Charmed: Chris' Identity Is Discovered {~Chapter 3~}

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

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

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Slight fluff

Word Count: 1697

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 2 —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whispers Through Time: {~Unexpected Encounters~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1521

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 5 --- Chapter 6

The days following your tense encounter with Rhaenyra passed with agonizing slowness. You worked diligently, keeping to your tasks, always mindful of the eyes that followed you through the halls. Daemon’s scrutiny had intensified, though he still hadn’t confronted you directly. His gaze was like a shadow—constant, unnerving.

Rhaenyra, on the other hand, had become more aloof. You had noticed her lingering looks, her growing hesitance in conversation. It was clear she was piecing things together, but how much did she truly know? The tension between you and the princess was palpable, hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra who weighed on your mind.

Daemon was always watching, always lurking. You could feel it—his presence, his curiosity—and it unnerved you more than anything else. Though your interactions had been brief and polite, his growing suspicion was impossible to ignore.

Still, the warnings had to continue. You couldn’t stop now. You had already set events into motion, and there was no turning back. The next warning would be the most dangerous yet, and you knew it had to be delivered soon.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself in one of the less frequented wings of the Keep. The hallways were quiet, the only sound your soft footsteps on the cold stone floors. You were on your way to check on supplies, something you had become well-versed in since assuming your fabricated role as a midwife. It was a simple task, one that allowed you the time to plan your next move.

As you turned a corner, you came face to face with Rhaenyra.

You froze, startled by the sudden encounter. Rhaenyra looked equally surprised but quickly composed herself, her expression unreadable.

“Y/N,” she greeted, her voice calm, though there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place.

You bowed your head slightly in response, trying to steady your racing heart. “Princess.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. You could see the questions in her eyes, the subtle curiosity, the cautious distance she had begun to keep.

“How do you find your work here in the Keep?” she asked, her tone conversational, but you sensed there was more behind her words.

“It has been fulfilling, my princess,” you replied carefully. “I am grateful for the opportunity to serve.”

Rhaenyra’s gaze lingered on you, as if weighing your words. She took a small step closer, her presence commanding despite the calmness of the exchange.

“There are many in this court who believe they know what’s best for the realm,” she said softly, her eyes never leaving yours. “But few are as prepared as they think.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was she testing you again? Did she suspect that you were the one leaving the notes?

“I hope that those in power will continue to act with wisdom,” you replied, keeping your voice steady despite the anxiety creeping up your spine.

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched into a faint smile, but it was fleeting. Her gaze sharpened, and for a brief moment, you wondered if she was about to confront you then and there. But instead, she merely nodded.

“Wisdom is a rare gift,” she said, her voice softer now, almost contemplative. “I hope you are as wise as you seem.”

With that, she turned and continued down the corridor, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering in your chest. The encounter had been brief, but the weight of it lingered long after Rhaenyra had disappeared from view.

She knew something. But how much?

That night, you couldn’t shake the memory of your conversation with Rhaenyra. You had been careful, but it was clear that she was starting to grow suspicious. The danger was becoming more tangible with each passing day.

And then there was Daemon.

The man was an enigma, his unpredictability making him all the more dangerous. You had avoided him as best you could, but you knew it was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again. And when they did, you had to be prepared.

The encounter came sooner than expected.

You had just finished tending to a patient—a young woman recovering from childbirth—and were making your way back to your chambers when you spotted Daemon standing at the end of the hallway. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he watched you approach.

Your heart skipped a beat. There was no avoiding him now.

“Lord Daemon,” you greeted, trying to keep your voice steady as you bowed your head in respect.

Daemon didn’t move from his position, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always seemed to carry an air of danger.

“You’ve been busy,” he remarked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that set you on high alert.

“I do what is asked of me,” you replied, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

Daemon pushed off the wall, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, filling the narrow hallway with a sense of menace that made your pulse quicken.

“And what exactly is it that you’ve been asked to do?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Your heart raced, but you kept your expression neutral. “I am here to tend to the needs of the people, as always.”

Daemon chuckled softly, though there was no warmth in the sound. “Tending to the needs of the people,” he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “An admirable role.”

He took another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “But you’ve always struck me as someone who… knows more than they let on.”

Your breath caught in your throat. Was this it? Had Daemon figured out your role in the warnings?

“I am but a humble servant, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone calm despite the panic rising in your chest.

Daemon studied you for a long moment, his smirk never faltering. Then, without warning, he leaned in close, his voice a low whisper.

“Secrets don’t stay hidden forever, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, Daemon straightened and walked past you, his smirk still in place as he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you standing there with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

The encounters with both Rhaenyra and Daemon had left you on edge. You had managed to avoid suspicion for the most part, but it was clear that both of them were beginning to question your role. The tension was becoming unbearable, and you knew it was only a matter of time before something—or someone—gave.

But the most dangerous part of your mission was still ahead. The next note, the one you were planning to deliver in secret, held information that could change everything. You had to be more careful than ever, especially with Daemon’s growing curiosity and Rhaenyra’s watchful eyes.

And then, just as you were beginning to plan your next move, the unexpected happened.It was late one evening when you found yourself in the corridors of the Keep once more, a new warning written and ready to be delivered. You had chosen a time when the halls were quiet, hoping to slip unnoticed into the shadows.

But as you approached the alcove where you usually left the notes, you froze.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were there—together.

They stood in the dim light of the corridor, their voices low, but the tension between them was palpable. You could hear the tail end of their conversation, something about strategy and alliances, but the words barely registered as your heart raced.

This was not part of the plan.

You quickly turned to leave, hoping to retreat before they noticed you, but it was too late.

“Y/N!” Rhaenyra’s voice called out, stopping you in your tracks.

You slowly turned, your heart pounding in your chest as both Rhaenyra and Daemon fixed their gazes on you. There was no escaping this.

“Out for a walk at this hour?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone curious but sharp. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied your face.

Daemon, on the other hand, remained silent, his expression unreadable as he watched you with that same unnerving intensity.

You forced a smile, though it felt hollow. “I was merely… clearing my head, princess.”

Rhaenyra exchanged a glance with Daemon, and for a moment, you could feel the weight of their suspicion pressing down on you. They didn’t trust you. Not fully. Not yet.

But you had to play your part.

“I did not mean to intrude,” you said quickly, taking a step back. “I will leave you to your discussion.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before she finally nodded, though there was something unreadable in her gaze. “Of course.”

You bowed your head and quickly retreated, your heart still racing as you disappeared into the shadows of the Keep. You had avoided confrontation this time, but the tension was growing. And soon, something would have to give.

{~Supernatural Masterlist~}

{~No Pairings~}

Transported into Supernatural:

Ethereal Bonds

A Rift in Reality

Welcome to the Hunting Life

A Hunt for Answers

Unraveling the Mystery

Facing the Ultimate Evil

A Bittersweet Farewell

Hello! How r u?

Hiii, im okay. Im really sorry for not uploading. I’ve been really busy with school and just haven’t been feeling that well lately.

Whispers Through Time: {~A New Arrival~}

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1293

Chapter 1 --- Chapter 2

The biting chill of the wind gnawed at your skin as you stumbled through an unfamiliar landscape, its vastness stretching out before you. It was hard to pinpoint exactly when the world around you had shifted, but the change was undeniable. Your memory still clung to the familiar buzz of the modern world—the sound of car engines, the hum of streetlights, and the constant tap of your shoes on concrete. But now, all that was gone, replaced by a stark silence that only heightened your disorientation. The horizon before you seemed endless, filled with tall hills covered in thick mist, and in the distance, a looming structure—a castle—stood proudly, its towers piercing the dreary sky.

This couldn’t be real. It felt too surreal, like a dream pulled from the pages of some historical fantasy novel. You had always been fascinated by the medieval period and Westeros in particular, but that fascination never prepared you for this. And yet, everything felt too vivid to be a dream—the sharpness of the cold, the heavy scent of damp earth, the distant call of gulls swooping down from the cliffs nearby.

Your breath caught in your throat, and a familiar panic began to rise. You could almost feel your heart pounding, each beat growing louder in your ears. Logic screamed that this couldn’t be happening. You were walking home after a long day, when—there! That light. The blinding flash that enveloped you and carried you here. You clenched your hands into fists, grounding yourself, and let the question form properly: Where am I?

Slowly, as you took in your surroundings, the faintest flicker of recognition sparked. That castle, those towers—it looked eerily familiar. The realization hit you hard, and your knees weakened. This was not just any castle, but one you had seen countless times in books, on screens. Westeros. You had somehow, impossibly, been transported to the world of the Targaryens, Velaryons, and the Seven Kingdoms.

"Gods…" you whispered, though you weren’t sure if you were calling to them or cursing them. How could this be possible?

Panic began to bubble up in your chest, but you bit it down. Now wasn’t the time to lose your head. Whatever force had brought you here, it clearly didn’t care about your confusion. You were stranded in a world you had no right to be in, with no clear path home. But you were nothing if not resourceful, and survival instinct kicked in fast. First things first: you needed a cover story.

You looked down at your clothing—your jacket, jeans, and shoes entirely inappropriate for this world. You’d stick out like a sore thumb if you didn’t do something, and quickly. And then, as if fate wanted to test you immediately, you noticed a figure making their way toward you—a villager, maybe, wrapped in furs, their weathered face twisted in confusion at the sight of you.

Without hesitation, you pulled the hood of your jacket up, hiding as much of your appearance as possible, and let an idea form. You needed to be someone important, someone with a skill that would grant you entry into the castle ahead. You thought of the people in this world—superstitious, often lacking in medical knowledge, and prone to reverence for those who claimed to possess sight beyond the ordinary.

A midwife. A seer.

That was the way in. You straightened up, quickly rehearsing a story in your head. You could remember enough of the history of this time—enough about the impending conflicts and players involved—to convince someone of your abilities. And if you could do that, you might just survive.

The villager had reached you by now, his eyes flicking over your strange attire, suspicion evident in his gaze.

"You… you lost, stranger?" His accent was thick, the words harsh against the wind. He looked you up and down, frowning deeper as he noticed your modern shoes.

Clearing your throat, you adopted the air of someone who belonged here, someone important. "I’ve come from far away," you began, your voice steady, "I am a midwife, and a gifted seer. I’ve been summoned—by fate itself—to serve the realm."

His eyes narrowed. "A seer, eh? And who exactly called ye?"

You squared your shoulders. "Not who. What." You let the pause linger, allowing the weight of your words to sink in. "There are things at play in this world that go beyond your understanding. I see them—glimpses of what’s to come. And I’ve come to ensure the safety of those in power, to warn them of the dangers that await if they do not heed my counsel."

The villager hesitated, doubt still clouding his expression, but he seemed unsure now, weighing your words. Superstition held great power in this world, and the idea of turning away someone who claimed to have foresight was a dangerous gamble. Finally, with a curt nod, he motioned to the road leading toward the castle. "You’ll want to speak to the men at the gates, then. They'll decide if yer needed."

You gave a small nod in return, keeping your expression controlled, though relief washed over you. You began to walk, your thoughts racing. You had taken the first step, but getting into the castle was just the beginning. Once there, you would need to convince people far more powerful and skeptical than a simple villager. Rhaenyra, Daemon, the Velaryons… the very people who would shape the future of Westeros.

As you approached the castle’s towering gates, the sheer size of the fortress became overwhelming. The walls stretched upward, casting long shadows over the ground. Your breath quickened as the guards came into view—men clad in armor, their hands resting on swords as they watched you approach. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

One of the guards stepped forward, his face stern beneath his helmet. "State your business," he demanded, his voice rough and authoritative.

"I am a midwife," you repeated, keeping your voice steady. "A seer. I have been sent here to serve the realm, to offer counsel to those in power." You met his gaze directly, hoping to convey confidence. "I see things—glimpses of what’s to come. And I know that there are dangers on the horizon. I must speak with those who rule, for their own safety."

The guard raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "A seer, eh? You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word at face value. We get all kinds at these gates."

You expected resistance, and you had your response ready. "I understand your doubt, but let me offer you this—" You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "There will be an attempt on the life of someone in power here soon. It will come from within, not without. If I am wrong, you may throw me to the wolves. But if I am right, you will have failed in your duty to protect this castle."

The guard’s expression faltered for just a moment, a flicker of uncertainty passing across his features. He glanced at his fellow guards, then back at you. Finally, with a curt nod, he stepped aside. "I’ll let the master-at-arms know. If you’re lucky, you’ll get your audience."

You stepped through the gates, your pulse quickening. Inside, the castle was a maze of stone corridors, each more imposing than the last. Servants moved quickly through the halls, and you kept your head down, trying to appear as if you belonged.

Your mind raced with the enormity of what lay ahead. You needed to get close to the right people—people who would believe your story. And the first name that came to mind was Rhaenyra Targaryen. The heir to the Iron Throne, a woman of strength and ambition. If you could win her trust, you’d have a chance.

Can I please be added to your new house of the dragon series? ❤️🐲

Omg of courseee, I'll start a tag list and please let me know if any of ya'll wanna be apart of it!!

Hi.

I don't know if you are still accepting requests. But can you write that Chris from Charmed is dating y/n but doesn't know that Chris has magic?

If you don't like the idea, you can delete

A/N: Omg of course! You are my first-ever request! I had not been making any posts because I wasn't motivated, but since you requested it I will do it!! I hope you enjoy it!

{~Secrets in the Halliwell Manor~}

Summary: Chris Halliwell has been keeping a life-altering secret from Y/N—he’s a witch from a powerful magical family. When he finally reveals the truth, Y/N is thrust into a world of magic, demons, and danger. Y/N must decide whether to embrace this extraordinary reality or walk away. Can their love withstand the truth, or will the secrets Chris has kept tear them apart?

Characters: Chris, Piper, Leo, Phoebe

Pairing: Chris Halliwell x GN!Y/N

Warnings: No Warnings

Word Count: 1537

Chris Halliwell walked hand in hand with Y/N down the bustling streets of San Francisco. The early evening sun cast long shadows, and the air was filled with the sounds of distant chatter, car engines, and the occasional chirping of birds. He had been seeing Y/N for a few months now, and things had been going well—too well, perhaps. But with every date, every sweet moment, the weight of the secret he carried grew heavier on his shoulders.

“Chris, you’ve been a little quiet today,” Y/N said, glancing up at him with concern in their eyes. “Everything okay?”

Chris forced a smile, squeezing Y/N's hand a little tighter. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About?” Y/N prompted, not missing the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

“Oh, you know, life, the future… where we're headed,” Chris replied, hoping the vague response would be enough. The truth was, he was always thinking about the future—literally. As a Whitelighter-witch hybrid, Chris had traveled from the future to prevent a dark fate from befalling his family. But none of that could be shared with Y/N, at least not yet.

“You’re not getting cold feet, are you?” Y/N teased, nudging him playfully with their shoulder.

Chris chuckled softly. “No, not at all. Just trying to figure out how to balance everything, you know?”

“Life can be complicated,” Y/N agreed. “But you know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Chris stopped walking and turned to face Y/N, taking both of their hands in his. The sincerity in Y/N’s gaze made his heart ache with the desire to come clean. But how could he? How could he explain that he was a witch, that his family was one of the most powerful magical families in existence, and that he had traveled through time to save the world?

“I know,” he finally said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Y/N smiled, standing on their tiptoes to kiss him properly. “You’re right, you are lucky,” they teased, their smile lighting up their face.

Chris laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Let’s head back to the Manor. There’s something I want to show you.”

______________________________________________________________

The Halliwell Manor was as imposing as ever, with its Victorian architecture and an aura of mystery that seemed to cling to its walls. Y/N had been there a few times, but the house still held an enigmatic charm that they couldn’t quite place.

“Piper, Leo, I’m home!” Chris called as he opened the front door, leading Y/N inside.

Y/N looked around, admiring the intricate details of the house. “This place is incredible. It always feels like there’s some kind of history here.”

Chris smiled. “There’s a lot of history in this house, that’s for sure.”

Before Y/N could ask what he meant, Piper Halliwell, Chris's mother, appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She smiled warmly when she saw Y/N. “Oh, hi, Y/N! It’s so good to see you again. How have you been?”

“Hi, Piper! I’ve been good, thank you. How about you?”

“Busy, as usual,” Piper replied with a wink. “But that’s life. Are you staying for dinner?”

Chris quickly cut in before Y/N could respond. “We might have to skip dinner tonight, Mom. I wanted to show Y/N something upstairs.”

Piper raised an eyebrow, her motherly intuition telling her something was up. “Alright, but don’t take too long. You know how I feel about skipping meals.”

Chris nodded, pulling Y/N towards the stairs. “We won’t. I promise.”

As they made their way to the attic, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and curiosity. Chris had mentioned the attic before, but he had always been vague about what was up there. Now, as they climbed the stairs, Y/N felt a sense of anticipation building.

When they reached the attic door, Chris paused, looking at Y/N with a serious expression. “There’s something I need to tell you before we go in.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay…”

Chris took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “This might sound crazy, but you have to trust me, alright?”

Y/N nodded, their concern deepening. “Chris, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

“I’m not who you think I am,” Chris said slowly. “There’s a lot about my life that you don’t know… things I haven’t told you because I didn’t know how.”

Y/N’s mind raced, trying to piece together what he was saying. “What do you mean?”

Chris turned to the door, hesitating for just a moment before pushing it open. The attic was dimly lit, with shafts of light filtering through the windows, illuminating the dust particles in the air. In the center of the room was an old, ornate book resting on a wooden stand.

“What is this place?” Y/N asked, stepping inside, their voice barely above a whisper.

“This is where my family keeps the Book of Shadows,” Chris explained, moving towards the book. “It’s a magical tome that has been passed down through generations. It contains spells, potions, and information about demons and other supernatural beings.”

Y/N stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “Magic…? Chris, what are you talking about?”

Chris met Y/N’s eyes, his expression earnest. “I’m a witch, Y/N. My whole family is. We protect the world from evil forces that most people don’t even know exist.”

For a moment, Y/N couldn’t speak. It was as if the world had tilted on its axis, and nothing made sense anymore. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” they finally managed to say.

Chris nodded. “I know it’s a lot to take in. But I wanted you to know the truth because… I care about you. And I can’t keep this from you anymore.”

Y/N took a step back, trying to process everything. “This is… I don’t know what to say, Chris. This is insane.”

“I know,” Chris said softly. “But it’s the truth.”

Before Y/N could respond, the door to the attic burst open, and in rushed Phoebe Halliwell, Chris’s aunt, with a worried expression on her face.

“Chris, we’ve got a problem,” Phoebe said, her eyes flickering to Y/N for a brief moment before focusing on her nephew.

“What is it?” Chris asked, immediately on alert.

“There’s a demon in the city. It’s causing havoc, and we need to deal with it before things get worse.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “A demon? Like, an actual demon?”

Phoebe glanced at Y/N, offering a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, sorry about this. Welcome to the family, I guess?”

Y/N felt like they were in a dream—a bizarre, surreal dream. “Chris, what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise,” Chris said, turning back to Phoebe. “Where’s Wyatt?”

“He’s on his way,” Phoebe replied, just as a swirl of blue orbs materialized in the room, revealing Chris’s older brother, Wyatt.

Wyatt gave Y/N a quick nod. “Hey, Y/N. Sorry you had to find out this way.”

Y/N could only nod in response, their mind reeling.

“Let’s get this over with,” Chris said, determination settling in his eyes. He turned to Y/N, his voice gentle. “Stay here, okay? We’ll be back soon.”

Y/N grabbed his arm, their voice trembling. “Chris, be careful.”

Chris squeezed their hand, giving them a reassuring smile. “I will. Trust me.”

With that, the three witches left the attic, leaving Y/N alone with the Book of Shadows and a whirlwind of emotions.

______________________________________________________________

Y/N paced the attic, their mind racing. Magic? Witches? Demons? It was too much to comprehend. But the more they thought about it, the more things started to make sense. The strange occurrences, the odd things Chris had said or done—it all fit together now.

After what felt like an eternity, the door to the attic creaked open, and Chris stepped inside, looking slightly disheveled but unharmed.

“Are you okay?” Y/N asked, rushing over to him.

Chris nodded, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace. “I’m fine. The demon’s gone. It’s over.”

Y/N clung to him, feeling a rush of relief. “I can’t believe any of this is real.”

Chris pulled back slightly, looking into Y/N’s eyes. “I know it’s a lot to take in. And if you need time to process everything, I understand.”

Y/N shook their head. “I don’t need time. I just need you to promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” Chris said immediately.

“Don’t keep secrets from me anymore,” Y/N said, their voice firm. “If we’re going to be together, I need to know everything.”

Chris smiled, relief flooding through him. “I promise. No more secrets.”

Y/N smiled back, feeling a sense of peace settle over them. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Chris leaned down, capturing Y/N’s lips in a tender kiss. For the first time in a long while, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Y/N knew that no matter what.

Charmed: Chris' Identity is Discovered {~Chapter 10~}

Summary: The Phoenix Clan is after Chris, and the sisters are trying to help. But there are many questions that they need answering. How long can Chris keep his identity a secret? [Before Chris-Crossed]

Characters: Charmed Ones, Bianca, Chris, Leo

Pairing: No Pairing

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak

Word Count: 647

A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating you guys, I have been very busy with school lately.

Masterlist

“Mom?!” Piper shrieks.

“Silence.” An Elder protests. Wanting to know more, she continues to watch. This time the hologram-like screen has moved onto a different memory of Chris.

Chris looks around 16-17 years old. He looks tired, too tired for a boy so young. His face speckled with a few teen spots and pimples. Suddenly, someone orbs enters the room, but with the amount of magic the boys see on a daily basis, this is no big deal to Chris. Having to look interested he turns sound and there stands Leo. Not him, again.

“What do you want?” Chris snaps at Leo.

“Chris, don’t speak to me like that.”

“You’ve come into my home, with no invitation. I will speak to you however I damn like.” Chris retorts.

The sisters look on in shock. Why would Chris speak to Leo like this?

“Did I adopt Chris or something?” Piper asks. Phoebe and Paige shrug.

“Keep watching.”

Leo frowned at his son.

“What do you want anway?” Chris asked.

“I wanted to talk to you and Wyatt.” “No. Get out.” Chris replied, with annoyance.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, get out. When we come and see you, you’re too busy. We are not seeing you, on your terms. It isn’t fair. And me and Wyatt have had it. Get out.”

“Chris-”

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?! Get out!” Chris shouted. Seeing Chris’ rage increase by the second, Leo decided it would be wise to leave Chris. Let him cool off. Leo orbed out, and to the heavens. Chris picked a toy car, near the piano and threw it at a table. Knocking over a vase. As it shattered on the floor, he heard orbs. Chris has had enough.

“God Leo! I told you to get out-” He said while turning into the direction of his father. But it wasn’t Leo. It was Wyatt. He looked around 18 years old. His blonde hair is in major need of a haircut.

“Leo? He was here?” Wyatt asked. 

“Yeah.”

“And you got rid of him?”“Yeah.”

“Good. I am in no mood to deal with him right now.”

“Why? What happened?” Chris asked, concerned for his older brother.

“Nothing Chris, I am fine. I’m just tired. Is grandpa home yet?”

“Not yet. He went to the store. He should be home pretty soon though.” Chris explained.

“Alright. We should probably clear this up before he comes home. You’d have to explain and say that Leo was here. And you know how Leo always sets him off in one of his moods.” Wyatt suggested.

“I’ll get the broom.”

“Don’t bother. Just use the vanishing spell. There isn’t time anyway.” Wyatt quickly peered outside the window and saw his grandfather’s car. “Grandpa’s here.” Quickly, Chris recited the vanishing spell, which he often has to use. Even though he is constantly told not to by his grandfather, the elders and even Leo. What gives him the right?!

The hologram-like screen moved onto a different memory.

“Happy 17th birthday Chris!” Wyatt said, a little too loudly. Chris opened his eyes, groaned and turned away in his bed. Wyatt laughed. “Come on Chris! Get up! Me and grandpa have a birthday surprise for you. I will see you downstairs in 5 minutes, or I will just orb you down.” Not wanting to be Wyatt’s little puppet Chris got up and quickly got changed into decent clothing, then went down the stairs.

“Surprise!” Wyatt and his grandfather called. One the table was a fully cooked breakfast, just the way his mother used to cook breakfast on special occasions. 8-9 presents on one end of the table.

“Wow. This is amazing you guys!” Chris said, excitement evident in his voice. He hugged his grandfather, then embraced Wyatt.

“I hope you like it.” Wyatt said.

“I already do.” Chris replied. Wyatt smiled.

“Happy birthday, little brother.”

Ethereal Bonds: {~A Bittersweet Farewell~}

Summary: Y/N is transported into the show's world, joining forces with the Winchesters to face a cosmic threat. Together, they navigate interdimensional challenges, decipher prophecies, and confront an entity aiming to merge realities. The fanfic explores the blurring of fiction and reality, emphasizing the enduring bonds formed amidst the supernatural chaos.

Characters: Sam & Dean

Pairing: No Pairing

Warnings: No Warnings

Word Count: 563

Masterlist

The transformed town, bathed in an otherworldly glow, stood as a testament to the cosmic struggles that had unfolded. Y/N, Sam, and Dean walked the streets, the air still tinged with residual energy from the convergence. The entity's ominous words lingered in the atmosphere, a reminder that the cosmic dance had left an indelible mark on their lives.

"So, what's next?" Y/N asked, the weight of the amulet in their hand a constant reminder of the extraordinary journey they had undertaken.

Dean shrugged, his eyes scanning the altered landscape. "Business as usual, I guess. Saving people, hunting things. Just another day in the life."

Sam chimed in, "But now, we have an extra hand. If there's one thing we've learned, it's that facing the unknown is easier when you've got someone by your side."

Y/N smiled, feeling a sense of camaraderie that transcended the boundaries of dimensions. "I never imagined I'd be a part of all this. It's like living inside my favorite TV show."

Dean chuckled, clapping Y/N on the shoulder. "Well, welcome to the Winchester family. We've had our fair share of weird, but hey, it keeps things interesting."

As they strolled through the transformed town, the trio encountered curious glances from the residents who, though unaware of the cosmic struggles, sensed the lingering supernatural energy. The Winchester brothers, accustomed to such odd occurrences, navigated the attention with practiced ease.

"So, what about the amulet?" Sam asked, eyeing the ancient artifact that had been the key to their journey.

Y/N hesitated, a mix of emotions swirling within. "I think I'll keep it. A souvenir from my time in the supernatural realms. Besides, who knows when I might need to hop back into action."

Dean grinned, appreciating the sentiment. "A hunter's gotta have their lucky charm. Just don't go opening any more portals without a heads-up, alright?"

The banter continued as they made their way to the Impala, parked in a spot that seemed both familiar and altered. As they prepared to hit the road, the transformed town fading in the rearview mirror, Y/N couldn't help but reflect on the incredible journey.

"So, what's the plan now?" Y/N asked, their eyes meeting the Winchesters'.

Dean shrugged, "We'll keep hunting, keep fighting. And who knows, maybe we'll stumble upon another cosmic mystery that needs unraveling."

Sam added, "And if you ever decide you want to go back home, we'll figure it out together. We owe you that much."

The road stretched ahead, an endless expanse of uncertainty and adventure. Y/N settled into the backseat of the Impala, the familiar creak of the leather seats providing a sense of comfort.

As the engine roared to life, Y/N looked out at the night, the stars twinkling above. The lines between fiction and reality had blurred, leaving behind a tapestry of memories that would forever weave their story into the fabric of the supernatural.

And as they drove into the unknown, Y/N couldn't help but feel a bittersweet mix of nostalgia and anticipation. The cosmic dance may have left its mark, but the journey had only just begun.

For in the world of the supernatural, where reality and fiction converged, the only certainty was the enduring bond between hunters, forged across dimensions, and the endless possibilities that awaited them in the vast expanse of the unknown.

Whispers Through Time: {~Secrets in the Shadows~}

A/N: Omg, I am sooo happy that you guys are enjoying the series so far! I honestly was not expecting it but I am so happy! Here is Chapter 2 and I will be constantly putting out these chapters so you guys don't have to wait! Enjoy!!!!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1107

Chapter 2 --- Chapter 3

The days since your arrival in the Red Keep passed in a blur of whispered conversations and cautious glances. Though you had gained entry to the castle by claiming to be a skilled midwife, you knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed to do more if you were to truly alter the course of events as you remembered them. As you moved quietly through the halls of the Keep, your mind raced with thoughts of how to intervene without revealing too much of what you knew—or worse, revealing who you truly were.

You had managed to secure a small, modest room in the servants' quarters, far removed from the nobility. There, you spent your nights pondering the timeline, thinking about the key events that led to the Targaryens' fall, trying to remember details from history and lore that would be valuable in the days to come. Your knowledge of Westeros was fragmented at best—flashes of future events mixed with the uncertainties of living in this medieval world—but you were determined to find a way to help Rhaenyra, and perhaps, by extension, yourself.

As the wind howled outside your window one night, a sense of urgency crept over you. It was time to act. You needed to warn Rhaenyra about the threats that loomed within her own walls. But approaching her directly was far too dangerous—there were too many eyes, too much risk of exposure. You would have to find another way to communicate.

Sitting by the dim light of your candle, you pulled a scrap of parchment from the small desk and began to write:

"Princess Rhaenyra,""There are those close to you who hide their true intentions. Be wary of whom you trust, for some who smile to your face will one day seek to destroy you."

"A Friend."

You stared at the note for a long moment, rereading the words. It wasn’t enough—too vague, too cryptic—but it was all you could offer without putting yourself at risk. Folding the parchment carefully, you tucked it into your pocket. Now came the hardest part: delivering it without being caught.

The castle was quiet that night, the torches flickering dimly in the halls as the staff retired to their quarters. You moved through the shadows, your heart pounding as you neared Rhaenyra’s chambers. You had scouted the area earlier and noticed that servants would occasionally leave messages or small gifts in a niche near the entrance—just out of sight from the guards stationed at her door.

That would be your opportunity.

Keeping to the edges of the corridor, you made your way toward the alcove. The guards were still at their posts, but they seemed to be deep in conversation, their attention focused elsewhere. Silently, you slipped the note into the niche, ensuring it was partially visible so that whoever was meant to find it would do so.

As you turned to leave, you froze. A shadow moved at the far end of the hall. You ducked quickly behind a column, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the figure draw nearer. It was Daemon Targaryen.

Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking him. His presence was unmistakable—commanding, dangerous. You had heard the whispers about him, the rogue prince, the man who walked a fine line between loyalty and rebellion. The last person you wanted to cross paths with.

Daemon’s steps were slow, deliberate. He wasn’t headed for Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he was close enough that you couldn’t risk moving until he was out of sight. You stayed hidden, heart racing, as he passed by, his face unreadable in the flickering torchlight. He didn’t look your way, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, always aware.

When he finally disappeared around the corner, you let out a slow breath. You had come dangerously close to being caught. Without wasting another second, you slipped back into the shadows, retreating toward the servants’ quarters.

The next morning, the castle was buzzing with its usual activity. Servants bustled through the corridors, nobles conversed in hushed tones, and the guards maintained their ever-watchful presence. But there was an undercurrent of tension—a subtle shift in the atmosphere that hadn’t been there before.

As you went about your duties, you overheard snippets of conversation, mentions of a note that had been discovered outside Rhaenyra’s chambers. No one knew who had left it, and the guards were tight-lipped about the situation, but the news had spread quickly among the servants. There was speculation, of course, but no solid leads. Whoever had left the message had done so without being seen.

You kept your head down, focusing on your work, but your mind was racing. The note had reached Rhaenyra, but what would she do with the information? Would she take it seriously? Or would she dismiss it as a prank or a ploy?

Later in the day, as you moved through one of the upper corridors, you saw her. Rhaenyra Targaryen was standing by a window, her back to you, deep in conversation with one of her ladies-in-waiting. Even from a distance, you could see the tension in her posture, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She was angry—no, more than that. She was disturbed.

The note had hit its mark.

You dared not linger, moving quickly past her chambers and back into the lower halls. The note had worked, but it also meant that you were now part of something far more dangerous. If anyone suspected that you were the one feeding Rhaenyra this information, your life could be at risk. And with Daemon’s ever-watchful eyes lurking in the shadows, you couldn’t afford to make a mistake.

That evening, as you returned to your room, you found yourself pacing, your mind turning over the events of the day. Daemon’s presence haunted you. Though he hadn’t seen you, you felt as though his gaze had lingered on you long after he passed. You knew you had to be careful, more careful than ever before. But as the days went on, Rhaenyra would come to rely on the warnings, and sooner or later, someone would begin asking questions.

You sat at your desk, quill in hand, staring at the blank parchment before you. Another note would need to be sent—this time, with more detail. But the risks were growing with each passing day. How long could you continue before someone discovered the truth?

As you dipped the quill into the ink, you pushed the fear aside. There was no turning back now. The game had begun, and you were determined to see it through.