#Susan Pevensie

[thepoetsmanuscript13]

A football team ― Peter Pevensie modern au

author’s note: hello everyone! a weird first post honestly but i was feeling it after talking about it with my friend sooo... :) a totally out of pocket au in which the pevensies are all alive and well and live in this century and peter is a married man 🤭 i don’t know how i feel about this thing, though, like i’m having mixed feelings about it, but if i don’t publish it now i’ll never do it lol

pairing: peter pevensie x female reader

summary: Peter Pevensie had started being sure of things the moment he met you by accident during his first year of university. You two didn’t even study the same degree, but you’d happened to see each other frequently in the same spot at the library, and when he finally dared to ask you out, years passed in the blink of an eye. Nowadays, you’re happy to call him your husband and the father of your children.

warnings: female reader, reader is pregnant, modern au in which everyone is happy and alive (lmao), peter pevensie is a teacher and a football (soccer) manager, plot’s not even a plot (lol), too many children, fluff, english isn’t my first language (i don't think i missed anything)

word count: 1869 words

requests are open, i write for many fandoms (maybe i can make a list of them idk)

You couldn’t help but love your chaotic family. It was the best thing that had happened to you, along with marrying Peter. Your life was a busy one, but it was also full of love. You saw it in the mornings, when your household became a place of madness and your four children ran around the hallways while they got ready for school. You saw it when you got in the car with them―of course, one of those big cars with too many seats because you wouldn’t fit in a regular one―and your husband drove for more than twenty minutes to some place, leading to fights and shouts and cries. You saw it at dinner, when the six of you sat at the table and ate whatever Peter had cooked and they all talked about their day, screamed over each other’s voices, and protested about not liking peas or broccoli or carrots. You saw it at night, when you and your husband fell into bed completely spent once the house was, finally, silent and all of them were sleeping.

You had a lot to celebrate with a family like that. People―mums from school―usually asked you how you managed. How you and Peter could take care of a family like that and still have time to love each other. Your answer was that you loved each other while you took care of your children.

And, of course, leaving the kids with their aunts or uncle or grandparents when you two wanted to have a weekend for yourselves also helped.

But, most of the time, it was you and Peter, and you were happy like that. It was a life that’d been made for you. Because, being honest, you’d never wanted to get married or have children. You’d always said those things weren’t for you. That you’d be the single, cool aunt type.

Until you met Peter during your first year of university. It changed everything you thought you were sure of, and you realised you simply hadn’t wanted that kind of life because, until then, you hadn’t met a person you’d like to have those things with. With him, everything changed. You saw yourself walking down the altar. You saw yourself building a home with him. You saw yourself thrilled because you two were waiting for a child. You saw yourself growing old with him by his side.

You’d never believed in the “right person” thing until you met him. Once you had, everything fell into place. And now you were at the peak of your happiness after discovering you were pregnant with your fifth child. Well― Fifth and sixth. Twins.

It had been an accident, really. Well, kind of an accident.

When you found out you were pregnant again, you and Peter had agreed that this was going to be the last one. Four children were already a significant number. You two were managing quite well with your numerous offspring, and a fifth was already going to be a challenge. But you knew your man. You knew him well enough to know that he somehow would manage to trick you one last time.

He indeed did when the doctor announced that you were carrying twins. You remember Peter’s mischievous grin. And your first reaction―slap his arm and call him a bastard. But you weren’t mad. It was going to be a challenge, but you could never reject what was the product of the love you and Peter had for each other.

You sometimes regretted your thoughts, though, during your eighth month of pregnancy. Some days you felt like giving up and staying in bed all day. Your back pain was killing you, and those two babies were definitely Peter’s, because they knew how to kick to make themselves known.

“You don’t have to come, my love,” Peter told you, and pressed a kiss to your hair.

You scoffed. “But I will,” you replied.

Your husband grinned and leaned to kiss your lips tenderly. His hand snaked down your body to settle on your round belly, and he smiled in the middle of the kiss. Your babies kicked in that exact moment, like they knew it was their father greeting them.

A long “ew” was heard from the kitchen’s doorway, and you two turned your heads to look at your second son, Samuel, who was already wearing his football kit. A grin appeared in your face and you gestured to him to come closer.

“You don’t like seeing dad kissing mum, Sam?” Peter asked him while ruffling his hair. The little boy put his hands on your knees and pressed his cheek to your baby bump.

“No!” Samuel answered. “It’s gross!”

“Oh, baby,” you laughed and stroked his blonde hair―you were still wondering how it was possible that all your children had inherited Peter’s golden hair―while he interacted with his unborn siblings. “It’s not gross. We do it because we love each other.”

“You don’t kiss me on the mouth but you love me,” he replied, thoughtful.

His father chuckled. “‘Course not, lad. Those kisses are just for partners,” he explained with a smile, amused by his son’s reasoning. He was a clever boy, they knew that much.

“Hmmm…” he mumbled, and narrowed his eyes in deep thought.

You couldn’t help a grin. Samuel was always asking questions and making up his own reasoning about why something was one way or another. Peter said he reminded him of his brother Edmund, who used to spend the time with his nose buried in books, but with his youngest sister Lucy’s character, who was definitely much more adorable and less… Well, less “Edmund”.

Peter kissed his son’s head and went upstairs to get the girls, who were probably still playing with the last Lego they’d been gifted. Legos were a must in your house. Legos everywhere. In the bedrooms, in the bathroom, in the back garden, in the living room. More than once you had stepped on one, and they hurt a lot. You always told them to gather the pieces and put them in their box, but your words were often ignored and forgotten. As a mother of four, you were used to it by now.

You heard giggles coming from the upper floor. Your husband was such a girl dad. He did what was necessary to put a smile in Audrey’s, Ruby’s, or Emma’s face. From letting them do his makeup―the amount of pictures you had with Peter’s face covered in red lipstick was infinite―to buying them a little foam sword and teaching them how to use it. You were scared they would take an eye out with those, but he was chill about it. He said that his girls needed to defend themselves from the bad guys. You thought one day they would end up punching someone for real with all the things he taught them.

Football, swimming, using a sword, makeup… He’d even tried to teach Audrey how to bake―no need to say it didn’t end up very well, and he spent a whole afternoon cleaning the counters and walls and floor. To this day, you hadn’t seen a mess like that one.

Some minutes later, Peter came back with three little monkeys clinging to him, the monkeys being your three daughters. Emma, the youngest of them, was in his right arm, while Ruby, the one in the middle, was in the left, and Audrey, the eldest―seven already, how time flew!―was hanging from his back.

You were going to die from a heart attack one day.

“Audrey! You’re going to make dad fall!” you said, standing from the chair while Sam held your hand.

“No, mum! I’m Spiderman!” she said, making her father grin. Since they had gone to the cinema to watch the last Spiderman film, Audrey had been pretending that she had superpowers. It’d been funny until she tried to start climbing the walls and you almost had a heart attack.

You shook your head.“Peter, do something,” you scolded your husband.

“Audrey, darling,” he immediately said, and you smiled―so obedient―, “I wouldn’t like your mum to get mad at me.” When his daughter opened her mouth to protest, he added, “And we’re going to be late to the match if we don’t hurry.”

“Yes, football!” Both Samuel and Ruby cheered, while Emma mimicked her siblings’ words in her father’s arms. Your little girl was two years old and she was such a brilliant kid already. She loved to grab Mr. Badger, the cat, by his tail and to do all kinds of villainies to him. The poor cat endured too much with your daughter, but he also was extremely protective of her and always made sure she didn’t hurt herself.

“Football it is,” you declared, and winked at your children.

The whole of your family exited the house and went to the car. You sat on the passenger’s seat―not without great difficulty―while Peter took care of your children. With your big belly, you were grateful you could even walk on your own. You could barely wait until the birth day, not only because you wanted to see your babies, but also because it was exhausting, being pregnant with twins.

Once your husband had secured all of your children in their seats, he drove to the school. He worked there as a science teacher, and thought at first it hadn’t been an option, when the previous football manager―who’d been some maths teacher―had retired, the juniors didn’t have anyone to train them, and Peter, loving kids and football as much as he did, decided to take the responsibility. Now, you knew he couldn’t picture himself without being the manager of those kids.

When you arrived there, most of the team was already there, and so were their parents, and the rival team. Peter quickly kissed you and he, Samuel, and Ruby left to get ready for the match. Meanwhile, you, Audrey, and Emma went to sit at the stands. You couldn’t stand for too long, and you liked getting seats close to your husband so you could watch him close during the match.

It was adorable, watching him interact with the kids. He ruffled their hair when they walked past him, encouraged them to be their best, and treated them like adults. They liked Peter a lot and he liked them back, and all their parents, but especially their mothers, always told you that you had struck gold when you married him.

As if you already didn’t know that you were the luckiest woman in the world to have him in your life.

You were sure that Peter was almost like a second father for many of those kids. They spent a good amount of hours together every week, training and at the matches, and it was very easy to like your husband. Even if he got a little competitive during every football game.

“Pass the ball to your brother, Corin!”

Maybe too competitive.

“Eyes up, Alice! Eyes on the ball!”

But, whatever he did, it seemed to work, because the school’s team won most of their matches. After the game, the kids all cheered while their parents clapped. Peter’s eyes met yours for some seconds and you smiled.

[liridi]

Once there were four children

[supernovasilence]

Ok we all talk about the Pevensies' trauma at returning to Earth at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe and their trouble readjusting to life there again but think of all the funny/good parts too

They return from the country, and their mom is surprised when all her children hug her at the station. Even Peter, who thinks he's all grown up. Even Edmund, who went away surly and withdrawn. She doesn't know her children haven't seen her in over a decade.

They miss their dear Cair Paravel, but they absolutely do not miss its chamber pots. Indoor plumbing is amazing.

It takes a while to remember how modern technology works, though. How many heart attacks did the siblings give their parents or the professor because they walked into a dark room only to turn on the light and find the children sitting there in the dark. (They were by the window! There was still plenty of light from the sunset! They would have gotten a candle in a minute!) The kids sheepishly remember oh yeah electricity is a thing.

(Edmund has a new electric torch in Prince Caspian. He was so excited to get that torch. Almost more excited than you'd think a kid his age would be, and his parents expect Peter at least to tease him, but the siblings all agree light in your hand at the touch of a switch is terrific.)

Suddenly getting really high grades in some subjects and terrible in others. Their grammar, reading comprehension, spelling, vocab, even penmanship? Amazing. History and geography? They don't remember anything. One time in class Susan forgets Earth is round and wants to die.

Also they can never remember what the date is supposed to be because Narnia uses different months and years. They can estimate time really well by looking at the sun though, and Edmund at least can always tell which way is north etc without thinking about it (again, using the sun)

Okay but how many times did they go to pick something up or reach something and realize they are so much shorter and less muscled than they expect? It's a common sight to see Peter climbing on counters to reach a top cabinet, grumbling about how he's High King this is demeaning. (No he never takes the extra five seconds to grab a stool. He will climb that shelf.)

Peter and Susan being delighted because they are no longer almost thirty. (In a few years Edmund and Lucy will tease them about being old and their parents will not understand.)

Lucy doesn't have to deal with periods anymore for a few years yet. Susan might not either. Heck yeah

Lucy loves to climb into her siblings' laps and be cuddled. In Narnia she eventually she grew too big, but now she is small and snuggleable again. Peter is her favorite, and if she's upset, he'll tickle her and tell bad jokes until she's smiling again, but really she loves cuddling with all her family. She grew up without her parents; how many times did she just want to crawl into her mom's lap and her mom was a world away? Imagine the first time she realizes she can now. Or, imagine one day, a cold and grey sort of day, when the rain is pattering against the windows, and it sounds like the rain on the windows of the Professor's house, that first day they went exploring. It sounds like the day they played hide and seek. It sounds so like the rain on the windows of Cair Paravel, that if Lucy closes her eyes she can imagine she's back there, having tea and chatting with Mr. Tumnus before the fireplace of her room, and soon the rain will stop, and they will go out on the balcony and wave to the naiads and the dryads and the mermaids, who have come out to enjoy the rain and visit one other on the banks of the Great River winding past Cair Paravel down to the sea.

But if Lucy looks out the window, all she'll see is the rain over London, so it's not only a cold and grey sort of day, it's a lonely sort of day too.

Susan and Edmund are playing chess in the living room (and they must have studied with Professor Kirke, thinks their mother, because they certainly weren't that good when they left). Lucy goes over to Edmund, and oh dear, thinks their mother, now he's going to call her a baby and be horrible to her, but instead he picks her up and puts her on his lap without even taking his eyes off the chessboard; it's simply a matter of course.

"Doesn't the rain sound familiar?" says Lucy in a solemn, wistful way.

Their mother doesn't know what that means, but her siblings must, because Susan says, "Yes, Lu, it does,” and Edmund gives her a little hug with his free arm as she tucks herself under his chin to watch the chess match.

(Five minutes later there is a crash from the next room as Peter falls off a counter. Their mother does not understand the words he must have picked up from the Professor, but he's grounded for them anyway. His siblings have no respect for their High King, because they refuse to stop laughing.)

[goldenvulpine]

Yearly Reminder that C.S Lewis encouraged his fans to write fanfiction about Susan Pevensie becoming a friend to Narnia and reuniting with her family once again.

Literally inviting his fans to write Susan’s adult, angsty character development with a happy ending.

Do your duty fans. Write that fanfiction.

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Pevensie children are too old for their age.

Their mom notices, at the dinner table. She sees no nagging children, no stupid fights. She sees Lucy eating and speaking with perfect manners, Edmund analysing the economy and war with concerning skill, Susan being gracious but poised, like a diplomat.

Their father sees it in Peters eyes the first time they get into a fight. When he moves to punish Edmund for speaking out of turn, Peter calls him out on it. When his gaze meet his eldest son's, he's leveled by the war he sees behind it, the tensed muscle in his arm, the knuckles white around his knife. He's seen that before, in other soldiers. He doesn't know how to react.

Other children notice, too. Talking to all the Pevensie kids at the same time is like being the only one left out of a secret, and the way they touch and tease each other speaks of a history far deeper than their polite demeneor lets on. And when they walk they fall in line, as if there is a natural hierarchy between them.

The first time anyone picks a fight with Edmund, Peter comes home with a three week suspension and blood around his mouth. He looks more alive than you've seen him in weeks.

When Susan gets back in the pool after Narnia, she wins all the contests. Coaches can't explain how to beat her, because they don't understand how she's doing it, either. She seems to almost disappear when underwater.

Lucy, always gay and golden-haired, starts dancing, and never misses a step. She moves with an elegance that no 10 year old should have, and all the girls want to be friends with her

Edmund soon becomes the best student in his faculty. He always seems to know the right thing to say, and teachers laud his ability to think through complex problems. His mouth does get him in trouble sometimes, but the boy seems uncatchable, always talking his way through the cracks. And if not?

No one actively fears Peter, but everyone is a little scared of him sometimes. He's tall for his age, sure, but there is something else, some other air that seems to give him an authority far beyond what's normal for a teenage boy. He's nice enough, but teachers can't stand it, and bullies learn very quickly that pissing him off means missing teeth and black eyes.

The Pevensies are not quite inhuman, but not fully mortal, either

[thirstywaffles]

Got bored and doodled older Pevensies

[zluty-spendlik]

Caspian and co were like "gosh this duel idea is great and all, but how the heck are we gonna get Miraz, whos army is like three times bigger, to agree to it??"

And the Pevensies were all like: "No yeah we'll just send this little shit right here, he can provoke anyone into doing anything, trust us"

While Edmund so-you-bravely-refuse-to-fight-a-swordsman-half-your-age Pevensie just raised an eyebrow, grinning.

[western-woods]

I thought there was no Christmas in Narnia? No, not for a long time… But the hope that you've brought, your majesties, have finally started to weaken the Witch's power.

[always-a-king-or-queen]

The Pevensies are foreign when they return home.

The streets no longer know them. They do not seem to fit in their own bodies as they stroll the cobbles, Lucy’s hand tucked carefully into Peter’s, Edmund trailing watchfully behind Susan like a shadow. Their eyes are sharp, their smiles crooked, and those who see them cross to the opposite side of the road, afraid of the ancient gleam they see reflected back at them that does not belong in the eyes of a child.

Water murmurs to Lucy when she flits past, and lamplight follows her wherever she goes, even in broad daylight when the lamps are unlit. Their flames sputter into existence when she walks by, flickering at her in a way that seems to whisper I know you. Lucy looks at them with feral teeth and smiles, and vines twist from the cobbles at her feet. She laughs like a wild thing, eyes glowing, but a moment later she blinks and it is gone. Her feet hardly seem to touch the ground at all as she darts through the alleys.

The sky is clearer when Peter walks the streets, clouds vanishing like they were never there at all. His eyes are too much like a lion’s, struck through with gold and filled with a brooding fierceness, yet he laughs as he twirls Lucy around, and claps Edmund on the back as they share a stupid joke, and smiles with Susan when she tells him of the bow she plans to carve. He is all warmth and friendliness, but there is something about his eyes. There is something about all of their eyes.

The sun caresses Susan as she moves about, and she is graceful, too graceful, her hair seeming to be alive of its own accord as she steps lightly along the streets. Her skin is pale like ice, and sometimes her gaze appears almost silver as she stands by the river, gazing into its depths with a distant, siren-cold smile. She is gentle, but her fingers look a little too long sometimes. Her laugh is a little too unsettling.

Trees lean towards Edmund when he walks past, branches scraping his clothing, leaves showering around him. Books and journals and pages covered in notes perpetually fill his arms, spilling from his grasp but never quite falling. His voice is even-keeled, quiet, but there is something wild about it, something unhinged. He speaks of things none have ever heard before, dark hair falling into his eyes, mouth unsmiling and hands perfectly still, and for a moment he seems to be someone else, fangs beneath his lips, dirt on his tongue. He tilts his head just a little too far, sometimes.

The Pevensies are foreign when they return home. They do not fit their bodies. They do not fit the streets. People who encounter them cross to the other side of the road to avoid them, terrified of the oldness they see in the children’s faces. Such depth does not belong in the gaze of a child.

And yet four sets of eyes, ancient and deep and flickering like candlelight, stare out from the children’s faces, and their smiles are sharp, too sharp. Their laughter is a little too wild as they walk, the oldest and youngest hand-in-hand, the middle children trailing each other like shadows.

There is something about those children’s eyes.

There is something about those children.

[narnianskys]

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

By C. S. Lewis

[minamorris1857]

Can we talk about how chaotic Narnian battles would feel?? Especially in Prince Caspian. Like, imagine you’re a little Telmarine soldier waiting for the catapults to go and you’ve got all your regiments in nice orderly rows and these two 16 year olds suddenly yell “charge” and the ground opens up beneath you, a mouse with a sword the size of a large pencil takes out your bestie, a griffin drops a dwarf 5 ft away from you and he comes up swinging. As you try to rationalize this, you’re stabbed by a twelve year old with a British accent. Finally, a really freaking big lion shows up, roars, and your entire army collectively pees their pants. At one point in the movie (yes I know the movies aren’t quite the same as the book but they’re still good) Peter says like “we have the element of surprise” like dude, you have drafted the trees I’m pretty sure everyone’s gonna be surprised no matter what.

[tenaciousgeckos]

Shakespeare: So, in Macbeth, the forest doesn't actually move, it's just an army holding branches

C.S. Lewis & J.R.R. Tolkien: And we took that personally

[helpmeiamprocrastinating]

man there’s something bout narnia that just burrows it’s way into your soul and never leaves

[thatrandomblogsays]

Dear Diary,

Today I cried for Susan Pevensie’s loss today.

[goldenvulpine]

[mozart-the-meerkitten]

So I rewatched The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe today and I gotta say it's weird to me that people misunderstand Edmund and rag on him about getting taken in by the White Witch because it could have happened to any of the siblings.

In fact, Lucy does the exact same thing Edmund does when she first comes to Narnia. She trusts the first person she meets, goes to his house, eats his food and is put under a spell. Literally the only difference is that Tumnus regretted his actions because he wasn't evil. The White Witch had no regrets about how she manipulated Edmund, but the fact remains that she and Tumnus do the same things.

If Lucy had encountered the Witch the first time she was in Narnia, it would have been incredibly easy for the Witch to trick her, probably without even using enchanted food. Lucy was very willing to trust Tumnus until he actually told her he was kidnapping her. If the Witch had been charming with her and asked her to bring her siblings to Narnia Lucy would have tried, just like Edmund.

Susan wouldn't have been much harder, but she would definitely have required some sort of spell since she's so skeptical. But we know that, presented with the actual evidence that Narnia exists, Susan does accept it. From there it'd be fairly easy for the Witch to manipulate her by playing off how Susan's siblings don't like to listen to her logic even when she's right or has better ideas. I think Susan would also like the idea of being a queen and making her siblings listen to her.

Peter is a little harder, just because he's older and more cautious, but I think that it could be done. He has, honestly, the same vice as Edmund at the beginning. He's frustrated at the defiance his little brother is giving him and overwhelmed by the situation he's in. If the Witch could convince him that, when she made him king, his siblings would finally obey him, I think that he, like Edmund, would fall for it (especially if magic was involved in tricking him).

So, yeah, Edmund is just the kid who happens to get taken in by the Witch, but it could have been ANY of the siblings who betrayed the others. And that's the point. Edmund could be any of us- and at the same time, he is all of us. "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." That is the point that Lewis is making with Edmund. It is so easy to let ourselves be deceived when we hear what we want to hear, because that road seems so much easier. But in the end it traps us and enslaves us, like Edmund was to the Witch, and there is only one who can pay the price for our betrayal.