Edmund Pevensie - Blog Posts

Don’t worry, he’ll catch you when you fall.

The Guardians of Narnia Update!

Hey Guys! I decided to move my Guardians of Narnia over to Wattpad, and Chapter 2 was just updated! 😁

Please give it a looks and remember to Vote, Comment, and Share!

Also be on the lookout for FAQ's and artwork about our new Guardians!👀

Can't wait to see you guys in the next chapter! ❤️

Guardians of Narnia Now Updated!

After months of putting it off, I finally updated The Guardians of Narnia and you can now read Chapter 1 on AO3! Take a look and let me know how y'all like it!

Also, stay tuned for what our guardians look like!

What did the Pevensie’s eat when they ruled/where in Narnia. Were they strictly vegetarian or what pls someone give me head cannons this is driving me crazy

back in my narnia era what even is the timeline

Into The Wardrobe Headcanons

Into The Wardrobe is a Edmund Pevensie fic that I'm currently writing. Had some litte ideas, so here they are! (OC's name is Vanessa Kirke)

Nicknames

Peter-

Calls her the usual nickname she goes by: 'Nessa'

Majority of the time however, he calls her 'Kirke'

Sometimes calls her 'Your Majesty' as a joke because she severely dislikes people addressing her formally

In retaliation, she calls him by his full royal title

He hates it but it's so funny

She also calls him 'Pete' as a normal nickname

Susan-

Susan usually calls her 'Vanny'

She also calls her 'Goldie' in reference to the color of the younger girl's powers

Vanessa calls Susan 'Susy' or 'Su'

'Bookworm'

That one that appears when Susan starts spending more time in the library at Cair Paravel, reading all sorts of Narnian stories, fictional or non-fictional

Edmund-

He calls her a large variety of nicknames, but usually sticks with 'love' or 'darling'

'Sweetheart'

'My dear'

'My darling'

Edmund is the only one who is allowed by Vanessa to call her anything pertaining to her royal title

'My Queen'

She calls him basically all the same things, but 'My King' instead

'Love'

'My love'

'Eddie'

'Nessie'

Lucy-

Lucy is the only one who gets to call Vanessa 'Nessie'

Apart from Edmund

She also calls the older girl 'Ness' on occasion

Vanessa calls her things like 'Sunny'

'Soldier'

'Little soldier'

'Strawberry'

Names that sound like small things

Lucy loves it

me when he's the second son:

About the last one: Willy Wonka did say it was for children who had little pocket money. And as far as we know, he didn’t make other types of everlasting candy, so he would still get a lot of profit from all his other products while also earning points towards his public image.

Tired of fiction lying to me about food things

Turkish delight is NOT delicious or even remotely palatable, let alone good enough to sell your family to an evil witch for.

A spoonful of sugar does NOT help the medicine go down, in fact it makes it much much worse because now you have a mouthful of hard-to-swallow medicine flavoured sugar-goo. 0/10 do not recommend.

An everlasting gobstopper is a TERRIBLE business idea. there's absolutely no profit to be made there.

I outgrew Harry & Ron & Hermione… And Alisa Seleznyova… And the Pevensies… And Kalle Blomkvist…

*sheds a tear*

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.

Susan did not see Peter in battle for years—arriving to his stand against Jadis almost too late, catching up while he picked himself up from the torn earth, on the other side of the conflict when the remnants of Jadis’ army tried their luck at the Cair. Sure, she knew he fought and killed, just as she did, just as Edmund and Lucy did—and oh, how Susan loathes that last part, but Lucy had been the one to find the first assassin in their halls and there was nothing to be done about it now. There was entirely too much death in their first year, Susan thinks, the fairytale shine of Narnia soon breaking apart and leaving a country and people in desperate need of rest and time behind. It took her days to get the blood out underneath her and Lucy’s fingernails, and she knew Peter had just as bad a time with Edmund next door. With a lump in her throat, Susan wondered often if this was to be the rest of their lives: washing themselves clean of battles that were forced upon them by a world far too big for their hands to hold. But even then, with the bloodied waters between them all, she never truly saw Peter in battle. A slain Maugrim who had about as much a part in his own death as Peter’s shaking sword did, a witch that Susan never saw die, assassins that ended up on the moth-eaten carpets she had found in old storage rooms; things that should give her pause but she simply couldn’t consider for long with all there was to do. They had killed to end up where they were, and Susan knew deep down that they would have to kill to stay, too. Now, standing with her bow held tight and a quiver empty of arrows, a sword at her side she has yet to finish learning how to swing, Susan finds herself in a pocket of tar-slow time. Here, she stands with a muddied hemline and their castle once more under siege—unknown foes, but foes all the same—and there, across the way, with his hair longer than Susan has ever known him to have, Peter lets out a roaring laugh. Rhindon is far out of sight, a glaive taking its place in Peter’s steady hands. Even from afar, Susan feels it in her bones when Peter’s swing launches an enemy’s torn body across the field. There are bodies, horror-frozen faces, the stench of blood and bile. The steps to the Cair will perhaps forever bear the stain of this assault. They have lost people they held dear. Susan has wept enough to fill an ocean. And Peter laughs. With storm-eyes, bloodied tongue, and bared teeth, her older brother wages joyous war.

I'm torn between a desperate want for the Pevensies to have lived out their lives in Narnia air fad, and the absolute beauty people come up with when writing about their return to earth. This is brilliant. Everything I love!

thoughts on the Pevensies returning home

Peter Pevensie was a strange boy. His mind is too old for his body, too quick, too sharp for a boy. He walks with a presence expected of a king or a royal, with blue eyes that darken like storms. He holds anger and a distance seen in veterans, his hand moving to his hip for a scabbard that isn't there - knuckles white. He moves like a warless soldier, an unexplained limp throwing his balance. He writes in an intricate scrawl unseen before the war, his letters curving in a foreign way untaught in his education. Peter returned a stranger from the war, silent, removed, an island onto himself with a burden too heavy for a child to bear.

Only in the aftermath of a fight do his eyes shine; nose burst, blood dripping, smudged across his cheek, knuckles bruised, and hands shaking; he's alive. He rises from the floor, knighted, his eyes searching for his sisters in the crowd. His brother doesn't leave his side. They move as one, the Pevensies, in a way their peers can't comprehend as they watch all four fall naturally in line.

But Peter is quiet, studious, and knowledgeable, seen only by his teachers as they read pages and pages of analytical political study and wonderful fictional tales. "The Pevensie boy will go far," they say, not knowing he already has.

His mother doesn't recognize him after the war. She watches distrustfully from a corner. She sobs at night, listening to her son's screams, knowing nothing she can do will ease their pain. Helen ran on the first night, throwing Peter's door open to find her children by his bedside - her eldest thrashing uncontrollably off the mattress with a sheen of sweat across his skin. Susan sings a mellow tune in a language Helen doesn't know, a hymn, that brings Peter back to them. He looks to Edmund for something and finds comfort in his eyes, a shared knowing. Her sons, who couldn't agree on the simplest of discussions, fall in line. But Peter sleeps with a knife under his cushion. She found out the hard way, reaching for him during one of his nightmares only to find herself pinned against the wall - a wild look in Peter's eye before he staggered back and dropped the knife.

Edmund throws himself into books, taking Lucy with him. They sit for hours in the library in harmony, not saying a word. His balance is thrown too, his mind searching for a limp that he doesn't have, missing the weight of his scabbard at his side. He joins the fencing club and takes Peter with him. They fence like no one else; without a worthy adversary, the boys take to each other with a wildness in their grins and a skillset unforeseen in beginner fencers. Their rapiers are an exertion of their bodies, as natural as shaking hands, and for the briefest time, they seem at peace. He shrinks away from the snow when it comes, thrust into the darkest places of his mind, unwilling to leave the house. He sits by the chessboard for hours, enveloped in his studies until stirred.

Susan turns silent, her mind somewhere far as she holds her book. Her hands twitch too, a wince when the door slams, her hand flying to her back where her quiver isn't. She hums a sad melody that no one can place, mourning something no one can find. She takes up archery again when she can bear a bow in her hands without crying, her callous-less palms unfamiliar to her, her mind trapped behind the wall of adolescence. She loses her friends to girlishness and youth, unable to go back to what she was. Eventually, she loses Narnia too. It's easier, she tells herself, to grow up and move on and return to what is. But her mourning doesn't leave her; she just forgets.

Lucy remains bright, carrying a happier song than her sister. She dances endlessly, her bare feet in the grass, and sings the most beautiful songs that make the flowers grow and the sun glisten. Though she has grown too, shed her childhood with the end of the war. She stands around the table with her sister, watching, brow furrowed as her brothers play chess. She comments and predicts, and makes suggestions that they take. She reads, curled into Edmund's side as his high voice lulls her to sleep with tales of Arthurian legends. She swims, her form wild and graceful as she vanishes into the water. They can't figure out how she does it - a girl so small holding her breath for so long. She cries into her sister, weeping at the loss of her friends, her too-small hands too clumsy for her will.

"I don't know our children anymore," Helen writes to her husband, overcome by grief as she realizes her children haven't grown up but away into a place she cannot follow.

THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA

caspian

nothing here yet…

peter pevensie

nothing here yet…

edmund pevensie

nothing here yet…

“to the glistening eastern sea, i give you queen lucy the valiant”

“to the great western woods, king edmund the just”

“to the radiant southern sun, queen susan the gentle”

“and to the clear northern skies, i give you king peter the magnificent”

Im the original requester for the edmund pevensie series and I want to say that ur writing is so pretty omg 🤭😭

I was wondering if u could put some smut in there where hes vv rough with her 🤭✋

Thank you soooo muchhhh!!!!! I’m so happy that you’re loving itttt!!! This story is almost finished btw so I hope you are satisfied with it and will be happy! For the smut, I can’t tell you that it will be good for sure😭 I already have the rest of the story written out and I will try my best to implement it into the story. I don’t think I can be a full blown smut writer, I’m just not that creative tbh😅. But, it will have a litte SPICE to it.

Shadows and Starlight: {~Allies in War~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund and Peter

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Bit of angst

Word Count: 1529

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 4 —

The sky was dark, the sun barely visible through the thick clouds that had gathered on the horizon. The tension had been building for days, both within the camps and between them. But no one had anticipated the attack. It came swiftly, without warning, a surprise assault from a third faction that neither Narnia nor your people had expected.

It started with the unmistakable sound of horns—shrill and urgent, cutting through the air like a blade. The camp erupted into chaos as soldiers scrambled to arm themselves, shouting orders and gathering into defensive formations. Edmund was among the first to draw his sword, his instincts kicking in as he barked commands to the Narnians.

You were already in the midst of the confusion, your own people mobilizing with the same urgency. It was as if the tenuous peace between your forces and Narnia had dissolved in an instant, replaced by the brutal reality of survival.

And then the enemy came.

They poured over the hills, armored and armed, a wave of dark figures that moved with ruthless precision. Arrows whistled through the air, striking down anyone too slow to react, and the sound of clashing steel filled the camp as the battle began.

You and Edmund found each other in the thick of it, your eyes meeting across the battlefield for a brief moment before the fighting consumed you both. There was no time for words, no time for hesitation. You moved as one, your swords cutting through the enemy with practiced ease, each of you watching the other’s back as you fought side by side.

Edmund’s focus had never been sharper, but as the battle raged on, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. Despite the chaos, despite the blood and violence that surrounded you, there was an undeniable connection—a trust that had grown between you over the course of these long, difficult weeks. Every movement you made was instinctive, as though you had fought together for years.

An enemy soldier lunged toward you, his spear aimed for your side, but Edmund was faster. He deflected the blow with a quick strike of his sword, knocking the soldier off balance and sending him crashing to the ground.

“Careful!” he shouted over the roar of the battle, his voice edged with concern.

You barely had time to nod your thanks before you were engaged with another opponent, your blade flashing in the dim light as you parried and struck with lethal precision. But even in the midst of the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced whenever Edmund was close—the way his presence seemed to anchor you in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

The battle was fierce, with neither side willing to give an inch. But as the fighting dragged on, the enemy began to close in, their numbers overwhelming the defenders. You and Edmund were forced back toward the center of the camp, where the wounded were being tended to and the remaining soldiers regrouped.

At one point, you found yourself pressed up against a barricade, panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath. Edmund was beside you, his face smeared with dirt and blood, but his eyes were sharp and focused. He glanced at you, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“We need to hold this line,” Edmund said, his voice rough but determined.

You nodded, gripping your sword tightly. “I’m with you.”

And then the fighting resumed.

Together, you and Edmund held the line, fending off wave after wave of attackers. There were moments when it seemed hopeless, when the sheer number of enemies threatened to overwhelm you. But each time, you found strength in the other, an unspoken understanding that neither of you would fall while the other still stood.

As the battle dragged on, something changed. The enemy’s attack began to falter, their forces scattering as the Narnians and your people fought back with renewed vigor. Soon, the attackers were in full retreat, disappearing over the hills as quickly as they had come.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of labored breathing and the distant cries of the wounded. The battle was over, but the cost had been high. Bodies littered the ground, and the air was thick with the smell of blood and smoke.

Edmund sheathed his sword, his chest heaving as he tried to steady himself. He glanced at you, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and unspoken that made your heart clench.

“We did it,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Edmund nodded, but there was no relief in his gaze. “For now.”

Later, when the camp had begun to settle, Edmund found himself face-to-face with Peter. His older brother had been watching him closely throughout the battle, and now, with the fighting over, the questions could no longer be avoided.

“Edmund,” Peter’s voice was sharp as he approached, his blue eyes hard with suspicion. “We need to talk.”

Edmund tensed, knowing what was coming. He could see the concern in Peter’s eyes, the way his brother’s gaze flicked toward you, even as you stood on the other side of the camp, talking with your soldiers.

Peter’s words were low, but laced with accusation. “You’ve been reckless. Distracted.”

“I’ve been doing my job,” Edmund replied coolly, though his pulse quickened.

“Is that what this is?” Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Because it seems to me like your focus is elsewhere.”

Edmund clenched his jaw, refusing to meet Peter’s gaze. He had expected this confrontation for days now—had known it was inevitable. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“I’m focused on the battle. On Narnia,” Edmund said, but even he could hear the strain in his voice.

Peter didn’t let up. “Are you? Or are you too busy looking out for her?”

The accusation hit harder than Edmund had expected, and for a moment, he faltered. But then his anger flared, and he turned to face Peter fully, his expression hardening.

“She’s not our enemy,” Edmund said, his voice low but fierce. “Not anymore.”

Peter’s gaze sharpened. “And what happens when she turns on you? What happens when this fragile truce falls apart, and you’re too blinded by whatever this is to see it coming?”

Edmund’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You don’t understand.”

“No,” Peter snapped, his voice rising. “I don’t. I don’t understand why you’re risking everything for someone who might betray us the moment it’s convenient.”

Edmund’s temper flared, and before he could stop himself, the words were out. “Because she’s different, Peter. She’s not like the others.”

Peter stared at him, his expression unreadable. “You’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment, Edmund. We can’t afford that right now.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the tension between them thick and heavy. Then, Peter’s voice softened, though the worry in his eyes remained.

“You’re my brother,” he said quietly. “I can’t lose you again.”

Edmund’s anger ebbed, replaced by a dull ache in his chest. He knew Peter was only trying to protect him, to keep him from making a mistake. But the problem was, it was already too late. He had let you in—had let his guard down—and now, there was no turning back.

The aftermath of the attack had left your people shaken. The sudden assault had forced your forces to fight alongside the Narnians, and while it had been a necessary alliance, it left many of your soldiers uneasy.

In the command tent, your most trusted advisors were gathered, their faces grim as they discussed the events of the day. The question on everyone’s mind was the same: Could they trust Narnia after what had happened?

“We were caught off guard,” one of your commanders said, his voice heavy with frustration. “We can’t afford to let that happen again.”

You nodded, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You couldn’t stop thinking about Edmund—about the way he had fought beside you, the way he had protected you without hesitation. There was a bond between you now, something deeper than just a shared battle. But how could you reconcile that with the distrust your people felt toward Narnia?

“We need to be careful,” another advisor said. “The Narnians may have helped us today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t turn on us tomorrow.”

A heavy silence settled over the room, and you felt the weight of your position more acutely than ever. You were their leader, the one they looked to for guidance. But how could you lead them when you weren’t even sure where your own loyalties lay?

“I trust Edmund,” you said finally, the words escaping before you could fully think them through.

Your advisors exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke. The truth was, they had seen the way Edmund had fought for you today. They had seen the way the two of you worked together, how you moved in sync, almost as if you had been allies from the start. But trust was fragile, and with war looming on the horizon, any misstep could be disastrous.

Shadows and Starlight: {~Rising Tempers~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Pevensie siblings

Pairings: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst

Word Count: 1582

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 3 —

The sun had barely begun its descent, casting a muted orange glow over the Narnian camp. The truce had held for days, though the atmosphere was far from peaceful. Each morning, Edmund could feel the weight of every glance, every whispered conversation that ceased the moment he entered a room. The rumors had spread, despite his efforts to keep his visits to your camp discreet. And now, with tensions rising on both sides, it was becoming harder to ignore the widening chasm between his duty and his desires.

Edmund sat at the edge of camp, his back against the rough bark of an old tree, watching the horizon. The quiet of the evening offered little solace, only serving to remind him of the conflict he felt inside. He wasn’t sure when his focus had begun to waver—perhaps it was the first time he had looked into your eyes and seen more than an enemy. Or maybe it was when you had hesitated, just as he had, during that first brutal clash on the battlefield.

There was something about you—something that gnawed at him, made him question not only the war but his very role in it. Edmund had fought many battles, some far bloodier than this, but never before had he been so consumed with doubt.

He was startled from his thoughts by the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. He knew who it was even before he looked up. Lucy stood before him, her expression one of quiet concern.

“Ed?” she asked, her voice gentle, as though she didn’t want to startle him further.

“Lucy.” He forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re out late.”

“So are you,” she said, taking a seat beside him. She studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with a kindness that Edmund had always appreciated. But tonight, that kindness felt like a mirror—reflecting back the turmoil he was trying so hard to hide.

Lucy didn’t say anything at first. She simply sat with him, her presence as soothing as the cool breeze that rustled through the trees. Finally, she broke the silence. “You’ve been distant.”

He winced at the truth in her words, but he didn’t deny it. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“I’ve noticed,” she said softly, her gaze unwavering. “So has Peter.”

Edmund tensed at the mention of his older brother. He knew Peter was watching him closely—waiting for him to slip. Peter had always been protective, but lately, his protectiveness had morphed into suspicion.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Edmund muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

“What do you think I’m going to say?” Lucy asked, her voice soft but firm.

“That I’m losing focus. That I’m letting my guard down.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. “No, I wasn’t going to say that.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. “I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

Edmund let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned to look at her, surprised by the genuine concern in her voice. It wasn’t an accusation. It wasn’t a warning. It was Lucy being Lucy—always seeing past the surface.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Lucy leaned in slightly, her expression softening. “Is it about her?”

He stiffened, caught off guard by her directness. Of course Lucy would have noticed. She had always been the most perceptive of them all, even when they were children. She could see past the masks they all wore, could read the emotions that others tried so hard to hide.

Edmund didn’t respond right away, but Lucy’s gaze remained steady. She wasn’t judging him. She was waiting—waiting for him to trust her with the truth.

“It’s complicated,” he said finally, his voice low.

Lucy nodded slowly, understanding more than she let on. “Ed, I don’t pretend to know everything about what’s going on. But I do know you. And I know that you wouldn’t be so torn if there wasn’t more to her than just... the enemy.”

Edmund’s chest tightened at her words. He didn’t deserve her faith. Not when he was keeping so much from his siblings—his family. But the thought of trying to explain everything, to put into words the connection he felt with you... it seemed impossible.

“Peter and Susan... they wouldn’t understand,” he said, almost to himself.

“Maybe not,” Lucy admitted. “But I think they’d listen.”

Edmund wasn’t so sure. Peter had always been the one to see things in black and white, right and wrong. And this—whatever this was between him and you—it didn’t fit neatly into either category.

“I can’t risk it, Lu,” Edmund said after a long silence. “Not yet.”

Lucy looked like she wanted to argue, but she held back. Instead, she reached over and placed a hand on his arm. “Just... don’t shut us out, okay?”

Edmund nodded, though a part of him knew it was already too late. He was too far in—too conflicted, too caught up in his own emotions to untangle the mess he’d found himself in.

It was late, the campfire casting a dim glow as you sat across from Edmund. The talks had gone well—at least on the surface—but there was an undercurrent of tension that neither of you could ignore.

“You seem distracted,” you noted, breaking the silence that had settled between you.

Edmund’s eyes flicked up to meet yours, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back slightly, letting out a slow breath. “I could say the same about you.”

You smiled faintly, though there was no humor behind it. “I think we’re both distracted.”

For a moment, the air between you was thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts. There were things neither of you could say—truths that lingered just beneath the surface, too dangerous to give voice to.

“You’ve changed,” Edmund said after a long silence, his voice soft but firm.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his observation. “Changed how?”

“You’re not as... certain,” he said carefully, as though choosing his words with the precision of a warrior picking his strikes. “When we first met on the battlefield, you were... relentless. Unyielding.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours, “you hesitate.”

The words hit harder than you expected, but you couldn’t deny their truth. You had changed. The war had changed you. But it wasn’t just the war—it was him. Edmund had wormed his way into your thoughts, into your very soul, and now you found yourself questioning everything you once believed in.

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you said, trying to brush it off, but the look in Edmund’s eyes told you he didn’t believe that for a second.

“You’re not tired,” he said quietly. “You’re conflicted.”

The fire crackled between you, the sound almost too loud in the heavy silence. You stared at the flames, trying to gather your thoughts, but Edmund’s gaze never wavered. He was waiting for you to speak—waiting for you to admit the truth you had both been avoiding.

Finally, you looked up, meeting his gaze head-on. “And what about you, Edmund? Are you conflicted?”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “I am.”

It was the first time either of you had admitted it out loud, and the words hung between you like a fragile thread, ready to snap at any moment.

“I don’t know what this is,” Edmund continued, his voice barely audible. “But I know that it’s dangerous.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “And yet here we are.”

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He didn’t have an answer—neither of you did. All you knew was that the lines between friend and foe had blurred beyond recognition, and now, you were both caught in the middle of something neither of you could control.

In the command tent, Peter stood at the head of the table, his arms crossed as he stared down at the map spread before him. The other Narnians had already dispersed for the evening, leaving only Peter and Susan behind.

“He’s slipping,” Peter said finally, his voice tight with frustration.

Susan looked up from her seat, her expression thoughtful. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Peter insisted, his blue eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and concern. “He’s distracted. He’s letting his emotions get in the way.”

“And you think you’re not?” Susan countered, raising an eyebrow. “Peter, you’re just as invested in this war as Edmund is. Maybe even more so.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and he shook his head. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Edmund. He’s... different. He’s not himself.”

Susan stood, crossing the tent to stand beside her brother. She placed a hand on his arm, her voice soft but firm. “He’s growing up, Peter. He’s making his own decisions.”

Peter didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the map before him. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more subdued. “I just don’t want to lose him again.”

“You won’t,” Susan said softly. “But you need to trust him.”

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if I can.”

Shadows and Starlight: {~ The Fragile Truce Word ~}

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight fluff

Word Count: 1697

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 2 —

The camp was quiet, save for the low murmur of soldiers gathered around fires, their faces lit by the flickering glow. The war had taken its toll on everyone—physically and mentally—and tonight, even the most hardened fighters seemed subdued. The ceasefire had been called, but there was a tension in the air that was impossible to ignore. Everyone knew this truce was temporary. Fragile. And yet, as you stood at the edge of your camp, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something far more dangerous than battle lay ahead.

The source of your unease stood just beyond the perimeter, his presence unmistakable. Edmund Pevensie had come to your camp under the pretense of negotiations—discussing terms, strategies, anything to maintain the fragile peace that had been brokered after your last encounter. But you knew better. Edmund wasn’t here for political reasons. He was here because, like you, he couldn’t let go of whatever was growing between you, no matter how much he tried to deny it.

You watched as he dismounted from his horse, his movements fluid and purposeful, his face unreadable. The tension between you had shifted since that fateful day on the battlefield, when he had offered you his hand instead of striking you down. It was as if the very nature of your rivalry had changed, morphing into something neither of you could fully understand or control.

“Edmund,” you greeted him, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in your chest. You tried to keep your tone neutral, but there was no denying the undercurrent of something deeper.

He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your greeting as his eyes met yours. For a brief moment, it was just the two of you, standing on opposite sides of a fragile line that neither dared to cross, yet both seemed drawn toward. But then, the moment passed, and Edmund’s expression hardened.

“I’m here to discuss the terms of the truce,” he said, his voice formal, though you could hear the strain beneath it. “We need to ensure this ceasefire holds.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to follow you toward the central tent where the negotiations would take place. The camp buzzed with quiet energy as you led him through the rows of soldiers and tents, but no one dared approach. Your people regarded Edmund with wary eyes, their distrust of the Narnians evident in the way they tensed at his presence.

Once inside the tent, the two of you stood opposite each other, the low light casting long shadows on the canvas walls. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence thick with unspoken words.

“So,” Edmund began, his tone clipped as he tried to steer the conversation back to politics, “your side has been pushing for control of the northern borders. We can’t allow that to happen.”

You folded your arms across your chest, feigning indifference even as your heart pounded in your ears. “And what would you suggest, Pevensie? We give up territory in exchange for your goodwill?”

His jaw clenched, his irritation evident, though he was doing his best to keep his emotions in check. “You know as well as I do that this isn’t about goodwill. It’s about survival.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. This was supposed to be a negotiation—a purely diplomatic meeting to maintain peace—but it felt like something far more personal. Every word exchanged was a battle in its own right, each of you testing the other’s resolve.

Before you could respond, the tent flap opened, and a tall figure entered—one of your most trusted advisors, a man who had been at your side since the beginning of the war. He was charming, sharp-witted, and far too friendly for Edmund’s liking. You could see the change in Edmund’s posture immediately, the way his shoulders stiffened as your advisor greeted you with a warm smile.

“My apologies for the interruption,” your advisor said smoothly, his eyes flicking to Edmund with only the briefest hint of disdain before returning to you. “I wanted to ensure everything was in order for the negotiations.”

You offered him a polite smile, nodding in acknowledgment. “Of course. We were just discussing the terms of the truce.”

As you spoke, your advisor stepped closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder in what might have been a gesture of support—but to Edmund, it was something far more irritating. His eyes darkened as he watched the interaction, his jaw clenching so hard you thought you heard his teeth grind.

Edmund’s voice was cold when he finally spoke. “I assume you’ve been kept informed of the negotiations thus far,” he said, addressing your advisor with a pointed glare. “It would be a shame for any misunderstandings to arise at this stage.”

The tension in the tent thickened as the two men locked eyes, neither willing to back down. You could feel the heat of Edmund’s jealousy simmering just beneath the surface, though he did his best to mask it behind a veneer of professionalism. Still, you knew him well enough to recognize the signs—the slight tightening of his grip on his sword hilt, the way his gaze never quite left your advisor.

Before things could escalate, you cleared your throat, stepping between them to defuse the situation. “Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand,” you suggested, your voice firm but calm. “We’re here to discuss peace, after all.”

Your advisor nodded, though you could sense the underlying tension in his posture. “Of course,” he agreed, his tone smooth. “We all want what’s best for our people.”

Edmund didn’t respond, but you could feel his eyes on you as you resumed the discussion, the charged silence between you more telling than any words he could have said. As the negotiations continued, you couldn’t help but notice the way Edmund’s mood darkened whenever your advisor spoke, his irritation growing with each passing moment. It was as if the very idea of someone else standing at your side, advising you, grated on him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

By the time the meeting was over, the atmosphere in the tent had grown stifling. Your advisor left with a respectful nod, but the moment he was gone, you turned to face Edmund, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your voice quieter now that you were alone with him.

Edmund’s eyes flickered, and for a moment, you thought he might deflect your question. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening just a fraction. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted, his voice low. “He’s too... familiar with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his bluntness. “And why does that bother you?”

For a moment, Edmund seemed at a loss for words. His gaze met yours, and you saw the conflict there—the battle between his duty as a leader and the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, more vulnerable than you had ever heard it.

“Because I don’t want to see you get hurt,” he confessed, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “And I don’t trust that he has your best interests at heart.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the raw honesty in his voice. This was not the Edmund you had fought against for so long—the hardened, calculating king who never let his guard down. This was something else, something far more dangerous. Because it wasn’t just concern in his eyes—it was something deeper, something that neither of you had acknowledged but both of you felt.

For a long moment, the two of you stood there in the dimly lit tent, the weight of his confession hanging heavily between you. It would have been so easy to push him away, to retreat behind the walls you had built around yourself. But something in the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the world that mattered—made it impossible.

“I can take care of myself,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “But thank you... for worrying.”

Edmund’s gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he was looking for something he couldn’t quite name. The tension between you was almost unbearable now, the air thick with the unspoken connection that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

Finally, with a resigned sigh, Edmund stepped back, his expression once again guarded. “We should continue this discussion later,” he said, his voice a little too formal, as if he was trying to regain control of himself.

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but feel the loss of the moment that had just slipped away. “Later,” you agreed, your heart still racing as you watched him leave the tent, disappearing into the night.

The campfire crackled softly as you sat with your soldiers later that evening, the warmth from the flames doing little to chase away the cold that had settled in your chest. You couldn’t stop thinking about Edmund—about the way he had looked at you, the way his words had lingered in the air between you like a question neither of you were ready to answer.

Your people, however, were less conflicted. They had seen Edmund in your camp, had watched the way the two of you interacted, and now, whispers of doubt and suspicion were beginning to spread.

“You’ve changed since the truce began,” one of your most trusted soldiers said quietly, his voice carrying a hint of accusation. “People are starting to wonder if your loyalties are still with us.”

You stiffened, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words. “My loyalties have never wavered,” you replied firmly,

though even you could hear the hesitation in your voice. “I’m doing what I must for our people.”

The soldier’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression skeptical. “Just be careful. The Pevensies are not to be trusted. They have a way of getting inside your head... making you question things.”

You didn’t respond, but his words hit closer to the truth than you were willing to admit.

Hello! I was the one who put in the Edmund request :)

Your writing is so beautiful and descriptive omg <3

If you could make it a series, I'd be vv grateful! And !Jealous Edmund>>>

Once again, loved your writing <3

Shadows and Starlight: {~The Clash of Swords~}

A/N: First I would really like to apologize for taking so long to get this out! I was moving and had honestly lost motivation for writing and just could not get anything out. I am also a junior in highschool so I have been busy with school. But, I am now on my Christmas break so I will be posting one chapter every single day to make up for the lost time. Since I have missed yesterday, I will be posting the second chapter of this story later today! I love you guys so much and I really appreciate your patience!❤️

Summary: Amid the chaos of war, a bitter rivalry between Edmund Pevensie and a formidable enemy leader begins to unravel into something deeper. As a fragile truce forms, both are torn between duty to their people and the undeniable connection growing between them. With political tensions rising, jealousies flaring, and the threat of battle looming, Edmund and the reader must navigate a delicate balance of loyalty, love, and sacrifice to secure peace—and each other

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1674

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 1 —

The battlefield stretched out before you like a storm on the horizon—chaotic, dangerous, and all-consuming. The metallic clash of swords, the dull thud of arrows striking shields, and the war cries of soldiers filled the air, creating a symphony of war that pulsed in your veins. But amidst the carnage, amidst the chaos and confusion, there was only one person you were focused on—Edmund Pevensie.

You saw him long before he saw you, cutting through the battlefield with swift precision, his sword moving as an extension of his arm. He was brutal and efficient, taking down every opponent who dared cross his path. The youngest king of Narnia had become your greatest rival, the one opponent you could never truly defeat, and today would be no different—or so you told yourself.

As you watched him, a bitter taste formed in your mouth. Edmund Pevensie—so full of confidence, so sure of himself—fought like he had nothing to lose. But you knew better. You had seen him falter before, had noticed the subtle cracks in his armor during your past encounters. Today, you would exploit them.

Your grip tightened on the hilt of your sword as you wove through the battlefield, dodging stray arrows and blocking attacks from nameless soldiers. Your eyes never left Edmund, and with each step, you felt the weight of your unresolved rivalry bearing down on you. It had been this way for years, an endless dance of blades and blood, but today, it felt different. There was something heavier in the air, something that made your heart pound with more than just adrenaline.

Finally, Edmund’s gaze locked with yours across the battlefield, and you saw the flash of recognition in his eyes. His jaw clenched, and his body tensed as he prepared himself for the inevitable clash. You could practically feel the electricity in the air between you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing second.

Without another thought, you charged toward him, your feet pounding against the muddy ground. Every other battle faded into the background as you closed the distance between you, your focus narrowing to the point where nothing else mattered but the fight that was about to take place.

Edmund met your charge head-on, his sword raised to intercept your strike. The clash of metal rang out like thunder as your blades collided, sending shockwaves through your arms. The force of the impact jarred your bones, but you gritted your teeth and pressed forward.

“Back again?” Edmund’s voice was cold, almost bored, as he parried your next strike with ease. “You never learn, do you?”

His words stung more than you cared to admit, but you refused to let him see the effect they had on you. Instead, you pushed harder, your sword meeting his with a furious intensity. “You’re one to talk, Pevensie,” you shot back, your breath coming in sharp bursts. “How many times do I have to beat you before you finally stay down?”

A grim smile tugged at the corners of Edmund’s lips, though there was no humor in it. “Beat me? That’s funny, considering the last time we met, you were the one on the ground.”

The reminder of your previous defeat ignited a fresh wave of anger within you. The memory of Edmund standing over you, his sword poised to end your life, was one you hadn’t been able to shake. But today, you vowed, things would be different.

You struck again, your sword whistling through the air with deadly intent. Edmund blocked the blow, his strength evenly matched against yours, and for a moment, the two of you were locked in a stalemate. The muscles in your arms strained as you pressed your blade against his, trying to force him back, but Edmund held his ground.

“You’re getting slower,” he remarked, his voice taunting. “Is this the best you’ve got?”

A growl of frustration escaped your lips as you pushed harder, finally managing to break the deadlock. You swung your sword in a wide arc, aiming for his side, but Edmund was too fast. He dodged the strike with practiced ease, and before you could react, he retaliated with a quick, calculated swipe that nearly knocked the sword from your hand.

Stumbling back, you cursed under your breath. Edmund’s fighting style had always been a mix of precision and brutality, and it was becoming clear that today would be no different. He was relentless, his strikes quick and unyielding, and though you were able to match him blow for blow, it was taking everything you had to keep up.

“You’re slipping,” Edmund said, his voice tinged with mockery as he lunged toward you again. “Getting tired?”

“Not yet,” you snarled, blocking his attack and countering with a sharp thrust of your own. Your sword grazed his arm, drawing a thin line of blood, and for the first time in the fight, you saw Edmund falter.

His eyes flickered with surprise as he looked down at the wound, and in that brief moment of distraction, you pressed your advantage. You swung your sword with renewed vigor, driving him back step by step. The tide of the fight had shifted, and for the first time in what felt like years, you could see a path to victory.

But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, your advantage was gone.

With a swift, almost casual motion, Edmund deflected your next strike and spun around, catching you off guard. His sword lashed out, sweeping your legs out from under you with a speed that left you breathless. Before you could even process what had happened, you were on the ground, the cold, wet mud soaking through your clothes.

You gasped for breath, your body aching from the fall. Pain radiated through your ribs, but before you could recover, Edmund was looming over you, his sword pointed directly at your throat.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You lay there, panting, staring up at him in disbelief. This was it. After all these years, after all the battles and near misses, it had finally come to an end. Edmund Pevensie had you at his mercy.

“Go on,” you spat, your voice rough and filled with defiance. “Finish it.”

Edmund’s face was expressionless as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His sword didn’t waver, the cold steel pressing lightly against the delicate skin of your throat. But despite his position of power, despite the fact that he could end this with a single strike, something in his eyes told you he wouldn’t.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said quietly, the words so unexpected that they seemed to hang in the air between you.

You blinked up at him, stunned into silence. This was a trick. It had to be. Edmund had never shown you mercy before, so why now? “What?” you breathed, your voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

“I said I’m not going to kill you,” Edmund repeated, his voice steady but lacking the usual coldness that colored his words. He sheathed his sword and extended a hand toward you. “Get up.”

You stared at his outstretched hand like it was a viper about to strike. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening. This was Edmund Pevensie—your sworn enemy. The one person you had spent years fighting against, the one you had sworn to defeat at any cost. And now he was offering you his hand?

“What are you playing at?” you demanded, still lying in the mud, too stunned to move. “Is this some kind of game to you?”

Edmund’s gaze didn’t waver. “No game,” he said firmly. “This doesn’t have to end with one of us dead.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. This wasn’t the Edmund you knew. The Edmund you had fought time and time again would never say something like that. But as you searched his eyes, you realized that this Edmund, the one standing before you now, wasn’t the same boy you had fought all those years ago.

You hesitated, the weight of his offer hanging heavily in the air between you. Everything in you screamed to refuse, to push his hand away and continue the fight. But something in his eyes, something raw and unguarded, stopped you. It wasn’t just the offer of peace that he was extending—it was something deeper. Something unspoken.

Slowly, tentatively, you reached up and took his hand. His grip was strong as he pulled you to your feet, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to still. The battle continued to rage around you, but in that moment, it was as if the two of you were the only ones left.

You stood there, face to face, your hand still clasped in his. Your chest heaved with exertion, your body aching from the fight, but all you could focus on was the way Edmund’s gaze had softened, the way his eyes lingered on yours just a moment too long.

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you doing this?”

Edmund’s jaw tightened, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Because I’m tired of this,” he admitted, his voice low but filled with a sincerity that caught you off guard. “This war, this fight... it doesn’t make sense anymore.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, a voice called out from behind you, cutting through the tension.

“Edmund!”

The sound of Peter’s voice brought you both crashing back to reality. You turned to see him striding toward you, his face set in a grim expression. Behind him, Susan stood with her bow drawn, her sharp eyes flicking between you and Edmund with suspicion.

Edmund quickly released your hand, his expression hardening as Peter approached. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had just shifted between you—something that couldn’t be undone.

When's the Edmund one coming? :D

It’s coming!!! I’m really sorry for the lateness and me just not uploading, just a lot of stuff going on in my life and I honestly just forget that I even have people actually enjoying my writing and waiting for more so I really do apologize and I’m about to post the 1st chapter, and I had lost like, everything so I am trying to figure that out.

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

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

{~Between Shadows and Steel~}

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

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1178

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

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

Edmund Pevensie.

The Just King of Narnia. And your enemy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

List of My Fictional Crushes

Edmund Pevensie - The Chronicles of Narnia

Peter Parker (Spiderman) - Marvel

Harry Potter - Harry Potter

Ginny Weasley - Harry Potter

George Weasley - Harry Potter

Madame Lefoux - Parasol Protectorate

Suki - ATLA

Bolin - LOK

Haruhi Fujioka - OHSHC

Tamaki Suoh - OHSHC

Kyoya Ootori - OHSHC

Kaoru Hitachiin - OHSHC

Pidge Gunderson (Katie Holt) - Voltron

Newt - The Maze Runner

Angus Macgyver - Macgyver

Dipper Pines - Gravity Falls

Lloyd Garmadon - Ninjago

Luz Noceda - The Owl House

Klaus Baudelaire - A Series of Unfortunate Events

Riley Poole - National Treasure

Kirishima Eijirou - BNHA

Midoriya Izuku - BNHA