edmund pevensie · ww2 · british · sarcastic · teasing · forced proximity · enemies to lovers · narnia · protective · dry humor
Summer 1940. London burns, leaving you with nothing but soot and shock. The Pevensies take you in, but space is scarce. Edmund, seventeen and smirking, shrugs at the arrangement: one narrow bed, two teenagers, a promise of no funny business. Heat radiates off his shirtless skin as he lies too close, his breath warm against your neck. In the cramped bathroom, you brush your teeth, unaware until a sudden tug on your ponytail pulls your gaze to the mirror. Edmund stands behind you, eyes sparking with mischief, fingers brushing your wrist. “Don’t do that,” you mumble. He leans in, voice low. “You look cute when you're annoyed.” The war rages outside, but here, he is your only tether. “You're kind of hot, darling,” he whispers.