𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

Dean Winchester x Reader

You hear the telltale growl of the Impala before you see it, a sound as familiar as the smell of herbs in your little apothecary. Dean Winchester steps out first, as he always does, with Sam trailing behind him like the level-headed shadow he is.

"You called," Dean says, leaning against the doorframe of your shop, his green eyes scanning your face as if you’re already plotting something dangerous.

Which, of course, you are.

"Dean," you purr, letting his name roll off your tongue like silk. "I knew you'd come running. Did you miss me?"

He doesn’t rise to the bait—at least not immediately. Instead, he crosses his arms, feigning indifference, but the twitch of his lips betrays him.

Sam clears his throat. "There’s a case. People turning up dead with their hearts ripped out. Thought it might be… your kind of thing."

"My kind of thing?" You feign offense, pressing a hand to your chest. "Sam, you wound me. I’m a harmless witch."

"Yeah, harmless," Dean mutters under his breath, but there’s a ghost of a smirk tugging at his mouth.

You step closer, the floorboards creaking under your boots. Dean doesn’t back away—he never does—but his shoulders stiffen slightly as you invade his space. You make sure to trail your fingers along his jacket sleeve, a casual, fleeting touch that you know will make him clench his jaw.

"Relax, Dean," you whisper, tilting your head up to look him in the eye. "I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely."

Sam groans. "Can we not? Please?"

You laugh, a low, melodic sound that fills the small shop. Dean glares at Sam, muttering something about "ruining the fun," before turning his attention back to you.

"So, what do you know about this heart-stealing monster?" he asks, his tone all business now.

You sigh, stepping away from him to rifle through a shelf of dusty books. "A creature that rips out hearts? Sounds like a revenant or a very angry ex-girlfriend."

Dean snorts. "Any way to narrow it down?"

You flip open a heavy tome, running your finger along the yellowed pages. "Maybe. But it’ll cost you."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Cost me? What, you want cash? A favor? My firstborn?"

You close the book and give him a sly smile. "No, Dean. I want you to smile for me. A real one."

Sam makes an exasperated noise, but Dean just stares at you, his lips twitching. "That’s what you want?" he asks, his voice low.

"Mm-hmm," you hum, leaning against the counter. "That, and maybe dinner. You know, for research purposes."

Dean shakes his head, but there’s a softness in his eyes now, a hint of amusement mixed with something else—something he probably doesn’t want to admit.

"You’re impossible," he mutters.

"And yet, here you are," you counter, smirking.

He doesn’t argue because you’re right. Dean Winchester might be stubborn, but he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. And you? You’re more than happy to let him burn.

Like The Movies

James Potter x Reader

You never thought it would happen to you—that kind of love, the one you read about in old books or saw in movies. It’s a love you dream about, but never expect to find. Your friends have always thought you a bit of a hopeless romantic, someone who believes in fairytales despite how many times you've been let down. You'd been burned once, twice, too many times to count, and now, you just couldn't see how anything could live up to the dreamy ideas in your head.

But then James Potter came into your life.

It started small. A glance, a casual brush of his hand against yours in the crowded corridors of Hogwarts. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest. No one had ever been good enough for you—no one had ever been what you imagined, no one had made your heart race the way you’d always hoped. But there was something about him. He was different.

James Potter had always been the joker, the one who was loud and reckless, always at the center of attention. But behind that mischievous grin and the jokes he cracked with Sirius and Remus, you began to notice another side. A gentler side. It wasn’t immediately obvious—he wasn't one to show vulnerability—but every now and then, you caught glimpses of a quieter James. It was those moments that caught your attention and made you question everything you thought you knew about love.

You had always imagined your romance like a scene straight out of a movie, a perfect fairytale. And yet, here you were, falling for someone who was far from perfect. He didn’t make grand declarations or sweep you off your feet in dramatic gestures. No, he was more subtle than that, more genuine. The first time it truly hit you was one rainy evening, your feet splashing through the puddles on the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

James was walking with you, of course, because that’s just what he did—never let anyone walk alone. The rain fell heavily around you both, soaking through your robes, but neither of you seemed to care. You both laughed at the ridiculousness of it, trying to dodge puddles, failing miserably.

And then, just like that, he took your hand. No words, just a simple act, one that sent a shock of warmth through you even as the rain soaked you both to the bone. The sound of the rain, the laughter you shared—it felt like the start of something real, something more than you had ever dared hope for.

Over the weeks that followed, the two of you shared more moments like that. The two of you would sneak into bars in Hogsmeade, escaping the confines of the castle, your laughter spilling into the air as the two of you hid in the corners. You'd stare up at the stars together, your heart beating wildly, your fingers brushing in a way that made you feel like you were dancing, even without music. He never once told you he loved you, but the way he looked at you, the way he’d quietly hold you when you were sad—those were the things that made you realize what you’d never allowed yourself to believe.

One evening, after a particularly heated game of Quidditch, you found yourself under a stormy sky with him. It was one of those nights where the clouds hung low and dark, threatening to spill over. But neither of you cared. As the rain began to fall, you both stood there, drenched, and, without a word, began to sway, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. It was just the two of you—no audience, no expectations—just a quiet moment beneath the storm, as the world seemed to disappear around you.

Maybe you were just old-fashioned, you thought, believing in love like that. But in that moment, standing under the stormy sky with James, you felt like you were living out the kind of fairytale you'd always dreamed of.

You never thought you’d fall in love again, at least not in the way you had imagined. But here you were, holding James Potter, heart and soul entwined with his. Maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of love you’d always wanted.

And just when you thought you’d given up on love—just when you believed that no one could ever be good enough—you realized you were wrong. James Potter was exactly what you needed, the one who had always been there, in ways you hadn’t even noticed until now.

And in the end, maybe it was just that simple.

Maybe you'd finally found the love you'd been waiting for, after all.

Request

Note:

• I don't write Smut stories. (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

• Only fem!readers

a lovely night

Timothee Chalamet x Reader

You’re standing at the edge of a wooden pier, the ocean stretching out in front of you, its surface rippling with the silver sheen of twilight. The sky is a painter’s dream—swirling blues and purples and soft pink streaks that refuse to settle. You wouldn’t have chosen to be here, not with him, but here you are.

“Nice view,” Timothée says, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He’s not looking at you, but you can hear the smirk in his voice. That ever-present air of confidence, or maybe it’s just boredom. Hard to tell.

“It’d be nicer without the commentary,” you shoot back.

He lets out a short laugh, tilting his head toward you. His curly hair catches the fading light, and for a split second, you think it makes him look... well, annoying, actually. Of course he’d find a way to be effortlessly attractive when you’re trying to stay irritated.

“So why are we here again?” you ask, crossing your arms as the sea breeze teases at the hem of your dress.

“You tell me. You’re the one who wanted to walk instead of staying at the party.”

“Yeah, because parties with you are unbearable.”

“And this is better?” He gestures at the empty pier, the lazy waves, the distant hum of the city behind you both.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t leave.

For a while, the two of you stand in silence. The night starts to creep in, the stars blinking awake. Somewhere out there, a couple would be leaning into each other, whispering something soft, something that matters. But here? Here it’s just you and Timothée, stuck in a conversation neither of you wants to admit feels inevitable.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” he says suddenly.

“What’s funny?”

“This. Us. Standing here like this. It’s almost…” He pauses, as if searching for the right word. “Romantic.”

You laugh—sharp and incredulous. “Romantic? Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I’m serious!” He turns to you, grinning now. That ridiculous, lopsided grin you’ve seen a thousand times. “It’s the perfect setting, isn’t it? Moonlight, the ocean, you in that dress”

“Stop.”

“Why? Does it bother you?”

“No, it’s just… You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

The wind picks up, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged. Like maybe there’s something unspoken here, something you’d both rather not acknowledge. But then he shifts, breaking the spell.

“You know,” he says, “if this were a movie, this would be the part where we kiss.”

“Good thing it’s not a movie.”

He chuckles softly, and the sound feels warmer than it should. “Good thing,” he repeats.

And yet, as the night deepens and the stars sharpen their glow, neither of you makes a move to leave. Maybe it’s the view. Or maybe, despite everything, there’s something about wasting a lovely night with someone who isn’t supposed to matter.

...and oh, she's so pretty!

Carlos Sainz x Reader

It’s a quiet evening, and you’re sitting in a cozy café, the sound of soft chatter surrounding you. The rain taps gently against the windows, and the dim lights create a warm, intimate atmosphere. Across from you, Carlos Sainz sits, his usual calm demeanor tinged with concern as he watches you. He notices the slight frown on your face, the way your arms are crossed in a subtle gesture of frustration. You’ve been in a bad mood for the past few minutes—something small, insignificant, really. But to you, in this moment, it feels bigger.

Carlos doesn’t understand exactly why you’re upset. He’s tried to ask, but you’ve brushed it off with a soft sigh, claiming it’s nothing. He can’t help but notice how beautiful you look, though. Even now, with a cloud hanging over your mood, he’s captivated by the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the sparkle in your eyes, and the way your lips pout when you’re deep in thought.

You catch him looking at you, and despite your irritation, you feel your heart flutter just a little. It’s as if, no matter what’s bothering you, Carlos has a way of making everything seem just a bit brighter. He leans forward, his voice gentle but full of warmth.

“You know,” he says softly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you’re still pretty, even when you’re mad.”

You blink, surprised by his words, but something about them makes the frustration melt away just a little. You meet his gaze, his eyes full of affection and understanding, and you realize—maybe it’s not the small thing that’s bothering you at all, but the way you’ve let it build up in your mind. His calmness, his presence, it has a way of grounding you.

“Carlos…” you start, unsure how to explain why you were upset. But he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against yours, as if reassuring you that whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to him. What matters is that you’re there, together, in this moment.

The corners of your lips turn upward, and you shake your head. “I don’t even know why I’m in such a bad mood. It’s nothing important.”

Carlos chuckles softly, squeezing your hand lightly. “I know. But you don’t have to be perfect, you know? You don’t have to have it all together. I think you’re pretty just the way you are.”

And there it is again—the way he makes everything feel lighter, as if your bad mood doesn’t stand a chance against the warmth of his words. You smile, a little embarrassed now, but grateful too.

With Carlos, there’s no need for explanations, no pressure to fix anything. He simply accepts you, bad moods and all. You realize that maybe it’s the small things—the way he sees you, the way he makes you feel—that matter the most.

I love him

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

You’re standing at the edge of a quiet park, watching the golden light of dusk stretch across the horizon. The world feels both too big and too small at the same time, but as you turn your head, you see him—Timothée. He’s sitting on the bench, looking at you with that quiet smile, the kind that reaches his eyes and makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world who matters.

You feel a familiar knot tighten in your chest. There’s something about him, something pure in the way he makes you feel. But it also scares you. You’ve been here before, haven’t you? In places where love felt too heavy, too much to bear. Past relationships have left scars, and sometimes, you’re not sure if you can let anyone in again.

But Timothée doesn’t rush you. He never does. He watches you, his gaze soft and understanding, as though he sees the parts of you that even you don’t want to face. You can tell he knows. He knows you’re unstable, that your past weighs on you in ways you haven’t even shared. And yet, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he stays.

You take a step toward him, your heart racing. When you sit beside him, you can feel the warmth of his presence, steady and reassuring. He doesn’t try to fix you. He doesn’t need to. His love is quiet, like a whisper that says, I’m here, and I’ll wait.

“You’re not the only one who’s been hurt,” he says, his voice low, just above a whisper. There’s no judgment in his words, only understanding. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

And you feel it. That truth. The certainty that for once, someone is here for you, just as you are. Your heart trembles, caught in the weight of it all. The fear, the doubt, the belief that no one could ever love you in the way you need. Yet Timothée, with his gentle hands and his even gentler heart, shows you a love that is real, a love that’s not built on perfection but on understanding.

He doesn’t say much, but it doesn’t matter. In this quiet moment, you know that his love is exactly what you’ve needed, even when you didn’t believe it was possible. His love is the best thing that’s ever happened to you—steady, patient, and never too much, never too fast.

You feel like you can breathe.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he asks, his voice soft and vulnerable.

You don’t have to answer. You don’t need to. Because in his arms, in his eyes, you already understand. And somehow, that feels like enough.

Puppy

James Potter x Reader

A soft knock at your dorm room door startles you from your book. It’s late, too late for most visitors—except for one. You already know who it is before you even swing the door open.

There he stands, James Potter, windswept hair even messier than usual, his glasses slightly askew, and his eyes alight with something mischievous. But it isn’t just James at your door. Cradled in his arms is a tiny, shivering ball of fur—a puppy, barely bigger than his Quidditch gloves.

“Alright, love, before you say anything—yes, I know I probably shouldn’t have picked him up. And yes, I might have ignored about a dozen rules to get him here. But look at this face,” James says, stepping forward into your room, holding up the pup as if presenting undeniable evidence. “He was all alone outside the castle, near the forest. Just sitting there, looking like his entire little world was crumbling.”

You don’t even try to fight the smile tugging at your lips. The puppy’s big, watery eyes blink up at you, and he lets out a tiny, pitiful whimper. You feel your heart melt instantly.

“Oh, James,” you whisper, reaching out to touch the soft fur on the puppy’s head. “You couldn’t just leave him out there?”

“Course not,” he says, grinning triumphantly as if he knew you’d say that. “Not when he reminds me of someone.”

You look up at him in confusion. “Who?”

James smirks, gently nudging your chin with his finger. “You, obviously. Same ridiculously adorable face. Same ability to make me fall for them at first sight.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you swat at his arm, though there’s no real force behind it. He just laughs, shifting the puppy in his arms before carefully placing him in yours. The little thing instantly nuzzles against your chest, letting out a soft sigh.

You glance down at him, your heart aching with affection. “We can’t keep him, you know.”

James tuts, shaking his head. “We kept Sirius, didn’t we?”

You burst out laughing. “That’s different! Sirius is a person.”

“Debatable,” James mutters under his breath before wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “C’mon, love. Just for tonight. We’ll figure something out in the morning.”

You know you should protest, insist that sneaking a puppy into the dorms is entirely reckless. But standing here, with James so close, the warmth of the tiny creature in your arms, and the soft look in his hazel eyes—you find that you don’t really care about the rules.

With a sigh, you lean into James and whisper, “Alright.”

James grins, pressing a quick, affectionate kiss to your temple. “Deal. And for the record, I’d rescue a thousand puppies if it meant seeing that look on your face again.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is too full to argue. Wrapped up in James’s warmth and the quiet love of the tiny creature in your arms, you realize—this boy will never stop finding ways to make you fall for him.

discussions

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

You stand in front of Anakin, your arms crossed tightly over your chest, your gaze burning through him with the weight of your anger. His reckless behavior—always pushing himself into danger, always taking risks as though his life means nothing—has been wearing on you for far too long. The way he smiled after every close call, as if his return was guaranteed. You can’t understand it, not when you love him so deeply, not when you can’t imagine a life without him.

"Anakin," you snap, your voice sharper than you intend, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to understand. "You think you’re invincible? That you can just waltz into danger every time, and I’ll stand here, waiting for you to come back like nothing happened?"

He looks at you, and you can feel it immediately—the shift in his eyes. There’s something about the way his gaze settles on you, not the anger, not the resistance, but the way he takes in your form as though he’s seeing you for the first time. For a moment, you falter, the words on your tongue hanging there, lost in the intensity of his stare.

You try to remain firm, to keep up your scolding, but his presence is like a force pulling you closer, a magnet that draws you in against your will. His eyes—the same intense blue that always makes your heart skip a beat—trace your every feature, lingering on your face, your lips, your eyes.

"You look… beautiful," he murmurs, his voice low, almost as if he's surprised by it. You feel a blush creep up your neck, though you try to fight it. The weight of his admiration is overwhelming, but it’s not enough to make you forget the anger that still lingers in your chest.

You shake your head, trying to regain control. "This isn’t about how I look, Anakin. This is about you putting yourself in danger, again. Do you not care what it does to me when you do that?"

He takes a step closer, his expression softening despite the intensity still in his eyes. You want to stay angry, to keep holding on to your frustration, but the way he looks at you, the tenderness in his gaze, makes it so much harder.

"I care," he says quietly, his voice full of sincerity. "More than anything." He reaches out to touch your face, and you don’t pull away. His hand is warm against your skin, and you feel the familiar surge of love for him, battling with the fear you’ve held inside.

"But I also know," he continues, his voice becoming more serious, "that I can’t live in fear. I have to do what I must do. And I don’t want you to fear losing me, not when I can feel how much you love me." He steps back slightly, giving you space, but his eyes never leave yours.

You stare at him, torn between wanting to shout, to demand he stop, and wanting to reach out to him and feel his embrace. His smile, soft and understanding, catches you off guard. It’s the look of a man who knows he’s wrong, but who also knows that, for all his faults, you’ll always be there for him.

"Promise me," you whisper, the words almost lost in the air. "Promise me you’ll stop putting yourself at risk like that."

Anakin’s gaze softens even more, the conflict in his eyes giving way to the deep love he carries for you. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, and you close your eyes, breathing in the warmth of his presence. "I promise, love" he murmurs, the words sincere, yet you can feel the weight of everything he can’t say, of the duty that still calls to him, even as his heart is tethered to yours.

You let go of the anger, feeling only the peace that comes from being with him.

Good father

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Anakin Skywalker stood by the window, looking out into the starry expanse of space. The distant stars twinkled like tiny pinpoints of hope. But in his heart, a storm raged. His past was a web of regret, pain, and loss, but now the future loomed before him with hope. Two little lives. Two precious twins. Luke and Leia.

The faint sound of their soft cries drifted in from the other room. Anakin closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the sound with a tenderness that surprised even him. He wasn't used to that kind of love, the pure, unwavering devotion a father felt for his children. His thoughts drifted back to the first time he'd held them in his arms, their tiny faces wrinkled in confusion and wonder. They were perfect, a reflection of his redemption, and yet he felt unworthy of them.

As the days passed, Anakin found himself struggling with the idea of fatherhood. His life as a Jedi had never prepared him for this—he had been trained to fight, to serve, to protect, but never to care. Yet there he was, standing on the threshold of a new beginning, wanting to be the best father he could be.

He heard footsteps behind him. A soft, warm presence enveloped him like a comforting blanket. Anakin turned to find her standing there—his wife, his mate, his love. The woman who had helped him find the light again.

You smiled, your eyes filled with quiet strength. “They’re hungry,” you said softly.

Anakin nodded, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I want to help… but I’m not sure how.”

You walked to his side, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re already doing that,” you assured him. “Just by being here, by wanting to be involved, you’re already showing them how much you care about them.”

He smiled, grateful for your words, though doubts still lingered in his heart. They had always shared a deep connection, one that had been forged in both passion and struggle. But now they were parents, and there was no guide to tell him what to do. He could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but there was something else, too, something more powerful than the fear that had once controlled him. It was love.

As they entered the nursery, Anakin took a deep breath, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of his son’s blanket. Luke’s small hand curled around his finger, and the world seemed to slow down, leaving only the warmth of that small hand. Leia, wrapped up next to her brother, looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Anakin admitted quietly, his voice filled with vulnerability. “But I want to try. I want to be a good father to them.”

You stepped closer and rested a hand on his shoulder. “You already are. They will grow up knowing your love, your strength, and your heart. That is all they need.”

Anakin nodded, feeling the weight of your words settle in his chest. It wasn’t about being perfect, it was about being there, showing up every day, even when doubts clouded his mind. He had once feared his own ability to love, thinking it was a weakness that would destroy him. But now, with Luke and Leia in his arms, he realized it was his greatest strength.

The sound of the twins’ cries soon filled the room again, and Anakin smiled softly, his heart filling with tenderness. He was no longer the young Jedi who had once struggled to control his emotions. He had learned that love, in its purest form, was not something to be feared, it was something to be embraced.

Together, they cared for their children that night, and in every tender touch and every glance shared between them, Anakin knew that this was where he belonged. He was no longer alone. And for the first time in his life, he understood what it meant to truly be a father.

dreamgirl

Alexei Vronsky x Reader

You had always known that love could be complicated, but nothing had prepared you for the whirlwind of emotions that Alexei Vronsky brought into your life. He was everything you had ever imagined in a partner — handsome, charming, and filled with a passion that both exhilarated and terrified you. You were engaged to him, but somehow, that commitment only made your feelings more tangled.

It was a quiet afternoon when you found yourself alone with him in the garden, the golden rays of the setting sun casting a soft glow over the petals of the flowers. Alexei stood beside you, his usual composed demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable, more real.

“Do you ever wonder if we’re meant for something more than this?” he asked, his voice soft, but laced with intensity. You looked at him, feeling the weight of his gaze on your face, his eyes filled with longing that you couldn’t deny.

You had always admired Alexei’s ability to mask his emotions, but in that moment, it was clear he was torn. Torn between the life you had been planning together, and the undeniable pull he felt for something else — someone else, perhaps. You didn’t need to ask. The tension between you both was enough.

“I don’t know, Alexei,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, as you gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “I thought I knew what we had, but sometimes, I wonder if we're just holding onto the idea of each other.”

His hand reached out, his fingers grazing yours. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine. His face softened, as though he understood.

“Maybe we’re afraid to let go,” he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “Afraid of what it means to love someone completely… to lose ourselves in them.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the emotions that swirled within you. Everything was so uncertain, yet when you were with him, the world outside seemed to disappear.

“I don’t want to lose you, Alexei,” you said, your voice barely audible. “But what if we’re not the people we thought we were when we made these promises?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence enveloping you as he gently cupped your face with his hands. His thumb brushed over your lips, and for a moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

“We were always meant to be more than the promises we made,” he murmured, his lips grazing your forehead in a tender kiss. “You and I… we are meant to write our own story. A story that is not bound by expectations or duty, but by what we feel, here and now.”

His words sent your heart into a frenzy, but you knew deep down that this was the truth you had been avoiding. Your engagement with Alexei was built on expectations, on what others had hoped for you, not on the uncharted path of real, raw love that pulsed between you.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you realized that you couldn’t keep pretending to be someone you weren’t. With Alexei, you were not bound by the future, but by the present — the shared moments of passion and vulnerability that connected you both in a way that was impossible to deny.

In that garden, with the world fading around you, you knew that your love story with Alexei Vronsky would never be simple, but it would always be yours. And no matter what the future held, you would always remember the day when you let go of the promises you thought you had to keep, and embraced the love that was waiting for you both.