Narnia Preferences and Oneshots

Edmund Oneshot

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(A/N: Remember to eat something, drink some water and take your meds! Love you!)

Oneshot: It's a rainy day at Cair Paravel with Edmund

"I really don't know why you wanted to be out in the rain," Edmund said to you, untying his cloak and laying it in front of the fireplace as you rung out your hair. "You'll get a cold with your hair so wet."

"Well, we can't leave the library now," you said, smiling. "There'll be hell to pay if Susan finds that we've tracked anymore mud into the castle."

Edmund stood behind you, undoing the laces of your soaking dress as he pressed a kiss to the back of your head. "You get me into so much trouble."

"You love me." He pushed the dress off of you, letting it bunch around your ankles. This left you in your slip, which had stayed surprisingly dry.

"You're right," Edmund said, picking you up from behind suddenly, making you yelp. He walked over to the couch nearest to the fireplace and set you down gently, crawling on top of you and nearly collapsing.

You laughed. "Get off me!" Edmund didn't really listen to you, only shuffling until he was more comfortably positioned laying by your side. You decided to settle for that, patting down his unruly hair.

"You really need a haircut," you said, lightly tugging at the wet mop on his head. "Your bangs reach your eyebrows, Edmund. Even by your standards, that's nothing short of shaggy and unkempt."

Edmund propped his head up on your chest. "If it's bugging you so much, you could try to cut it," he offered.

"You do realize that if I attempted to cut your hair, I would muck it up so badly that Peter eventually make you shave it all off in fear of embarrassment?"

Edmund scrunched his nose up at this. "Maybe not."

"Maybe not is right! You've seen how horrible I am with scissors! Being left-handed is a curse!" You complained, your eyes widening with each declaration of annoyance.

"I really don't understand why using scissors is so difficult for you," he said, laying his head back down.

"It's not just scissors," you defended. "It's scissors, not knowing whether to pull or push doors, and smudged ink on the back of my hand!"

"I've noticed one more thing you do," he said.

"How else could my left-handedness possibly hinder me?"

"When you shake someone's hand, you always accidently extend your left hand first, because it's the one you use for everything," Edmund told you, sitting up and next to you on the couch.

You sat up after him, bumping your nose against his. "I'm getting better at that though." You grabbed the hand that Edmund wasn't using to hold himself up, intertwining your fingers. "Anyways, men usually just kiss my hand."

Edmund pursed his lips, taking a deep breath through his nose. "So I've seen."

You gasped mockingly, putting a hand over your chest. "What?" you asked increduesly. "My partner doesn't like it when other men show me some sort of affection that could very well be deemed platonic? How dare you?"

Edmund knew you were joking. "I don't like them kissing you, even if it is for simple platonic pleasantries." He brought the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a long kiss to it, keeping eye contact with you. "I'm the only one should get to kiss you like that."

"Some of them kiss me on the cheek, too, if they're being particularly bold," you teased, wanting to know just how many kisses you could get out of this endeavor.

Edmund leaned forward and kissed your cheek, then your other one.

You began to speak again, but he cut you off. "Shut up."

"Or what?" you countered.

Edmund smiled. "Or I'll marry you." With that, he pressed a kiss to your lips.