Ethereal Bonds: {~A Bittersweet Farewell~}

Masterlist

Hiii Welcome to my blog! I will mostly write anything that you want, just please don't be weird with the requests. I don't have that many stories out yet but please send me your requests! Alsooo, if you guys want me to make a tag list, I can, just let me know!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

{~Charmed (1998)~}

{~House of the Dragon~}

{~Narnia~}

{~Supernatural~}

{~Twilight~}

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.

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

Your writing is so beautiful and descriptive omg <3

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

Once again, loved your writing <3

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

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

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

Characters: Edmund Pevensie

Pairing: Edmund Pevensie x Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1674

Taglist: @snowtargaryen @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 1 —

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Edmund!”

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

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

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.

Whispers Through Time: {~Meeting Daemon~}

A/N: I am so sorry I have not posted chapter 3, I have been really busy with school and had to catch up with all my work since I was really sick last week and missed a bunch of work!

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: 1243

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 3 --- Chapter 4

Days had passed since you left the first note for Rhaenyra, and the subtle shift in her demeanor was unmistakable. While she had yet to confront anyone publicly, you could sense her wariness in the way she interacted with those around her. The seeds of doubt had been planted, and though you were relieved that your warning had reached her, the constant danger of being discovered hung over you like a storm cloud.

But it wasn’t just Rhaenyra’s growing caution that concerned you. Daemon Targaryen’s presence had become more frequent, and wherever he went, he seemed to move with a purpose that unnerved you. You had caught glimpses of him here and there—always watching, always listening. It was only a matter of time before your paths crossed again.

And then, one day, it happened.

You had been sent on an errand to deliver herbs to the maester’s chambers, a mundane task that took you through the winding corridors of the Red Keep. Your mind was preoccupied with the next note you intended to leave for Rhaenyra—one that would warn her of a more immediate threat from within her inner circle. As you turned a corner, lost in thought, you nearly collided with someone coming in the opposite direction.

Startled, you looked up—and your breath caught in your throat.

It was Daemon.

The Rogue Prince stood before you, his silver hair catching the light of the nearby torches. His violet eyes regarded you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you thick with unspoken questions. His gaze swept over you, as though he were trying to read your every thought, your every secret.

“Apologies, my lord,” you stammered, quickly stepping back and bowing your head to avoid his piercing stare. Your heart hammered in your chest as you prayed he would simply move on and forget the encounter.

But Daemon was not one to let things go so easily.

“You’re the midwife, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice smooth yet laced with something sharp, something dangerous.

“Yes, my lord,” you replied, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. “I was sent to deliver these herbs to the maester.”

He nodded, though his eyes never left you. “I’ve heard you’ve been quite useful since your arrival.” His words were casual, but you sensed the underlying suspicion. “Unusual for someone to earn such favor so quickly.”

“I only do what I can to be of service,” you said, trying to maintain your composure.

Daemon smirked, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Modest, too. How very noble of you.” He took a step closer, and you instinctively tensed. “And yet, you’ve managed to find yourself in quite a few interesting places around the Keep, haven’t you?”

Your pulse quickened. Did he know? Had someone seen you near Rhaenyra’s chambers? You forced yourself to remain calm, to hold his gaze without faltering. “I go where I am needed, my lord. Nothing more.”

His smirk widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. You’re just a humble midwife, after all.”

The way he said it made it sound like a lie, like he knew there was more to your story than you were letting on. But you couldn’t afford to let him push you. Not here. Not now.

“I should be going,” you said, shifting the basket of herbs in your arms as an excuse to leave. “The maester is waiting.”

Daemon stepped aside, though his gaze followed you as you passed. “Take care,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement. “The Red Keep can be… unpredictable.”

You didn’t respond, quickening your pace as you made your way down the hall. Only when you were far enough away did you let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

That night, as you sat alone in your room, the weight of the encounter with Daemon settled heavily on your shoulders. He knew something—maybe not everything, but enough to make him suspicious. And if there was one thing you knew about Daemon Targaryen, it was that he didn’t let things go easily. His curiosity was as dangerous as his sword, and now, it was fixed on you.

You had to be more careful.

But even as the thought crossed your mind, you knew that avoiding Daemon’s scrutiny wasn’t your only problem. You still had to deliver the next note to Rhaenyra. And this time, it would be even riskier.

The following day, the Keep was buzzing with activity as preparations for an upcoming feast were underway. Servants rushed through the halls, carrying linens, food, and other supplies, while the nobles discussed matters of the court. It was the perfect distraction.

You had written the second note the night before, the words carefully chosen to warn Rhaenyra of an impending plot by one of her closest allies. Slipping the note into the same alcove near her chambers would be tricky, especially with Daemon’s increased presence around the Keep. But you didn’t have a choice.

As you moved through the crowded halls, your mind raced with thoughts of how to avoid detection. The feast provided some cover, but there were more guards than usual stationed near Rhaenyra’s quarters. You would have to be quick.

When you finally reached the corridor leading to her chambers, you were relieved to see that the guards were distracted by a group of visiting nobles. Seizing the opportunity, you hurried toward the alcove and slipped the note into place, your hands shaking slightly from the adrenaline.

Just as you turned to leave, you heard footsteps approaching. Panic surged through you as you ducked into the shadows of a nearby column, your heart pounding in your chest.

Daemon.

He appeared at the far end of the hall, his expression unreadable as he spoke to one of the guards. You held your breath, praying that he wouldn’t notice the note—or worse, see you hiding. For what felt like an eternity, you stayed perfectly still, watching as Daemon scanned the corridor.

But then, as if by some stroke of luck, he turned and walked away.

You didn’t wait to see where he went. As soon as the coast was clear, you slipped out of the shadows and made your way back to the servants' quarters, your heart still racing. You had managed to leave the note without being caught—but just barely.

Later that evening, you found yourself on edge as you worked, your thoughts consumed by the possibility that Daemon was still watching. You had been careful, but how long could you keep this up before he—or someone else—figured out what you were doing?

As you went about your duties, you noticed Rhaenyra in the distance, speaking with one of her advisors. From where you stood, you couldn’t hear their conversation, but you could see the way her hand clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, the tension in her posture unmistakable.

She had found the second note.

For a brief moment, her gaze flickered in your direction, but there was no recognition in her eyes. You were still a stranger to her, just another face among the many who served in the Red Keep. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, in time, she would come to depend on your warnings more than she realized.

But for now, your secret was safe.

At least, you hoped it was.

SORRY! Plus announcement!!!

Well, first of all, I just want to apologize for not posting and updating my House of the Dragon series!!! I have just been really busy and just not had the time so that is why I have decided to post TWO chapters for ya'll! I hope you guys enjoy it! The next thing I have to say is that right when "Whispers Through Time" is finished (10 chapters only!!) I WILL be starting the next series trying to go based off of that request for my Edmund Pevensie one-shot since they have now requested to make it a series so I really hope you guys end up enjoying that as well! That's all! "Whispers Through Time" is almost finished so I hope you guys enjoy the last few chapters that I have made! Thanks! Have a good day/night!!!!

Do u write smut?

To finally answer this question, I will if you want me to. I’m not a smut writer or smut type blog but if you guys want me to write a one shot about for it or to add a scene in a series, I will try my best. Wont promise that it’ll be good tho😭

Charmed: Chris' Identity is Discovered {~Chapter 5~}

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: 666

Masterlist

Chris is lying on the couch in the living room. Piper is by his side holding a rag to his wound.

“How did this happen?”

“I don’t really know. I was just walking around, and I heard something behind me. So I turned around, but the next thing I know, I am clutching my side.”

“So you don’t know what it is? An energy ball? Fireball?” Piper asked.

“No. I don’t have an idea. I’m sorry Piper, I wish I could help more,” Piper smiles at him, then looks down.

“I am gonna get some water, okay?”

“Okay.” Chris agreed. Piper stood up and made her way into the kitchen. Paige and Phoebe were standing in the kitchen talking. Piper was shocked.

“It’s not like someone's life is on the line. Why don’t we all sit and chat!” Piper says sarcastically.

“We are worried Piper.” Phoebe said. “There is something that Paige has said which is making me question Chris.”

“What do you mean? What about Chris?” Piper asks. She turns towards Paige.

“White lighters heal themselves. They can heal everything on their bodies, unless it’s a dark lighters arrow. And it’s not. He isn’t a white lighter. Or not a whole one, anyway.” 

“He’s lied to us.” Phoebe says. “Again.” She adds.

“We need to heal him. And then we will ask our questions. And he will answer them.” Piper says, after much thought.

“Okay.” Phoebe and Paige agree. Eventually, Leo orbs into the living room and heals Chris.

“How did this happen?” Leo asks.

“I’m not sure. I didn’t see the demon.”

“Are you so sure it was a demon? After all that, Phoenix is still after you.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that. God, I’m an idiot.” Chris muttered.

“I’m glad we agree on one thing. Chris, we have a lot of questions for you.” Piper says.

“Questions? What questions?” Chris asks.

“Piper what’s going on?” Leo asks his ex-wife.

“Leo, you don’t live in this house anymore. And we aren’t together anymore. It really is none of your business. So can you just go? Anyway, the second we start talking you will be called away again. Just go.”

“Is this because I couldn’t see Wyatt?”

“Of course it is. He was looking forward to seeing you. But you let him down. This isn’t the first time you have done this to him. And I am not going to let you do it again.” Piper snapped. Leo looked at Piper, seeing her anger, he knew he had to go. Let them both calm down and rearrange their thoughts. Leo orbs away to the heavens. Keen to move on from that uncomfortable situation of seeing his parents argue, he asks the girls a question.

“What questions?”

“Why didn’t you heal yourself? All white lighters can unless it’s a dark lighter arrow. And it wasn’t. So…?”

Oh crap. Umm…what the hell do I say!? “Well, I don’t know what it was. It could have been something not seen before…?” Chris lied. He has never been able to heal himself. But do the girls know?

“Stop lying to us.” Phoebe said.

“You’re not a white lighter, are you?” Paige asked.

“Of course I am! You have seen me orb!” Chris cries, in the hopes that they will drop the subject. He cannot slip up.

“Chris. I am trying to be nice here, but that isn't easy to do when you are obviously lying to us.” Piper says, trying to keep her temper under control. Chris doesn’t want to lie, but he can’t tell the truth. So he doesn’t say anything.

“Tell us.” Phoebe says.

“I can’t. If you want me to tell the truth, I can’t do that. At least not now. I don’t want to lie, but I can’t tell the truth.”

“Chris, I am gonna give you one more chance to tell us what is going on.” 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but we are sick of this. I’m calling the Elders.”

Whispers Through Time: {~Revealing the Truth~}

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: 1106

Tag List: @snowtargaryen

Chapter 7 --- Chapter 8

The candlelight flickered over the faces of the trio, casting long shadows that danced across the cold stone walls. The weight of the moment settled thickly in the room, silence punctuated only by the soft crackle of the fire and the distant clatter of footsteps outside. The air between them felt charged, every breath heavy with anticipation.

Rhaenyra stood near the hearth, her hands clasped in front of her as she studied the reader with careful eyes. There was warmth in her gaze, but it was edged with something harder—uncertainty, perhaps even suspicion. Daemon lingered closer to the door, his presence as commanding as ever, though his expression was more relaxed. The subtle tilt of his lips suggested he found the situation amusing, though beneath the surface, he was every bit as alert.

The reader, caught between them both, felt the gravity of the moment. She had been careful, incredibly so, but now, the game was up. They had found her notes, pieced together the warnings and advice that had seemed to appear from nowhere. Rhaenyra had demanded this meeting, and Daemon, loyal to his wife, had come with her. Now, they wanted answers.

“You've been leaving us... these,” Rhaenyra started, holding out the parchment that contained the most recent warning, her voice calm but edged with steel. “Your words have proven to be true so far, but you’ve been hiding your intentions.”

The reader swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest. She had expected this moment to come eventually, but not like this—so sudden, with both of them confronting her. She tried to keep her face neutral, though she could feel her pulse quicken under Rhaenyra’s sharp gaze.

“I had to be cautious,” the reader said quietly, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “You would not have believed me otherwise.”

Daemon moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied her, though his tone was teasing. “Oh, we’re well past the point of disbelief. You’ve proven yourself far too knowledgeable for a simple midwife.” He tilted his head slightly. “What exactly are you?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered to Daemon briefly before settling back on the reader. “You claim to be a seer,” she said, her tone careful. “But your warnings, they seem almost too precise. Almost as if…” She trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

The reader took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. She had to choose her words carefully. “I never said I was a seer,” she corrected gently. “That is what you assumed.”

Rhaenyra’s lips tightened. “Then what are you? How do you know what’s coming?”

There was no easy answer. The reader had thought long and hard about this moment, about what she could say if they ever confronted her. She couldn’t reveal the truth—that she was from a world far beyond theirs, that she knew their history because it had already been written in her own world. It would make her sound mad. So, she offered them the best version of the truth she could manage.

“I have dreams,” the reader said softly, her eyes locking with Rhaenyra’s. “Dreams of things that have not yet come to pass. They are vague, fragmented, but I see enough to understand that some events... can be prevented.”

Rhaenyra seemed to consider this for a moment, her brows furrowing. “So you dream of the future,” she said slowly. “And you’ve used that knowledge to warn us?”

The reader nodded, feeling the tension between them ease slightly. “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice calm and measured. “I’ve only ever wanted to help.”

Daemon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “And why help us? What do you gain from this?”

The reader hesitated. She couldn’t tell them the real reason—that she was trying to survive in a world that wasn’t her own, that she had no choice but to align herself with them because they were her best chance at safety. Instead, she chose the safest explanation.

“Because I believe in your cause,” she said finally, her voice soft but resolute. “I believe that you are the rightful rulers of Westeros. And I believe that the Seven Kingdoms will suffer if your enemies succeed.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened slightly, though there was still wariness in her gaze. “You could have come to me,” she said quietly. “You could have told me the truth from the beginning.”

The reader dropped her gaze to the floor, guilt gnawing at her. “I didn’t know if you would trust me,” she admitted. “I thought... if I could prove my knowledge first, if I could show you I was telling the truth...”

Daemon let out a low chuckle, though there was no malice in it. “You’ve certainly made an impression.”

The reader’s heart ached with the weight of her lies. She had never meant to deceive them, not really. She had only wanted to protect them from the terrible fates that awaited them if they followed the path history had laid out. But now, standing here in front of them, she realized how tangled things had become.

Rhaenyra moved closer, her expression softening as she placed a hand on the reader’s arm. “I understand,” she said quietly. “But if we are to trust you, there can be no more secrets between us.”

The reader nodded, meeting her gaze. “No more secrets.”

Daemon, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, finally pushed off the table and moved to stand beside Rhaenyra. “You’ve earned our trust,” he said, his voice low. “But make no mistake—we will be watching you closely.”

The reader felt a shiver run down her spine at the weight of his words. She had gained their trust, but it was fragile, precarious. One misstep, and it could all come crumbling down.

Rhaenyra’s hand lingered on her arm for a moment longer before she stepped back, her gaze still intent. “You will stay by my side,” she said firmly. “I want to know more about these dreams of yours.”

“And I,” Daemon added, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. “We will unravel your mystery, one way or another.”

The reader nodded, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with danger. But for now, she had bought herself time. Time to figure out what to do next. Time to find a way to prevent the future from unraveling before her very eyes.

As she left the room with them, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their trust—and the danger that came with it—pressing down on her like a cloak of iron. There was no turning back now.

Ethereal Bonds: {~Welcome to the Hunting Life~}

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: 410

Masterlist

The rhythmic hum of the Impala's engine filled the tense silence inside the car as Y/N rode shotgun, still processing the bizarre turn of events. The Winchester brothers navigated the dark, rain-soaked roads with practiced ease.

"So, let me get this straight," Dean began, casting a sidelong glance at Y/N. "You're from another dimension, where our lives are some sort of entertainment?"

Y/N nodded, their eyes wide with disbelief. "Yeah, that's pretty much it. I was just watching Supernatural, and now I'm here, hunting demons with you guys."

Sam's skepticism lingered. "And you know all about us from the show?"

"Every episode, every plot twist, every monster you've faced. It's like living inside a giant spoiler," Y/N admitted with a half-smile.

Dean chuckled, "Well, ain't that something. A walking, talking Supernatural Wikipedia."

As the Impala sped through the night, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the authenticity of everything—the sound of rain pelting the car, the creak of the leather seats, and the low growl of the engine. It was surreal to be a part of the world they'd only seen on a screen.

"So, you guys are real. The Impala is real. Everything's real," Y/N mused, looking out at the dark, foreboding landscape.

Dean smirked, "As real as it gets. And you? You're along for the ride until we figure out how to send you back to your 'normal' life."

As they arrived at a small town plagued by mysterious disappearances, Sam leaned forward, focusing on the task at hand. "Alright, we got work to do. Keep your eyes peeled, Y/N. If you know our playbook, this hunt might just get a whole lot easier."

The trio investigated the eerie occurrences, piecing together clues just like in one of the episodes Y/N had watched countless times. They faced a vengeful spirit, armed with salt and iron, and as the creature dissipated into nothingness, Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction.

Back in the Impala, Dean slapped Y/N on the back, a grin spreading across his face. "You're not just a spectator; you're one of us now. Welcome to the hunting life."

As they continued down the rain-soaked road, Y/N couldn't shake the surreal feeling that they were living out a fanfiction of their own. Little did they know, this unexpected alliance would lead to even more profound discoveries and challenges in the unpredictable world of Supernatural.