#caspian x oneshot
Note
Ok so I saw how you said you wanted to write for narnia in your request guidelines so, imagine if you will:
Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Charting the transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (playfull, joking) to eventually "MY prince" (loving). Hope this makes sense, lots of love <3
when people check the request guidelines <333 also this request was so good that i had the people vote upon it. soldier reader for the win
masterlist
You’re not sure what makes you more angry, the fact that you broke your sword or that the prince was there to see it. If it were not enough of a ruination to your day to have your blade break in half like a child’s wooden toy, if it were not enough to have to retreat through the storms of other fights and clashing metal and skulk to the background to get another, you were witnessed by the one person you detest most of all.
You should not be hating Prince Caspian. He just makes it rather easy to do so. He is the physical embodiment of this world, the crown on high, the savior of your every waking hour, all because he happened to be born into the right family at the right time. It is not his fault that he is one of the most powerful men in all of Narnia, but it is not the result of his labor, either. He is simply the prince, and there is nothing more to say on the matter.
That is quite different from you, then. You had to claw your way up through the ranks, sacrificing skin and sweat so you could eke out a win time and time again. Your trials served you well, gilding your brow with the title of captain of the guard, but it wasn’t like anything was handed to you. No, not at all. Yet, by virtue of his predestined position, Caspian technically has control over every soldier in Narnia. He outranks all of your efforts by the crown put on his head when he was just an infant.
This is the way of the world, and the way that it has always been. It makes no sense for you to hate him so fervently over something he cannot control. Caspian is an easy scapegoat, though, a figurehead for you to heap your regrets upon like laurels. It is not his fault that he was made prince. It is not his fault that you despise him for being one.
You’ve had time to grow accustomed to your life of blood and sweat, however, and today should have been no different. This morning was an amalgamation of at least a dozen different mistakes, though, and that ruined your day before it hardly even started. You woke up a little too late, you snapped at your friends then regretted it half a second later, and now you’ve gone and broken your blade, too.
It wasn’t your best weapon, at least that counts for something. Your finest sword is your most prized possession, and lies in careful hiding back in your quarters. This was merely your practice weapon, one designed to be battered and beaten all in the means of furthering the skills of you and your men.
Still, it stings to see it lying on the dusty ground of the training yard, shiny metal fragments already beginning to cloud over with grime. You sigh, signaling to your partner that you’ll have to abandon the match for now, and carefully pick up the pieces. When you stand, cradling the shards of your sword like a child, you look up and see Caspian of all people staring at you from across the training yard. Evidently he’s arrived just to see your sword fail.
Wonderful timing as always from him. You have to marvel at how he does it. You half think Caspian carefully plans his excursions into the swordsman's arenas when he believes you to be least ready to see him. You meet his gaze for a moment longer, then turn, heading back towards the rows of equipment on the far side of the yard.
You murmur at least half a dozen curses as you go, running them over your tongue like a prayer. The broken pieces of your sword can be turned into the armorer in the hopes that something will become of them, but you highly doubt that. In the meantime, you’ll have to dig up the coin to buy yourself a new sword, and risk damaging your primary weapon in the meantime. How splendid.
A voice sounds from behind you, one that makes you grit your teeth despite the soothing intonations. “You know, if you’re stabbing our own men so hard your weapon shatters, I’m afraid to see what you’ll do to our enemies.”
You grimace to yourself, then turn around to face Caspian, expression resolute. “Fear not, my prince, your men will be spared from me today. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to break swords when a battle arises.”
Caspian arches a brow, perhaps at the tone you direct towards his title. “If you speak with that much thrill over the thought of war, I’m beginning to fear that you may not be my best advisor regarding the maintenance of peace.”
As if he’d ever listen to you long enough to consider you an advisor. The two of you snap at each other’s throats every time you get within shouting range. “Perhaps I just like a chance to fight.”
“I think I’ve noticed that,” Caspian murmurs, bemused.
It takes great strength to keep from glaring at him, strength that fails you by the second. “You’ll have to excuse me, I must go to the blacksmith for repairs.”
His face falls. “You won’t be continuing in the ring today? I had hoped to best you yet again.”
His lips quirk up as he says it, making the insult lose some of its barb, but it still makes your temper flare. “I’m afraid not. Blades are not as easily bought by soldiers as princes, I must see if I can salvage this one before going to the trouble of a purchase.”
Caspian seems half a second of self control from rolling his eyes. “There are more swords in the yard, L/N. Simply select another and we can go for a round or two.”
He gestures towards the training yard expectantly, and you feel the weight of your difference in stations come crashing down around you. Caspian will not stop asking until you fight him, that is his birthright. He does not know what it means to be disobeyed. And, as the captain of his guard, you cannot argue. This you know to be true, even if Caspian is unaware of just how he’s wielding his influence. There is nothing you can do to circumvent him.
You force your expression to go icily cold, devoid of any and all emotion. Even the anger, which was sparking through you so readily before, vanishes from your disposition. Caspian blinks in surprise at the sudden change, more so when you abruptly drop the pieces of your broken blade to the ground, where they send up a small storm of dust.
“Of course,” you say, even-syllabled, “how could I ever think to do anything else? Your word is my command, my prince.”
You pack as much loathing as possible into those syllables. Caspian flinches as if you’ve hit him, and then his confidence is gone, his eyes downcast. “If you don’t want to–” He begins in a whisper, but you’re already moving briskly towards the rows of extra blades.
“I most certainly want to,” you answer him, the borrowed blade seeming to cut into your hand despite the smooth leather grip, “you have asked, and that is all the motivation I should ever need.”
Caspian swallows hard, opens his mouth to say something, but you swing your blade at his head before he can manage it. This is utterly wrong behavior for a soldier towards a prince, but Caspian has never seemed to have a problem with your actions before, no matter how challenging. It’s as if both of your prides are so strong that they could overcome any class barrier set in your way.
Caspian barely parries your sword before it cuts into his head. Grunting with effort, he twists his weapon, forcing you to step back as he disengages, striking towards you in return. Seizing the opportunity, Caspian presses his advantage, taking a few quick steps and maneuvering the two of you further into the training yard and into the designated spaces for fighting.
Words are clearly still clinging to his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but this is no longer a place for conversation. It takes everything in you to counter his attacks, to spot when he’s off balance and lunge with piercing precision towards every gap in Caspian’s defense. You may hate the dark-haired prince with every fiber of your being, but you cannot deny that he is skilled. He might be the only one here capable of providing a challenge to you. You might hate him even more for that, or worse, not at all.
Caspian feints to his left, then his right. You ignore both distractions and plunge your weapon straight towards his heart. Expecting your belligerence in regards to his ploys, Caspian parries the strike and returns it with one of his own. You move to take a quick sidestep, but the ground is slick beneath your feet with mud from yesterday’s rain and you stumble. It’s the slightest of missteps, but for someone at Caspian’s level, it is enough.
He lunges forward, and you feel the shadow of the stone wall on your back before he pushes you into it. The rock is cold against your back, driving the air from your lungs. You try to force your way towards the center of the yard again, but Caspian has his sword at your throat, and any movement would lead to you cutting your own neck.
Unwilling to yield quite yet, you stay silent. You and Caspian breathe in and out, the deep gasps for air first discordant and then slowly, steadily, joining in a shared rhythm.
Caspian speaks first, you know he’s been waiting for it. “You hate me.”
You scoff. “You hate me. This is not an exclusive feeling.”
He exhales harshly, exasperated. “Stop deflecting everything onto me. We could have been friends.”
You laugh, tilting your head back to give him a better chance to slit your throat. “You are a prince. I would never have been anything but nothing to you.”
Caspian’s eyes widen. He moves away from you unsteadily, first closer than he’s ever been, then gone, halfway across the yard in what feels like just a second. You let your eyes shudder closed, exhausted from the intensity of the fight but perhaps something more as well. When you open your lids, he is gone. He had just arrived, but he is nowhere to be seen now. That could be no one’s fault but yours. He is not your friend. But. He could be so, so much more.
Three days later, a gift arrives in your quarters. You unwrap the cloth bindings to reveal a sword nestled within the folds. You can tell at once that it has been perfectly selected for you– the heft is just right for your level of strength, the grip matches your hands exactly, and the edges are razor sharp, ideal for those slashes towards the forearms you’ve been so fond of as of late.
It comes swathed in a rich purple cloth, the sort of color you’ve only ever seen decorating Caspian’s frame as he walks with his troops or speaks to his nobles. An angrier, more bitter part of you wants to reject the gift entirely, to toss it from your room like refuse or return it back to him at once. Still, it is a fine blade, and you know that were you to just pick it up, it would feel exactly right, an extension of your arm into shining metal.
So, the sword joins the rest of your collections, and the purple linen ends up tucked away in your desk, carefully folded into a neat square of color and creases. You cannot explain why you do either, not even to yourself.
The next time you’re called out with your regiment to guard the prince and some foreign powers on a diplomatic mission, the sword is on your belt, your hand resting on its hilt. Caspian sees and something changes in his expression; a deepening of a smile, a pleased spark in his eyes. For some reason, you cannot hate him for being proud. Not today.
He finds you later, once the crowds have dispersed and he doesn’t have to be a prince, just a man. “What a fine sword that is,” he remarks pleasantly.
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even.”
Caspian spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”
“You had better not,” you grumble.
He nods solemnly. “Of course. Just a random thought, however, it really is a nice blade. It must have been picked out by an exceedingly good swordsman. Perhaps even the best in the castle.”
You should be irritated with him for being so bothersome again. Instead, you find yourself fighting a smile. “It’s a shame, then, that the only swordsman here worth his salt is me.”
Caspian’s mouth drops comically. “That cannot be true.”
“It is,” you reply as casually as you can, “I come to you with only the best information, my prince. Only the best.”
He starts to respond, but something stops him, something that makes him smile quietly. Your stomach flips with the unsettling feeling of having missed out on a joke, but for once, you don’t entirely mind it. Instead, the two of you walk all the way back to the castle, and only when the diplomats arrive again must you be parted. It is not the worst use of your time.
Caspian finds you again two nights later. You’re on a shift guarding a section of the castle walls, which gives you an excellent view of the foreign powers riding away into the darkness. They’ve been here for days now, testing Caspian’s patience like no one else, not even you.
He joins you soon enough, exhaustedly leaning his arms up against the stone battlements. “I think I hate politics,” he murmurs into the night air.
You chuckle, the quiet sound abnormally loud in the darkness. It should make you self conscious, and it does, but not as much as it would for anyone else. The hot prick of awareness in your stomach is both doubly strong and doubly weak because you are next to Caspian; why, you cannot explain, but it is true.
“You are a prince,” you point out, “politics was always something you would have to do.”
Caspian groans. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I always envied you, you know. You got to carry the banner and fight the battles without any political conniving.”
You stare at him in shock. “That cannot be true. No future king could ever want to be a mere soldier.”
He laughs derisively. “As if you’ve ever been a mere soldier. Not to me,” he adds on afterthought, and you’re not sure that it was even meant for your ears, “no, not to me.”
You shake your head slowly. “But I thought you hated me. All this time, you’ve merely wanted to join me in fighting without a care?”
Caspian’s brow furrows. “Hate you? No, no. I never hated you. I never could hate you.”
He straightens up, slowly walking over to you. There is no one else on the castle wall to see you, no one below. Even still, your eyes feel like more than enough of an audience to find some reason to stop this before the pounding in your heart blocks out your ability to breathe properly.
“My prince,” you say, a warning. It doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, a blow grown familiar, worn down to the weight of a feather instead of that of a blade.
Caspian sighs, the listless air leaving him and vanishing just as quickly on the wind. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. That you’ve never thought about it.”
“I couldn’t,” you whisper, and something in you cracks in half when his face falls, “but you could.”
Caspian’s eyes dart cautiously up to you again. “Are you sure?”
Neither of you have to specify what he means for you to know. “Yes,” you breathe.
You did not anticipate this night to end with you kissing the crown prince of Narnia. That being said, you would not want to have it any other way. There may be foreign dignitaries out there plotting the end of his reign, or political turmoils present to claim most of his time, but tonight, Caspian is yours and yours alone. It makes you smile into him. It makes everything that much better.
narnia tag list: empty for now!
#prince caspian#prince caspian imagines#prince caspian x reader#prince caspian oneshot#narnia#narnia imagines#narnia x reader#narnia oneshot#caspian x#caspian x imagines#caspian x x reader#caspian x oneshot#caspian#caspian imagines#caspian x reader#caspian oneshot#narnia caspian#narnia caspian imagines#narnia caspian x reader#narnia caspian oneshot
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giggling kicking my feet twirling my hair while being 3 hours into peter pevensie edits
#𖦹 saltwaterburns speaks!#narnia#narnia oneshot#narnia fic#narnia imagines#narnia peter imagines#narnia peter#peter pevensie#peter pevensie imagines#peter pevensie x reader#peter pevensie oneshot#edmund pevensie#susan pevensie#susie is my gf#lucy pevensie#aslan#prince caspian#prince caspian x reader
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ye of little faith | e. p.
nav. | m.list
summary: eustace doesn't believe that edmund has a girlfriend.
wc: 800
pairings: edmund pevensie x fem!reader
warnings: VERY unedited. also it's 1am and i just wrote this in a burst of inspiration, so please don't expect it to be good.
a/n: i don't really know if this will make sense to anyone lol, i think i wrote it in a confusing way, but hopefully it's okay. it's mostly eustace's pov, i wanted to try something new. also, this exact scenario has been in my head for months now.
“There’s no way he has a girlfriend,” Eustace tells Lucy, barging into the room. She immediately knows who he’s talking about, able to hear Edmund on the phone downstairs, voice softer than it usually is, taking the tone he automatically opts for when he speaks to Y/N.
“Why?” Lucy asks, half-heartedly entertaining her annoying cousin while she thumbs through the pages of her book. Unfortunately for her, Eustace Scrubb brightens at the attention, straightening up and launching into a rather well-thought out spiel.
“First of all, it’s Edmund we’re talking about. He’s awkward, way too hostile and bad-tempered. Not to mention, he’s barely of average height, and his hair? Absolutely ridiculous.”
“Y/N likes it,” Lucy says mildly, earning a scoff from Eustace.
“Y/N.” he says with disbelieving scorn, “As if she actually exists. You expect me to believe that a woman as beautiful and intelligent as you lot claim she is would actually be interested in Edmund? And so interested that she calls and writes to him multiple times a week? Yeah, right. I bet that Ed’s hired an escort to help him forget about how lonely he actually is. Or he’s paying some poor girl to play the part of a caring partner.” Eustace has had many such theories, the more creative ones dealing with blackmail and holding family members hostage, but so far, monetary imbursements seem to be the most likely.
“Sure, Eustace,” Lucy mumbles, having checked out of the conversation a while ago. He shakes his head at her disinterest, convinced that he is right, and leaves the room, muttering to himself disbelievingly.
A few days later, a painting gushes out water and swallows them whole, so poor Eustace, although having taunted his cousins with his skepticisms about the magical land of Narnia and called them fools for believing in the same, is forced to confront that he was wrong.
Eustace is soaking wet and miserable, still slightly panic infused. He can’t believe his eyes, convinced that he hallucinated the last fifteen minutes. Sitting on the ship, the Dawn Treader, he watches as his cousins are recognised as King and Queen. He’s related to royalty.
With a humorous snort, he realises that this is more believable than Edmund Pevensie having a girlfriend.
Hell, even the talking rat next to him is more believable.
He goes to voice the same, but is distracted by a joyous whoop descending from the sky, followed by a splash in the ocean. Eustace is too busy trying to catch a glimpse of the figure underwater to notice the hopeful glances Edmund and Lucy exchange, the faint tremour in Edmund’s hands as he snatches a telescope from a passing crew member, getting a clearer view.
“It is her!” Ed cries, only barely held back from jumping overboard by Caspian, who laughs fondly at the Just King. Eustace tries to hear what the Prince tells Edmund, but all noise turns to mush the second he sees the young woman surface, a brilliant smile on her face.
At first glance, he thinks it’s a siren. He’s heard stories about their enchanting beauty and ethereal forms, and Eustace does genuinely believe that this woman is too gorgeous to be human like he is. As she swims closer, though, and the ship's crew help pull her onto the ship, Eustace notices the lack of a tail. And though her hair is soaked and strewn across her face, and her clothes suction themselves to her skin, none of it takes away from her radiance.
It also doesn’t distract him from the fact that she’s walking right towards him.
Eustace’s mouth goes bone dry, and he gulps nervously, afraid she’ll talk to him and afraid she won’t, when suddenly, Edmund swoops past him and towards the woman. He snatches her up in a passionate embrace, hands securing her to him as he twirls her around in sheer delight.
When they kiss, chaste but heady, Eustace decides that he has never actually known anything about anything.
He’s scouring the sky for flying pigs when he hears Edmund’s self-satisfied voice behind him, “And this, my very real girlfriend, Y/N, would be my cousin, Eustace Scrubb.”
“How do you do?” Eustace says weakly, extending a hand, trying his hardest not to faint when you take it.
“Pretty well. If only Edmund would- what was it again?- stop holding my family hostage, I think I’d be great,” you rib amiably, throwing back one of Eustace’s earliest theories back into his now scarlet face.
“No, darling, you’ve got it wrong, I’ve currently got your dogs kidnapped and ready to be shipped to the pound, remember?” Edmund joins in on the fun, his smile widening as he earns a couple of chuckles from you, and a darker flush from Eustace’s cheeks.
Eustace Scrubb, though unwilling, is forced to admit, after watching the two of you interact, gravitating towards each other naturally, at ease with the love that surrounds you, his cousin’s eyes brighter than he’s ever seen them, that it is very believable for Edmund Pevensie to be dating Y/N L/N after all.
#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ edmund#edmund pevensie x reader#edmund pevensie x fem!reader#edmund pevensie x f!reader#edmund pevensie imagine#edmund pevensie oneshot#edmund pevensie x you#edmund pevensie x y/n#edmund pevensie ff#edmund pevensie fanfiction#edmund pevensie#king edmund the just#the chronicles of narnia#lucy pevensie#queen lucy the valiant#chronicles of narnia#prince caspian#edmund pevensie fluff#narnia imagine#narnia fanfiction#edmund pevensie fanfic#narnia#tcon#pariahsparadisewrites#eustace scrubb x reader#eustace scrubb#edmund pevensie x female reader
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His Heart in Your Hands
Hi everyone! Today, we’re answering a request for my 6k event made by @jackys-stuff-blog for our dear King Caspian: “*Yikes* I need to be fast uhm... Okay, congratulations on 6k followers again, you deserve it 😊 Can I request something for king caspian with this prompt Wounded character leads to confession. Where he comes back from a journey and the reader is patches him up (she is working in the Castle) Please? Thank you 😌🥺❤️🫂 I hope it's okay like that Oh, only if you have some places for requests left”
Thank you so much for your request! I hope you like this!
Hope you all like this, tell me what you think!
****
Pairing: King Caspian x reader
Warnings: angst, mentions of blood and description of a wound, violence… our baby’s fighting!
Summary: Caspian comes back to Cair Paravel alive after a campaign against a neighbouring kingdom, but he’s still in a pretty bad shape. You’ve been worried sick about him, and even if you are but a servant, even if it’s not your place… you can’t help but look for him that night, just to make sure that he’s alright.
Word Count: 2950
Caspian’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist
You knew that you shouldn’t be there, and yet, you couldn’t help your feet as they crossed the castle.
You were but a servant, after all, you ought to remain where you belonged. Which was anywhere but near the King. And yet…
… yet there you were, in front of the door of his private chamber, with some water and some clothes and bandages in your hands.
You had managed to convince your colleague to let you go in her stead; to have an excuse to offer the guards to let you pass and access the King’s private chambers. And she disapproved of your feelings towards the leader of your people, but she didn’t understand. She didn’t understand that you knew him. That you had spent long evenings with him, when you should have been cleaning and he should have been resting; talking, laughing, falling in love, one dreadful and yet irrevocable step at a time. A love that you had never confessed, knowing that he would not feel the same, knowing that this was impossible.
There had been rumours spreading while he was gone, talks of a terrible injury, the kind that could be lethal. Talks of his death, even. Of Caspian being hit by the sharp edge of a blade across the chest, of his blood staining the grass and making the cold ground fume. Of his eyes closing forever, of a last breath being drawn… And you refused to believe it. Even when people started to guess the name of the next King, you refused to give in. Something inside you knew that he was still out there, alive and breathing and that he would come home, eventually. Your friends called it delusion, denial. You preferred to call it instinct.
Still, when you had seen him, along with a large crowd gathered by the doors of Cair Paravel to welcome him back, you were worried. Everybody was. If he was smiling, Caspian was paler than you had ever seen him, his arm wrapped in a bandage, pain written all over his features despite his best efforts to hide it. Instead of the traditional banquet, the King had retired to his chambers as quickly as he could to rest, and rumours were starting again, claiming that his injury was worse than it seemed, that his life was still at stake, that a doctor was there constantly, that he had called for his advisors to decide on who would step next to the throne, just in case…
You had to make sure that none of these rumours were true, that he was fine. So, you imagined that trick with your colleague, convinced her to do it. And if she was supposed to give the bandages and the water to the guards, you had claimed that you had been told to bring them directly to the King. A royal order. No one could go against that. If Caspian failed to back up your story, you could be fired, or worse, sent in a dark cell for many years, but you didn’t care. Caspian and his injury were the only things on your mind.
You gathered your courage in a long intake of breath, and finally knocked on Caspian’s door.
His answer sounded distant, weaker than usual. Still, you obeyed the invitation, opened the door and walked in.
Caspian was lying in his bed, pillows set against the headboard so he could be half-seated. There were candles on his bedside table, and a warm fire in the hearth, and yet the room was dark, the inky sky shy of a moon and stars tonight. A half-eaten meal rested in a small tray by the bed, a book was set on the covers. And Caspian was there, buried under blankets, looking weak for the first time since you had met him.
Oh, you knew that he could be a gentle soul, you had talked about his weaknesses, he had showed you parts of his heart few had been lucky enough to glimpse at. But this was different. Somehow, over the course of the last year, ever since you had started speaking to him in private, Caspian had been a constant in your life. Once a week, you would sit together in the library, or in the gardens if the weather was gentle enough to allow it, and you would talk about yourselves, about what had happened in your lives while you were apart, about his worries, and your tasks, and he would complain about foreign dignitaries that drove him crazy, and you would laugh as you mocked some impolite lords and ladies. Every week for a year, you had been longing for these few hours spent with him, for his reassuring presence by your side, for the attentive ear he was lending to your unimportant life. And perhaps it was stupid, because again, you were but a servant, but during all these evenings you couldn’t help but believe him when he said that he cared, that he wanted to see you, that he was happy to spend time with you. It had been a regular meeting that had marked your life in such a way that you could not imagine living without it now.
And now, Caspian was lying in a bed, pale as sheets, beard a little overgrown, eyes so tired they seemed buried in their sockets, dark bags dug under his eyes. And for the first time, you thought that perhaps the rumours were true, that his life truly was endangered, that you could lose him for good…
“Y/N?”
He beamed up at you, a tiny bit of colour coming back to his cheeks for a moment, you couldn’t help but smile back.
“Your Majesty,” you bowed before walking closer, setting the water and clothes on a small table near the bed.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, but there was no resentment in his voice, more like disbelief, a tinge of awe at the sight of you.
“I came to take care of your bandages.”
“You?”
“I… I might have insisted…”
He chuckled, but quickly winced instead, hissing as his hand flew to hold his ribs. And he looked exhausted all over again.
“I apologize… broken ribs,” he explained. “Laughing is not recommended for a few more days.”
“I am sorry, I did not mean to cause you any pain. I can come back later…”
“No!”
He held out his hand, and you had no choice but to take it.
“Please, stay,” he asked, begging, and you had never seen such desperation in his eyes before. “Please…”
“Alright, I will stay.”
He pulled you closer, gently, until you would sit by his side; and he smiled at the feeling of the mattress bending slightly under your weight.
“What happened?” you asked, suddenly conscious of the quiet in the room, a silence barely disturbed by the cracking of the fire and the lulling movement of the wind.
He gave you a reassuring smile.
“I shall be healed in a few weeks, there is no need for you to worry.”
“There are rumours…”
“I am certain that they are most interesting. When is my untimely demise supposed to occur?”
He seemed relaxed despite his tiredness, and you caught yourself smiling at his joke.
“About three days ago.”
“Dear Aslan, I am back from the dead already!”
“It would seem so. You look the part, at least.”
He tried not to laugh, and you apologized as he winced.
“I have missed this.”
“My obvious disrespect toward my King?”
“You. I have missed you.”
He blinked, and you thought he needed rest, but he asked for you to stay again, just a little longer, and you couldn’t refuse.
“You did not answer. What happened?”
Caspian shrugged.
“It was a battle, I was wounded. There is nothing else to say about it.”
Slowly, you nodded, knowing that he was avoiding your question, but letting him get away with it.
“I should change your bandage. And then, I will let you rest.”
“Do I truly look so bad?” he asked with a crooked smile, but it faltered as you averted your eyes. It was your time to avoid his question.
You helped him out of his shirt, revealing the large bandage that encircled his torso and shoulder. He had another one around his arm. Both wounds were deep cut, that had been stitched by the expert hands of a doctor. Still, as you stared at the broken flesh, at the spots of blood still on his skin, at the red line crossing his chest… you realized just as lucky he was to still be breathing.
The rumours, if exaggerated, were not unfounded either…
You got to work in silence, hands shaking as you held back tears. Because you could have lost him this time, he could have never come back home, and then you would have never been able to tell him what he meant for you. That he was everything. That you loved him with a devotion you had never guessed yourself capable of. With a love you knew could never falter…
“Y/N?”
He wrapped his hand around yours, steadying your trembling fingers. You realised, then, that you were crying.
“I am fine. It is just a wound, it will heal.”
You didn’t stop him when he guided your palm to his heart, splaying your hand across his warm chest, and your heart staggered at the contact. He made you feel the organ hidden there, beating steadily, unwaveringly.
“I am fine. I am here,” he went on, tone soothing, unbelievably warm, and it made you cry even harder, breaking all of the borders to your hearts, all the walls guarding your soul.
“I was so scared,” you admitted, voice hoarse with your cries. “I am so scared…”
“There is no reason for you to worry. It will heal. I am perfectly fine. I simply need a few days of rest, and then everything will be back to normal.”
“You could have died…”
“But I did not.”
“This time. This time, you did not. What about next time?”
“Next time, I will not die either. I will come back, and you will be here to welcome me home, just as you are here now.”
He brushed your tears away with his thumb.
“Stop crying. I cannot see you in pain.”
But you didn’t calm down, and he frowned in worry.
“Y/N, what is it? What is on your mind? What has you so upset?”
Under your palm, his heart was still beating, you could feel it run across your entire body. You would have sworn your own heart was in sync with his now.
“I am sorry,” you whispered. “I cannot help it. The way… the way I feel for you. I am sorry.”
He frowned slightly at that, but there was some hope in his eyes as well.
“I think… Seeing you like this… I cannot hold it back any longer. I just… I must let it out. Even if I know that this is impossible, and that my feelings are unrequited… and perhaps you will never want to see me again but… it hurts too much to think that you could have died without knowing.”
You were bolder than you had ever believed yourself to be capable of when you reached up to touch his cheek, fingers tickled by his beard.
“I love you,” you confessed in a breath that even you could barely hear, and yet Caspian seemed to catch it loud and clear. The way his breath caught in his throat, and his heart under your palm sped up, became erratic… all these were giving him away. “I love you, Caspian. I have loved you for a long time. And… I know that I am servant, and that I will never be more than a faithful friend to you, but… I wanted to tell you, while I have the chance. Because despite being forbidden, my feelings are earnest, and that ought to mean something… If anything, it ought to be worthy of acknowledgement, at the very least…”
You were surprised to find tears in Caspian’s eyes, some that he tried to blink away, but failed to force into disappearance. Instead, he pressed your palm harder against his chest, and his heart was beating dangerously fast now. And through his gesture, he was trying to tell you something, or rather, to show you, as words were failing him now.
But you didn’t understand, and so he cleared his throat, at long last.
“I did not think that you felt this way for me.”
“I thought I was being obvious,” you replied, a painful smile on your lips. “All of my colleagues know. They have guessed. They call me a fool for it, and they are right, of course.”
“A fool?”
“You are King, and I am a servant. There is no more foolish love as this one.”
“I highly disagree. If anything… if anything, I am happy you are letting yourself yield to such foolishness.”
You frowned at his words, afraid to understand what he meant.
He looked down for a moment, looking for the right words, it seemed, and you gave him the time he needed to start speaking. Anyway, you didn’t know what to say.
“If you are opening your heart to me, then… I reckon that I should open mine as well. I… I was hoping you would come, that I would see you today. But I was worried that you would not want to see me, so I did not ask for you to come.”
You frowned at that.
“Why would I not want to see you?”
Caspian shrugged.
“I did not think that you harboured such feelings for me. I thought… I thought I was a mere friend. You have never shown any sign that there could be more…”
“You are King, there cannot be more. Despite my feelings, I am well aware that there will never be anything more between us.”
But Caspian shook his head, capturing your gaze in the blackness of his irises.
“Y/N… I am King. I am the one making the laws, I can marry whoever I want.”
He said it like it was easy. Like it would not create rumours, create tensions with other lands, like it would not infuriate the entirety of the Lords and Ladies, like the whole of Narnia would not criticize his choice. Like it merely depended on the two of you. It seemed such a foolish view of the world, naïve, too much so for such a clever man.
“The political crisis that would follow would be disastrous.”
“Why would it be? There is nothing wrong in falling in love. There is nothing wrong in marrying the woman I love either. We have never behaved in a disrespectful way, we have never crossed any line that should have remained uncrossed. There is nothing wrong with this…”
The woman I love.
His words echoed still in your ears, in your heart as well. You could not believe them… or rather, you could not believe that they were meant for you.
“Besides, there is a very easy solution to our problem.”
“Really?”
“I can dismiss you from the castle. Then you will no longer be a servant working at Cair Paravel. And then, if you want me, I can marry you.”
You stopped breathing altogether, and Caspian seemed amused by your expression. The smile that formed on his tired features was full of fondness.
“It is funny that you blame me for being blind, when you have been just as unable to see the truth as I was. I thought, too, that I was being quite obvious.”
“You cannot be meaning that.”
But he pressed your palm tighter against the skin of his chest, so you could feel even more vividly the beating of his heart against your hand, until it felt like you were touching it, like you were holding the organ itself.
He looked at you with such intensity, the entire world around you had disappeared.
“Y/N… do you not know…? Do you not know that my heart is yours? That it has always been yours? Can you not feel it?”
He gave you a gentle smile, voice barely more than a whisper and much deeper than usual, the weight of the confession making it too hard for him to breathe.
“My heart is in the palm of your hand, where it has always belonged. It has always been yours to hold in your hands.”
It was his turn to reach for your cheek, and you leaned into his touch without noticing. When he gently pulled you down, failing strengths not allowing him to lean up to meet you, you didn’t resist. Instead, you allowed him to guide you to him, until his lips and yours were but a breath away from each other.
“I love you,” he whispered, and your heart, you thought, exploded. “Can I… Can I do this? Y/N, I have been dreaming about this for so long…”
Instead of answering, of granting him permission to finally kiss you, you were the one to close the distance between your mouths, kissing him achingly, with every bit of your worry, your love, your passion, your withheld feelings poured into him through the tender gesture. And he responded with the same strength, the same unwavering desire to hold you closer, to devour you until you were one, to show you just as much he felt for you…
You kissed for a long time, forgetting about the world, the duties, the ranks and the time that passes. And in your palm, his heart was beating.
#caspian x#king caspian#caspian#caspian x reader#caspian x y/n#caspian x you#caspian fanfiction#caspian fanfic#caspian oneshot#writing#fanfiction#fanfic#oneshot#narnia#narnia fanfiction#narnia fanfic
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You're the Most Beautiful Boy
Yeah, the first time I finish a fanfic in my life (well, I don't even know if this counts as a fanfic anyway - a oneshot maybe??? - but anyway...) and, surprisingly, is about Caspeter!!!
Ngl, I'm quite happy with the final result.
Also, just to be clear, this is supposed to be read as Peter's POV (it's basically all about him being traumatized and emotionally fucked up and, because of that, thinking he's unworthy of love and Caspian just being there to prove him otherwise).
The fic's title is taken out from the song of same name by The Irrepressibles (this one and "Two Men in Love" are so fucking beautiful and have such strong Caspeter Vibes in a way I can't even express 🥹😍).
Anyway, good reading 🫶
P.S.: A friendly reminder that English isn't my first language, so pls give me a break.
(Inspired by this post )
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Reasons to not kiss him:
1. You weren't raised to love tender.
You are capable of love. You know how to be kind. You've doubted many things about yourself, but your unshakable devotion to those you love has never been one of them. But when you live in a world gripped by war, where you know that everything you hold dear can be ripped away from you at any moment in the blink of an eye; where blood, death, and the crying of ghosts from the past haunt your worst nightmares, you learn to hold on to the little lives around you.
You still remember almost doubling over in despair at the sight of your half-dead brother on the battlefield, blood dripping from his lips and his fragile breathing faltering; you remember seeing him come back to life and hold his small body in your shaking arms, hugging him to your chest as if your heartbeat depended on it. You still remember scolding him for his disobedience with your voice breaking, feeling the trails of tears burning your cheeks and blurring your vision because you almost lost him. You almost lost him.
You are the oldest brother. You are the High King. Protecting your family and your kingdom is your responsibility, your duty. To love is to protect what gives meaning to your existence, even if the price is your own life. This is how you love: you surrender completely to the uncertainty of fate, because the light that shines in your heart burns brighter than the fear pulsing through your veins.
You are capable of love. You know how to be kind. You never doubted that. It's the way you love that terrifies you on your most restless nights - intensely, fervently, always fighting and holding on so tight that your teeth grind and your knuckles turn white. Your love is like the Sun: welcoming, radiant. But, above all, consuming. And you're afraid that your love will scare him - someone who never knew love at all - as much as it scares you.
2. When he’s around all you do is tremble. When he’s around you want to get on your knees. Look how much power he has over you. It's dangerous.
There are a million reasons why you convince yourself that you truly hate him. You recite this list in your mind like a sacred mantra to never forget.
You hate the indignation in the prince's voice every time he insists on going against or disagreeing with your decisions. You hate the boy's immaturity in dealing with his own emotions. You hate his gall in pointing the sword at your throat while you blame him for the tragedy you both brought upon yourselves and your people. You hate him for wanting to steal your throne and crown - symbols whose weight you never asked to carry. You hate him because he is an insecure, confused, and angry boy who is constantly trying to prove himself fit and worthy to take on the title of king. You hate him because... he's exactly like you.
You also hate the way those dark eyes meet your blue ones, like night meets day, and penetrate the cracks of your invisible armor as if it were nothing but air. You hate the blush that takes over your face every time you quickly look to the side and notice the sparkle of fascination and idolatry in the prince's eyes, always admiring you from afar, in silence. You hate how, every day you spend by his side, your heart races at the sound of his voice, your body weakens at the touch of his hand, and the words formed in your mouth dissolve into the air like smoke. You can still feel the heat of fire on your tongue.
You hate him for the effect he has on you - and he doesn't even have a clue.
3. He's too good at forgiving and you're too good at violence.
You despise violence. You despise everything that is connected to the idea. But sometimes violence seems like the only thing you're really good at. It's a curse.
All books that narrate stories about the Golden Age of Narnia have always emphasized how skilled and unbeatable the High King was on the battlefield; how your war cry was powerful enough to make the mountains shake and the spirits of your soldiers rise to the heavens. But none of them made mention of the horrors that haunted you, even when you were already surrounded by the safety of the walls of your castle, your beloved home.
All those memories, so vivid in your dreams that they leave you thrashing in bed and waking up voiceless, your skin pale and cold with sweat and the tremors taking over every inch of your body. The screams of your men begging for help and suffering in pure agony. The dirt from your nails and the blood of your enemies that still runs hot and sticky down your fingers no matter how many times you wash your hands. No matter how many times you run away from war, it will always find you. You already know her and even greet her like an old friend. You already feel her presence - the famous shiver down your spine - before she even has a chance to knock on your door. She found a home in you. It's part of who you are.
His tanned skin, once smooth and delicate in the sunlight, already showed the first battle marks, small cuts on his beautiful face and calluses around his fingers. He was just beginning to understand the price of holding a life in his hands. You fear that this burden will be too heavy for him to carry and that, sooner or later, his shoulders will give in to the exhaustion caused by the pain of his actions. You learned to pick yourself up and rebuild yourself again, piece by piece. You learned to hide the pain with a smile. You always held on, not because you believed you were brave enough or strong enough, but because you believed it was the right thing to do. For your family. For your people. For your home.
“But what about him?” You ask yourself when you turn your back to the man on his knees beside you and face the young prince, giving him your sword, offering him the chance to kill the uncle who left him an orphan and who, years later, tried to destroy him and usurp his throne. You see the coldness in those brown eyes as they stare back at you, as well as the flicker of doubt that lies within, and you quickly look away when he takes the weapon.
"But what about him?" The question keeps echoing in your head, until it is silenced by the angry scream that escapes the prince's throat. In one agile movement, he throws the blade towards the ground and orders the defeated tyrant to leave with his life. You watch carefully the way the boy gets up and walks away from his uncle with slow, heavy steps, his chin raised and his eyes shining with unshed tears. The feeling of relief takes over your heart for a moment and, without even realizing it, your dry lips open into a simple line, similar to the shadow of a smile.
This is the moment you realize who the real man in front of you is. That's the king you're fighting for. Whatever challenges the future will bring him, he'll face them the same way he did today: with justice, dignity, mercy and, above all, kindness. He is good and forgiving and you love him for it. But you would never admit that out loud, least of all to yourself.
4. You know what they say about monsters. You know what happens to the boys who love them. Are you going to do that to him?
"You're not a monster" Your siblings whisper in your ears after another night in which you drag yourself out of nightmares, suffocated by your own crying and clenched fists, with your nails pressed so hard against your palms to the point of oozing blood. For a moment, you surrender to the sweet sound of the voices you love most in the world and allow them to caress you like feathers, calming the inner bitterness that torments you and does not allow you to rest.
Maybe you're not a monster, but you know well their wicked schemes and the treacherous way they act. You know them because you carry them with you every day. They are there, sinking teeth into your neck and claws into your wrists, making you spit and drown in your own blood. You still feel the craving caused by the bitter taste of bile that burns the roof of your mouth like acid. You still feel the shiver caused by the nauseating sensation of the demon's snake tongue hissing in your ear, exposing all your weaknesses and reminding you of all your crimes.
They want to break you and destroy the railings that imprison them. They want to crush your bones and make you suffer slowly and painfully until you have no choice but to bend to their will. They want you to set them free. But you refuse. You never give in.
You can scream to the void at the top of your lungs until your knees give in from exhaustion. You can punch a stone wall over and over again until your knuckles are black and throbbing. You can even lie on the floor in a huge ball of pain and anguish and pull at your blond hair as you try to get rid of the red-hot steel chains wrapped around your lungs that prevent you from breathing properly.
And that's why you do everything you can to push him away. The thought of your monsters tearing and corrupting his spirit from the inside out, forcing him to see the image of who you truly are, is too much for you to bear. You would never forgive yourself for seeing that light die and knowing that you were responsible for such horror.
No, you're not a monster. You carry them inside you and hear their angry and accusatory words every night, but you will never allow them to turn you into something you're not. Never.
5. Your hands don’t know how to be gentle. Think about the last beautiful thing that shattered in your palms. The fresh rosebuds crumbling between your fingers like a bruise. You wolf-boy, you war machine. You wouldn’t know how to hold something magic and not destroy it.
Once upon a time, a large and majestic golden-maned lion named you "Wolf's Bane". But the truth is that no ruin you brought to any creature would ever compare to the ruin you carry within yourself. There was no reason to be proud of being a weapon in God's hands. There was no reason to boast about the lethality of your sword. There was nothing glorious about war.
You are not a god, nor a king, nor a man, much less a boy. You are a nameless being, a freak of nature, dressed in a skin that does not belong to you. Whatever is inside your chest burns and twists like red-hot iron. You are a burning hurricane with the face of an angel and the scars of an old man who has lived hundreds, thousands of lives. You brought happiness and love during your reign, but you also left a trail of destruction in your wake. And you know that he would go through the path of darkness just to hold your hand and keep you company amid the rubble of the Hell you carry inside, even though he knows that it would condemn him forever, simply because he loves you. He loves you and you know it and it tortures you.
One touch of your lips would be enough to turn the flowers growing in your loved one's soul into ashes and you would witness the delicate petals decomposing in your hands. How could you destroy something so beautiful and live the rest of your life without hating yourself for it?
6. If you hurt him it might kill you.
"You won't hurt him. You won't break his heart."
It is a solemn oath that you are fully committed to keeping. You will not allow your selfishness to speak louder, no matter how tempting it may be. You are better than this. A love like this could only end in disaster, and you are already too tired, too damaged, too fed up with fighting the inevitable. Deceiving him with a false promise only to abandon him immediately with the intention of never seeing him again would be cruel, if not sadistic. It would be like sticking a dagger into his heart as you stood there, just watching the life vanish from his eyes like mist into the void. Another crime to be added to your pile of rubble.
"You won't do that. You won't break his heart. Unless you want to die."
7. If you hurt him you might kill yourself.
He doesn't really know you. He doesn't and you convince yourself it's better this way. If only he knew all the thoughts that go through your head every time you look at him. All the things you think about doing with him when you two are alone... you'd never have the courage to face him again.
If you could open your chest and rip out all those feelings you know you shouldn't feel just so you could have a minute of peace and silence, you would have done it a long time ago. Maybe then you would finally be able to form some coherent thought related to any other subject or anyone other than him.
You need to 'unlearn' this love, before you hurt him beyond repair and are unable to forgive yourself. He's lost too much too, you remember. He has suffered enough and he doesn't deserve this. You don't deserve him. Since when does a sinner with sinful desires deserve good things?
8. You are very bad at rehabilitation. This is one addiction you’d fail to give up. He's going to ruin you for all other kisses and all other boys and you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to forget his name.
You always knew that this love story could never come true. You may be proud, reckless, careless, but you are no fool.
You remember the ball at the castle after the Narnians won the battle of Beruna. You remember seeing centaurs and fauns dancing, nymphs singing, laughing dwarves and talking animals enjoying the food and drinks served. You also remember smiling when you saw your siblings having fun and enjoying every moment of that night as if there was no tomorrow and reveling in their happiness. There was life and music and dance and explosions of light and color and every detail was a delight to the heart and soul. But when your eyes meet the prince - now crowned king - dressed in his ceremonial robe, letting himself be carried away by the festive atmosphere and exuding the purest joy, everything around him seems to fade in comparison. He looks majestic.
For a quick moment, the new king's eyes meet yours in the crowd and you swear you feel your heart skip a beat and your breathing falter. In another life, you would walk up to him and ask him to dance. In another life, he would hold your hand and place a chaste kiss on your fingers. He would laugh adorably at the blush growing on your cheeks and you, infected by the sweetness present in that voice, would laugh back. And when you both least realized it, you would kiss him and whisper your vows of love against the warmth of his lips like a believer whispers his prayers to a saint and, suddenly, you would feel stronger, more courageous and free. And when you opened your eyes, he would still be there, smiling, and there he would remain for the rest of your lives.
But that will never happen. One day, the king will find his perfect match, his queen - or perhaps king - and nothing else will matter. He will be happy and he will be able to love without fear, and you... you will spend the rest of your life trying to move on, but without ever really leaving your place. You cannot love him as he wants to be, as he deserves to be. You can't do it because your heart already belongs to something so much bigger than yourself. But you're also unable to forget him.
Either way, he was never yours to lose.
9. You still aren't sure he isn't a dream.
He's too good to be true. Sometimes you find yourself pinching your arm just to make sure he's real and not another one of your many fervent delusions.
Before you leave, you try to hold on to all the times you closed your eyes and found yourself surrounded by those strong arms, feeling the magical touch of his hands illuminating all the cold and dark spots of your soul. All the times you dreamed of running your fingers through that long, black hair, getting lost in those soft, wavy locks that fall down the back of his neck in the form of a beautiful waterfall. All the times you woke up panting after imagining yourself tasting that mouth and delighting in the sweet nectar of those rose lips.
Yes, you promise to record every detail of him like a man in love memorizing the lines of a poem. You will dream so much about him and the story you both could have written that maybe - maybe - the higher force that governs the universe will hear your cry and take notice of your suffering, making your dearest wish come true. And everyone around you will sigh in a mixture of delight and envy when they see you together, because none of them had ever witnessed a purer and truer love like yours until then.
10. If you kiss him, you might wake up.
The hard truth is that you don't want to leave. You didn't wait for this moment for so long only for it to end so soon.
You are not ready to leave him. You're not ready to say goodbye. But what other choice do you have? You may be a king, but even you don't have the power to control the stars, turn back the clock or stop the sun from setting. Destiny is an intangible and indomitable mystery and trying to change this fact is a battle doomed to failure.
However, no matter how aware you are about the way things work, fear remains. You're afraid you won't kiss him and spend the rest of your days cursing yourself for missing the chance of a lifetime. But you're also afraid to kiss him and, the moment you open your eyes, you'll find yourself in the solitude of your room in England, realizing that he never really existed and everything that made him who he was was just an illusion created by your mind as a way to escape the cold reality that was your life.
Yes, you want to protect him from yourself. But the hard truth is that you also want to spare your battered and patched heart the pain of breaking again, as it has happened so many times before. The harsh truth is that you are much more fragile and sensitive than you wish you were.
"You love him" Your melancholic heart weeps.
"Yes, I do" You mourn "And that's why I must let him go"
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Reasons to kiss him:
1. Because he's beautiful.
Oh God, he is so beautiful. His face, his arms and hands and feet make up a masterpiece so luminous and divine that it would make the greatest artist in the universe prostrate himself on the floor in tears. He is the most beautiful boy you have ever seen with your own eyes, both inside and out.
Every little thing about him enchants you and steals your breath away, even the ones that others would consider too insignificant to even bother paying attention to: like the way a wild lock of his hair fall delicately in front of his eye and you have to hold back the urge to approach and use your hand to pull it away and place it behind his ear. Or the dimple that appears on the left side of his mouth every time he smiles or laughs. Or the way he turns up his nose and bite his lower lip when he's lost in thought or in a deep state of concentration.
And of course, there was his innocent, childlike excitement as he shared the story behind every constellation he was able to find in the sky. You always believed that the night suited him well, similar to a black veil decorated with moon and silver, as if his very being had been conceived by the stars that fascinate him so much and call him by his name.
Yes, he is absolutely beautiful. And you, just a mere mortal, wonder how long you'll still be strong and intelligent enough before you let yourself be seduced by the sound of that velvety voice and those eyes that seem to analyze you attentively as if you were some kind of enigma to be deciphered. It's like he's able to see some beauty inside you that you yourself could never see. Or that maybe you have just forgotten.
2. Because he asked.
You never expected that, on your last night, he would notice your absence in the middle of the party and see you retreating to the privacy of your chambers, just wishing you could fall into a deep, empty sleep where you could forget about the coming of tomorrow for some hours. You never expected that he would abandon his own moment of glory just to run after you and ask if you were okay. You never expected that his hand entwined with yours would be enough to tear down all the barriers you had built around you and leave you completely defenseless, with nowhere to hide. However, 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? The only thing you know is that his touch burns your cheeks and it feels so, so good and those eyes are now focused on your lips and the two of you remain where you are for what feels like ages and this silent torture is slowly killing you two.
You're still scared. It's fear that paralyzes you and leaves you stagnant. Afraid of this all being a dream, fear of ruining him, fear of God despising you for your dirty and sinful soul, but mostly, fear of suffering and knowing that you brought it all upon yourself.
But 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?
3. Because he preceded "Please" with "I'm not afraid of you".
He presses his forehead against yours and whispers your name in an exasperated voice and you can feel all the yearning, all the desire and all the devotion and you don't understand how you can stay standing after that. You finally decide to break your silence:
"I don't want to hurt you"
You don't try to appear strong, you don't want to pretend anymore. So you do the only thing you are capable of doing now: you just tell the truth.
You can feel the warmth of his breath caressing your lips when he tells you:
"I'm not afraid of you"
And then, he gets closer to your face until your mouths are just a few millimeters apart.
“Please” He is practically begging this time and you want so badly to give in, you want so badly to end his agony and just let him in. So you finally come to conclusion that if this is the only chance you have to truly love him, even if just for one night, then you will take it like your life depends on it. And that's exactly what you do: you close your eyes and kiss him.
He tastes like honey and wine and sweet surrender and, for once, you know it's real and not just another dream. You drink and savor and breathe this moment and he responds with the same intensity.
He touches you as if you were a treasure. You are the Sun and you are magnificent to him, not because of your title, your power or the legendary aura that the idealization of your figure carries. You are magnificent because you are human just like him and the simple fact of your existence is a miracle in itself. He draws a map of the sky on your skin and transforms all your scars and imperfections into the constellations he adores so much. From then on, all you want most is to show him the way you see him, how he makes you shine.
So you take him to your bed and between kisses and whispers and prayers and messy sheets, you love him. You love him, again and again and again. And when the flame that consumes you burns out and you both let yourselves being taken by the wave of calm that falls upon the room, you hug him and press the palm of your hand against his chest, paying attention to the song that his heart sings. At that moment, he covers your hand with his and smiles.
"Take care of it. Take it and carry it in your heart. It's yours."
I'm yours.
#I hope this gets more attention than my “modern caspeter HCs” post#tbh I'm kinda worried with my peter sounding too OOC for many of the fans' standards but that's the best I can do right now 😅#bia's failed attempt at writing#the chronicles of narnia#chronicles of narnia#narnia#tcon#c.s. lewis#peter pevensie#prince caspian#caspian x#caspeter#caspian x peter#peter x caspian#fanfiction#narnia fanfiction#narnia fic#angst#oneshot#one shot#my writing
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Ao3: An ordinary day between Rilian and Caspian
Rilian loves the little moments his father has to dedicate to him and tell him about Narnia.
#Rilian#caspian x#prince rilian#prince caspian#narnia#the pevensies#chronicles of narnia#Ao3#narnia fic#oneshot#Post-Prince Caspian#After - the silver chair#Cornelius#caspian
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Hey guys!! So I made my first foray out of undertale writing (I still will do undertale writing and commissions/requests, but I have a new current hyperfixation lol) and wrote a oneshot for Just Roll With It!!! (For anyone unfamiliar, it's a DND podcast run by Charlie Slimecicle, Grizzlyplays, Condifiction, and Bizly! It is such a good freaking podcast please go listen to it)
I got inspired by a friend to write this particular oneshot, and it's about Edyn Tidestrider flirting with Jay Ferin! It's very fluffy and very VERY gay so have fun and I hope you enjoy!
#I'm also planning on writing more jrwi#I am currently writing a Jay x Kira oneshot and have plans for a prime defenders fic#so be sure to follow me or my AO3 for more!#jrwi#jrwi riptide#jrwi gillion#gillion tidestrider#jrwi jay#jay ferin#jrwi chip#chip jrwi#jrwi edyn#edyn tidestrider#jrwi caspian#fluff#jrwi fanfiction#GAY fluff#jrwi writing#I so nearly forgot to include the link lol that would have been embarrassing#and then it didn't even work bruh but now it should be working
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💕 Fluff 💕 Masterpost
These are all of the sfw fics I have finished or going
Request Info: Please read before making a request
☣️ Dark: May contain dark themes readers may find disturbing including high tension kidnapping or more focus on violence
💝 Cozy: Gentler fics. There may be violence or yandere themes but it is soft or offscreen, and light, low-stakes kidnapping
I did my best to categorize these but everything is relative. Please read the trigger warnings carefully before reading
💝 Drider- Vass: sfw -- GN reader
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Request, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Request, Request, Request, Request
Request, Headcannon Headcanon
☣️Voidbeast- Valerian: sfw -- x f reader
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight
Headcanon, Headcanon, art
💝Pirate Demon- Harland: sfw -- x GN reader
Oneshot, Part Two
☣️Lich- Lauden: sfw -- f reader
Part One, Part Two complete
💝Gargoyle Plumber- Sven: sfw -- f reader
Oneshot
☣️Ozil Alien- Cato: sfw -- f reader
Oneshot
☣️Naga- Arion: sfw -- f reader
Oneshot, Part Two, Headcanon
☣️Orc- Rork: sfw -- x f reader
Part One, Part Two, Part three complete
☣️Orc- Orion: sfw -- f reader
Request, Request
☣️Monster- Caspian: sfw -- x pixie reader
Oneshot
💝Dragon "Why Choose?"- Red Fang (Ward, Riaz, Ajani) : sfw -- x f reader
Headcannon, Part One, Part Two
☣️Kherae Alien- Balim: sfw -- x f reader with PCOS
Part One plan to come back to this
💝Minotaur Neighbor- Tyrnas: sfw -- x flower nymph reader
Oneshot
☣️Vampire Dad- Levi: sfw -- x mom reader
Oneshot, Part Two, Request , Request 2, Part Five
☣️Minotaur Mechanic- Kodan: sfw --x f reader
Oneshot
💝Dragon- Calista: sfw -- x f reader
Oneshot
☣️Demon- Lethia: sfw -- x virgin f reader
Part One
💝Water Spirit- Jael: sfw -- x pixie f reader
Request
☣️Necromancer- Zoltan: sfw -- x f reader
Part One
💝Werewolf King- Sterling: sfw -- x bunny person reader
Request, Part Two
💝Shadow King- Zintius: sfw -- x f reader
Request
💝Alpha General- Lucifer: sfw -- x omega reader
Part One, Request
💝Vampire- Julius: sfw - x 30+ f reader
Part One
💝Kherae Alien- Idreod: sfw -- x f reader with glasses
Part One, Part Two , Part Three, Part Four (NSFW), Part Five (NSFW) Part six, Part Seven (NSFW), Part eight
Centaur- Echo: sfw -- x fairy reader
Oneshot
💝Dragon- Felix: sfw -- x f reader
Oneshot
💝Eldritch Monster - Castor: sfw -- x f reader
Oneshot
☣️Cat Spirit -Jin: sfw -- x mermaid reader
Oneshot
💝Monster- Rahl: sfw -- x GN reader
Oneshot
☣️Faun- Hawk: sfw -- x f reader
Oneshot
☣️Unicorn- Ainsel: sfw -- x f reader
Oneshot, Request
💝Alraune- Oria: sfw -- x GN reader
Oneshot
💝Alpha- Jagger: sfw -- x tough omega f
Oneshot
💝Vampire - Serge: sfw -- f reader with depression
Request
💝Orc- Reven: sfw -- x GN reader
Oneshot
☣️Orc- Cedar: sfw -- x thick f reader
Request
☣️Naga- Leander: sfw (some violence) -- x f maid reader
Oneshot
💝Orc- Saber: sfw -- x GN elf reader
Oneshot
Divider from: @saradika
Bluesky -- Carrd -- Commissions
#monster fluff#monster x girl#monster x you#monster#monster x reader#x reader#yandere fluff#yandere male#yandere headcannon#monster romance#monster lover
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★ Welcome to my Blog ★
Helloooo! My name is Caspian! I also go by Cassy or Casper! Up to you. I'm transmasc, autistic, and I have a few other disorders! I write when I get the chance to but I have to work around school, work, and rasining a almost three year old cat!
♰ Fandoms I write for ♰
- Call of Duty / Modern Warfare
- Marvel
- DC
- Teen Wolf
- The Maze Runner
- The Walking Dead
- Mortal Kombat
- The Last of Us : HBO
- Wednesday
- The Outsdiers
- Scream
- Stranger Things
- Monster High
- Shameless
- Hunger Games
- Overwatch
- Descendants
- Avatar
- Red, White, and Royal Blue
- Twilight
- Lab Rats
♰ Things I Write ♰
- Headcanons
- Oneshots
- Multi - chapter stories
♰ What I'll Write ♰
- Male reader
- Non binary / Gender neutral reader
- Undescriptive smut / smut mentions
- Platonic relationships
- Romantic relationships
- Headcanons / stories that are not x reader
- Angst
- Fluff
- Reader x Canon
- Reader x OC
- OC x Canon
- Mentally ill reader
- Child x Adult ( platonic )
- Gore
♰ What I'll Write if Asked ♰
- Fem reader
- Queer platonic relationships
- Cargiver ! Character
- Little ! Character
- Canon x your OC
♰ What I Won't Write ♰
- Ince$t
- Child x Adult ( romantic / queer platonic )
- Very graphic smut
- Smut between minors
★ Important Links ★
Material List - wip
Personal Links - wip
#cod#x female reader#x nonbinary reader#cod mw2#call of duty#modern warfare ii#teen wolf#tmr#the maze runner#dc comics#the walking dead#twd#mortal kombat#mk#tlou#the last of us#wednesday#the outsiders#scream#monster high#shameless#hunger games#overwatch#rwrb#red white and royal blue#avatar#descendants#fluff#x male reader#twilight
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Directionary:
(dividers by @cafekitsune )
Tws will be tagged as #tw trigger or #trigger
Campaigns:
The fated: #campaign: fated
Convergence: #campaign: convergence
Riptide and Black Rose Oneshot: #campaign: riptide
Prime Defenders and Age of Heroes Oneshot: #campaign: pd
Apotheosis: #campaign: apotheosis
Blood in the Bayou: #campaign: bitb
The Suckening: #campaign: suckening
Mythborne: #campaign: mythborne
Paradise Chronicles: #oneshot: paradise chronicles
Monster Control Service: #oneshot: monster control service
The final Episode: #oneshot: the final episode
Twitch Chat Oneshot: #oneshot: twitch chat
Player Characters:
The Fated:
#Br’aad Vengolor
#Sylnan Vengolor
#Velrisa
#Taxi
#Mountain
Convergence:
#Alastyr Cross
#Flynn Gustwind
#Kasper
#Kroe Wyse
Riptide:
#Gillion Tidestrider
#Jay Ferin
#Chip
#Goobleck
#Doppelgillion (all Doppelgillion posts will be tagged as Gillion as well)
Black Rose:
#Drey Ferin
#Finn Tidestrider
#Arlin James
Prime Defenders:
#Dakota Cole
#William Wisp
#Vyncent Sol
Age of Heroes:
#Ms. G
#Harlem Shade
#Jason King
Apotheosis:
#Peter Sqloint
Rumi/any of their other forms: #Rumi
#Thanatos
Blood in the Bayou:
#Rolan Deep
#Timothy Rand
#Kian Stone
The Suckening:
#Emizel Tucker
#Shilo Bathory
#Arthur Bennett
Mythborne:
#Aster Aeliana
#Ryan Selucreh
#Connor Connors
Paradise Chronicles:
#Beepo
#Ash
#Captain Justice
#Mike Shore
Monster Control Service:
#Richard
#Chase
The Final Episode:
#Aren Auguste
#Jebediah Lightbringer
#Cherry Blossom
Twitch Chat Oneshot:
#Ikarus Gay Phoenix
#Gravel Igbe Flint
Guest Characters:
Riptide:
#Duke D. Dukem
#Clorten
#La Alma
PD:
#Ashe Winters
NPCs
The Fated:
#Miriam Vengolor
#Alwyn Vengolor
Riptide:
#Lizzie Lafayette
#Caspian
#Ollie Teach
#Felipe
#Alphonze
#Niklaus Hendrix
#Pretzel the Frogtopus
#Jayson Ferin
#Ava Ferin
#May Ferin
#Edyn Tidestrider
#Lunadeiys
#Aster (goddess)
#Anastasia
#Rudith
#Aslana
#Old man earl
#Zamia
#Marshall John
#Kira
#Captain Widow
#Reuben Price
#Starling
#Jasmine Drake
#Lucy the goat
Prime Defenders:
#Le Frog
#Trickster
#Mark Winters
#Mynerva
#Lightspeed
#Summer Dileo
#Doug
#Tide Lambert
#Mark Winters
#Cantrip
#Xavier
#Alan
#Alastyr Cross
#Anna Sol
#Mr. Wisp
#Janet Wisp
#Alaska Damascus
#Wordsmith
#Bookworm
#Grandma Cole
#Mato Cole
#Alexander Hamilton
#Rosemary
#Finger
#Handjob
#Flow
#Peelbert
#Unnamed Hero
#Diana Shane
#Dave
#David Bell
#Mallard Conway
#Clarence Albert
#ram
#Bobo
Apotheosis:
#Lizard the lizard
#Yuri Dawnguard
Bitb:
#Becky Jones
#Rachel Rand
#Officer Dudes
#Rat Sanders
#Sarah Thompson
#Jesse
The Suckening:
#Theo Collins
#void the cat
#Grefgore
#Uncle Lazarus
#Deacan Keller
#Queen Bathory (stand-in tag)
#Edward Twilight
#Viv Weylin
#Vex Weylin
Ships
(all ship-art will be tagged with #jrwi shipping!)
(i will tag ships if op also tagged a ship)
Riptide:
Gillion x Chip: #Fish and Chips
Gillion x Jay: #Navyseal
Jay x Chip: #Mockingjay
Caspian x Gillion: #Swordfish
Ava x Lizzie: #Waning Crescent
Jay x Lizzie: #Pistolwhip
Jay x Anastasia: #Bloodshot
Jay x Edyn: #Sheshells
Jay x Chip x Gillion: #Poly Pirates
Chip x Niklaus: #Fools Gold
Chip x Queen: #Chiptune
Niklaus x Caspian: #Wishingpool
Chip x Jazz: #Scarlet Captains
Caspian x Lizzie: #Rosewater
Goobleck x Felipe: #Gummyfrog
PD:
Dakota x William: #Ghostkicks
Apotheosis:
Rumi x Peter: #Angelstone
Bitb:
Rand x Rolan: #Keeperschampion
Rand x Rolan x Kian: #Nbr
Becky x Kian: #heartstrings
The Suckening:
Emizel x Soda: #fizzfangs
Shilo x Grefgore: #armored pheasant
Crossover:
William x Chip: #Flying Dutchman
Types of media
digital art: #digital
traditional art: #traditional
#webweave
#fanfic
#collage
#crochet
#video (animations, animatics etc. I don’t really want to judge what counts as animation/animatic so I will tag everything with #video, including gifs)
#stimboard (I know that stimboards aren’t usually considered art, but i like them so I’m gonna include them on this blog. for consistency’s sake i’ll tag stimboard makers artist:*insert name*)
Misc
#crossover (includes crossovers between campaigns and between jrwi and other media)
#official art
#jrwi au
AUs/Crossovers
#pokemon
#ponies
#cats
#vampires
#fnaf
#marvel
#tma (the magnus archives)
#trolls
#spiderverse (will also be tagged as marvel)
#marvel
(wip)
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(Please) Choose the next Drabble/Oneshot
Options:
Boromir x (fem)Reader
Relationship: Romantic
The Reader is a spirit who has been doomed to haunt the riverbank where she died, who Boromir crosses paths with on the way to the afterlife.
Caspian x Reader
Relationship: Romantic
A Telmarine, and childhood friend of Caspian, must choose to face their fear of Narnians and remain loyal to the true heir to the throne, or swear fealty to Miraz.
Farran Leafshade x Reader
Relationship: Platonic
The Reader has spent their life imprisoned in the depths of a mountain cell. They are finally freed when some elves stumble upon her by accident, but after all the despair and trauma they’ve endured, they still refuse to speak. When they finally see plants for the first time since their imprisonment, they become fascinated, which Farran gently encourages.
#lotr#lord of the rings#reader insert#polls#narnia#chronicles of narnia#prince caspian#lego elves#elvendale#secrets of elvendale#boromir#caspian#farran#farran leafshade#x reader
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Narnia Masterlist
Prince Caspian
My Prince - Based on this request: "Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (joking) to "MY prince" (loving)." Imagine
Lucy Pevensie
A Question of Acceptance - Based on this request: "lucy introduces her girlfriend to her family while they're still kings and queens but they're both scared that the pevensies won't be accepting?" Imagine
Peter Pevensie Masterlist
#narnia#narnia imagines#narnia x reader#narnia oneshot#narnia masterlist#caspian#prince caspian#caspian masterlist#prince caspian masterlist#peter pevensie#lucy pevensie
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REQUESTS + RULES.
heyyyyy, here's the information/rules about requests i take. overall rule, please ask nicely :))
status: only matchups are open.
◆ MATCHUPS! are open.
matchups!!! these are really fun, ik i always love them. for matchups what i need is what fandom/s you want (max 3) a matchup for, if you want a male/female/whoever matchup, and a reasonably detailed description of you.
i will not take anonymous matchups and i'll only do them for people following me :) if you submit an anonymous one, dm me or submit a second non-anonymous one and tell me it was you so that i can post it without your url but also that way i can also see if you're following me.
brief description of you should include: a brief description of your physical appearance, your mbti type if you know it, mentions of both positive and negative personality traits, your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, what you do in life, hopes and dreams. a wild variety of things that sums you up.
fandoms available are; The Boys, Stranger Things (not the kids obvi), MCU (includes Netflix Shows), Star Wars (Skywalker Saga + Mando).
◆ ICONS! are closed.
all i need for icon requests (which are more like suggestions) is what character you want! i'll only do one set per character and you can find who i've already done here (link coming soon)
◆ FANFICTION!
what i need from you in your request is specified in the subheading beyond according to fic type :) i only write headcanons and blurbs just based on time considerations (if you have ideas for oneshots or prompts or something you'd like to see i'd love to hear that just not as a request)
characters i write for, star ☆ indicates my top picks:
from The Boys: Soldier Boy ☆, Billy Butcher, Hughie, MM, Frenchie, Kimiko, Annie, Maeve.
from Stranger Things: Eddie Munson ☆, Billy Hargrove ☆, Steve Harrington, Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, Jonathan Byers, Jim Hopper.
played by Oscar Isaac: Poe Dameron ☆, Moon Knight bois (Steven, Marc, Jake) ☆, Nathan Bateman ☆, Duke Leto, Blue Jones, Abel Morales, Sergent Kane, Orestes, Richard Alonso-Muñoz, Rudal Keener, William Tell.
lol miscellaneous: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker (Star Wars), Spike (Buffy), Dean (Gilmore Girls) (let me have this), Will Turner, Elizabeth Swan, James Norrington (POTC), Morgana Pendragon, Gwaine (Merlin BBC),
played by Ben Barnes: Billy Russo ☆, The Darkling ☆, Caspian X.
from Marvel: Frank Castle, Matt Murdock , Loki Laufeyson, Bucky Barnes, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff, Valkyrie, Thor Odinson.
rules for all fanfic:
i won't write anything that i haven't experienced (or that i find triggering) so just please stay away from topics of mental illnesses, extreme trauma, that sorta thing.
i'm not going to write NSFW for requests so let's just skip that (steamy/suggestive is all good though),
i might decline a request if i think it'll take too long, i'm not confident in it, or i just don't like it. that's not to say your request was bad just that it didn't fit me.
also it might take a while oop, be patient with me. i'll close requests if i'm a bit back up with them.
◇ HEADCANONS! are closed.
the only requirements for headcanons are tell me what character you want, what headcanons you'd like eg. "date night hcs", or "breakup makeup hcs", if you want fem!reader or gn!reader (apologies for the inconvence but i don't do male!reader).
◇ BLURBS! are closed.
the only requirements for blurbs are tell me what character you want, if you want fem!reader or gn!reader (apologies for the inconvence but i don't do male!reader) and gimme a prompt! whether that's a dialogue prompt you found, a scenario you wanna see, whatever :)) these should be short... but also i might get carried away.
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— 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 !
☆ request rules:
basic dni criteria is applicable. please be respectful!
all requests to be sfw right now please, i can make it only slightly spicy and suggestive but that's it.
i will be writing fem!reader to not make any mistakes regarding other genders, unless specified otherwise.
i also keep the physical appearance of the reader vague unless requested otherwise, so that all readers are comfortable to read.
limit of 3 characters for headcanons (cuz headcanons are still sorta an unfamiliar territory for me).
please be specific and provide some prompt when requesting, so that i have something to work with.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
☆ what i write:
mostly fluff. angst/slow burn. suggestive themes.
mostly oneshots, drabbles, and headcanons.
spoiler warnings along with other content warnings will be added in the beginning of every work.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
☆ what i don’t write:
character x character.
abo verse because i personally am not a fan of it, and hence don’t know much about it.
dark + heavy themes: incest/pedo/racism/homophobia & the like.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
☆ characters from each fandom i write for:
marvel: steve rogers, bucky barnes, natasha romanoff.
the chronicles of narnia: peter pevensie, edmund pevensie, caspian.
tokyo revengers: ken “draken” ryuguji, takashi mitsuya, chifuyu matsuno, keisuke baji, takemichi hanagaki, kazutora hanemiya, kakucho hitto. (pretty sure there are more but i can’t remember them all rn. eh i’ll just add the others when i remember them or get requests)
attack on titan (anime): eren yeager, armin arlert, jean kirstein, connie springer, levi ackerman, reiner braun, porco galliard.
twilight series: jared cameron, paul lahote, embry call, jasper hale, emmett cullen.
avatar (2009 & 2022): neteyam sully, lo’ak sully, jake sully, aonung, rotxo.
acotar series: rhysand, azriel shadowsinger, cassian, lucien vanserra.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───
since you’ve read so far, feel free to drop in my inbox to send a request or just say hi! here’s the masterlist!
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Book Lovers
Here I am with a new fanfic for my Comeback event! This was requested by @jackys-stuff-blog : “Hey Carole, welcome back sweetheart 😊 I saw your event and can I send something in too? So uhm, can I request a library au where the reader is a librarian in Cair Paravel and they have a crush on prince/king Caspian who visits the library very often (either he is doing researches or just to read books in his free time 🙈), please? Thank you 😊 (Just if you want to write it 🙈)”
This is such a cute requests jfnjneuonrune I love it!!
I hope you like what I’ve written for you here! Thank you for sending this request!
****
Pairing: Caspian x reader
Warnings: so much fluff your heart might actually melt. Bonus: a very shy Caspian.
Summary: Caspian falls head over heels for the librarian in Cair Paravel.
Word Count: 2997
You liked humming while you worked.
Whenever the library of Cair Paravel was empty, you liked filling up the empty space with a soft humming sound; a quiet one, barely audible, but that felt merry all the same.
You picked up another book, checking the title engraved in golden letters on the leathery cover, and put it on its designated right spot on the shelf. You breathed deeply the sent of parchment, leather and ink. The safest fragrance there was. Your favourite.
It was a sunny dawn, bathing the beginning of spring with warmth. You could hear some birds chirping happily outside, and the sound brought a smile to your face. You liked that time of the year; when the mornings were still cold and shy but the afternoons were warm enough to let the first flowers bloom. For now, the first rays of sunshine were waking up Narnia and all its inhabitants.
It was early still, and yet you expected for the King to arrive any minute now. It had become a habit of his, really. Whenever he was in Cair Paravel, he took an hour in the morning to come to the library to do some research about history, geography, about old myths or about the kingdoms around Narnia. Sometimes he asked for a precise book, sometimes for a general topic, but he always asked you something. It was the same scene playing over and over again: Caspian passed the wooden doors with a warm smile on his lips, looked around for a while, then came to talk with you for a while, before you would guide him to the right books or maps and he would remain there for a while longer. But then, it would be the end of dawn and the beginning of bright daylight, and he would give you another one of his warm smiles, a polite nod to silently thank you for your help, and he would stride out of the library to attend his first meeting of the day.
And you would look at him walk across the room, longing to brush this rebellious strand of hair that always escaped his bun behind his ear. You would send him your brightest grin while you bowed as he would send one last shy smile your way before closing the doors behind him, and you would pray Aslan for him not to notice the way your breathing had quickened at the sight of his soft gesture, and for him to remain oblivious of how fast your heart was beating. You would stare at the door for long minutes, looking at the space, now empty, that he used to occupy.
And you would do your best to hide that you were deeply, unconditionally, desperately, irrevocably, madly… in love with him.
It was almost comical, really. The keeper of knowledge in Cair Paravel was foolish enough to fall in love with the King. The most unreachable man there was in the entire kingdom. The only man you had absolutely no chance of being with. Comical, really…
Speaking of the devil…
You heard the wooden door open, it made a creaking noise whenever it turned on its hinges. You were thankful for the signal, as it allowed you to climb down the ladder you were perched on, before putting down the book in your hand and heading towards the door to welcome the King. He was wearing a large brown shirt and a pair of leathery pants with high brown boots. He had left the first buttons of his shirt undone, and his hair was loose, falling gracefully on each side of his face to reach his shoulders.
Aslan, he was so handsome…
He offered you this smile of his, the one you were expecting, the warm and soft kind…
“Good morning, Y/N.”
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you answered, bowing before him.
You finally noticed that he was holding a couple of books, probably the ones he had borrowed from your library the week before. But instead of giving them back to you so you could put them away, He kept on staring at you for a while, his smile a little smaller on his face as it turned into a dreamy expression.
You were so beautiful like this, bathed in the reddened light of the young dawn that came in from the large windows. He stared as you bit your lip, an apparent sign of your nervousness. He noticed the way you joined your hands in your back. He noticed the way your eyes seemed almost afraid of him. Or… not quite afraid, no… Intimated, perhaps. Yes, that was closer to this look in your eyes. Still, your gaze was inviting, as if… as if you couldn’t help but stare at him too. As if you wanted to look at him, even if you weren’t supposed to…
He finally shook himself, realizing that he had been staring at you for way too long. He cleared his throat, looking at the tip of his brown boots to hide the way he was fiercely blushing.
“I… I will simply… I might need your help later, if you don’t mind.”
Caspian silently cursed himself for stuttering like a damn fool…
“Of course! Anything you need, Your Majesty.”
He nodded, still not looking at you, before striding to the closest shelf to hide there.
He made sure you could not see him and rested his back against the rows of books, throwing his head back and letting out a long sigh as silently as he could.
His heart was pounding. He needed to calm down.
It was always the same. He came here to see you every morning, and there you were… It was always the same scene repeating itself over and over again: he would walk in to find you hurrying towards him. He would stare at your welcoming grin as you bowed before him. And he would study how dawn painted your frame this time, how it would embrace your form and paint your skin in a slightly different shade than the day before, thanks to the everchanging qualities of light… And he would find himself at a loss for words, and would have to flee before making a fool of himself. He would need some time to gather his courage again before being able to talk to you once more. And then… then he would talk with you and he would listen to your soothing voice, glancing over at your hand every once in a while, wondering how your skin would feel against his… He would pretend to be in need of your services as the Royal Librarian, when really, he simply wanted to see you. And then, after running out of excuses to stay a little longer, he would finally take his leave, walking out of the room to attend his first meeting of the day. He could never stop himself from looking at you one last time before closing the heavy doors though.
And all the while, during his entire stay at the library, he had to manage to hide the fact that he was completely, entirely, absolutely, eternally, hopelessly… in love with you.
But all of this was about to change. Because Caspian had taken a decision.
This habit of his to come early every morning to see you, under the pretence of looking for books, had been going on for months now, and it was more than time for him to finally be brave enough to tell you the truth.
He didn’t come to the library for the books it sheltered at all, but because of the pretty librarian who worked there…
But this charade had been going on for long enough. It was time for him to be brave, and to finally tell you how he felt.
Or well… not… everything, because then he would probably scare you away. But he did intend to make it clear that he wanted to court you.
Caspian tightened his hold on his books, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves. Outside, birds were chirping happily, and he took it as a good omen. If the world was happy and bright outside, why couldn’t it be the same in this library now?
At last, he walked away from the bookshelves again, and went looking for you. He forced himself to keep moving forward when he finally spotted you, making piles of books on a large wooden table, so it would be easier to organize them and put them away.
You were focused on your task, and jumped when you finally noticed Caspian approaching.
“I am sorry, Y/N. I did not mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s me… I was lost in thought.”
You exchanged a timid smile, before Caspian would hand you the books he was still tightly holding.
“Thank you for your recommendations,” he spoke with a warm, calm voice that soothed you and yet made butterflies flutter in your stomach. “These were… interesting books.”
“Did you enjoy them?”
“I did. Very much so. Thank you.”
“Anytime, Your Majesty.”
You took the books, eyes glued on his dark stare. His eyes were so brown, they looked black in the early light, and you couldn’t distinguish where his irises began and where his pupils ended. And you couldn’t find the strength to look away…
“I…”
But Caspian fell silent, and all that remained was a motionless silence bathed in orange light. The sky was turning from red to gold slowly, shades mingling, hues changing into lighter ones. You could barely breathe, didn’t dare to move. There was an expectancy hovering above the two of you, covering your frames with a heavy blanket that seemed to impend your movements and thoughts alike. Impossible to think, to react… you could only wait for Caspian to speak again.
But he opened his mouth once more and failed to summon his voice, blushing hard. He couldn’t look away. He was trapped inside your gaze and there was nothing he could do. Nor move, nor speak, nor think. It was just you bathed in this morning light…
Finally, you gathered enough strength to speak, even though your voice was shaky.
“Do you need anything, Your Majesty? Can I help you?”
The sound of your voice seemed enough to shake him out of his trance and he cleared his throat, straightening his posture. He clenched his fists.
“I… Actually, I do not require your services as a librarian this morning.”
“Oh… very well…” you mumbled, quite taken aback.
“I… I came here to… ask you if you would wish to… perhaps… take a walk with me, this morning.”
Your eyes grew round. It was only then that you seemed to notice how nervous Caspian truly was. Which was unusual for him. After all, he was King. He was used to giving speeches in front of hundreds of people, to deal calmly with the most desperate situations, to take decisions that would set the destiny of thousands…
And yet, there he was now… looking nervous and fragile in front of… you.
Why would he be nervous?
“Did I… did I do something wrong, Your Majesty?” you asked, suddenly terrified. “Am I… Are you going to throw me out of the castle?”
Because there was no other explanation, really. You couldn’t see any, at least. You knew he was kind-hearted, and if you had done something wrong, that required him to send you away, then he might feel guilty about it; hence the nervousness.
But he frowned hard in response, looking at you as if you were mad.
“What? No… no of course not. You… you have done nothing wrong, Y/N.”
“Oh… Then… I do not understand…”
He cleared his throat again, nodding slowly.
He took a step towards you, getting closer, and his heart skipped a beat at your sudden nearness.
“I would like to take a walk with you in the gardens this morning, Y/N,” Caspian repeated. “Would you like that?”
“I… but why?”
He let out a breathy chuckle, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
He reckoned there was no other way to go around all this but by speaking plainly…
He looked at you again, his gaze soft and loving.
“I would like to spend time with you. And… not as a King requiring the services of his Royal Librarian but as… you and me. Just you and me. Because… I would like to know you better. And I would like you to know me better, too.”
You stared at him in silence, suspended to his words because… surely, he couldn’t be meaning that…
You were a librarian and he was a king… you couldn’t be together. How could he ever fall in love with you?
Before your silence, Caspian guessed that he needed to be even more direct, and so he was.
“I would like to court you, Y/N.”
You blinked a couple of times.
“Court me?” you repeated, unable to fathom what his words truly implied.
“Yes. I would like to court you.”
“Oh…”
You shook yourself, summoning the strength and the focus necessary to think. You shook your head, frowning.
Caspian could feel his heart breaking in his chest…
“Of course, if you do not feel the same, then… we can always forget that this conversation happened, and we will go back to being only a king and his royal librarian…”
“But you… you are a king.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“I… am quite aware of that fact,” he smiled, quite amused despite the circumstances.
“And I’m the Royal Librarian.”
“Again, I am well aware of this fact.”
“We… I am not a princess or a… a noble woman of any kind.”
He frowned hard.
“I do not care about that.”
“You should. You should marry someone of your… rank.”
You noticed the way Caspian clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze to the ground again. Slowly, he nodded.
“I would like you to answer very earnestly my next question, Y/N. Could you do that?”
“Of course.”
“Are you saying no because I am a King? Or because you feel nothing for me at all?”
He looked up once more to capture your stare in his. You swallowed hard, your palms clammy.
“Please, do not lie about this. Give me an earnest answer,” insisted Caspian.
You should have lied though. Because it was ridiculous to admit to the King that you had feelings for him. Still, you were lost in this pair of black eyes you adored, and you couldn’t tell anything but the truth.
“I am not saying no. But you are King. And I am simply a librarian.”
“If I were not the King… would you say yes? Would you let me court you?”
You took a sharp inhale, before diving…
“Yes, I would let you court me.”
Slowly, a grin spread across his handsome features. You found yourself wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers through his short beard…
“Then, please… take a walk with me.”
“But…”
“I do not care about your rank, nor do I care about mine. I only care about the way I feel for you. And… I feel… a lot for you.”
You only noticed that you had stopped breathing once your lungs were burning from the lack of oxygen.
“I have… felt this way for quite a while, to be honest,” he admitted, his cheeks and ears now crimson.
At last, you started breathing again, and it was your time to paint a bright grin on the curve of your lips.
“I feel this way as well,” you confessed in a mere whisper. “But I did not think that my feelings were reciprocated.”
His grin turned amused.
“Why do you think I spend all my mornings here?” he questioned in a quiet tone that matched perfectly yours, a soft whisper that fitted confessions.
Your grin doubled in size.
“Really? You came to see me?”
Caspian nodded, his hand slowly raising to your face so he could let his fingertips brush the edge of your jawline, then up to your cheek and cheekbone…
You could barely breathe all over again. In their wakes, his fingers left your skin on fire…
“I… I merely wanted to see you every day, that is all.”
“I… I hoped every morning that you would come… that I could see you…”
He cradled your cheek in his large, callous palm, fingertips lost now in your hair...
You saw his lips getting closer to yours, as if he was falling towards you, diving towards your mouth…
“There is one last thing that I would like to ask you,” whispered Caspian, his lips now mere centimetres from yours.
“Anything…”
“Please, don’t call me ‘Majesty’ anymore. Call me ‘Caspian’. Please… please say my name…”
You could feel his breath fanning across your lips, the air leaving your lungs colliding with the air escaping from his…
You closed your eyes, your hands reaching up to hold onto his shirt.
“Caspian…”
He reckoned he had never heard his name spoken so softly, so beautifully, so lovingly…
Before you could speak again, Caspian had closed the gap between your two mouths, and was pressing a tender kiss to your lips. You were certain you were dreaming, although, when you felt your knees weakening and Caspian wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer, you couldn’t deny that this was real.
You were kissing Caspian…
You were not certain about when one of your hands left his shirt to mess with his hair instead, but when your lips finally parted, your fingers were lost in his soft strands.
You were both breathless and slightly shaking.
You opened your eyes again, only to fall imprisoned in his gaze once more.
“So… what about we take a walk in the gardens now?” Caspian repeated his offer, a grin stuck on his lips.
You mirrored his happy gesture, nodding.
“It sounds lovely, indeed…”
#caspian#caspian x you#caspian x y/n#caspian x reader#caspian fanfic#caspian fanfiction#caspian oneshot#narnia#narnia fanfic#narnia fanfiction#narnia imagine#narnia oneshot#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#oneshot
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I am short of breath, standing next to you
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Summary: 5 things Caspian knows about Peter (+ 1 thing he doesn't)
Inspired by this poem
(Also posted on AO3)
P.S.: Fic's title is taken from the lyrics of the song "Heart" by Sleeping at Last
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1. He touches you and you light on fire. Your wrist blazes where his fingers meet your skin. The burns don’t show, but it’s hard to breathe with ash in your lungs. It's so hard to breathe. You’re suffocating daily.
You're shocked when you meet your beloved childhood hero in person and realize he's not at all what you expected. When you blew that magical horn, you didn't imagine the High King would turn out to be an arrogant, hot-headed teenage boy who curiously didn't look any older than you. The two of you are caught by surprise in the forest and end up exchanging blows with your swords. He punches you in the mouth, you knock him down with a kick to the stomach, and then, the fight stops and you both finally have a chance to talk. But, in the end, all you get are sarcastic comments and scornful looks.
You never thought that the first facet you would see of the High King would be his anger. You never thought you would fall victim to his fury and hostility. You also never thought that when you faced him, all you would see is your own image reflected in someone else's soul. It's no wonder that every time he pushes you against the wall, you feel a familiar warmth beneath your clothes. It's a fire so blazing that it penetrates beyond your armor and you swear you can still feel the burns on your neck right where their fingers grabbed you by the collar.
But then, the days pass, you get closer, and the High King's face no longer carries hatred, only guilt, hurt and, somehow, understanding. During this time, you get to know another side of him, a gentle and caring side. But what surprises you most is the presence of fire that remains in his touch even in these moments. You paralyze when the High King rests his hand on your shoulder. Your wrist throbs as he holds your hand, intertwining your fingers with his. You lose your breath and your cheeks become hot and red every time the palm of that hand caresses your face - you even worry if it’s possible to see the mark imprinted on your skin. But you never run away. You never run away because, as lethal as he is, he also makes you stronger.
He is fire, dangerous and mesmerizing. He is wild as a forest fire and calm as a flickering candle flame. He has the power to destroy entire kingdoms until there is nothing left but ruins and to warm poor hearts lost in the midst of loneliness and despair. He is a mix of contradictions and you have never been so intrigued and fascinated by someone's existence in your entire life.
You start to wonder what would happen if he tried to kiss you. Would you melt? Would you suffocate from the smoke blown into your lungs? Would your body turn to ash in his hands? Or would you too become fire itself?
The search for an answer has never sounded so tempting. And you are more than willing to take that risk.
2. It hurts to watch him. He shines. He's brighter than the sun, he’s too beautiful for your eyes. It's hard to look at him. It’s even harder to look away from him. You’re going blind.
He's not handsome in the way you imagined him to be.
You mean, he is handsome - beautiful, actually - but he's something totally different from what you thought you knew. He's not a tall, deep-chested man. Sometimes his sword feels too big and too heavy in his hand, although he can wield it with the dexterity and agility of a general. The bangs of his hair fall awkwardly across his forehead and his features are as pale as porcelain. You fear that one sudden movement will be enough to make the delicate surface of his face crack.
He is beautiful like a shattered mirror - fragile, but still capable of making you bleed -, beautiful like a mosaic - a work of art made up of pieces of the most varied colors and too complex to be understood by shallow minds - and beautiful like a blade sharp - a weapon forged by the glowing embers of war. And, like each of them, he is beautiful because of the way he reflects and spreads light. He is light: heavenly, radiant and giving life to everything around him. His blonde locks are made of sun rays and even his scars are painted gold. He is the eternal light in your life filled with darkness.
He is god, devil and sinner in a single body made of marble and flesh and bone. He is the perfect combination of boy and man, human and divine, and that is what makes him so beautiful in your mortal eyes.
3. Your ears are tuned to his voice. You could pick him out in a sea of thousands. His voice makes pretty singers who sing pretty songs sound dull. His voice makes everything else sound ugly.
The voice of the High King is a force of nature. One word from him is enough to silence an entire crowd. Even the birds interrupt their daily singing just to listen to what their noble ruler has to say.
It doesn't matter how much you disagree with his orders and commands or the need you always feel to contradict him, to tell him he is wrong or mistaken or acting hastily. His wish is the final decision and there is nothing you, a mere orphan prince with no experience when it comes to leadership, can do to change that. And worst of all, you also can't help but feel drawn to his presence every time he opens his mouth. Maybe that's why you always find a reason to fight with him: it's the way you managed to get his attention and listen to him a little more, even if it meant becoming the target of his irritation and disdain.
Amid the chaos of conflict, you hear his battle cry echo reaching beyond the mountains and the western woods and your heart shakes as if struck by lightning. The beat of thunder runs through your veins and you're sure you've never felt as powerful and as brave as you do now. The wait is over: you are awake, at last.
But then, when there is no more fighting, when there are no more enemies to defeat or innocent blood to be shed, he calls you and you remember how to breathe again - oh, you had no idea your name could ever sound so lovely. This time, when the High King asks if you are okay, his voice is as sweet as the melody of a river current, washing your hands and your mind of any trace of death, agony or suffering. It drives away your demons and cleanses your spirit of any kind of fear.
The truth is that not even the most majestic choir of angels compares to the way his voice makes your soul weep.
4. The color of his eyes is blue enough to drown in. He is turning you into a clichéd love-wrecked being. You’re drowning, always sinking. Down, down, down.
His eyes were the first thing that caught your attention when you first met him.
You've never seen a pair of eyes as blue as his. It's a blue so vivid and so intense that you're sure you can see something moving behind the surface of those pupils, as if they were round glass windows that revealed everything he wanted to say, but didn’t. He couldn’t say it because there were no words to describe all the feelings that tormented him, the memories that haunted him and didn't allow him to let his guard down.
You always discover something new every time your eyes meet his, as if you were immersed in an unknown universe and, when you return to reality, you come back transformed. You watch carefully as they take on a different hue according to the state of his emotions, but never completely straying from the old blue. When he finds himself melancholic or contemplative, his eyes turn gray like mist on a cloudy afternoon. When he is angry, they darken until they are almost black, giving off sudden flashes like a stormy night in the middle of the sea. When he is happy, his eyes light up like the morning sky.
You rarely see the High King cry - a king could never afford to show weakness, not when the fate and hope of a nation rested on his shoulders - but on those few occasions, you notice a lone tear run down his cheek, like a drop of dew, before he turns around and covers his face. His sadness is an autumn drizzle: quiet and silent, but no less real. You pretend you don't notice, but you know. You want to go to him and comfort him, tell him everything is okay. You want him to know that he doesn't have to hide in the shadows alone. You want to hold his face in your hands and dry his tears, hoping that that gesture would be enough to chase away his sorrows, even if just for a moment.
You also rarely saw the High King smile, but when he did, the genuineness and sincerity couldn't be more tangible. His eyes reveal the beauty of twilight, where the light of the Sun meets the shine of the stars and, suddenly, everything takes on meaning. His three dear siblings, the most precious people in his life and who give meaning to his entire existence, are the only ones who can bring this magic to light. You just watch them from a distance, dreaming of the desire to be blessed with that cerulean gaze falling over you like crystal waters. But that would never happen. After all, what does a little boy like you mean to a man as magnificent as him?
You look into the eyes of the High King and understand why he was crowned after the clear northern skies. You look him in the eyes and finally understand what love is. You just hope that someday you will be worthy of it.
5. You know him. You love him. Through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d find him, you’d never leave him. You love him, till death do you part.
Ever since you were little, you've always loved playing games of make believe.
What you loved most about it was imagining scenarios in which you knew the High King from the myths and legends that your tutor told you. You would see him arriving on a white steed, sword in sheath and golden crown on his head, and he would come towards you, smiling and putting his strong arm around your small shoulders, as if he were greeting an old friend. He treated you like you were someone special and you really believed that - you needed to. Then, he would invite you to meet his siblings - the other kings and queens of Narnia - and the two of you would ride off into the sunset to the castle of Cair Paravel. You were happy and free and most of all, loved.
Your story was already written in the constellations. You heard them lulling you with sweet bedtime stories and their words reminded you that you weren't alone. From the first time you looked up to the stars and made a wish, you had hope that better times were coming, that an extraordinary dream awaited you beyond the walls of the castle that had once been your home but now was nothing but a beautifully decorated prison.
Deep down, you always knew this would happen. Your paths were destined to cross. You were destined to fight against each other and then fight side by side. You were destined to find in each other what was missing in yourselves. And that's where the tragedy comes: you were destined to meet, get closer and fall in love, despite the adversities. But not even fate is powerful enough to save you two from the misfortune of your farewell or overcome the cruel inevitability of your parting.
You watch him walk away and, holding the scabbard of the sword he handed you firmly between your fingers, you promise silently, with certainty and determination, that you will find him again one way or another, even if it's the last thing you do. You will pray to the same stars every night to show you the way to the end of the world, where he will be calling to you, inviting you to join him on a new journey. And, even without knowing where this mysterious road will take you, you will take the High King’s hand and, as his devoted and faithful subject, you will follow him without hesitation. You will follow him no matter where he goes because, in the end, all paths lead back to him.
He is your direction. He is your guiding star and you wouldn't change a damn thing about it. You love him and that's all that matters.
( 6. He loves you, too. )
And this is the secret that the High King will never dare say out loud or even admit to himself.
It all started with a strange shiver in his chest when he saw you, as if his heart had suffered some kind of nervous tic, if something like that was possible. It was a new and intriguing and extremely uncomfortable feeling. He had no idea what that was or why it became more and more constant as time went by, but an echoing voice in his mind told him that it had all to do with you. You made his blood boil, his legs tremble and his forehead sweat coldly. You made him feel confused, helpless and, most of all, out of control and he hated that. He hated you and the person he was when you were around... or at least that's what he thought.
Unfortunately, both the flames of love and hate burn hotly. And sometimes, they fight against each other within us to the point that they merge and it is no longer possible to distinguish which is which.
And then he finds you under the spell of the witch, about to resurrect ancient evil to destroy another evil, and his heart fills with dread. He runs up to you, his sword in hand, and knocks you out of the way. He had already paid the price for the lives of his soldiers out of pure pride and selfishness, but he would not allow you to condemn yourself and all of Narnia. He wouldn't lose you too.
But he almost falls into the same trap. He almost gives in to the desire for revenge, the thirst for blood, until the ice wall shatters and all that's left is disappointment and frozen splinters at his feet. You two are left alone with your sins and, when you look at each other, suddenly everything becomes clear. In the end, you are not as different as he imagined. You both already knew grief and the terrible emptiness that comes with it. You both know how painful the burden is of carrying all the weight of the world, along with its expectations, on your shoulders and trying hard every day not to let yourself be shaken by the fear of failure. But now, all that's left for you is to learn to trust each other and, who knows, try to find some comfort in this still unstable connection.
You still don't understand exactly how the alliance between you and the High King turned into something more, and the truth is that neither does he. You don't notice the way his eyes light up when he finds you in the crowd, always admiring you when you're not paying attention. You don't see the pride in the small smile that forms on his lips when the Great Lion crowns you as the new ruler of Narnia. You don't know that the High King can't even imagine someone with a kinder heart and a purer soul than you to take the throne that once belonged to him. You also don't know that you've given him a new reason to keep fighting beyond the call of duty. You gave him the most valuable gift any tired soldier could ever wish for: peace and security in a lifetime of war.
But your love is not that of a fairy tale. And you only become aware of this when he turns his back and goes through the magical portal in the tree along with his siblings, his form, always elegant and imposing, melting into the air. You feel something break inside your rib cage, a wound that will never heal, a scar that will never fade as long as you live. And pain will be the only proof that he was ever real.
This is not an epic story that will be told by poets and young lovers through the centuries, but just a wasted opportunity that will soon be lost in the privacy of your dreams and illusions. You will live the rest of your lives looking back, hoping to find the world of possibilities that you two were forced to leave behind, but all you will hear is the lament of the wind blowing in your ears:
"What if…"
And despite being worlds apart, the two of you will whisper back in unison:
“Maybe in another life.”
#bia's failed attempt at writing#here I am with more caspeter angst to you all 😘#and yes I'm finally posting my fics on AO3 so in case you're interested in check them out 👍#the chronicles of narnia#chronicles of narnia#narnia#tcon#c.s. lewis#prince caspian#caspian x#peter pevensie#caspeter#peter x caspian#caspian x peter#fanfiction#narnia fanfiction#narnia fic#one shot#oneshot#angst#my writing
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