#tcon fanfic

[quecksilvereyes]

It isn't that Lucy doesn't know Helen is her mother. She remembers, in hazy, smudged colours, the shape of those lips upon her forehead. The feeling of those soft fingers in her hair, knotted at the back, greasy in the front. Dark eyes, in dots, as a painting that makes no sense at all when viewed up close.

Helen Pevensie is thick layers of paint, not yet dry. Not yet framed. Not yet hung, with instructions on where to stand. So when Lucy, with child-eyes and child-lungs, looks at her, she sees:

Susan's smile lines. Peter's nose. The blush of Edmund's lips. Her own freckles, faded and powdered. Smudged. When she smiles and cradles little eight year old Lucy in her arms, the paint flakes from her hair.

Greys and browns. Blues.

Susan's skin is smooth. There is a gap between her teeth, and her hair is too short by half. Lucy skims her knees running on a straight alley, and it's Susan who holds her in her lap, humming songs of home. Susan's small hands on her neck, Susan's eyes, no longer golden as the mid-day sun in a cloudless sky.

Peter's nose is missing the hump that came from breaking it when he was ten-and-seven. His cheeks are bare. His hands are steady when she presses against him, fevered and coughing and greying at the edges. His voice is too high when he reads to her, and his skin is too soft.

His eyes are just blue, now, nevermind the storm outside.

It isn't that Lucy doesn't know Helen is her mother. It is just that her lap isn't the one she folds herself into. It's just that it isn't her blouse she presses her tears into.

"Lucy, darling", says Helen Pevensie. Her eyes are grey. Her mouth is grey. Her hands are grey. "Come sit with your mother, hm?" Lucy turns her face into the crook of Susan's neck.

Helen Pevensie sighs.

[confessions-of-a-bookworm]

Anonymous asked: oh for your ficlets I would love if you wrote one about Susan & Edmund! on how well and easily they get along and understand each other with no words

no pressure though, of course! happy writing either way 🌷

Thank you for the ask and forgive me for taking so long to post this! I hope you enjoy reading :)

(I would really appreciate reblogs)

Warnings: None, but do let me know I should mention something here

* * * * *

Another bright morning dawned on Narnia as the first sunrays hit the glistening waters of the sea shore and rushed over the marbles of Cair Paravel. Inside its walls, people had already begun working- the stoves in the kitchen had ben lit, the drapes had been opened, maids and servants were devoting their time to maintain the pristine look of the palace. In the sprawling fields, a few soldiers could be seen training with the High King in their midst. Some feet away, in a small, wild garden, the youngest Queen was busy admiring blue star flowers that bloomed at her smile. Three storeys up, curtains were drawn and the windows were opened by a boy in his late teens. King Edmund let sunshine into the palace’s grand library. On the small circular table closest to the window, his older sister lay asleep over a pile of open books.

“Su,” Edmund nudged her gently. “Su, wake up.”

Queen Susan awoke with a start. Taking a deep breath, she brushed hair off her eyes, squinting at the light.

“You fell asleep in the library again. Here, I brought you coffee.” Edmund handed her a mug and joined her at the table.

“Thanks,” she murmured, drawing the blanket on her shoulders closer.

“What was it this time?”

“The world.”

“You have to be more specific.”

“You know how everyone says the world is flat. Do you believe that?”

“It could be true.”

“If that’s true, one might simply fall off the world’s edge. That doesn’t sound right.”

“Unless Aslan’s country is there.”

“Maybe so. But I find it hard to believe. There must be something more to it, a cause, a reason.”

“And you plan on finding it by falling asleep on books?”

“I don’t always fall asleep.”

“But this is hardly the first time.”

Both siblings took a sip from their mugs.

The morning was spent discussing the ramifications of a flat world as opposed to a round one. The pair sat in the library until they were shooed away for talking too much.

A full court convened later that morning in the presence of the four royals. A messenger from Calormen had arrived. Tensions were increasing among the people of the two nations.

Narnia’s general Oreius, the centaur, announced the direness of the situation, “The giants of the north are wreaking havoc on our citizens. If our relations with Calormen are not improved, we face the danger of the two joining forces.”

A silence swept the court as the rulers were deep in thought.

“The giants pose an immediate threat to our people,” King Peter broke the silence. “Prepare the troops, general. I shall not let any more of our citizens be harmed by them.”

“Your Majesty,” spoke a noble, “with all due respect, we cannot face the giants. Their power and stature give them a huge advantage. One of them is worth a hundred of us. If we give in to their demands, they will stop destroying our villages.”

“We can’t accept their demands!” exclaimed Queen Lucy. “They want us to sacrifice ten people every month for their feasts- how is that acceptable?”

“Lucy is right,” spoke the younger King. “It is not a fair deal. Brother, give me your orders and I shall take my troops to the north immediately. I will put an end to this.”

A look of concern passed over the High King’s face. “No,” he said after a moment of consideration. “This is far too dangerous. I shall accompany the troops myself.”

He spoke with such a determined voice that no one dared oppose him. But Susan and Edmund exchanged glances, how did their brother expect them to send him off alone into what could possibly be a suicide mission? As siblings, they couldn’t let him go but as rulers, they understood his duty. They decided to leave that particular conversation for private chambers.

“What must we do about the Calormenes?”

Queen Lucy proposed to invite a delegation from the neighbouring country. “We can appeal to their Prince,” she reasoned.

King Edmund exchanged a look with his older sister. They had talked about Prince Rabadash before, an unpleasant conversation. The look in Susan’s eyes revealed what she wanted to do. Edmund pleaded her to not say it out loud.

“It is not feasible to invite a foreign delegation when a part of our army is away at war,” Orieus voiced his concerns.

An hour passed as the court discussed what could be done. Neither of the two options possible- war or submission- was acceptable. Finally, Queen Susan spoke her mind. “I have a proposal.” King Edmund’s jaw tightened; he knew what was about to come. On seeing the defiant look his sister gave him, he decided not to object.

“Since we cannot invite a Calormene delegation to Narnia, I propose we send a delegation ourselves. I will lead the said delegation. I believe I can convince Prince Rabadash to smoothen things out between our nations.”

A discussion followed in which King Edmund did not participate. Queen Susan presented her plans to the court which finally muttered its approval.

“What do you think, Edmund?” asked the Queen, clearly noticing her brother’s disapproval.

“While I would have preferred any other option had it been available, I suppose this is our best shot. All I ask, Sister, is that you allow me to accompany you as part of the delegation. In the unfortunate case that things don’t go quite as planned, I do not want you to be trapped alone in an enemy country.”

Queen Susan knew that this was the best reaction she could expect and agreed. Plans were finalised for the coming month. The High King chose the troops with whom he would fight the giants, Queen Lucy laid out plans on how to fulfil her siblings’ royal duties while they were away. Queen Susan and King Edmund put together the delegation that would accompany them to Tashban. They did not speak their opinions on the matter, merely discussed the journey that lay ahead.

Three weeks later, they wished High King Peter good luck as they hugged him. May the Great Lion watch over you and bring you safely back to us, they said. That night, King Edmund couldn’t sleep, far too worried about his brother. He wandered about the castle aimlessly till he came across the library doors. The doors were shut but he could see faint candlelight through the slit near the floor. He sighed and gently opened the door, slipping in without making a noise. As expected, Queen Susan sat poring over books at her favourite table.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked.

She passed him a grave smile.

“Mind if I join you?”

Queen Susan nodded and cleared some space for him.

They did not talk, but simply sat next to each other as each read their own book.

* * * * *

[eds-gryff]

Dates Out of Duty

Edmund Pevensie x Gender-Neutral Reader

Okay, despite the pictures, Y/N is GENDER-NEUTRAL IN THIS FIC!! It is the first time I’ve written a gender neutral reader, and also I have been having horrific writer’s block for about two months, so this fic may not be the BEST. I tried very hard, though 😭😭 I’m sorry.

Also, I do have an Arranged-Marriage-with-Edmund-Pevensie fanfiction on Wattpad- it’s called ‘Alliance’ and it is a series of four books, so please do check that out!!

-

Requested by @potatosdragon

‘Hi, could you please write an Edmund pevensie imagine x fem reader where it's about the types of dates he would take you on after an arranged marriage. Thank you sosososossososossosooskks much’

It’s not exactly a list of dates like most fics about this scenario are, I wanted to tell a story of the reader and Edmund’s development as well- plus, the date ideas come from both, not just from Ed. Hopefully it’ll be tolerable! 🥲

-

Y/N= Your Name

Y/C/N= Your Country’s Name

Y/P/W= Your Preferred Weapon

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

Riding Dates

It’s unfamiliar territory, romantic feelings for each other, but Edmund and Y/N both desperately need some semblance of comfort.

The first date, thus, is familiar territory.

He had learnt that they shared a love for horses very soon after the wedding- when he’d witnessed the delight in his then-affianced’s face upon learning that Y/N’s horse was going to come along as they returned to Narnia.

(Their wedding had taken place in Y/N’s kingdom, as per the agreement of the marriage alliance. Neither of them had smiled once during it. It had been their duty, and that was all. Neither had hoped or thought or even imagined that anything more would come out of doing their duty.)

The date is not the roaring success both hoped for- they had hoped, actually, that once they confessed their feelings for each other, things would get as easy as possible- but it’s not a devastating failure, either.

They have fun, playfully bantering with each other as they rode deeper into the woods- banter that Edmund’s horse, Philip, joined as well- and they attempt to, rather clumsily, kiss while on horseback as well. It makes them laugh, and then soon blush, once it turns out that they were quite good at kissing in even inopportune situations.

The problem comes when it is discovered that the path Edmund had chosen led them much further away than expected and when it is found that Y/N had forgotten to bring along the picnic basket.

Hunger and the fear of getting lost plays havoc on romance, and by the time they manage to return to Cair Paravel, the banter has turned to bickering, despite Philip’s most valiant efforts.

And by the time they return to their shared chambers after supper, anything more than a chaste good-night peck is unthinkable.

Bakery Dates

Y/N and Edmund are not very deterred by the less-than-ideal results of their date in the woods, especially since they wake up the next few mornings snuggled into each other.

It’s hard to stay annoyed when you wake up so comfortable and so warm and in each other’s arms- and, one of these mornings, the royals dawdle in bed for a good two hours before forcing themselves to get up.

They miss breakfast- something that’s usual for Y/N, perpetually a late sleeper, but not for Edmund, because although he loves to sleep in, he also enjoys having breakfast with his family- and so Y/N suggests going into town and to one of the bakeries, for the Just King is known to have quite the sweet tooth.

Edmund says yes, quite happily, and it’s hand-in-hand that the pair walk into the town closest to the castle.

They sample cakes and pastries and some things Y/N can’t pronounce but Edmund can with a funny accent- and the employees in the bakery are all aflutter at serving two Monarchs, and that, too, while they’re on a date!

They settle them in a large corner of the bakery, practically forcing every other customer into the opposite corner- despite repeated requests from the royal couple to treat them as regular folk- and they’re given so much sweet confections that Y/N’s tongue, unused to having such large amounts of desserts, goes numb in the middle of a sweet apple crumble. Edmund is having the time of his life, though, biting into a chocolate gateau and a rose parfait and blueberry cakes, and Y/N gazes at him quite contentedly the entire time- and then the gaze turns mutual and humorous and a bit alarmed, when the head baker packs them enough sweeties and desserts and chocolates to last a few decades.

They both are supposed have meetings that day- one with an envoy from Archenland and the other with a Tarkheena from Calormen- but the meetings are later in the day, and they know that the High King and the Queens of Narnia will happily keep the guests busy on the off-chance they are late.

His siblings are more invested in their relationship than they both are, the Just King feels.

As usual, he’s right, and it’s seen just how right he is at the next Ball.

Reading Dates

But before the Ball, comes winter, and with winter, comes the need to stay warm and cosy.

Especially for Edmund, since he does not deal well with the cold at all.

Y/N isn’t used to the cold, since Y/C/N is a warm country, and so they both have more reason than most to stay indoors during the most biting days of winter.

But they haven’t gone on a date in weeks, and Y/N is fearing that they could go back to the aloofness they had regarded each other with during the beginning of their marriage.

Neither of them wants that- Y/N and Edmund care for each other very deeply, and that’s something that even they, expert at denying feelings, cannot deny.

Hence, Y/N hauls candles and blankets and some of the bakery’s sweets in the middle of winter, in addition to asking the Kitchens to bring up some food and warm drinks.

Lastly, Y/N finds Edmund in his study, wrapped in a thick shawl his mother-in-law gave him, and they walk hand-in-hand to the destination.

In the Library, seated on a cosy couch, half-suffocated by thick blankets, Edmund and Y/N hardly talk. They read quietly in the candlelight, occasionally looking up to grin at each other or hold hands again, and even the meal is had in utterly comfortable silence, broken only at the end of it by Edmund’s declaration that they must have a sleepover in the Library.

Of course, both being the bibliophiles they are, they doubt much sleep will happen- it’s far more likely they’ll read and read and read until they fall asleep reading.

But neither will mind that- and so, Y/N climbs into Edmund’s lap, fishes a book from the pile next to them, and agrees.

Ballroom (And a Bit of Stargazing) Dates

Edmund dances well, and since he’s married, he knows that the one to dance with is his consort. He was the one to suggest they consider the Ball a date for he had no wish to spend the event with anyone apart from Y/N.

Y/N felt the same way, and his suggestion was met with an approving kiss.

Still, his siblings have some insane idea in their heads that the relationship between the two Monarchs needs meddling to grow- and their idea of meddling is to make sure no one else meddles.

And so the rest of the guests at the vibrant New Year’s Ball give the two Monarchs a wide berth throughout the event.

It suits Y/N just fine, because Edmund is easily the only one around who offers comfort as well as conversation, not to mention how fine a dancer he is, to make up for Y/N’s abysmal dancing skills. And even Edmund can’t mind, truly, not when he has his dear consort clasped in his arms, and he sees just how bright and soft Y/N’s smile, aimed at him throughout the night, is.

They spend the Ball dancing and laughing, and occasionally tripping, and they are not away from each other’s embrace for longer than a few minutes.

And then they steal away to the roof of Cair Paravel, and spend the rest of night staring up at the sky, with Edmund pointing out the different constellations in the sky, and Y/N speaking of the stories and fables of Y/C/N that were linked to the stars and the Heavens.

Y/N notices that Edmund’s freckles are like constellations. Edmund notices that Y/N’s eyes shine like the Moon. They gaze at each other more than they look at the celestial bodies.

And when the fireworks bloom into artificial stars in the sky, a few metres above them- the couple has their lips on each other’s, feeling something deep bloom in their hearts as well.

.

Things go sour not long after the Christmas Ball. It’s coming up on five years of marriage- Peter and Susan and Lucy and Y/N’s parents and both their countries were extremely frustrated by how long it’s taking for Y/N and Edmund to confess their love for each other.

But the couple is taking it slow. Neither are the type to fall in love quickly- rather, until each other, they hadn’t thought they would fall in love at all.

It is all wholly new and unexpected- for them- and they hadn’t quite believed what was happening when they’d quietly confessed to each other that they had feelings for the other. It was for that reason that there had been an unspoken agreement, after the confession, to do things slowly.

But the slowness was frustrating more than just the people around them- it was frustrating them, too!

Edmund regularly had to bite his tongue to keep from saying ‘my love’ in almost every single situation and at every moment of the day, but especially he’d come across Y/N be in the training field, eyes shining and sweaty skin glowing, perfecting the use of (Y/P/W).

The ‘I love you’ had been on the top of Y/N’s tongue every time the two Monarchs fell asleep while reading in the Royal Library, and then Y/N would be the one to wake up first, watching Edmund in peaceful slumber.

There are bets going on, in both Cair Paravel and in Y/N’s castle in (Y/C/N).

Peter said that Y/N would say it first, being the more impulsive of the pair.

Susan said that they’d both say it together, because underneath all their emotional unintelligence, there was some understanding and wisdom.

Lucy said it would be Edmund, because once he got over whatever fear was keeping from telling the three not-so-little words, he would surely want to be transparent with his consort, despite the possibility of his declaration being unrequited.

Y/N’s parents, for their part, thought that it would be another five years before the word ‘love’ would come into the conversation, and they said they’d announce their bet in three.

The sourness is not, however, Edmund and Y/N’s fault.

They’re doing quite well, actually, they feel, and they blush rather brightly every time the other’s name is brought up.

Then the Giants attacked.

Y/N spoke heatedly, looking with flashing eyes to the rest of the war council, “I’m going to fight!”

Edmund nodded, “Of course you are, darling, but you must stay here. It’s not safe to travel back to your country-”

No, Y/N wasn’t running back home! Of course not. That was what Peter had assumed for an awkward moment, and Y/N had almost thrown a scroll at his face.

“I need to get my army here, and I need to leave now. Narnia needs support, and it is part of our alliance treaty that our countries come to each other’s aid in the event of war.”

Peter stepped in here, “That’s right. Remember, Narnia has lent its troops to Y/C/N whenever minor scuffles at the border occur-”

“Of course I remember.” His younger brother said calmly, though not feeling calm at all.

His consort wanted to go out of Cair Paravel- which wasn’t safe in the least, as the Giants were camped practically just outside their walls. He couldn’t- he couldn’t risk losing someone he- someone he loved so much.

“We both signed the treaty, need I remind you. But then we can send a Raven to Y/N’s parents, they can-”

“I am the Monarch.” Y/N spoke, cutting across the Just King. There was no anger in Y/N’s voice, but it was simply firmness. “It is because of me that my country will be brought into this War, because I-”

Fell in love with you.

But the treaty had been signed long before that. And Edmund didn’t know that fact!

“Because I married you.”

Edmund swallowed. Y/N was right. There was no one else who could catch his tongue like that, or get him to change his mind.

“Very well.” He said stiffly, and looked to where Lucy was standing, already dressed in armour and looking fiercely warrior-like. “Lu, I’ll be going with Y/N, so I’ll ask Orieus if he may patrol with you instead-”

“No.” Y/N said, once against interrupting him. Somehow, Y/N’s hand was now on Edmund’s arm, and there sprung a need in both to clasp each other’s hand tight.

So, they did.

“Narnia needs you, dearest. I’ll be alright, and I’ll be back soon.”

Edmund gazed into Y/N’s eyes for a long moment, and Y/N gazed back.

The war council moved onto other matters soon, but Edmund and Y/N kept holding hands for the entirety of it- in fact, until they reached the Stables where Y/N’s horse was kept.

“Are you sure you want to leave now?” Edmund queried quietly, as his consort tied some necessities and supplies to end of the horse’s saddle. He’d been the one to have the sense to tell one of the servants to pack for a journey- Y/N was reckless enough to make the journey with nothing useful. “You could leave in the morning-”

“I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Sooner rather than later- you told me once they said that where you come from.” Y/N’s voice was just as quiet.

What if he was right? Well, of course he was right, he always was- but what if the Giants did attack Y/N on the way?

Death was inevitable, it was known- but to die while on the way to help in a War? What sort of Monarch did that?

But the alternative was not helping Narnia. The alternative was letting Edmund and Peter and Lucy and Susan suffer the War on their own.

Y/N turned to Edmund, “Spare Oom, was it?”

He smiled a little, and they neared each other, their arms sliding around each other so they stayed in an embrace for as long as they could.

“Or War Drobe. I’ve heard it both ways.”

He bent his head, and their lips met in a slow, needy, passionate kiss.

“I’ll be safe.” Y/N whispered into the kiss, knowing full well what Edmund would murmur once the embrace broke. “As safe as I can.”

“That’s not very reassuring.” He tried to joke, but it fell flat. They were going to part. Not for long, if they had any luck- but it was war. How often was good fortune found in the middle of battle? “I’ll wait for you.”

“And you best fight in midst of the waiting.” Y/N said- deciding to not ask him to be safe, because he would be. He would. He was a warrior and he was wise- he’d stay alive. “And try to think of better date ideas.”

Edmund smiled in spite of himself, “I’m the one with the good ideas. Yours are more hit or miss.”

Y/N chuckled softly, “Maybe a battle will give me inspiration, then. I’ll think of you anyway- may as well have that thinking be productive.”

“We’ll go on that date the moment the War’s over.” His smile softened, and they kissed once more- one last time.

The kiss lasted another few moments, before they both pulled away- and Y/N climbed onto the horse.

“G-goodbye.” Y/N almost said ‘my love’. “I’ll see you soon.”

Edmund raised his hand in farewell, not trusting himself to speak.

And then, as the horse pulled out of the paddock and just as his consort was almost out of sight- he spoke.

Well, shouted.

“Y/N!” He said, and the horse and her rider both turned.

They weren’t too close to each other, but they were close enough to hear each other.

Steeling himself, and not entirely sure his sanity was intact, he said loudly, “I love you.”

He saw Y/N’s eyes widen, and- then he fancied he saw a smile. His heart was pounding so hard, he was aware of very little except for his heartbeat and his consort’s outline against the sunset.

No- he wasn’t imagining it. He was seeing a smile. Y/N was smiling at him.

But then Y/N tugged on the reins, and the horse galloped away, and Edmund was left alone in the paddock of the Stables.

But at least he had received a smile in exchange for his impulsive declaration of love. It was far better than the rejection he had thought he was sure to get.

Impromptu Dates

Y/N and Edmund did not see each other until the siege of the giants ended two months later. They had news of each other, of course- letters tied to Ravens’ legs and messages delivered by dryads kept them, as well as every regiment fighting the Giants in the north of Narnia informed of what was happening.

And then, in the spring, the Giants surrendered, and High King Peter declared the War won, and he sent Ravens to all corners of Narnia and to the neighbouring lands to inform them of the news.

Y/N had been with Peter during the battles, while Edmund was stationed away, in a part of the land where strategy would be important to win than force. Lucy was with him, but she regularly rode far away to fight other threats that took advantage of the War to attack Narnia as well- while Susan stayed at Cair Paravel, holding down the fort in case the Giants somehow breeched their defences.

But now that the War was over, the Pevensies were to be together again, soon. Very soon, the four hoped.

Sooner than that, though, it Edmund and Y/N that were fated to reunite.

The path that Y/N was to take on the return from Y/C/N to Narnia was, coincidentally, the path that led from the Western Woods to Cair Paravel.

Edmund hadn’t spent the War there, no, but he had gone to check on his domain after it, just in case any of the White Witch’s supporters had come out of the woodwork and had tried to capture the forests once more.

(There hadn’t been anyone in the Western Woods except for one very adorable family of rabbits, and some deer that complimented his choice of swords over a bow and arrow.)

There was a brook nearby, and Y/N had taken off the armour and had washed up in that- not bathing, of course- and had managed to get some drinking water, too, since the water was cool enough. After such strenuous fighting and the wounds afflicted because of it, cold water was a must.

Y/N had decided to keep wearing the soaked tunic, as the wet fabric gave extreme relief to the hot and bruised skin.

As the horse began away from the brook, walking along a path bordered with flowers, Y/N heard something else.

Someone else.

Someone that travelled frequently with the man who had said ‘I love you’ just before their parting- and the man whom Y/N wanted to tell the same to.

It came from a bit far ahead- nearer to the mouth of the brook, where it was more a stream.

Y/N’s eyesight wasn’t the best, but the hearing was- and Philip, Edmund’s horse, had a very loud voice.

“Your Majesty.” The sienna-hued horse’s voice spoke. “Why not a bathe?”

“It’s only half a day to Cair.” Came another voice, and Y/N’s heart soared so high an attack of dizziness came. “I’ll bathe there- and it won’t do to dirty such a clean, pure stream.”

“Edmund!” Y/N shouted, almost falling off the horse.

Climbing properly off her, Y/N ran towards the sounds of the two voices.

”Edmund- Edmund-”

Edmund had his top-armour off, clad in a wet long-sleeved under-shirt, much like Y/N’s, and he had been washing his face and attempting to fill some water into his flash, even though he’d cracked it and water poured out more than it poured in.

At the sound of his consort’s voice, he dropped the flask again, and turned quickly- in alarm and quite a bit of hope.

Y/N flew at him, and they collided together, falling down onto the grass. Their arms stayed around each other, and Edmund kept calling Y/N’s name and Y/N kept calling Edmund’s, though they were clasped tight together, and neither cared that they’d landed half in the water, too.

“You’re here!” Y/N spoke into Edmund’s shoulder, clutching him tight. “What are- how- this isn’t your route-”

“Had to check on the Woods.” Edmund answered, kissing his consort’s cheek.

He was on top, and there was a grin on Y/N's face at the position, and he felt himself blush.

“You’ve been to guide your armies back to Y/C/N, yes? I thought you’d stay home for a few weeks- to rest.”

“I wanted to.” Y/N admitted- as absolutely lovely and beloved as Narnia was, there was no place like home. “But I- I had something to do in Narnia.”

Here, Philip interjected, “Good to see you again, Your Majesty!”

Y/N waved happily at the sarcastic horse, before looking back at Edmund, who was looking curious as he asked, “Official work?”

“Well.” Y/N said, and rolled them around so that their positions revered and Edmund was under. “I had to make a declaration.”

Y/N’s heart was shaking. And there were palpitations. And anxiety. A lot of anxiety. And nerves. And nausea, if one squinted.

But so much love. So much of it. It overwhelmed all else.

“What?”

His question was ignored, and Y/N went on, “And before that, I had to suggest a date idea.”

And then they kissed, beginning too soft and careful- for neither was aware of the other’s injuries- and then ending with gasps and even tighter grips on each other.

Oh, how they wanted to peel off the remaining armour and the wet tunics and make love then and there, having missed each other so painfully much- but Philip was there. They didn’t want to scar him for life- more than they already had. The poor horse had been an unwitting witness to more than one ardent snogging sessions between the two Monarchs- and, in some of those sessions, they had not been very clothed.

It haunted Philip’s nightmares, but it also gave him a lot of material to tease his rider about.

“Was that the idea?” Edmund asked hoarsely, his hand curling into his consort’s hair. He wanted to say those three words again- so, so badly. “A kissing date?”

Y/N’s swollen lips curved into a smile, “Do you mind it?”

“Not at all.” He said, thinking that all the date ideas he had had might have already been beaten- before asking, “But what’s the declaration? If it’s got paperwork, I’ll have to handle it, you know.”

He was very tired. Fighting battles was difficult. Whatever it was, he wanted to get the work done as soon as possible.

“It is a declaration to the Just King. To my darling husband.” Y/N whispered.

Oh, how could a heart possibly feel like it was creeping so high into a throat!? The anxiety was getting unbearable. It was only Edmund’s proximity and his beautiful, dark eyes gazing into Y/N’s that kept an anxiety attack at bay.

“I declare that I am absolutely and besottedly in love with you.”

“Oh.” Well, he certainly didn’t want that over with as soon as possible.

Never, in fact. He wanted it to last forever.

He smiled again, his heart aglow and both their eyes shining, and they pressed their foreheads against each other’s.

“I love you. I love you so much.”

It was the best date ever.

Vow Renewal Dates

A vow renewal ceremony is not a date, Susan tells her brother and sister-in-law repeatedly- but as far as they’re concerned, that’s exactly what it is.

It takes in a lovely meadow of flowers, and they are together, looking radiant and lovely as they gaze at each other- and they hold hands through it all. They tell each other how much they loved each other, and they promise once again to forever be by each other’s side and be joined in the bond of marriage forevermore.

Well, dates usually didn’t have parents and siblings around, but one couldn’t have everything.

They are in love, though. A love they hope would last forever, and if there’s something after that, then even then.

And it may not be everything- but it certainly does feel like it.

-

Thank you for reading!

-

[an-angels-fury]

🌟 You Are My Destiny 🌟 - A Caspeter Playlist

A small tribute to @equixen's new fanfic "Our Hands Are Tied" 🫶

True Love - P!nk

Sometimes I hate every single stupid word you say / Sometimes I wanna slap you on your whole face / There's no one quite like you, you push all my buttons down / I know life would suck without you / At the same time I wanna hug you / I wanna wrap my hands around your neck / You're an asshole, but I love you / And you make me so mad, I ask myself / Why I'm still here? Or where could I go? / You're the only love I've ever known / But I hate you, I really hate you / So much I think it must be true love

I Found - Amber Run

And I'll use you as a warning sign / That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind / And I'll use you as a focal point / So I don't lose sight of what I want / Oh, and I found love where it wasn't supposed to be / Right in front of me / So talk some sense to me

Wicked Game (Cover) - Ursine Vulpine, Annaca

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you / It's strange what desire will make foolish people do / I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you / And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you / Oh I don't want to fall in love / Oh I don't want to fall in love with you

War of Hearts - Ruelle

I can't help but love you / Even though I try not to / I can't help but want you / I know that I would die without you

Neptune - Sleeping at Last

I'm only honest when it rains / If I time it right the thunder breaks / When I open my mouth / I wanna tell you but I don't know how / I'm only honest when it rains / An open book with a torn out page / And my inks run out / I wanna love you but I don't know how / I don't know how

Before You Go - Lewis Capaldi

So, before you go / Was there something I could've said to make your heart beat better? / If only I've known you had a storm to weather / So, before you go / Was there something I could've said to make it all stop hurting? / It kills me how your mind could make you feel so worthless

The Great War - Taylor Swift

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair / And we will never go back to that / Bloodshed, crimson clover / Uh-uh, the worst was over / My hand was the one you reached for / All throughout the Great War / Always remember, uh-uh / We're burned for better / I vowed I would always be yours / 'Cause we survived the Great War

Who Wants to Live Forever - Queen

There's no time for us / There's no place for us / What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us? / There's no chance for us / It's all decided for us / This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us

Arcade - Duncan Laurence

A broken heart is all that's left / I'm still fixing all the cracks / Lost a couple of pieces when / I carried it, carried it, carried home / I'm afraid of all I am / My mind feels like a foreign land / Silence ringin' inside my head / Please, carry me, carry me, carry me home / I've spent all of the love I saved / We were always a losing game / Small town boy in a big arcade / I got addicted to a losing game / Oh, all I know, all I know / Loving you is a losing game

In My Veins - Andrew Belle

Nothing goes as planned / Everything will break / People say goodbye, in their own special way / All that you rely on and all that you can fake / Will leave you in the morning but find you in the day / Oh, you're in my veins and I cannot get you out / Oh, you're all I taste at night inside of my mouth / Oh, you run away 'cause I am not what you found / Oh, you're in my veins and I cannot get you out

Dynasty - MIIA

The scar I can't reverse / The more it heals, the worse it hurts / Gave you every piece of me / No wonder it's missing / Don't know how to be so close to someone so distant / And all I gave is gone / Tumbled like it was stone / Thought we built a dynasty that Heaven couldn't shake / Thought we built a dynasty like nothing ever made / Thought we built a dynasty forever couldn't break up

All I Want - Kodaline

All I want is nothing more / To hear you knocking at my door / 'Cause if I could see your face once more / I could die a happy man, I'm sure / When you said your last goodbye / I died a little bit inside / I lay in tears in bed all night / Alone, without you by my side / But if you love me / Why would you leave me?

Rewrite the Stars - Zac Efron, Zendaya

How do we rewrite the stars? / Say you were made to be mine / Nothing can keep us apart / 'Cause you are the one I was meant to find / It's up to you, and it's up to me / No can say what we get to be / Why don't we rewrite the stars / Changing the world to be ours / You know I want you / It's not a secret I try to hide / But I can't have you / We're bound to break and my hands are tied

Fire on Fire - Sam Smith

When we fight, we fight like lions / But then we love and feel the truth / We lose our minds in a city of roses / We won't abide by any rules / I don't say a word / But still you take my breath and steal the things I know / There you go, saving me from out of the cold / Fire on fire, would normally kill us / But with this much desire, together, we're winners / They say that we're out of control and some say we're sinners / But don't let them ruin our beautiful rhythms / 'Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me / And look in my eyes / You are perfection, my only direction / It's fire on fire

King and Lionheart - Of Monsters and Men

Howling ghosts, they reappear / In mountains that are stacked with fear / But you're a king and I'm a lionheart / And in the sea that's painted black / Creatures lurk below the deck / But you're a king and I'm a lionheart / As the world comes to an end / I'll be here to hold your hand / 'Cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart

Two Men in Love - The Irrepressibles

If I asked you now / Will you be my prince? / Will you lay down your armor / And be with me forever? / When you open me / All the power in me moves / How you want to see / All the depths of me real / When you open me / All the power in me moves / I feel real / I love you

Turning Page - Sleeping at Last

I've waited a hundred years / But I'd wait a million more for you / Nothing prepared me for / What the privilege of being yours would do / If I had only felt the warmth within your touch / If I had only seen how you smiled when you blushed / Or how you curl your lip when you concentrate enough / I would have known what I was living for all along / What I've been living for / Your love is my turning page / Only the sweetest words remain / Every kiss is a cursive line / Every touch is a redefined phrase

Saturn - Sleeping at Last

You taught me the courage of stars before you left / How light carries on endlessly even after death / With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite / How rare and beautiful it is to even exist / I couldn't help but ask / For you to say it all again / I tried to write it down / But I could never find a pen / I'd give anything to hear / You say it one more time / That the universe was made / Just to be seen by my eyes

You - Keaton Henson

If you must leave / Leave as though fire burns under your feet / If you must speak / Speak every word as though it were unique / If you must die, sweetheart / Die knowing your life was my life's best part / If you must die / Remember your life

A Time for Us - Barratt Waugh

A time for us someday there'll be / When chains are torn by courage born / Of love that's free / A time when dreams so long denied / Will flourish as we unveil / The love we now must hide / A time for us at last to see / A time worthwhile for you and me / And with our love through tears and thorns / We will endure as we pass surely / Through every storm / A time for us someday there'll be / A new world, a world of shining hope for you and me

[pariahsparadise]

warm | e. p.

nav. | m.list

requested by @ittybittygreek: might you be able to do GOLDEN AGE EDMUND X READER where reader cant sleep during a snowstorm and goes to the library and eds there and they just stay up and talk about plans for spring and they fall asleep n then tumnus finds them asleep in a chair together the next morning

word count: 1.2k

pairings: edmund pevensie x gn!reader

warnings: unedited work, fluff? mentions of the white witch & nightmares idfk

a/n: i really hope this is what you had in mind, thank you so much for this request! i wrote this so fast lmaoo

You couldn’t sleep.

You tossed and turned in your perfectly lavish bed, the sheets satiny soft and the pillow always cool, in search of the comfort that it usually brought you. Today, however, there was none. The air in the room remained frosty, a result of you forgetting to close your window earlier. A major error, considering the roaring snowstorm currently plaguing Narnia. No matter how many sheets you piled up over your body, how you tried to huddle amongst the pillows, your body was at a loss for warmth, desiring heat you could not give it. 

Giving up, you threw the covers off, shivering when the cold air hit your bare skin. Quickly grabbing your dressing robe, you slipped into your shoes and lit a torch, carrying it with you to light your way to the library. This was something you did often when you couldn’t sleep, whether it be because of the weather, or just a certain restlessness you felt. 

The library was surprisingly warm when you entered, and you frowned when you saw a crackling fire burning away merrily in the corner. You approached it hastily, because unattended fires in a library filled with books and parchments and scrolls- well, that was just a recipe for disaster, wasn’t it? As it turned out, you needn’t have worried, because a certain dark-haired royal was sitting right across it, his locks unruly and his shirt askew, evidently another sufferer of insomnia like yourself. 

“My King,” you said with a small bow, chuckling at the scowl Edmund looked up to give you. 

“It’s just Edmund to you, and you know that, Y/N.”

“I think you’re messing up the order, I’m pretty sure it’s Edmund the Just?” you teased, picking out one of your favourite books from the shelf nearby before taking a seat next to him on the couch. You lifted your feet from the cold stone floor, tucking them under you as you glanced at Edmund.

He was shaking his head at you disapprovingly, the top two buttons of his nightshirt open, allowing you a glimpse of the skin that hid underneath. The sleeves of the shirt were pulled up his arms, and his skilled hands were currently cradling a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice- one of the few books from your world that were found here. His eyes glittered in the firelight that lit up his face just so, the dark eyebags etched into his skin deterring absolutely none of his beauty. 

And Edmund Pevensie was devastatingly beautiful.

“Like what you see?” he asked you, mouth quirking up to the side, and you rolled your eyes, hitting his arm lightly. In a motion so swift, he quickly grabbed your wrist, palm sliding up to splay across your hand, twining your fingers. 

“Flirt,” you accused and he just laughed, his rarely seen dimples showing as he smiled at you, “Only for you, love.”

You shook your head at him, but left your hand in his.

“What are you doing up, anyways?” you asked after a few moments of content silence. 

Edmund sighed deeply, turning his head to gaze at the flickering flames in front of you, “Same as you, I suppose. I couldn’t sleep, so I stole away here.”

“Was it the nightmares?” you asked cautiously. Edmund’s betrayal of his siblings to the White Witch still haunted him, and the snowstorm raging outside was similar to the weather that had cursed Narnia while she had ruled. He had come to you before, when a woman guard bore a slight resemblance to her, when he saw someone wearing a similar outfit- if little things could send him into such a panic, it was not hard to believe that an entire fucking snowstorm wouldn’t. 

Edmund didn’t respond to your question with words, instead opting to tip his chin down a centimetre, before raising it again as confirmation. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand, sending a spasm of warmth through both of your bodies and bringing a slight smile back to his face. “Guess you can’t wait for spring, huh?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Edmund said, his words tinged with excitement. “I already have so many plans.”

“Do go on.”

“Training programs,” he started, “The soldiers won’t be nearly as bitter when the weather’s warmer, so we could start implementing the new initiatives then. Not to mention, dances,” your eyebrows shot up, but he persevered, “Yes, we could invite royalty from our neighbouring kingdoms. Narnia is lovely in the spring, and with our hospitality combined with the refinery we’ll showcase- I’m sure we’ll be able to forge alliances with many. And I’ll take you as my date, and we’ll dance together. And you’ll step on my toes because you’re a terrible dancer, but I’ll survive, because it’s worth it if you’re the one dancing with me.”

Your cheeks flushed a terrible red, but Edmund was too caught up in his plans to notice, “And we’ll go on picnics. We’ll go horse-riding and swimming, and I’ll be able to pluck you flowers again.”

“And I’ll make you another flower crown,” you piped up, and Edmund snapped the fingers on his free hand before pointing at you seriously, “Yes. Exactly. You’ll do that, and I’ll wear it instead of my real crown till the flowers die, like last time.”

You chuckled, nestling in closer to Edmund’s shoulder, which was now pressed up against yours, startling a little at the space between you two - or lack thereof. When did you even shift this close? You listened to his voice rambling on, the low tones a glorious medley you’d listen to forever if you could. And though you tried, you really tried to stay awake and participate in the conversation, your eyelids became heavier than stone, impossible to keep lifted up. Somehow, you were warmer sitting here with Edmund than in your room with the dozens of blankets piled up. More comfortable, too, and you found yourself slipping easily into the land of dreams.

“So what do you think?” Edmund asked as he finished ranting about one of his other ideas, looking down at you and mentally smacking himself for being so loud. It hadn’t seem to affected you though, if the way your breaths flowed steadily and your eyes remained peacefully closed was any indication. 

Edmund found himself smiling a little giddily at your frame curled up against him, irrationally happy that you trusted him enough to fall asleep in his presence. 

“And maybe,” he whispered to you quietly, voice feather-soft as he pressed an even softer kiss to your forehead, “Maybe I’ll finally ask you out this spring.” As he spoke the words, they cemented themselves on his mental checklist of things to do the next season, and Edmund fell asleep not long after with a stupid, stupid smile on his face.

“Should- should we wake them up?” Mr. Tumnus asked Lucy in quiet tones. The two of them had come into the library in search of a book about botany, wanting to identify some of the plants that had somehow survived last night’s storm.

“No,” said Lucy, watching the two of you with a knowing smile. It didn’t matter that Edmund had an important meeting this morning, she’d happily be able to fill in for him, “No, let them be.”

read part 2 here :)

[pevensiechase]

Uh...hi??

Okay, why am I posting this like anybody is ever gonna read it?

But yeah. Hello there!

I'm pevensiechase!

My Ao3 username is Alexa_Etman, so I guess you can call me Alexa or Lexa. Heck, I'll even take Al. I s'ppose you could also call me "pevvie" or "chase", but it doesn't sound as natural. Edit: my family tumblr tree calls me "Lexi" <3

I'm very new to tumblr, so bear with me.

I'm apart of a family tree on tumblr

I write fanfiction, but I also dabble in fanart and graphic design (this usually consists of half-baked animatics, character line art, playlist covers, and book covers).

I do take commissions, but I have a life outside of tumblr, so I can't promise that they'll be speedy. Also, please keep everything PG.

Currently, I'm apart of these fandoms:

DC (Batfamily specifically)

Dsmp Qsmp

Star Wars (I don't like the sequels, but I won't come at you if you like them)

Clone Wars

Hunger Games

Lord of the Rings

Narnia

Percy Jackson

MCU

Keeper of the Lost Cities

All my art will be tagged with "my art", and all my random posts will be tagged as "mine" and "random thoughts"

Edit:

Other Tags: "alexa's takes" (stuff i say), "alexa's tags" (tag games), "alexa's asks" (asks), "alexa creates" (art/writing), “pevensie’s poetry” (for poetry, usually stuff I write in the tags)

My handle for Ao3 is the same (@pevensiechase). And yeahhhh. Feel free to drop by anytime, I guess.

Have a great day! 🪶

[beaststhattalk]

You Gave Me Reason

3,132 words | Post-The Last Battle | Find content warnings on ao3

Professor Digory Kirke had a short will. He had no children, no siblings, and was his parents’ only child. He’d had an aunt and an uncle, neither of whom spread the branches of their family tree. That is how Susan Pevensie finds herself with stacks of old books on God and history and art. They’d been meant to go to Peter, which spared them from the museum donations and auctions that swallowed up the rest of the contents of that mysterious house.

The funeral was a year ago. And what a funeral it was: so many guests. The young Scrubb and five Pevensies were all bid goodbye and buried in the same ceremony. Susan had agreed on it with her aunt and uncle. None of them wanted to drag things out with one funeral after another, especially when most of the attendees would be the same. It would’ve begun to get difficult in terms of preserving the bodies, as well, and Susan refused to let that become something she had to consider.

The priest had asked Susan if she’d like to speak. For each person, she spoke as truthfully as she could.

Six is too many, Susan thought, to waste time recounting happy memories. More than that, she was not inclined to wring her hands over which smiles to include—which hugs mattered, which inside jokes represented them all best. How was she supposed to take a family and whittle it down to a single moment? Who could sum up a life in a handful of stories?

Nor was Susan eager to weed through the memories she and her siblings argued about to find the ones they might agree on. It’s my chance to get the last word in, she’d thought one night, eating bread in the dark on the kitchen floor (she couldn’t bring herself to eat all day, and the hunger pangs sent her stumbling out of bed). Susan wanted her siblings’ side of things to be what people remembered. Since she didn’t understand their side of things, it was best to leave memories out entirely.

Instead, Susan stuck to what she was certain of. Things that everyone in attendance—her aunts, uncles, and grandparents; Peter’s, Edmund’s, Lucy’s, and Eustace’s school friends; her parents’ work friends; Father’s war friends—ought to know:

Lucy was a kind and hopeful girl who never let anyone suffer alone.

Edmund was clever as a whip and wise beyond his years.

Peter was studious and responsible and would’ve done so much with the years ahead of him. Whatever he would’ve accomplished, though, he deserves the credit for bringing three children through a war.

Mother loved people so dearly that she still had tea with friends she’d made when she was only three years old. And she loved her children well enough to send them away when, more than ever, she wanted them close to her.

Father built toys for his children, homes for families in England and America, and risked his life for all the people in the world during the war. If any of Susan’s siblings put others before themselves, it was because their father taught them how.

Susan only saw Eustace in visits every few years, and every time she saw him, he was taller, and smarter, and wiser than his old self. No one will ever be able to say what a wonderful man he would’ve become, given the time.

These were the words she scrawled in her journal a week before the funeral. After hours of crying, each blink felt like scraping gritty, dried mud off of one’s skin. It hurt like hell to swallow. However, she’d dried her face with rough hands, sat at her desk, and written one word after the other like climbing a hill. Over the following days, Susan did what she could to be more sentimental, more eloquent, more fair. She finished Edmund and Lucy’s last. She couldn’t even bear to say their names aloud, those first few days.

A year later, it is dreadful still. But in a quieter, duller way. The days are gray and slow. The sun feels either cold or loathsomely humid. Every Friday at 3pm, if not more often, Susan goes out with friends. They don’t ask about her life. Susan suspects that they are nervous to get a sad answer and turn the whole moment awkward. She thinks this is the best course of action for everyone. She sits with them at cafes, listening to them talk about their schoolwork and boyfriends and summer plans (none of which Susan has anymore). She asks questions and makes comments and teases them, as she’s always done. These visits go as they always have. Susan doesn’t laugh as often or as brightly as she used to, to be sure, but it’s the best remnant she has of a normal life.

When they all say goodbye, Susan’s four friends head off in separate directions, their sheets of silky hair bouncing as they walk away. Susan usually walks home feeling empty and cold. However, the days don’t bleed together quite so much, afterwards.

Her school offered her a year off, and with aunt Alberta’s firm support, Susan accepted. On the days she leaves the house, whether to do shopping for Eustace’s parents (who have taken her in) or to go to town with her friends, Susan dresses well. She puts on lipstick, curls her hair, and meticulously chooses shoes and nylons and clothes. She does it solemnly, always with the sharp light of dawn. More often than not she is observed by a cup of tea growing cold on the vanity. Making the tea is essential: another pattern for her body to learn and inhabit. Pouring whatever is left in the bushes below her window seems only appropriate. Susan feels that every morning, with everything she does, something is forsaken—put down, given to the earth, forgotten. Only after this is done can she walk out of the house, silently announcing to the gray sky or humid sun that her life still has somewhere left to go.

The Scrubbs go to church every Sunday. They go on Saturday and Friday evenings, too, when they have the time. They have become quite close with the priest—Alberta knows his sister by first name. Susan tried for a month or two, but gave it up. Sitting in a pew and hearing songs about beauty only served to agitate her.

Once, fairly early on in the big picture of things, the priest invited Susan for a walk. She accepted. She hadn’t yet heard anything from her friends except for condolences, and was ready to speak to anyone about anything.

They walked from the city into a park, where flowers were crawling with bees and flocks of birds turned bushes into chimes. The priest talked to her about peace and heaven. Susan politely agreed. He asked her, quite knowingly, if she believed a word he said. She responded that they were beautiful words, and she admired him for coming up with them. She admitted that that’s how she saw all the holy books, too: beautiful words, written with great skill and imagination. The priest agreed with her. He urged her, though, to consider them with an open mind. If she indulged the chance of their reality, they might speak to her more than she imagined they could.

So, Susan spent a lot of time—all those days that she didn’t put on her lipstick or her nylons or curl her hair—sipping tea and reading. Her uncle joined her on the weekends. They sat in silence, Susan with a bible or one of the Professor’s old books, her uncle with a newspaper. He always used his big chair near the window, but Susan moved about: sometimes the couch, sometimes the dining room, sometimes the small tea table by the window to the backyard. After all, this house was not quite home to her, yet.

Whether or not her uncle was home, reading was when Susan felt as if she were really speaking to someone. She never spoke truthfully to her friends or neighbors. She was rarely honest with her aunt and uncle. And, even then, it didn’t seem to strike anything true. Susan would tell them what was on her mind, yes. But all the meaning seemed to die as her thoughts left her mouth in the shape of chosen words.

Indeed, for the past few years, she didn’t feel like she’d even been speaking to her family.

Mother and father thought her interest in clothes and makeup was silly. Father insisted—always as if he were dealing with a fool and not his oldest daughter—that Susan was pretty enough without red coloring on her lips and cheeks. Peter and Edmund teased her, as Susan figured any boys would tease their sister, but it seemed to be more than just that. Really, it was the time they didn’t spend teasing Susan that troubled her. If she counted the hours, her siblings spoke in pairs or in a group so often that Susan barely factored into their lives at all. Even when she was in the room, they talked about fairy tales and childhood games with great seriousness, all without a glance at Susan. Eustace, surprisingly, seemed to be a part of it when he visited. Even without the particular silliness of fantasies, none of them seemed all that interested in practical matters. Peter and Edmund spent hours on end debating the fine details of philosophical texts. Whenever Susan tried to spark up a conversation about the goings on of Europe or Parliament, or even the local farms, her brothers looked at her with solemn eyes. As if they were sad she cared about things that had a tangible place in their lives.

Edmund was more blunt than Peter.

“Can we not spend all day talking about this?” Edmund complained one afternoon at their aunt and uncle’s. Susan and Eustace had been discussing an article about advancements in radio technology.

“I guess you’d rather talk about useful things, Ed,” Susan replied, “like how best to polish a unicorn’s horn.”

Edmund rolled his eyes. Then, Susan could’ve sworn he muttered: As if a unicorn can’t polish its own horn.

Lucy was not nearly so rude about it all, but Susan had felt furthest from her. Lucy spent nearly all her time outside of school at church or on walking paths. Susan could at least join in with Peter and Ed in discussing those old authors they loved, though she preferred to focus on how the writers’ real lives shone through their texts. Lucy, though, was beyond Susan’s reach.

They took a walk together at the beginning of summer, just a month before the accident. The two had been having a simple, meaningless chat about Lucy’s upcoming visit to the Professor's when Lucy spotted a rabbit at the edge of the path. Susan had hummed in acknowledgement, but Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. They spent minutes standing there, watching the rabbit nibble the grass. With each small shuffle of its paws Lucy had gasped with wonder.

After one of many moments of silence, Susan commented: “He must be used to humans. That’s the trouble with towns growing out into the wilderness, I suppose.”

Lucy had nodded, not taking her eyes away from the little animal. “It is, it really is. I wonder how it all shall end up.”

Finally, Lucy seemed to have had enough, and the sisters kept walking. “Goodbye, little fellow,” Lucy had whispered excitedly to the rabbit, and—this was what Susan found quite unbearably silly—waved at it as they passed by.

“Hmm,” Lucy had smiled when she at last looked away from the creature. “I hope he has a good life ahead of him, whatever it is he will do.”

The only thing Susan had genuinely thought when she saw the creature was, Oh, it’s only a rabbit.

So, Susan reads. She doesn’t enjoy the Professor’s books, but she is determined to understand. She will find out what it was that Edmund and Peter loved to talk about, what Lucy was thinking about when she gazed star-struck at the creatures of ordinary life. Susan reads the bible, and the annotations at the bottoms of the pages, and the difficult, stuffy translations of Plotinus and Boethius and Aquinas. She does what the priest told her and looks past the lack of scientific basis, the lack of practical knowledge. She opens her heart to the idea that Goodness is a specific thing that exists and the human soul is something higher than the human body. Susan gets frustrated and angry at every turn. It feels quite as if she is in conversation with a man who won’t let her get a word in. But, at the very least, she is finally in on the conversation.

Susan sits at the tea table by the window to the backyard, a full cup of cold tea next to her, Augustine’s The Confessions on the table before her. The window is at the end of a hallway on the second floor. On her left, bedroom doors interrupt the vine patterns on the wallpaper. The staircase, marking the other end of the hallway, lets in light from the living room below. Susan has a pen in one hand. The margins of the book are filled with her words, though not her opinions. The neat, black cursive contains her attempts to track down what this man meant. She knew a little more about this one going in, which helped her feel a lot less like a castaway at sea. Edmund had been quite fond of The Confessions.

“It’s because he can’t do it alone,” her younger brother had said one afternoon.

Ed was sitting in a reading chair. Peter was opposite to him, lying down on their family’s green flower-print couch, his feet on Susan’s lap.

“His will is divided,” Edmund said. “His desire for God is there, and he’s used his reason to discover that God is the ultimate good. But he still has his bodily desires. He’s not strong enough to bring those two parts of his will together. That’s why reading the book is the moment that he is changed—God’s strength unites his will.”

Edmund was leaning forward, pinching his fingers together in the air while holding intense eye contact with his older brother. Susan had seen her maths teacher acting the same way when explaining calculus. Susan remembered sitting in that class, thinking, How can anyone care so much about equations?

But Peter sat up. He swung his legs onto the floor and pushed himself upright, as if he heard a jazz band playing outside and was just dying to run out and dance.

“Of course!” Peter exclaimed. “He needs His grace! Oh, right as always, Ed.”

Susan remembers the way her brothers had smiled at each other. Even then, that warmth between them—that pure understanding and closeness—left her feeling stranded and alone. Now, at the tea table in her aunt and uncle’s home, the loneliness moves from Susan’s throat to the center of her chest like a dark, heavy blade. As the sharp pain dissolves, windy coldness fills her stomach. Through the window, there is sunlight on the grass and birds in the trees. The Scrubbs’ cat is splayed out on the lawn. It all seems like a drawing in a children’s book. It’s stagnant and lifeless, even as the birds flutter and the cat twitches its tail. Susan can feel the heat through the glass, but it doesn’t feel like people say heat feels. It feels suffocating and sharp. Susan wishes she could revel in sunlight, but it just feels unpleasant, and all she can think about is whether or not she’ll get a sunburn.

She takes a deep breath, and sighs it out.

If You are really there, Susan speaks in her mind, then nothing is happening that You haven’t planned.

Susan’s hands are resting on the book. She realizes that she feels as if she’s not alone. Her aunt and uncle are both at work, but the pages, the tea table, the wooden floor, the walls with their vine-pattern…all of the history and theology, these centuries of certainty that Something is out there, seem to be with Susan at the end of the hallway. Whether or not it’s God, or simply the ideas of thousands of people that were so confident He exists, Susan feels she is being heard.

You made me exactly how I am. You made my life exactly how it is. If You really gave me a soul to desire Goodness with, You gave me reason to find it with, too. Well, this is where my reason has taken me: I wear nylons and lipsticks, Sir, and I don’t go to church, and I’m not interested in meeting a good Christian boy anytime soon. And if You really are so far above this bodily world, so much more than the human mind can comprehend, how can anyone be certain that this isn’t what You want of me?

Outside, the birds go on chirping. The cat goes on dozing. Susan looks at the wooden gate marking the garden, the white house beyond that. She looks up at that bright blue sky. Vast white clouds drift in from the southeast.

You gave me reason. And I’ll use it, no matter what they say You want me to do. I’ll use it even if You speak to me Yourself.

The hallway goes on being warm and quiet. Susan looks down at the table before her. She caps her pen, feeling she’s written all she will for a while.

After a moment, she reaches for her tea.

It’s cold. The string of the tea bag has dried and crusted up against the cup. Susan leaves the bag in for far too long, these days. As she takes a sip, bitterness floods her mouth. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she’d become. She swallows again, then again and again, breathing deeply through her nose, the strong flavor soaking into her throat. When she sets the cup down, the empty hall rings with the quiet scraping of the china.

The tea, however it tasted, seemed to even-out something inside of Susan. The room doesn’t feel so unpleasantly hot. Susan looks outside again. The fluffy tip of the cat’s tail moves back and forth, casting a shadow on the grass. Its front paws twitch. Two birds hop up and down a branch of the nearby tree, eyeing the cat. Susan brushes a strand of hair off her forehead.

Perhaps, she thinks, I might enjoy sitting outside for a spell. Before those clouds block out the sun.

[narniagiftexchange]

                      THE WINTER NARNIAN GIFT EXCHANGE.

              for: @jaydotwhy from @quecksilvereyes.

there is a saying, woven into Narnia’s sea, and washing into her shores. it drips from a dragon’s maw and a mermaid’s teeth; a mouse’s fur. it glints in the sinking evening sun, heavy and fat on the horizon, a glow even as it dies. from the ache of a suffocating tree, it is woven into nursery rhymes and into the wind that blows east.

I love you. let me be the thing that buries you. let me be the thing that sees your last breath suspended in starlight. let me make a grave for you so peaceful that even the soil forgets to breathe.

-

“They sound like vows”, says Eustace, with soft hands and soft teeth and a spilling, trembling voice. Underneath his hands, Reepicheep shifts. His ear flicks.

“They might have been”, he says. He doesn’t reach for Eustace’ tears. He doesn’t grip his sword. “A long time ago, perhaps they were vows. We don’t know, now. I fear we’ve quite forgotten.” Eustace’s hands are wet and sticky with the juice of a peach, his trousers and his shirt stiff and rough with salt. Reephicheep looks at him, with big, black eyes. “I thought they might know, when Narnia first called them home. But it is older than them, too.”

Behind Reepicheep, the sea is still and clear as glass, blooming in the light of the eastern sun, and if Eustace leans forward enough, he can see the bottom of it lined with pearls. Next to him, Lucy is crying. Big, fat tears that leave angry red marks on her cheeks, her freckles already fading even under this sun, she buries her face in Edmund’s tunic and Edmund-

Edmund looks like he might be sick.

With trembling hands, he holds onto Lucy. With his pale skin and his back hunched and the world on a needle’s point, he looks at Eustace.

Eustace looks at Reepicheep. Beneath their little boat, something moves. Eustace’ skin aches. It’s soft and smooth and raw and-

 -

          where is your scream, Son of Adam?           where is your voice?           don’t tell me it’s still drowned in these waters           fashioned from paint           fashioned from want

          open your mouth           is it not your mother’s voice nestled within it?           is it not your father’s chill           all the way within your hollowed bones?

     we are both      half Beast, half hope.

where is your fight, Talking Mouse? can you still feel the rope on your teeth? there is a table beneath your feet - it’s cracking, see? does not the cavity within you still taste like hemp?

open your eyes is it not a human pup, with human terror and human aches holding you so gently as though you might break?

the sun catches in his hair, see. it’s in the tears on his cheeks.

 -

my sweet. my dear thing. the sea is so quiet now. so still as though it does not fall off the edges of this world in front of your disbelieving eyes. your friend’s fur is soft against your skin. his eyes are a starless night, as is the sky stretched above you. the stars have not yet reached this corner of me, you know. they are not yet enough to fill me whole. this mouse wasn’t born Speaking. you were not born with heat in your guts and tears in your eyes. if you tilt your head, can you see yourself in his eyes? do you think he can see himself in yours?

it isn’t enough to love him. it isn’t enough to hold him. you, undragoned and afraid, must be that which buries him. with human hands that have once known divinity you must send him East. do this, not for a lion or a cousin with a dripping tunic. not for a Star so hungry for the world she took herself out of it. do this, wailing, with the earth moving beneath you, because there has never been a Talking Mouse this far East.

do this for love, child. place him in his boat, and bury him as far East as you can go. with your hands upon me, I will hold my breath and all that moves this world, for a mouse.

[swordofpevensie]

Random Peter Pevensie Headcanons

warnings: peter x you (i'm trying to say these include love), england!peter, fluff.

a/n: omg i haven't written anything for so long. i miss my baby, so there are some headcanons for you. hope you like them! gifs are mine, they are from the movie the little mermaid (2018). he looks fine. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

• Tease, tease, tease. Peter likes to tease you and watch your reaction. He doesn't do extra things to tease you though. He just reads your favorite book on purpose and makes sure that you see him reading it, or he wears the shirt you like, again making sure you see him. If you mentioned your favorite colour is green, then he'll probably wear something green and will make sure that you notice him. He likes showing that he is interested in you and thinks it is the best way to let you know he listens to you and cares everything you say.

• He is the big spoon. But sometimes, if he feels really bad, he lets you hug him. You two just lay down there and even if you don't say anything, he feels better in time. Your existence, slow heartbeats, silent breaths, fingers caressing his hair; they are enough to make him feel good again.

• He has this habit of always checking how you feel, what you do, if you are comfortable. He casually asks if you dried your hair, took your jacket, locked the door before leaving your house, or brought your book. You generally like it but sometimes when you feel overwhelmed, you tell him stop worrying because you can take care of yourself. He says he won't ask again but he can't help it. He sometimes blushes after realizing he did it again, but you can't be angry at him anymore, because he is so cute.

• His favorite date activity is taking you to drive-in theathers. He enjoys watching movies, he feels like he leaves reality. And watching movies with you in his car that he absolutely adores? It is perfect. His hand is on your shoulder most of the time. He kisses your cheek randomly. And he forgets about the movie when you react with your body language while watching. He likes watching your facial expressions changing in a second according to the incidents in the movie. He ends up looking at you, with a soft smile on his face. Sometimes you see his eyes on you, you look at him. You say “What?” while frowning. He shrugs his shoulders and says “Nothing.” If you ask again, he puts his fingers to your chin and makes you turn your head to the screen. “We are here to enjoy the movie, sweetheart.” He says, then kisses your cheek. You let it go, really. It can be hard to keep up with him.

• Because he is an energetic person. You never understand how he can be so lively and quick. He doesn't like sitting. He must do something. He keeps learning new physcial things to spend time. He works in the neighbours' gardens on his free times. Or one day you find him in the harbour, helping the sailors carry whatever they've brought. He has a widowed neighbour, and he helps her by babysitting her twins. He enjoys doing those things. He never complains. As long as he helps others somehow, he never complains. And you love him for that, very much. He is such a selfless, giving person that it sometimes makes you emotional and angry at the same time. You scold him, telling that he must take care of himself too. He smiles at you, says, “I have you, it's fine.”

• He doesn't take care of himself that much, yes, he is aware of that, because you are there to do it. You don't even realize what you are doing but Peter does. He knows and sees everything you do for him and he is beyond grateful. He likes it when you bring food to him and people in the harbour. He likes it when you knit tiny cardigans for the twins. He likes that you buy presents for his siblings from every new place you visit. When you iron his clothes, tidy his hair, fill his glass of water on his desk, bring him tea while he is studying, help him tie up, he melts. He loves how kind and caring you are.

• When you are at home at night, drinking something and sitting (he finally manages to sit down because no matter how hard he denies, in the end he is tired), he tells you stories. You don't know how he knows such stories or how he comes up with them, but they are magical and you enjoy listening. You feel like you leave this world, visit and explore a new universe. You like the way he tells the stories. He says, “I learned from a friend of mine, however I am never as skilled as her.” when you mention it.

• He is a good dancer. When you are invited somewhere, he attracts attention with his moves. But he is too busy with looking at you, talking with you and just holding you in his arms, so he doesn't really care, or even notice others. If you haven't seen each other before the invitation, he casually talks with you about his day. He asks you about yours too, and always listens carefully.

• After the party is over, you and he walk together in the streets, sometimes holding hands, sometimes running, or playing. Some people look at you with judgement and disapproval, meanwhile some people smile when they see you two are completely in love. When you arrive at home, your heels are on your hand, you both are breathing heavily but never stop laughing. Sometimes you do, yet when you look at each other, you start laughing again, for no reason at all.

• He always makes sure that he gets his goodbye kiss. It can be very hard to leave you and go back to home for him. He just wants to stay and spend the night with you. After many kisses he steals, he can finally leave. He walks home with a soft smile on his face. He feels ensorcelled and so in love.

[justanotherghostwriter]

While us Narnia fans sit here in various levels of concern that the Netflix adaptation will be as terrible and disrespectful to character personalities as the Prince Caspian movie bad enough to break our hearts, may I suggest the very wonderful alternative of fanfiction?

In particular, fanfiction by our fandom queen, Elecktrum.

She writes in the movie universe, largely in Narnia post LWW, but respects the books very much. Most of her fic are epics. All of them are insanely, insanely good. You get wonderful character development. Amazing prose. Mindblowing poetry. Some of the best sibling bonding and other platonic love I have ever read. Pulse-quickening plots. OCs that don’t make you wince and roll your eyes - the exact opposite, actually.

Whether you’re excited about the Netflix series or not, whether you’re only books or only movies or a mix of the two, whether you’ve been into Narnia longer than even I have or have recently stumbled into it, whichever of the Pevensies you love best, whatever your opinion on Eustace is... Please, please, please do yourselves the absolute favour of reading Elecktrum.

Here on A03. | Here on FF.net.

[wildflowertips]

Hi! I was curious if you had anymore Kuroko fic recommendations? Thank you! 🥺💗

hey! 🥺 i do have more kuroko fanfic recs. i didnt know what type of kuroko ship you wanted, so here are a few from some kuroko ships <3:

Kagakuro Recommendations

the flower that blooms in adversity by aotetsu

When Kagami falls for Kuroko Tetsuya, a famous prostitute from the red light district, he manages to find a whole lot of trouble and a person worth it all.

this fic deserves more love and attention. kagami love for kuroko absolutely made me sob

Brothers in Woo by buttwade

in which Himuro jokingly offers to help Kagami win Kuroko over and the joke's on him

kagami is drunk & himuro cracks jokes. this fic is funny. jealous!kuroko

Beastly call by TCon

"You mean," Kuroko started. "You'd be my Heat Partner?" He didn't expect Kagami to explode into a myriad of different shades of red more impressive than his own hair. "Y — yeah tha's what I'm sayin'!" for some reasons he lapsed into english with an odd accent. KagaKuro Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics & Sex Pistols AU - Fusion

Lots of smut in the beginning. there’s crime, suspense, and i read this fic like 5 times.

Stamina Training by tnsxbunny

As the weakest member in the team, Kuroko stays back after basketball practice to train on his stamina. Kagami watches from afar and decides to show Kuroko what real stamina training is.

SMUT. SUCH GOOD SMUT. thank u

The advantage of being Kuroko by heartfilledteddybear

mayuzumi hits on Kuroko & Kagami gets jealous 🥵

Akakuro Recommendations

Forget me not flowers in our hair by miniaturepsycho

When Kagami is captured by a beast Kuroko doesn't think twice and bargains to take the red head's position instead but it seems that there is more to this castle than meets the eye, and what has it have to do with forget me not's?? Basically a beauty and the beast AU that I decided to do after seeing the live action (which I totally did not cry at, not at all!!) COMPLETE

Contains Aokaga. Akashi as beast & kuroko as belle. So good 🥺

All I ask by TsuruKuni

"It's none of your business." "Tell me, Aomine. How can it be none of my business when you're throwing away the only person I've ever wanted?"

THIS FIC MADE ME SOB AT 3 AM. I highly recommend listening to ‘All I ask’ by Adele. I promise you will cry. Aokuro & Akakuro.

Bridezilla by DancingMarshmallows

Weddings are stressful... try helping people plan them. With two months to get everything together, a bridezilla and her bitch of a maid of honor, and finding love at the worst time, Kuroko would be lucky if he makes it out alive.

CEO!Akashi & WEDDING PLANNER!kuroko. you will not regret reading this one.

That Ridiculously Long Dance by Harmonia_Silverberg

Aomine, Kise, and Kagami never learn, do they? But apparently their "joke" works in Akashi and Kuroko's favor this time.

literally one of my all time favorite akakuro fanfic

What Would Chihiro Do by anewtinystory

Akashi is dating Kuroko, whose two brothers are very protective of him.[Based on a Tumblr anon's prompt: Nijimura and Mayuzumi are Kuroko's brothers; while Nijimura approves of Akashi, Mayuzumi feels the opposite]

slight smut. protective bros. i love it sm.

Aokuro Recommendations

Traded Mistakes by Acetate, Chrystie, exuberant_imperfection, kate882, luckypen

For the prompt: Aomine having an accident and losing his memory so all he remembers is being best friends with Tetsu and he doesn’t understand how that could stop.

Angst, oh the angst 😫😭.

Third time’s a charm (or maybe fourth) by LajtHane

Aomine really didn't mean to crash into him at Quidditch practice.

HOGWARTS AU. if that doesn’t temp you, idk what will. My fav Aokuro fic.

Maybe a touch of your hand by skinandbones

[Written for AoKuroWeek 2015]: Aomine moves into a new apartment and befriends a ghost boy.

no bc this fic made me cry too. pls read it 🎶ifwehad5moreminutes🎶

The Boyfriend Jersey by exuberant_imperfection, kate882

Kuroko, in a half-asleep mistake, ends up wearing Aomine's jersey to school.

THIS FIC IS CUTE SUCH DORKS

Hey, Come Here Often? by imabignerd

In which Momoi holds his magazines hostage, Aomine hates everything and everyone, and Kuroko is politely bewildered.

Aomine crushes on the lifeguard!Kuroko & Momoi is a little shit about it 😌🤍

Midokuro Recommendations

It’s Always your Fault! by warsandwich

Kuroko and Midorima are secretly dating, but Takao finds out their secret. De-anon from the anon meme.

Short, sweet, & funny 😌.

Partnership by Fayah

Their partnership starts in English class, but like everything else in their lives, turns into a matter of basketball.

Midorima really cares for Kuroko 🥺

Midokuro Ficlet by pandacchii

based off of imagineyourotp blog post: "Imagine your otp confessing while they were half asleep" Pairing: Midorima/Kuroko

short story but it’s really cute ☺️

An Unexpected Alignment by cinnaelle

Midorima Shintarou does not expect such a reoccurring encounter. But the wheels of fate are turning and Akashi moves his shogi piece.

well-written i love it sm. deserves more praise

The Way You Come Undone by oshare_banchou

"Midorima Shintarou is completely silent during sex. And Kuroko, who is both fascinated and frustrated by this discovery, wonders just how much it would take to make him come undone." - Kuroko/Midorima, in that order

do i need to say more? 😫

Kikuro Recommendations

Careless Whisper by DarkWoods

When Kuroko is dared to come up with some dirty talk, no one expects him to be good at it. Certainly not Kise.

my favorite kikuro fanfic. flustered!kise & tease!kuroko

如果的事 (If) by stormterror

People fall in love in many different manners. Love feels like many different things to many people, but Kise Ryouta thinks there's nothing that quite beats the feeling of being in love with Kuroko Tetsuya. [kise/kuroko]

SO GOOD I CRIED I SMILED SO HARD. pls kikuro deserves the world

Wires, Connecting by Bakagami

It's like being blind but not, like touching air, grasping at straws, voices dissipating and reverberating.

This story is locked so you need to login into ao3 to read it. PHONE SEX & DIRTY TALK 🥵

He Promised by imabignerd

Kise promised he'd smile for Kuroko the whole way through, all the way to the end.

Zombie apocalypse AU. Death. sobbing violently.

It’s a Small World by SilentSilhouette

Kise tries to find his soulmate through social media. Soulmate AU where a picture of your soulmate is tweeted to you on your sixteenth birthday.

This one made me crackle & laugh😂😂

Murakuro Recommendations

No Such Thing as Too Much Vanilla by plumtrees

Kuroko and Murasakibara have baking days. What do you mean it isn't canon?

baking!boyfriends & fluff 😌😉

Vanilla Cream by yoimrei

Murasakibara eats Kurokos ass after something Ahomine says which sparks his jealousy.

here me out first, the ass eating in this is *chef’s kiss* 🤌🏽🤌🏽

Philia by DarkWoods

That time Murasakibara and Kuroko started kinda-sorta fake dating, and kinda-sorta never bothered to break up.

Still going & i love this writer sm. i read all their stories 😙✌🏽

Lavender Secrets by SailorHikarinoMu

Kuroko was the one to bring out his true love for basketball, which had been hidden from prying eyes since the beginning. It was one of those things he was unsure whether he should feel grateful for, but all the same, it did mean something. What this 'something' was, exactly? Murasakibara did not know. Not yet.

FLUFF AAA FLUFF

Rainy by overdose

Kuroko listened to the rain pouring, and more importantly, Murasakibara's steady breathing.

smut. couch sex. size difference. 🥴

BONUS

Hanamiya Makoto/Kuroko Tetsuya

Scotomas by Darkenedcrystal

After the game against Jabberwock, Kagami goes overseas and Kuroko finds himself without a light. A slightly angsty, rather light-hearted story about what happens to Kuroko after Kagami leaves. Features teens finding their way around life, Seirin without a light, the Generation of Miracles being a family, the teens finding love and appreciating the heartbreaks. Kuroko tries to find his own style without a light, and stumbles into the darkness that is Hanamiya Makoto instead. Extra chapter added!

love this fic so much. downside: akashi is kinda a dick

Of Unlikely Friendships, Sneaky Bets, Shogi and Sake by itsthechocopuff

Imayoshi had introduced his two favourite kouhai to each other as an experiment. He did not predict they'd get along so well, both being shadows, but they did, and they worked, oddly enough. Hanamiya brought out the worst in Kuroko, while Kuroko brought out the the best in the other; and they both caused heartattacks to unsuspecting teammates who could not believe their darling shadow was not as innocent as he seemed.

you wont regret reading this one omg

Haizaki Shougo/Kuroko Tetsuya

A Taste That Lingers by therealmoyashi

I couldn't say anything, and that was alright because he didn't want an answer. I'll never forget the way that tasted. Yeah, I thought, he ruined me.

i cried reading this for the first time. out of character kuroko

By the Tomatoes by Wayfarer_Rye

It starts with a blue-grey t-shirt that says "Nothing but Net".

Haizaki wants to try again.

[quecksilvereyes]

“You cannot live your life to please others. the choice must be yours.” Susan

Uh. So this prompt possessed me a little bit, I sure hope smoking isn't a trigger for you, anon.

____

Sometimes, in the summers, when the air is thick and heavy, dripping with unshed rain and pressing into the hollow of her clavicles, Susan Pevensie stands in her mother's garden, and bathes in the sun. She drapes her blouse, soaked with sweat, and her skirt, soaked with perfume, over the old rocking chair that has long since splintered under the weight of its age, and then:

A breath.

With closed eyes and soft mouth, rouge-dotted and lipstick-smeared, Susan Pevensie tilts her face towards the light. Her brassiere is damp with English rain that won't fall, her petticoats are stiff with English breeze that won't blow and her wrists are strung up by English strings that won't pull.

Blue skies are rare, here. England is grey, and England is cloudy, and England rains and rains and rains until it has made itself sick and its ground unsteady. Some weeks, the clouds hang low for so long that the sun cannot reach what it wishes to nourish. Some weeks, Susan sits by her window, her head pressed against the glass, and watches the clouds drip into fog, the fog drip into the earth, and the earth drown and cry. Until her skin matches the grey of the skies, until her mind drips from her every breath onto the paneled glass, until she can't see through the fog, anymore.

"Su", says her brother, then, his hands on her forehead, his mouth in her hair. "Susie." His hands, shaking and unsteady, are warm and getting warmer with every passed winter. His voice, soft and careful and stripped of teeth, drops steadily deeper. When he turns his head, the beginnings of a stubble scrape against her cheek.

"Light of my life, sun of my skies."

The skies are grey. The grass is grey. The fence is grey. The world is grey.

Peter's eyes are blue. The clouds don't gather around his pupils, and his irises are clear as they've been for days. The English sky has never echoed the yellow freckles.

The Narnian skies were ever centered around the pupil of her sun, in the soft yellow streaks of Peter's eyes.

Susan wets her lips. She doesn't wet her cheeks.

Peter climbs onto the bench. "My sister", he says softly. "Where have you gone?"

Susan buries her face in his chest and leaves behind great streaks of make-up on his bleached dress shirt: a mouth of lipstick, a blur of rouge, a dust of powder. Splotches of mascara, lines of kohl. Marks of eyeshadow.

Peter rubs her back, and Susan doesn't cry.

In the summers, she drinks the sun with greedy mouth and empty stomach and hungry, hungry skin. In the dripping air and the burning grass, Susan Pevensie strips to her undergarments - and breathes.

In, and out.

A breath, and then another.

Beyond her closed eyes, the world drips reds and oranges, and bright, stark yellows. Beyond her hollow mouth, the air coats her windpipe; a slow dripping of heat.

She is alone, here. She drops her ball-jointed limbs and her painted porcelain face, turns her opal glass palms right side up, and breathes.

Until her lungs settle, and the fog has run dry. Until the colours are a bit sharper, a bit brighter. A smear more familiar.

-

The party is slow. Nicotine gathers heavy on the ceiling, and the music is a little too loud to be ambient. The drinks are spiked, the hems are lifted, and Susan is standing by the door, watching her friend lose the last of her lipstick to a stranger's mouth.

The boy is. Well, he's fine. Polite and gentle, soft-spoken. He ducks his head and worries the tips of his fingers and the spread of his lips until they bleed. His hair would curl, if it was long enough, and when she blows smoke in his direction, he coughs.

Smiles.

Susan takes another drag of her cigarette. Flicks the ash to the floor. Smiles.

"You'll have to forgive the cigarette", she says around the smoke seeping from her mouth. "It calms me down."

The boy blinks at her, and wets his bottom lip. It is dark with blood, dotted purple where he has almost broken skin, swollen with the almost-injury. "I can't imagine anyone ever denies you much of anything", he says. "You're too pretty for that."

"Too pretty to be annoyed with?"

He shrugs. His shoulders are slumped forwards, and it makes his suit jacket sit oddly on the rounded curve of his back. "People love pretty things. Better to keep them around."

Her cigarette is stained with her lipstick, and the tips of her fingers drip with it. The smoke in her lungs is warm, and the alcohol in her blood is warmer, still, so Susan tilts her head. "When I was a little girl, my mother bought me a little lace collar. I wore it until it broke, and begged her to fix it when it had long become too threadbare to even be touched."

The boy nods, and takes a breath.

Susan clicks her tongue. "I'd gotten beet juice on it, and it wouldn't come out in the wash. No matter the soap, no matter the scrub. There was a small pink stain near the lapel, and it simply bled in all directions. So my mother soaked it in bleach."

The boy cannot pull his shoulders forwards any further. He cannot bend his back more. He digs his teeth into the purple marks on his lips.

"The bleach dissolved most of it. The lace was too delicate." Susan throws the cigarette stub on the floor and savours the last breath of it, the hot coating of her tongue. "If she hadn't tried to get the stain out, it wouldn't have broken."

The boy's teeth break his skin. The blood pools, dark and shy, around the enamel and into the corners of his mouth. "You couldn't have worn the stained collar", he says, with his soft voice and his soft eyes, his soft, soft hair.

"Why not?"

"Well", says the boy. His shirt is starched and bleached. There is a wrinkle ironed firmly into the placket. He coughs again. "It was already ruined before your mother bleached it. It was stained."

Susan crushes the stub underneath her shoe. The music covers the sound of the grinding and the soft hiss of the dying embers. "It was mine, and I loved it", she says. "Was it my mother's call to make what I could bear?"

The boy shrugs. "It's a lace collar. There are others."

Susan hums. "Perhaps. But I wanted this one." Across the room, someone spills red wine over someone else's lap. Someone else holds their cigarette too close to their lover's sleeve. "You shouldn't live your life to please others. You mind the smoke, and you mind the talking. And yet-"

The boy laughs. The corners of his eyes wrinkle, the apples of his cheeks flush dark, and the blood on his lips spreads slow across his teeth.

"And yet", he says, "here I am."

[jollysunflora]

I want to read a fic where the Authority is NOT the same as the Emperor-Across-the-Sea but no one has written it...

[eds-gryff]

(From ‘Alliance’ on Wattpad ♡)

[an-angels-fury]

You're the Most Beautiful Boy - An_Angels_Fury - Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

Summary:

[...] The most unexpected of all was when the new king, in a shy gesture, gently lifted your chin with his fingertips so that your eyes met his - those dark, adoring eyes that seemed to strip away every inch of your body - and said in a playful and, at the same time, challenging tone: "Kiss me" You're not sure if that was a request or an order, but what does it matter? [...] He wants the same thing as you and he has expressed that desire right there in front of you - the desire that you have worked so hard to bury in the depths of your heart. Would it be so bad to let it speak louder just once in your life? (10 reasons Peter believes he shouldn't kiss Caspian + 3 reasons that make him realize he absolutely should)

In case any of you are interested, I'm finally posting my works on AO3 and now I'm sharing the links to the oneshots I've already posted on my Tumblr. This is the first one I wrote (Original post here -> XXX).

[paravell-archive]

narnia fanfic rec

For the anon who requested it - here are a list of my favorite narnia fanfic! (I haven’t read some for a while, but these are the ones I have saved from a while ago)

Multi-Chapt

fate or destiny  - i think the first I ever read and it’s really great (complete)

untamed - this is my absolute favorite (i’m 99% sure complete but it’s been a while)

royal findings - I read this one a long time ago and I loved it 

her white knight - this author has a lot of other really good stories

sophia the forgotten - i get TONS of inspiration from this fic tbh

daughter of eve: the tale of a forgotten queen - short complete fic that has a fifth pevensie (sort of)

sea rat - story about a runaway on a ship who meets Peter with a sequel taming the tides

time for us - archenland princess meets Edmund

One-shots 

of monarchs and men - cute story about the pevensies planning their futures

in her old age - cute cute lucy story

you’re perfect - edmund x reader

a little narnian has a masterlist here and they are all amazing

gone - susan angst fic

@itskingedmund has a masterlist here