of inadvertently upsetting the youngest Pevensie brother. After a few more years, he would find excuses to be tucked away in his library on snowy days, and no one would breathe a word of the fun they had without him while he was around. A delicate subject and a fine dance around it, to say the least.

It was only last winter that Edmund confided in you, and only because you had recently become a couple. He said the winter was hard enough on its own, but the snow brought back too many bad memories, ushered in nightmares so vivid that he sometimes woke up questioning what was real and what wasn’t.

This is going to be a rough day for him, to say the least. Which puts a damper on the mood, since ambassadors from a nearby kingdom are arriving to negotiate trade – something he was so looking forward to.

“Edmund?” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet library, and the echo makes you flinch slightly at the loudness of your own voice, at the desperate quality it holds.

Stepping further inside the room, you listen, and tune into the crackling of the fireplace along the far wall. You follow it until you can see the chairs in front of it, and in one of them, Edmund, slumped over a large tome, asleep.

He’ll have a crick in his neck from sleeping that way, you think. If you hadn’t known why he was here, finding him in his favorite place like this would be sweet. It still tugs on your heartstrings, yes, but in a different, heavier way.

“Edmund?” You gently shake his shoulder before stepping back.

The Just King startles awake, his book slipping out of his lap. His eyes are wide and wild as they flick across the room, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. Finally, they land on you and soften. “(Y/N)?”

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light, casual. “If you say that your neck doesn't hurt after sleeping like that, then you’re a liar.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The painful popping noises that echo from his spine say otherwise, but you let it go. Slowly, he rises, stretches, and then takes a step closer to you and plants a kiss on your forehead. He sighs through his nose. “Today is the day.”

You slip your hand into his, intwine your fingers. “How are you feeling?”

Edmund shrugs. His relationship with his siblings has improved leaps and bounds in all the years that they’ve spent in Narnia, but sometimes he still hesitates to show certain emotions around them, to express himself the way he should. Sometimes it’s easier when it’s just the two of you in a space like this where he’s comfortable.

“I’ll manage.”

“If you’re not feeling up to it – “

He squeezes your hand. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a day that I have to get through.”

“Spring will come again,” you assure him, using the mantra that you often whispered to comfort him through last year’s winter season.

“And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts,” he finishes. He attempts a smile, but it looks more strained than usual. “Don’t worry, darling. Everything will be fine.”

. . .

It is almost immediately not fine.

The ambassadors arrive in all their splendor. Fine fabrics and shimmering jewels assure that no one can take their eyes off them as they enter the hall and approach the five thrones. They bow to Peter in the center, to Susan and Lucy on his left, then to you and Edmund on his right. Servants carry golden trunks behind them. They have come to these diplomatic negotiations bearing gifts in the most literal sense.

Though you will all retire to a separate chamber for the actual negotiations, the gift giving is a public affair for the whole court to witness. And because it’s so formal, it’s rather slow.

Strong weapons forged of foreign metals are gifted, followed by clothes of their country’s latest fashions, and small samplings of food for each of you, a different dish for you each to try based on what the ambassadors have heard about you.

Thank goodness you’re a good actress, because the ambassadors seem to think that you really do seem excited to try the food in the bejeweled silver container that they gift to you. In reality, you’re trying your hardest not to grimace at the unfamiliar looking treats inside of it, and trying hard not to become preoccupied wondering if the taste will be as . . . unique as the smell that emits from them.

“And finally, for King Edmund,” one of the ambassadors says with a bow before presenting a silver container to Edmund with a flourish. “I have heard a rumor that you are quite fond of these.”

Thankful for a distraction from the gift in your own hands, you turn your attention to Edmund. Sitting beside him, you are in full view of the show that his siblings are not. You can see the rosy color, the powdered sugar. The Just King’s smile immediately falters. Strong hands clamp the container shut before anyone else has the chance to see what’s inside – Turkish Delight.

For a moment there is nothing but silence, the labored sound of Edmund drawing a breath. It goes on just long enough that his siblings glance at him. Only then does Edmund seem capable of forcing himself to smile, to nod, to thank the ambassador for such a thoughtful gift. If his siblings sense that something might be wrong, they don’t even know the half of it.

Because what has just happened, really? Is this a slight on behalf of the other country’s rulers? Or do they genuinely have no clue the implications of their actions?

As the exchanging of the gifts comes to a close, Edmund coughs into his fist, clears his throat. Does it again. He thumps the flat of his palm against his chest.

Peter turns to him. “Are you alright?”

“I think I just require a bit of fresh air, if you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Edmund replies. He says it far too quickly, and he uses the excuse to dismiss himself from the hall. The silver container that holds the Turkish Delight has been abandoned, left behind on his throne.

It takes everything in you not to race after him, to follow him, to make sure that he’s okay. Instead, you’re stuck helplessly glancing between the doorway that he’s disappeared through and the ambassadors who won’t seem to shut up.

Finally, the niceties end. The other king and queens of Narnia begin to migrate into a separate chamber with the ambassadors to begin the negotiations.

Quickly, quietly, you catch Lucy by the sleeve of her dress and lean in close to her ear. “I’ve got to go find Edmund,” you whisper. “I’m worried about him.”

Lucy’s eyes go wide, but she holds her composure under the watchful eyes of the court and the visiting representatives. “I’ll cover for you,” she whispers back.

As one of the five Narnian monarchs, you don’t technically need anyone’s permission to leave – except maybe Peter’s, since he’s the High King. Still, you’re the only one who’s not a Pevensie sibling, which can sometimes be a little isolating. Knowing that Lucy has your back boosts your confidence as you slip away, heading for the nearest place that you think Edmund might have disappeared to.

A quick search reveals that he’s not in the library. Or the armory, or any of his usual haunts. As a last resort, you duck into his bedroom, and it’s there that you find him, standing before the hearth, staring into the flames. His hand holds the place on his side where the White Witch stabbed him on the battlefield, though the gesture seems absentminded.

“Ed?” You make your voice soft so as not to startle him.

He looks up, eyes wide, surprised anyway – and hurt.

You don’t waste time asking if he’s okay. Instead, you cross the room to meet him in front of the fire. “Oh, Edmund.”

He doesn’t bother lying and saying that he’s fine. That’s how you know it’s bad. When Edmund Pevensie goes quiet, retreats within himself, it means that he’s truly wounded. This is something deep inside of him that aches, that rots.

Not knowing what to do, you take a seat on the rug in front of the hearth. You’re careful not to touch him, trying to offer him the space if he needs it. But he follows your lead and takes a seat, too, which seems like a good sign.

For a while, neither of you speaks. You just sit near each other, staring into the fire. Edmund looks very numb when he finally says, “I didn’t mean to leave like that. I just . . . panicked.”

“No one blames you.”

“Seeing that stupid Turkish Delight – “ He shudders. “I can’t figure out if it was a poor choice given with good intentions, or if it was a slight on my honor, a reminder of what I did.” He frowns. “I suppose to some people I’ll never be Edmund the Just – I’ll only ever be just Edmund, The Traitor.”

“No,” you protest. Space be damned; you grab his hand in yours and squeeze it, like that gesture can also grab his attention, infuse the meaning of what you’re about to say to him so that he cannot ignore it. “Edmund, you’ve changed. You’re not a traitor.”

“Anymore.”

“People forget that I was there, too,” you remind him. “I tried to follow you to Jadis’ castle.”

“That was different. You were trying to stop me from betraying my family.” His brow furrows at the memory. “So I shoved you into a snowbank and ran off without you. And then you went back to Beaver’s the help the others. (Y/N) the Loyal,” he employs the epithet that Aslan gave you, but you can’t be sure why. Because of what you did then? Because you’re here with him now?

“People can be different. They can change. You’ve changed.” Gently, you use your pointer finger to hook his chin and turn his face towards you, making him look you in the eye. “You’re a good king, Edmund, and an even better man. A good brother. A good boyfriend. Everyone has forgiven you for what you did as a child.”

Edmund shakes his head. “But they haven’t forgotten. And I can’t, either, if I’m being honest.” He doesn’t meet your eye when he confesses, “It haunts me, the memories. Every winter.”

“No. But you can do something else.” You pause to make sure that you have his full attention when you make your suggestion. “You can forgive yourself.”

Edmund blinks. As smart as he is, it seems like the thought has never occurred to him before now.

“It doesn’t have to be now,” you assure him. “It’s not an instantaneous thing. Just . . . something to work on. A project. An ongoing one.”

Silence falls between you again as he turns back to the fire. It takes a few moments before he nods, the light shining off his dark hair and his crown.

“I’ll work on it,” he says, resolved. He turns back to you, and when he speaks again, his voice is so unsure, so timid, that you have the sudden urge to hold onto him with one arm and use your other to draw your sword and fend off anything or anyone in the world who might come near and cause him harm. “Can you help me do it?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Thank you,” he clears his throat, shakes his head. “I’m going to need more than my own forgiveness for being late to these negotiations.” He makes no move to get up. His gaze wanders across the room, as if seeing it for the first time, before landing on the window and studying the portal to the frozen, white world beyond it.

“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it.” Then, trying to lighten the mood, you bump your shoulder against his. “I’m sure Susan and Lucy ganging up on the ambassadors will give them a run for their money.”

Edmund chuckles, settles back on the rug. “Good, because I honestly don’t think I can look into the eye of a person who tried to give me Turkish Delight without hitting him over the head with my sword.”

Even though you’re in a relationship, it’s maybe the most vulnerable that Edmund has ever been with you. He places his head in your lap and stares into the hearth as you card your hands through his dark locks.

“Spring is coming soon,” he mutters, his voice heavy with the sleep that’s trying to catch up with him. “Maybe then I can start over . . . Would be nice to not have to worry about freaking out over a bad gift and embarrassing myself in front of the whole court.”

“Spring will come again,” you remind him, voice soft in case he’s already dropped off to sleep. “And we will greet it with open arms and grateful hearts.” Then, for good measure, you add a new line to aid you through your latest challenge. “And it will allow us to start over.”