Chris Halliwell Imagines

I do one-shots, too. And two- or three-shots if someone asks for a follow-up to an imagine or one-shot fic.

Is there a part 2 to this one at all?

I have six prompts still in drafts, all of the presumably safe-for-work variety.

In the meantime, I thought you all would like to know that I am 100% willing to write Chris/reader prompts of the lemon variety.

prompts

256.  “Wake up! Please, please wake up!”  / 291. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”/ 325.“I couldn’t imagine what life would be like without you.”

“Come on!”

     Dimly, you’re aware of someone grasping your shoulder, urging you to get to your feet. You’re on your back, struggling to remember what had happened, but your eyes don’t want to open.

     There’d been… an attack, hadn’t there? Some sort of demon… warlock? Chris had been there, and—

     Chris. You recognize the voice now, the one pleading: “Wake up! Please, please wake up!” It belongs to Chris Halliwell… your Whitelighter. 

     I’m trying, you want to tell him, but it feels like you’re swimming up from deep water—everything’s cold, and dark, and your body doesn’t want to respond.

     There’s a hint of something else in his pleading now, something your tired, barely-working brain can’t quite identify. “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”

     Do what? It’s a hazy thought, just barely formed. Then, as if from far off, you feel his fingertips trailing down your arm, the inside of your wrist, your palm, before they intertwine with your own fingers.

     “I…” His voice catches, breaks. He draws in ragged breath, then lets it out. “I couldn’t imagine what life would be like without you,” he confesses.

     Your heart skips a beat, then starts to pound. Well, then. That’s as close to a love confession you’ve ever heard from him; and with a jolt, your mind breaks free of the encroaching darkness and your eyes open.

     It’s the movement of your fingers twitching, closing around his that grabs Chris’s attention. Your vision briefly swims before you, but when it clears you’re looking into his pale green eyes.

     Your mouth is dry; you clear your throat, wet your lips, and feel your mouth twitch in a feeble attempt at a smile. “So, uh…” You try for a joke, try to keep your tone light. “You can’t imagine what life would be like without me, huh?”

     His eyes widen; for a moment, he says nothing as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. Then his eyes narrow, and you’re afraid he’s going to take it back… or yell at you for playing dead.

     Instead, the expression in his eyes lightens and his mouth twitches in a half-smile. “Yeah.” His voice is rougher, thicker, than it usually is. “Just, uh, keep it between us, hmm?”

     You swallow, try for a small nod. “Okay.”

     Chris doesn’t say anything else for a moment; his expression turns serious. “Let’s get you home, all right?” Without waiting for a response, he tightens his hold on your hand, rests his other hand on your chest.

     Part One

You’re curled up on your couch reading a book (it’s a Saturday; you have nothing else to do) when a faint noise makes you look up sharply from your novel. A heartbeat later your eyes widen as a pink haze in the shape of a heart forms in midair. Then it solidifies into two figures, one of which you recognize instantly.

     “Chris?” His name is out of your mouth before you realize you’ve said anything. “What are you doing here?” Then your gaze shifts to the man beside him, and your eyes narrow. “Who are you?”

     Chris looks uncomfortable. He clears his throat, glances at the man next to him before turning back to you and replying, “He’s a Cupid. My uncle, actually. And, uh...” He ducks his head, the tip of his tongue running across his lips while he runs a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “...he says you’re my soulmate.”

     There’s a sudden thud in the pit of your stomach. “...What.” It’s the only thing you can think of to say. Sure, you’ve known Chris for a while—you’re both witches (though he’s half Whitelighter), and what witch hasn’t heard of the Charmed Ones or that the eldest’s older son is the Twice-Blessed?—and something about him has drawn you to him ever since you first met him, but soulmates? Besides, as far as you know, he’s been seeing a Phoenix witch. (The Warren line and the Charmed Ones are practically royalty in the magical world as far as other witches are concerned, so of course there’s going to be gossip about Wyatt, Chris, Melinda and their cousins and who anyone in the family is seeing romantically at any time. Chris being seen with Bianca, a Phoenix witch five years older than him? Naturally the witch equivalent of tabloid magazines were all over it—not that you ever paid much attention or cared, of course.)

     The Cupid—you realize now that this has to be Coop, Phoebe Halliwell’s husband—rests a hand on Chris’s shoulder and speaks for the first time since they’ve beamed into your apartment: “Like I told Chris, Cupids don’t lie about soulmates. The two of you are meant to be together.”

      Your head whirling, you set your book down and push yourself up from the couch, step toward Chris. Your hand reaches out, grasps his, and an electric jolt travels up your arm from where your skin meets his. You shiver at the intensity of the connection. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before—overpowering, soul-deep, and in the back of your mind you have a distinct impression of a red cord stretching, binding, tying the two of you together.

     Overwhelmed, you snatch your hand back—but the sensation lingers. Your mouth feels dry as you lift your eyes to Chris’s. “What now?” It’s surprisingly hard to get the words out.

     “I’ll lead that up for the two of you to decide,” Coop says—and somehow, you’ve almost forgotten that the Cupid is even there. “I’ve introduced the two of you; now you’re on your own.”

     Both Chris and you turn to him, but before either of you can say anything the Cupid has beamed away.

     There’s a tense, awkward silence after he’s gone. You find yourself breaking it by asking, “Is he always like this?”

     “Coop?” Chris smiles a little, almost laughs. “No, usually when it comes to doing his Cupid duties he’s much worse.” Then his smile fades. Silence again, and then the two of you are speaking at the same time.

     “I’m sorry about Bianca—”

     “I didn’t mean for this to—”

     Both of you stop, then Chris gestures with a flick of his wrist. “You first.”

     “I’m sorry about Bianca,” you say quietly. “I know she meant a lot to you.” Part of you wants to ask if she knows, wants to find out how she’s taking the news, but it feels like that would be way too awkward and almost like overstepping your boundaries.

     Chris sniffs, averts his eyes. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Me too. She was there when Coop told me, and... it was a shock to both of us, to put it mildly. I never meant for this to happen and I don’t want to hurt her, but...” There’s something close to helplessness in his eyes when he finally looks at you, and your heart turns over. Wanting to comfort him, you move closer and wrap your arms around him in a hug, your head resting against his chest.

     There’s no spark this time, but being this close to him just feels right somehow. “I know,” you murmur.

     Chris doesn’t say anything, just exhales slowly. After a moment you feel his arms around you, his hands on your back. It might not be much, but it’s silent confirmation that you’re going to work through this—whatever it is.

Yes, requests are definitely still open. I’ll see if I can get to this (and the other requests in my inbox) sometime tomorrow or later this week.

Can you do a part 2 where it’s a girl Chris has known for awhile and it’s Chris x reader

Prompt:  Hey :) ... I was wandering if you could write a Chris/reader Whit the 348: “You can’t leave me in the dark. You have to tell me these things.” I don't know why but I was thinking in the Marvel movies with this xD . Anyway whatever you write is going to be great , thanks you :)       390 Prompts

Pairing: Chris/Reader

“You can’t leave me in the dark. You have to tell me these things.”

     Chris doesn’t say anything for a long moment; just looks down at the floor and wets his lips, sticks his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. A part of you can’t help noticing just how messy and disheveled he looks, as if he’s recently been in a fight.

     Then he lifts his head, and his jade-green eyes meet yours. Even when you’re at your full height he’s still looking down at you—and a tiny voice in your head pipes up bemoaning the fact he’s just over six feet tall.

     You quickly squash it.

     “I can’t tell you,” he finally says. “And even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me. It’s better for you if I leave you in the dark on this. Trust me.”

     You scoff and fold your arms over your chest. “Says who?”

     He hesitates a second too long. “I can’t tell you that. I’d be revealing too much.”

     You grit your teeth against a frustrated scream. “Come on, Chris, please. Just tell me.”

     A shadow crosses his expression, and he shakes his head. “I. Can’t,” he insists again, and for an instant his voice is lower, rougher than normal. Hearing that note in his voice sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. 

     “Why not?” You tilt your head back, jutting out your chin stubbornly, and fix him with a frustrated glare. 

     “Because knowing too much about me... my life... it’ll put you in danger. And I don’t—” Chris cuts himself off, glances away. You watch as he closes his eyes, inhales deeply; watch the movement of his chest falling as he exhales slowly. “Believe me, you’re better off not knowing. Why can’t you just trust me on this?”

     “Because I hate people keeping secrets from me.” You step closer to him, watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard. “I don’t care if knowing what you don’t want me to know puts me in danger; I hate being deliberately kept in the dark. Especially by someone I’m close to, Chris.” He’s your friend (or maybe more; you haven’t decided yet); friends aren’t supposed to keep secrets from each other and whatever it is he’s hiding... it sounds like a major secret. 

     Then something occurs to you. “It doesn’t have anything to do with your job, does it?”

     “What?” For a second he looks startled, caught off guard. Then the mask is back in place. “No, it doesn’t have anything to do with my job.” (He’s a Registered Nurse, you know, at a local hospital—but you’ve also been with him the few times he goes in to help out at the nightclub P3 that his older brother Wyatt runs.)

     You flash him a smirk, tilt your head and step further into his personal space. “Then I don’t see why you can’t tell me.”

     Chris tenses, shifts his weight as if he’s going to step back but doesn’t, and shakes his head. There’s a look in his eyes you can’t read. “I’m sorry, but I genuinely can’t. Please, don’t... don’t ask me to tell you again.”

     There’s the sudden sound of something dropping to the floor behind you, and you whirl around to find the source of the noise. It’s one of your books, fallen off the end table in your living room.

     You frown, momentarily confused. You’re positive the book wasn’t anywhere near close enough to the edge to fall off, so how...?

     When you turn back, you find that Chris has somehow already gone. Vanished.

Pairing: Chris Halliwell/Reader POV: Second Characters: Chris Halliwell, Reader, Wyatt Halliwell

You walk through the door to your apartment, wanting only to relax after a long day at work, and find yourself smiling when you see your boyfriend Chris leaning against the kitchen counter waiting for you. Boyfriend isn’t quite the right term: he’s also your Whitelighter, a kind of guardian angel for witches and future Whitelighters—and Whitelighters aren’t supposed to fall in love with their charges. Your relationship is forbidden, and you have to keep it a secret from the rest of his family and the Elders.

     You toss your keys, coat, and bag onto the living room floor just beside the door and walk over to him, wrap your arms around him and kiss him. “Hey,” you greet him when you pull back. “What’s up?”

     He doesn’t return your smile, but he does straighten a little and hold your body against his. “I just wanted to see you.”

     For a moment you’re content to just stand there, enjoying the heat of him and the way he feels against you. He’s all slender and lean muscle, shaggy dark brown hair and pale jade-green eyes—and this close to him, flames of desire start to lick at your skin.

     As appealing as just curling up on the couch with a book to relax had sounded, suddenly you have a much better idea for how you want to unwind.

     You slip your hands under the hem of his shirt, rise up on your toes to better reach his neck—one spot you know he likes. Behind you, you dimly hear the sound of faint bells—a jingle, maybe? chimes?—but it doesn’t fully register until Chris’s whole body tenses as if he’s staring at something (or someone) behind you.

     “Wyatt.”

     You step back, whirl around to see Wyatt Halliwell, the Twice-Blessed, standing there glaring at the two of you with his arms folded over his chest. His hazel eyes skip right over you to focus on your Whitelighter. “What are you playing at, Chris?” he demands. “You know it’s against the rules.”

     Chris barks out a short, dry laugh. “That’s rich, considering everything our parents went through.” His grip tightens possessively around your waist.

     Wait, what? Chris is half witch? And Wyatt’s brother? Why didn’t he tell me?! you think.

     You’re jerked out of your thoughts by Wyatt’s voice: “They’re your charge, Chris. And if you don’t break it off, I’ll go to the Elders.”

     Chris tenses up even further. “You wouldn’t.”

     Wyatt’s expression is cool, hard, and a shiver runs down your spine as you remember just how powerful he’s supposed to be and the reputation he has. Then he flashes a wolfish grin. “Try me.” A second later, he shrugs, his tone casual: “Or...”

     Chris doesn’t let him finish. He flicks his free hand, and his older brother vanishes in a swirl of blue-white orbs. The instant Wyatt is gone, Chris turns back to you and wraps his arms around you, rests his chin on top of your head. “He’s not going to like that I did that. And we need to go.”

     “But what about—” you start to say.

     “We’ll take care of it, okay?” Chris assures you. “But he’ll be back once he gets over the shock of me remote orbing him, so we really do need to go.”

     “Where?”

     “Somewhere I have in mind that Wyatt doesn’t know about—and it’s warded so he can’t track my orb trail or scry for me.” Chris steps back from you, holds out his hand. “Do you trust me?”

     Of course you do. Looking up at him, you nod once and reach for his hand. 

“Chris?” Wyatt Halliwell stepped out of the locker room from changing into his street clothes after seventh-period gym class and drew up short when he saw his sixteen-year-old brother in the main hallway sitting back against a row of lockers. When he came closer, he saw that Chris was shaking and visibly trying not to completely break down—and there were bruises on his skin and a spot of blood from a cut lip. 

     “Chris, what happened?” He knelt down in front of the brunet witchlighter, fighting back a rush of anger. “Tell me.”

     Chris jerked back, head snapping up to glare at him with a swirling mixture of anger and panic flaring in his eyes. “It’s nothing, Wyatt.”

     “Chris. You look like you’re about to have a breakdown and like you just got out of a fight. That’s not ‘nothing.’”

     “It’s just some mortal high school kids, all right, Wyatt? It’s nothing. There’s no need for you to get involved.” Chris started to push himself up, winced, ignored the very obvious flash of pain and stood to his full height of just over six feet. “I can take care of myself, okay? Leave it.”

     “At least let me heal you first.” The offer was out of his mouth before Wyatt could take it back.

     Chris only gave him an unreadable look in response before nodding his consent. “Okay.”

     With a quick glance around to make sure they were alone, Wyatt held his hands over his brother’s bruises and cut lip and concentrated. Soon he felt the rush of warmth, saw the telltale golden glow beneath his hands as his Whitelighter healing magic took effect. When he moved his hands away, Chris’s injuries were gone.

hey there,

I’m a big fan of your writing on here, I love all your characterization and style— it’s wonderful! I was curious if you still took requests though as I’d love to see more writing?

Yours, Jill

     Yes, I am still taking requests (I still have three in drafts from ages ago; I am a turtle). It’s just that I’m preparing to go back to uni so right now I don’t have the energy to write. But yes, I am still taking requests and will try to start doing more things on this blog when I have the time and energy.

390 Prompts

8. “Are you really taking his side against me?”    

Chris stared in disbelief at Piper (Mom, a small voice inside his head said, though she didn’t know it yet), Phoebe, and Paige, his gaze flicking back and forth between the three Charmed Ones and Leo.

     An Elder.

     His father—though no one knew that yet either besides Chris himself.

     Who was currently trying yet again to keep Chris from being the Charmed Ones’ Whitelighter—this time with the serious threat of clipping his wings and having Chris’s soul be recycled or, failing that, send him back to his own time.

     “Seriously?” He tried, but Chris couldn’t hide the anger, disbelief, hurt from his tone; couldn’t keep it from flitting across his face, flickering in his eyes. “Are you really taking his side against me?”

     “Chris,” Piper began, “it’s not that we don’t like you—”

     “Speak for yourself,” Phoebe muttered. “Sending us out after all these demons nonstop is a drag.”

     “—but your methods are doing more harm than good,” Leo finished for his wife. Ex-wife, a small, nasty voice in Chris’s head reminded him. “Backdoor deals with demons, nearly getting your charges killed, murdering three Valkyries in cold blood to steal their pendants, sending me to Valhalla…”

     “I don’t believe this!” Chris scoffed, threw his hands up in disgust. “You can’t prove I killed those Valkyries or sent you to Valhalla. Just admit it, Leo, you’ve had it in for me since the day I arrived here.”

     Leo opened his mouth, but Phoebe butted in before the Elder could say anything: “Chris… he does have a point. Maybe it is for the best if the Elders gave you some other charges for a while so you don’t have to focus on us all the time.”

     So you don’t have to keep sending us out after demons all the time, was what Chris knew she meant. He looked skyward, rolling his eyes, and suppressed the frustrated groan he felt building in his chest. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ve told you that I know from future knowledge there’s an evil out there that gets to Wyatt… and the four of you aren’t even doing anything to seriously protect him. Dammit!”

     It exploded out of him in a yell born of pent-up frustration and helplessness; the sisters jumped, startled, but Chris had his attention on Leo and didn’t notice.

     “It’s almost like you want him to be captured and turned evil!”

     Even when the four of them gave him shocked, cold looks Chris didn’t regret saying it. Then Piper stepped forward, told him that in no uncertain terms she did not want to see him in the house again, and disappointment crashed down around him.