justsomerandomfanfic

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi! Could I perhaps get a DC and BG3 matchup?

I'm 18, use she/her, and would prefer a guy:)

I have shortish brown hair, sort of butterfly cut thing lol, brown eyes and glasses. Kinda midsize.

I'm starting school for journalism soon, dream job since I was like 12, maybe a little very inspired by all the female journalists in comics lol.

Aside from that, I love music, I play a few instruments and have an absurd amount of playlists, I made one for everything.

I'm an ENFP, and I'm very into going out and doing things. I'm a social person, although being alone with strangers let's the anxiety kick in, but as long as I have one person I know I'm fine.

Leaning more to bg3, very bard energy (friends words not mine).

All in all, I'm uh the best most awsome person ever/j

Anywho tysm if you do this, you're a very talented writer and I look forward to all of your posts💕

Hi!

And thank you!

I am so very happy that you like my work!

I would love to write you two romantic matchups, one for DC and the other for BG3!

<3333333

I hope you like your matchups!

Enjoy!

Romantic Matchups; DC and Baldur's Gate 3

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

DC;

Garfield Logan (Beast Boy) -

(Using 21 Beast Boy before he was reaged in newer comics/shows.)

You met Garfield at a pizza place - your favorite spot to unwind after a long day.

You had your headphones on, scrolling through your absurd number of playlists, when suddenly, a green-skinned guy slid into the seat across from you.

"I have to know what you're playing? Because you got this whole ‘main character’ thing going on right now, and I’m intrigued.”

You blinked at him, startled, but his easygoing smile and bright green eyes made it impossible to be annoyed.

Turns out, he really wanted to know what you were listening to.

A conversation sparked, and before you knew it, you were laughing like old friends.

You both bonded over music fast.

He was fascinated by how you had a playlist for everything, and he made it his mission to guess your next song's vibe before you even played it.

Garfield immediately became your go-to partner for spontaneous outings.

You’d text him something as vague as, “Feel like getting lost in the city?” and within minutes, he’d be at your door, ready for an adventure.

Karaoke nights became a thing.

You’d both dramatically belt out songs in the most ridiculous voices, much to the suffering (and amusement) of your friends.

If you ever got nervous in social situations, he’d notice immediately and make a joke or create some ridiculous distraction to pull the focus off you.

He absolutely loves hearing you talk about journalism. The way your eyes light up when discussing your dream stories? He hangs onto every word, hyping you up constantly.

He’s terrible at being serious, but he will sit with you at 3 AM while you stress over an article, offering moral support (and pizza delivery).

Garfield didn’t realize he was in love at first.

He just knew that being around you felt different.

A good different.

It hit him one day when you were sitting at a café, talking excitedly about a lead for a new article.

You were completely in your element, and he suddenly thought, "Wow, I could listen to them forever."

His teasing got softer, his glances lingered longer, and he found himself wanting to impress you - not in a showy way, but in a “Hey, look at me, I can be cool too” way.

He started playing your favorite songs on his guitar, acting all casual about it, but you knew exactly what he was doing.

You caught feelings too, but neither of you made a move - until the confession.

He wanted to make it big.

Over-the-top.

Grand romantic gesture-type stuff.

But in true Garfield fashion, he panicked and blurted it out in the most chaotic way.

"Okay, so, I was gonna do this whole thing where I turn into, like, a swan or something romantic, but then I realized I don’t know how overdramatic that is, and then I thought, ‘Hey, maybe a cat, everyone loves cats,’ but then I freaked out because what if you’re a dog person, and - oh, man, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

You just stared at him, trying not to laugh, before finally saying, "Gar, what are you trying to say?"

He froze.

Blinked.

"I like, like you."

You laughed, grabbed his hand, and said, “Awe, I like, like you, too!"

Garfield is the most affectionate boyfriend.

You’re getting bear hugs, forehead kisses, and hand-holding constantly.

He steals your glasses playfully and puts them on, pretending to be a “serious journalist” before dramatically tripping over nothing.

You know, because he can not see in your glasses.

Movie nights are sacred.

He lets you pick the films, but he insists on providing the snacks - 99% of the time, it's pizza.

Late-night drives with your playlist on shuffle.

Sometimes, no talking - just vibes.

Other times, deep conversations that make you both fall even harder.

He LOVES writing little notes and slipping them into your notebooks - doodles of himself saying "Go get 'em, ace!" or dumb jokes that make you roll your eyes but secretly adore.

If you ever have a tough day, he turns into a puppy and just leans against you, resting his head on your lap until you feel better.

You help him organize his chaotic life (somewhat), and in return, he helps you loosen up and embrace the fun in the moment.

Garfield makes breakfast - badly.

You’ve caught him trying to flip pancakes midair, only to have them land on his face.

He absolutely insists on playing music while you both cook together, dramatically singing into utensils like it’s a concert.

He tries to read your journalism drafts but gets distracted halfway through.

He’ll 100% start doodling in the margins instead of giving feedback.

He'd try his best to give advice though!

Lazy Sundays involve lying on the couch together, sharing headphones, and listening to whatever playlist you made that week.

If you ever fall asleep on the couch, he carefully moves you to bed - unless he falls asleep next to you first, in which case, you both wake up tangled in a mess of limbs and blankets.

He hypes you up constantly.

Even if it’s over the smallest thing, he’s clapping and cheering like you just won an award.

He shows up at your favorite coffee shop just to surprise you with your go-to drink.

He remembers the little things - like what song calms you down or which snacks you crave when you’re stressed.

He makes sure you never feel alone in a crowd, always sticking by your side in unfamiliar places.

You keep him grounded when his chaotic energy gets too out of control.

You make him personalized playlists, each one reflecting a different mood or moment you share together.

You help him work through self-doubt, reminding him that he is enough, just as he is.

You patch up his torn uniforms after missions (and sneak little encouraging notes in the pockets).

You make sure he’s eating properly because left to his own devices, he’d live off tofu pizza alone.

~~~

Baldur's Gate 3;

Gale Dekarios -

The moment you pulled Gale out of the rune portal, something shifted.

There was an immediate connection, an unspoken understanding that lingered in the air between you both.

He was breathless, not just from nearly being stuck in a magical rune but because of you.

His first words, instead of a graceful ‘thank you,’ were an awed, “Ah… Well, I didn’t expect my rescuer to be this stunning.”

You might have brushed it off with a laugh, but Gale meant it.

From the moment he met you, he was utterly captivated, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Even as danger loomed, he found himself stealing glances at you, charmed by your wit, your warmth, the way you radiated energy and life.

He had been a man lost in darkness for too long - and suddenly, you were there, pulling him into the light.

Gale is endlessly fascinated by you.

Your enthusiasm, your social nature, your knack for turning even the most mundane things into an adventure - it’s like he’s watching a fire burn bright and warm, something he thought he had lost.

You, on the other hand, find Gale’s grand, poetic way of speaking ridiculously endearing.

He talks like he’s composing a love letter to the universe every time he opens his mouth, and you can’t help but tease him about it.

He adores your love of music.

He’ll watch you play instruments with rapt attention like he’s seeing a spell be woven in real time.

If you let him, he’ll attempt to play along magically - conjuring small, shimmering notes to dance in the air as you play.

Late-night storytelling sessions by the fire.

He tells you tales of magic, of old legends, and in turn, you share your stories - real or imagined, it doesn’t matter.

He hangs onto every word.

Your love of journalism?

He admires it.

He sees it as a pursuit of truth, of knowledge, of uncovering the hidden wonders of the world.

If you ever talk about your dream of becoming a journalist, he’ll wax poetic about how it suits you.

“A seeker of truths, a weaver of words… Ah, but the world is not ready for the stories you will tell.”

He is impeccably attuned to your social nature.

If you’re at a large gathering and feel overwhelmed, he notices immediately and gracefully maneuvers you into a quieter space, keeping you engaged in conversation to ground you.

Gale falls for you fast.

Faster than he expected, faster than he probably should.

And yet, there is no hesitation, no second-guessing.

It is undeniable, like magic itself.

He would be completely enchanted by the way you move through life - bold, passionate, unapologetically yourself.

He writes about you in his journal, attempting to capture you in words, but finds himself frustrated because nothing he writes feels worthy of you.

His touches become lingering - his fingers brushing against yours when he hands you something, the lightest of touches at your back when he stands close, the way he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear when the wind blows it into your face.

He finds himself worrying for the first time in a long while.

Not about himself, but about you - about what would happen if he lost you if he was not enough for you.

The Weave trembles at his emotions, flickering between longing and fear.

Gale’s confession is not subtle.

It is grand, poetic, and utterly heartfelt - because how could he love you and not make it something worthy of legend?

It happens one night under the stars.

He’s watching you - laughing, radiant, utterly you - and something inside him snaps. He cannot keep it inside any longer.

“I must confess something, and I fear if I wait another moment, my heart might combust - though, given my condition, that is not entirely impossible.”

He smiles, but his eyes are soft, reverent.

“You have bewitched me, body and soul. Every word you speak, every note you play, every moment you exist - it is as if the gods crafted you with the sole purpose of making the world brighter.”

He doesn’t just say he loves you - he makes it feel as though you are the very force keeping the stars alight.

Gale is the epitome of an affectionate, devoted partner.

You are his heart, his muse, his greatest spell ever cast.

If you ever feel overwhelmed, he’s right there, grounding you with a touch or a whispered joke.

Love letters.

So many love letters.

If you’re ever apart, expect beautifully written notes filled with longing and poetic musings about the incomprehensible depth of his love for you.

He tries to cook for you.

He really does.

It… Doesn’t always go well, but he is so proud when he gets something right, and you make sure to shower him with praise.

He’ll craft small magical gifts for you - a floating orb that hums your favorite tune, an enchanted quill that writes as fast as you think, and a spell that makes your favorite flowers bloom at a touch.

Reading together - curled up in a quiet space, sharing excerpts of whatever book has captured your interest.

He loves it when you read out loud; your voice is a melody he never tires of.

Dancing in the kitchen - no music needed, just the two of you swaying as he murmurs about how lucky he is to love and be loved by you.

Support your dreams unwaveringly.

Your journalism aspirations?

He’s your biggest fan, offering encouragement, helping you refine ideas, and always being ready to discuss the world’s grand mysteries with you.

If you’re ever nervous about interviewing someone, he’ll happily be your practice subject, giving you the most grandiose, over-the-top answers possible until you’re laughing too hard to be anxious.

If you ever have writer’s block, he’s there with inspiration - offering wild magical theories, poetic metaphors, and a ridiculous amount of snacks.

He would learn to play an instrument just so he can duet with you.

It’s clumsy at first, but you guide him, and he treasures every moment.

Remind him that he is more than his past mistakes, more than the burdens he carries.

When the weight of the orb presses on him, you remind him of his humanity, of the love and light he brings to the world.

Encourage him to chase joy - not just magic, not just power, but simple, ordinary joy.

Play music for him when he can’t sleep, lulling him into dreams filled with warmth instead of regret.

Be the one person he knows will always see him - not as a wizard, not as a ticking time bomb, but as Gale, the man who loves you beyond words.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Recently Uploaded - 2/21/25 - Fanfic Friday

Tea Parties - Finding Forever With You Mini-Series - Steve Harrington X Female Reader - Fluff - 2.2k

Home To You - Fíli Durin X Female Reader - Fluff/Angst - 8.3k

A Voice So Beautiful - Dean Winchester X GN Reader - Fluff - 2.5k

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Tea Parties - Steve Harrington X Female Reader

Title: Tea Parties

Steve Harrington X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Astrid, and Reader's mother (Mentioned)

| Part 1 |

WC: 2,234

Warnings: Post-Season 4 events, italics, Reader is a single mother, cursing, nicknames, flirting, banter, teasing, Reader mentioned wearing heels very briefly, and fluff

Pulling into the driveway, you let out a slow sigh, the weight of the day settling in your bones. It hadn’t been the worst day, but it had dragged on, leaving you drained. Working in retail was not your dream job, but it paid alright, enough for you to get the essentials for your daughter. With a tired hand, you turned down the radio that was previously blasting Cyndi Lauper, grabbed your bag from the passenger seat, and stepped out. The evening air was cool against your skin as you dug into your bag for your keys.

Unlocking the front door, you pushed it open, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind you. You kicked off your heels with a relieved sigh, letting them fall haphazardly by the door before dropping your bag onto the small entryway table. The familiar sound of giggles carried from the living room, instantly melting away some of your exhaustion.

Your lips curled into a smile as you followed the sound, leaning against the doorway once you reached the living room. The sight before you made your heart swell and melt all at once. Steve sat on the floor at Astrid’s tiny play table, his long legs awkwardly bent to fit in the small space, while your daughter sat across from him in her favorite princess dress.

But it wasn’t just their tea party that had you grinning. No, it was Steve - your Steve - sporting a bright pink tutu over his jeans, no doubt at Astrid’s insistence. His usually perfect hair was gathered into two messy pigtails, sticking up at odd angles, and his cheeks were dusted with sparkly pink play makeup that made them unnaturally rosy.

Astrid delicately lifted her tiny plastic teacup and took a pretend sip, her expression comically serious. “Would you like more tea, Sir Steeb?” She asked, tilting her head in a regal fashion. You bit your lip to stay quiet, Astrid still couldn’t quite say Steve’s name correctly, so ‘Steeb’ was close enough.

And Steve, bless him, played along flawlessly. He lifted his own cup with his pinky out, nodding gravely. “Why, yes, Princess Astrid. A little more, please. It’s simply divine.”

Ah, bless him, he was even trying to do a terrible posh accent.

Your smile widened, warmth spreading through your chest as you watched them. It had been a year since your first date with Steve - the night he found out that Astrid was your daughter. It felt like just yesterday, but so much had changed since then.

In that time, Steve had become an irreplaceable part of your life. He was incredible with Astrid, always patient and kind, making sure she felt loved and safe. He’d spent hours building blanket forts, watching princess movies, playing dress-up, and having tea parties. It was true that he was one hell of a babysitter - and you knew that he would be a great father someday, which was a secret thought of yours that you were not going to say out loud.

Astrid, in turn, adored him. You couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t light up at the sound of his name. She loved spending time with him, and it warmed your heart to see the two of them together. You never could have imagined this life - a life where the two people you loved most in the world got along so perfectly. It was better than you ever hoped, and every day, you found yourself falling a little more in love with Steve. It was impossible not to.

You leaned back slightly, content, watching them for a moment longer, letting the peacefulness of the moment settle over you. You didn’t need anything more than this.

You hadn’t even stepped fully into the room yet, but Steve’s eyes flickered up, locking onto yours. His face softened, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips despite the ridiculous makeup.

“Rough day?” He asked gently.

You nodded, unable to stop smiling. “Yeah, but I think it just got a whole lot better.”

Astrid turned excitedly in her seat, her face lighting up when she saw you. “Mommy! You’re just in time for tea!”

And just like that, the exhaustion of the day faded into the background.

Smiling, you stepped further into the room, slipping down onto the floor beside them. The plush rug softened the weight of the day as you crossed your legs, settling in. Gently, you reached out, brushing your fingers through Astrid’s soft curls before pressing a tender kiss to her temple. She giggled, leaning into the touch before turning back to her tea set with serious concentration.

“Here, time for tea!” She chirped, handing you a tiny pink teacup before carefully ‘pouring’ you some imaginary tea from her plastic teapot.

You accepted it with an exaggerated air of importance, lifting the cup delicately, pinky out, just as Steve had done. Bringing it to your lips, you took a slow, thoughtful sip before humming in approval.

“Oh my, is this Earl Grey?” You asked, raising a brow as if deeply impressed.

Astrid beamed with pride, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes! It’s the best in the kingdom!”

Steve grinned, shooting you a playful wink over the rim of his own teacup. “Only the finest for royalty.”

You chuckled, taking another ‘sip’ and sighing dramatically. “Well then, I must say, this is exactly what I needed after such a long day.”

Astrid clapped her hands together, delighted, while Steve nudged your knee under the table, his voice dropping to something softer. “Good. You deserve a little royal treatment.”

You shook your head, your smile growing. 

For the next twenty minutes or so, the three of you remained in your little tea party kingdom, sipping on imaginary tea, discussing royal matters, and bestowing grand titles upon each other. Astrid, of course, was the reigning princess, while Steve was dubbed "Sir Steeb the Brave," and you were the "Queen Mommy of Cozy Cuddles."

But eventually, a tiny yawn slipped past Astrid’s lips, her eyelids growing heavier by the second. Steve glanced down at his watch, eyebrows lifting. “Whoa, it’s past your bedtime, kiddo,” He announced.

Astrid sat up straighter, shaking her head. “I’m not tired,” She insisted, even as another yawn betrayed her.

You chuckled, standing up and reaching for her. “Mmm, you always say that,” You teased, lifting her effortlessly into your arms. “And then two minutes later, you’re snoring in my ear.”

She huffed in protest but didn’t fight it, instead letting her arms drape sleepily around your neck as she snuggled her face into your shoulder. You swayed gently as you carried her up the stairs, pressing a soft kiss to her hair.

Meanwhile, Steve stayed behind, gathering up the tea party set and moving it out of the middle of the living room to be put away in the morning. With a groan, he flopped onto the couch, pulling the scrunchies out and running a hand through his now very-much-ruined hair, remnants of glitter still clinging to his cheeks. A few moments later, you padded back down the stairs in your pajamas, letting out a deep sigh as you joined him on the couch, sinking into the cushions beside him.

Steve draped his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers lazily brushing through your hair, nails grazing your scalp in slow, delicious strokes. A content hum slipped from your lips, your body instinctively relaxing under his touch. Without a second thought, you tossed your legs over his lap, and his free hand immediately found its way to your calf, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin.

“Thanks for watching Astrid again,” You murmured, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze. “My mom would’ve watched her, but she really wanted to go to bridge-night.”

Steve smirked, his fingers still threading through your hair. “Anytime. Though, I gotta say, your kid has a serious knack for persuasion. I don’t think I’ve ever voluntarily worn this much glitter in my life.”

You laughed softly, reaching up to brush a stray speck of pink shimmer from his cheek. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure it’ll still be there next week.”

He groaned dramatically, shaking his head. “Great. Just what I always wanted - permanent fairy dust.”

Smiling, you gave his cheek a lingering poke. “Well, I think you wear it pretty well.”

Steve rolled his eyes but grinned, his fingers continuing their slow, soothing motions through your hair. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell Robin. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You chuckled mischievously, tilting your head in faux innocence. “Oh, I don’t know… I think she’d love to see you all dolled up.”

Reaching up, you tried to fix his hair - well, what was left of the mess Astrid had made of it. But before you could do much, Steve just stared at you, his expression softening. His hand slipped from your hair to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin in slow, warm strokes.

“How was your day?” He asked, voice quieter now. “Aside from it being exhausting.”

You sighed, leaning slightly into his touch. “Oh, you know. The usual,” You started. “Had this lady come in, tried to return a dress, but I couldn’t give her money back because the return date had passed - like, a week ago. She wasn’t happy about it, blew up at me, and asked for the manager.” You rolled your eyes. “So I went and got my manager, and that was basically it.”

Steve hummed thoughtfully, his thumb still tracing along your cheek. “Well,” He said after a beat, “She sounds like a bitch.”

Your mouth fell open, eyes wide as you smacked his chest. “Steve!”

He grinned unapologetically, shrugging. “What? I call it like I see it.”

You tried to glare at him, but your laughter betrayed you, bubbling out as you buried your face in his shoulder, your arms wrapping around his midsection, shaking your head. “You’re terrible,” You mumbled between giggles.

“Nah,” He said, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head. “I’m just honest.”

You let out a content sigh, your body growing heavier against him as your eyes started to droop. “Mmm… Tell me about your day with Astrid,” You murmured sleepily.

Steve smiled, his fingers still tracing soft patterns against the skin of your arm. “Well, after you left, I tried to make dinner,” He started, “Ended up going with spaghetti. Not my best work, but Astrid liked it, so I’m calling it a win.” You hummed in approval, your head shifting slightly against his shoulder as he continued. “Then we watched “The Last Unicorn” - which, by the way, is way weirder than I remembered,” He said, shaking his head. “But she was totally into it. And after that, she decided it was dress-up and tea party time. Obviously, I had no choice in the matter.”

You let out a soft giggle, barely keeping your eyes open as sleep threatened to pull you under. Steve kept talking, his voice turning more affectionate.

“She was gossiping about some imaginary kingdom - called Ovebredora, I think - anyway, she was gossiping about this strict but benevolent queen and her army. Honestly? The kid’s got a pretty impressive imagination.” He hesitated for a moment before adding with a quiet chuckle, “She probably gets that from you.”

Steve glanced down then, ready to tease you a little more, only to find you completely still against him, your breathing deep and even. His chest warmed as he took in the sight of you, fast asleep, curled against his side. With a loving sigh, he leaned down, nuzzling his nose gently into your hair before shifting carefully. Slipping one arm under your legs and the other around your back, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

Carrying you bridal-style, he made his way up the stairs, pressing another soft kiss to your forehead before whispering, “C’mon, your Highness. Let’s get you to bed.”

With a gentle nudge, he pushed your bedroom door open with his foot, stepping inside before carefully laying you down on the bed. You barely stirred as he tucked the blankets around you, making sure you were warm and comfortable. With one last glance at your peaceful face, he shut the bedroom door quietly behind him before heading to your dresser. Grabbing a pair of his pajama sweats, he made his way into the adjoining bathroom, flicking on the light.

Steve groaned lightly at his reflection, shaking his head at the mess Astrid had made of him. His cheeks were still dusted with glittery play makeup, a shimmery pink hue lingering along his cheekbones. Chuckling to himself, he grabbed a washcloth, scrubbing away the evidence of his tea party transformation.

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom, now shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Running a hand through his hair, he made his way back to the bed, slipping under the covers beside you. Almost instantly, as if it were second nature, you shifted in your sleep, subconsciously moving into his arms. Steve smiled to himself, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, yeah,” He murmured sleepily to himself more than to you, pressing a lazy kiss to your hair. “Just can’t resist me, huh?”

He didn’t expect an answer, but the way you sighed softly, snuggling against his chest, was more than enough.

~~~

Taglist: @bookkeeperlove

Let me know if you want to be added.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Stranger Things Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Home To You - Fíli Durin X Female Reader

Title: Home To You

Fíli Durin X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Kíli, Thorin, Elrond, Áine (Pronounced awn-yah), Caerthynna (OC), Imra (OC), Anarzee (OC), Thranduil (Mentioned), Bilbo (Mentioned), and the Company (Mentioned)

WC: 8,383

Warnings: The Hobbit canon violence very briefly mentioned, everyone lives AU, italics, nicknames, teasing, banter, flirting, suggestive/fade to black, Reader's race is not mentioned, no Y/N used, pregnancy, mention of sickness/illness, kind of forbidden love/romance, descriptions of childbirth (nothing too crazy, mostly vague), crying, angst, and fluff

The golden sun was slowly starting to set along the horizon, casting a warm glow over the rolling hills of Erebor, but neither of you cared. You and Fíli ran, your laughter ringing through the evening air like a melody carried by the breeze. The weight of his princely duties, the expectations, and the responsibilities - they didn’t exist in this moment. Right now, it was just the two of you, escaping to the only place where the world felt small, simple, and utterly yours.

Past the bridge, through the familiar winding paths of the woods, your feet barely touched the ground as you weaved between trees, dodging low-hanging branches. You looked back at Fíli, your smile bright and playful; hopefully this was going to be the night that you could beat him at the race. The scent of earth and pine filled your lungs, and your heart pounded, but not from the running. No, it was from the anticipation, the sheer delight of being with him.

The clearing revealed itself at last, bathed in the fading golden light, the sea of colorful, vivid wildflowers swaying gently as if greeting you both. This perfect, hidden world was yours and Fíli’s alone. A secret space where no royal title, no heavy crowns, and no expectations could reach him. The only one who knew of these secret rendezvous was Kíli, and even he had promised never to intrude nor tell their Uncle Thorin where the older Prince had run off to.

Breathless but grinning, Fíli managed to catch up, pulling you into his arms from behind, causing you to squeak, your hands coming up to cover his around your midsection. 

“I win,” He declared triumphantly, spinning you around slightly before setting you down in the soft grass, his bright blue eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You cheated,” You accused, turning around in his arms.

“Me? Cheat?” Fíli feigned innocence, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. “You wound me.”

Rolling your eyes, you slipped out of his grasp, finding your spot against the large, thick base of a tree, staring up at the sky as it deepened into dusky purples and fiery oranges. Fíli sat beside you, head heading landing on your lap, as usual, only to look at you instead of the sky.

“Tomorrow, I have meetings with Uncle and the council,” He murmured, his hand raising, fingers absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. “And after that, I have to oversee the new trade agreements with him as well.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, knowing all too well how his duties often swallowed him whole. That was why this place mattered so much. Why these nights spent among the flowers, under the stars, were so precious. Because here, Fíli was not a Prince. He was simply yours. And you were his.

“We’ll stay here as long as we can, then,” You said softly, your own fingers running through his somewhat unruly golden locks.

A small, grateful smile touched his lips and he sighed. “Aye. As long as we can.”

Silence settled between you, comfortable and warm. The only sounds that filled the space were the gentle whisper of the wind rustling through the trees, the rhythmic chirping of crickets, and the occasional hoot of an owl hidden somewhere in the canopy. The world felt still, untouched, as if time itself had paused to let you both exist in this perfect moment.

Your fingers continued their slow, soothing path through Fíli’s golden locks, absentmindedly twirling a braid or allowing your nails to gently graze along his scalp as your gaze remained fixed on the vast sky above. Stars twinkled like scattered diamonds, distant yet constant, a quiet reminder that some things were eternal. But Fíli wasn’t looking at the stars. He was looking at you. As he usually caught himself doing.

His hand rested over yours, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. His other hand toyed with the soft blades of grass beneath him. A feeling welled up inside him as he continued to look up at you, something deep and overwhelming, something that warmed him from the inside out. A shaky exhale left his lips.

Slowly, he lifted his hand from the grass, his calloused fingers brushing lightly against the underside of your jaw, a featherlight caress that sent a shiver down your spine. The touch was soft - so unlike the hardened warrior, the noble prince. It was reverent, as though you were something delicate, precious.

Your breath hitched at the contact, your eyes finally breaking away from the stars to meet his. His gaze was steady, unwavering, filled with something unspoken yet impossible to ignore.

“Fíli?” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

His thumb traced along your jawline, his lips parting slightly as if he wanted to say something. But instead, he only smiled, small and full of something tender. “I just… I needed to look at you,” He admitted, voice hushed. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just gazing at you with that same deep, earnest expression. And then, his words came, “You are more wondrous than the most radiant of jewels,” Fíli murmured, “I’ve seen beauty in many places, in mountains and forests, in gold and in stone, but none of it holds a candle to you. The light in your eyes, the way you laugh, how you make the world brighter simply by being in it... I…” He hesitated, his breath catching for just a moment. “I do not deserve you, but I love you. More than I know how to say.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the intensity in his gaze, and the raw honesty in his tone. You bit your bottom lip, looking down at him with a mix of awe and adoration. "Flatterer," You teased lightly, a bit breathless from his confession. “Trying to make me flustered.”

Fíli chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears, his blue eyes sparkling with affection. And then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, you leaned down, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as your lips brushed lightly against his.

“I love you too,” You whispered softly, the words flowing from you as naturally as your heartbeat, your nose brushed against his. “And I am the one who does not deserve you, my Prince.”

And then, without another word, your lips met his in a kiss. At first, it was soft, a gentle meeting of lips that lingered, savoring the closeness. His lips were warm, and tender, and you felt a spark of something deep within you - an electricity that sent a shiver through your spine. Carefully, Fíli sits up, not once breaking the kiss as he cups the back of your neck, deepening it. Your hand dug deeper into his hair, tugging lightly, earning you a groan that rumbled deep in his throat. Slowly, your back met with the soft ground, Fíli hovering above you. The world around you faded, the moonlight casting you both in its silver glow as Fíli’s lips trailed lower, whispering promises against your skin. 

~~~

More than a fortnight had passed since that night. In the time since, you hadn't seen Fíli as often as you wished. His princely duties had kept him occupied, and though you understood, a part of you still longed for the quiet moments you had shared. Instead, you found yourself spending more time with Kíli when you weren’t tending to the wounded or ill in the infirmary. It had been King Thorin himself who had offered Erebor as your home after you aided him and the Company in reclaiming the mountain. You had fought beside them, risked your life alongside theirs, and in return, you had been granted a place within their kingdom. That was how you met Fíli. What began as camaraderie had blossomed into something deeper, something neither of you had expected but couldn’t deny. Now, Kíli's lighthearted nature was a welcome distraction, his jokes and playful antics easing the ache of Fíli’s absence, but it wasn’t the same. Still, you told yourself Fíli would come to you when he could. He always did.

But for the past few days, something had felt... Off.

You had slept in - something you never did. And when you did wake, it was as if your body refused to cooperate, leaving you sluggish and unwilling to leave the warmth of your bed. Weakness clung to your limbs, irritation simmered just beneath your skin, and even the simplest of tasks became difficult to focus on. Were you coming down with something? Falling ill? That was the only explanation, wasn’t it? Maybe you were overworking yourself. There had been many instances where Fíli - and Kíli - would have to pull you away from your work after you revealed that you hadn't had a break, and you hadn’t been sleeping well.

Deep in thought, you paused mid-step as you walked down one of the many halls in Erebor. Your brows furrowed, mind racing as the pieces slowly began to fall into place. And then - your breath caught. Frozen in place, you realized something.

You had missed your week. You didn't think anything of it at first, however... Heart pounding, your gaze dropped, your hand instinctively pressing against your stomach. 

A rush of emotions surged through you. Disbelief, uncertainty, and something else, something deeper. Slowly, you took a step back, your back meeting the cool stone wall as you pressed a trembling hand to your warm cheek. A light-headed feeling washed over you as you struggled to process the truth now settling in your chest.

Were you with child?

Your breath hitched as your mind drifted back to that night in the woods with Fíli. The warmth of his touch, the way he held you, the whispered words between kisses beneath the stars. Your cheeks burned at the memory, heat flooding your face. And then, like a whirlwind, a storm of emotions crashed over you - fear, worry… But above all else, happiness. Joy.

A baby.

Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision as the weight of the realization settled in. You couldn’t stop them, nor did you want to. They spilled over, trailing down your cheeks as a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.

“Are you alright?”

The familiar voice made you jump slightly, and you turned to see Kíli standing a few feet away, his brows drawn together in concern. His usual playful demeanor had shifted into something softer, worry evident in his gaze as he took a step closer. You quickly wiped at your eyes, nodding as you let out a shaky breath. “I- yes. I’m alright.” You sniffled, another laugh bubbling past your lips as you smiled, eyes still shining with tears. “I’m just… Happy.”

Kíli’s concern didn’t fade entirely, but at your words, his expression softened, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “Well, that is good, then.” He eyed you for a moment before nudging your arm. “Still, I do not think I have ever seen someone cry because they were happy.”

You only laughed again, shaking your head, your heart still racing with the joy of your secret.

Kíli tilted his head, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Does this happiness have anything to do with a certain blonde Prince?”

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes widening as you gasped. Fíli. You had to tell him. Quickly, you wiped the tears from your face, steadying yourself before breaking into a run down the halls, Kíli following close behind. Your feet carried you toward the throne room - the very place you had originally been heading before your realization had struck. Fíli would be there, as he always was at this time. You had to tell him.

But as you reached the massive doors, you froze. Thorin’s deep voice echoed from within. You hesitated, the weight of his tone holding you in place. Kíli came up beside you, confusion flickering across his face as you both instinctively pressed yourselves against the cold stone wall, peeking through the slightly open door.

“I have arranged for you to wed, Fíli,” Thorin’s voice was firm, unwavering. “A high-born dwarven maiden from the Iron Hills. The union will strengthen our alliance and secure Erebor’s future.”

The words hit you like a blow to the chest. The warmth that had filled you only moments ago was gone, replaced by an icy numbness that spread through your limbs. The world around you blurred, and all you could hear was a ringing in your ears. Kíli turned to you, saying something, but his voice was distant, muffled. Like you were underwater... Drowning.

Fíli was to be married. To someone else.

The thought barely had time to settle before your body reacted on its own. You turned and ran, blinded by the tears welling in your eyes. The halls of Erebor passed in a blur, your heartbeat thundering in your ears, drowning out Kíli’s voice as he called after you. Reaching your room, you threw open the door and stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind you. Your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto your bed, grabbing the nearest pillow and clutching it to your chest. The soft furs brushed against your skin as you curled in on yourself, but they offered no comfort.

Sobs wracked your body, the pain in your chest tightening like a vice. You had been so happy only moments ago - so ready to share your joy with Fíli. And now… Now, it felt like that happiness had been ripped away before you even had the chance to hold it. You were so lost in your grief that you didn’t hear the knock at your door. Didn’t hear it creak open, nor the soft footsteps approaching. Only when you felt a gentle touch on your arm did you stir.

Kíli sat beside you on the bed, his expression filled with quiet concern as he rubbed slow, soothing circles against your arm. “You know Fíli would never allow this,” He murmured. “He will find a way. He’ll convince Uncle to put an end to this arrangement.”

His voice was steady, filled with certainty. But you could only stare ahead, fresh tears slipping silently down your cheeks. Because, no matter how much you wanted to believe him, a terrible doubt had already crept into your heart.

Slowly, reluctantly, you sat up, tucking your legs against your chest and wrapping your arms around them. Your voice was quiet, strained, as you finally spoke. “I don’t think Thorin will change his mind, Kí… He’s doing what he thinks is best for his kingdom.” You sniffled, brushing the dampness from your cheeks. “He’s a wise king. He knows what is best.”

Kíli stared at you as if you had gone mad. His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening. “Are you mad?” He asked, disbelief coloring his tone. “Are you just going to give up?” You looked away, unable to meet his gaze. But Kíli wasn’t done. “Fíli would not give up on you,” He said firmly. “Not for anything. He will fight. So why are you giving up on him?”

You finally looked at him, your eyes filled with sorrow but also with a quiet resolve. “I’m not giving up on him, Kíli,” You whispered. “But this… This decision will be best for him.”

Kíli’s brows furrowed deeper, frustration flashing in his dark eyes. “Best for Fíli?” He repeated incredulously. “You honestly believe that? That losing you - losing the love of his life - is what’s best for him?”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your arms. “He is the heir to Erebor,” You said, your voice barely above a whisper. “His duty will always come before his heart.”

Kíli let out a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. "That may be true for Uncle," He said, his voice heavy with the weight of his own thoughts. "But Fíli... Fíli is not Uncle. He would never choose duty over you, not if it means losing what he truly wants." You felt a pang in your chest at his words, and despite the doubt that had clouded your mind, a flicker of hope ignited. But, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully embrace that hope. Kíli gave you one last, lingering look, his eyes filled with worry but also a sense of determination. "I'll go now," He said quietly, his tone softening as he stood. "You need rest, and I’ll speak to Fíli first thing in the morning."

You nodded absently, still too lost in thought to fully focus on his words. "Thank you, Kí."

With a final glance, Kíli left, closing the door gently behind him. As the sound of his footsteps faded down the hall, you sank back into the bed, your eyes tracing the patterns on the ceiling above.

But what Kíli didn’t know - what no one knew - was that you had already made your decision. Deep down, you knew that no matter how much you wanted to fight for what you and Fíli shared, the truth was unavoidable. Fíli’s future was not something he could escape. His duty would always be his first priority, and the life he had planned before you entered it would take precedence over the love he had for you. And the addition that you were with child - his child - that would only complicate everything for him.

You wiped away the remaining tears on your cheeks and exhaled, your chest heavy. The heartache was unbearable, but you had no choice. No matter how much it hurt, you couldn’t stand in the way of his destiny. He deserved to be happy.

In your heart, you knew what needed to be done. You only hoped Fíli would forgive you for it.

~~~

As the sun crept up above the treeline, Fíli made his way to your room, fiddling with one of his mustache braids, nervous, anxious, and all in-between. News of his arrangement had shocked him. He was not expecting it. Not so soon, anyway. He thought he had more time to figure out a way to tell his uncle about his and your courtship, but it seemed that he ran out of time.

Fíli’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he walked nervously toward your room, twisting one of the braids in his mustache. He had spent the night tossing and turning, struggling to find the right words to tell you. The news of the arrangement had hit him like a storm - unexpected and all-consuming. He had always known his duty as heir to Erebor would come with sacrifices, but never did he imagine that one of those sacrifices would be you. He had wanted more time. More time to prepare, more time to speak to his Uncle, and more time to tell you everything. The truth of his heart. But it seemed time had already run out.

When he reached your door, he knocked softly, calling your name with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Amrâlimê?" He called again, his voice tight. When no answer came, worry began to curl in his chest, and he hesitantly pushed the door open.

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

His eyes scanned the familiar surroundings - everything looked as it should. The warm sunlight filtered through the windows, the soft pillows still in place on the bed - but something was missing. Something vital.

Your presence.

He walked in, calling your name one more time, but his heart dropped as he saw that your traveling bag was gone. A chill swept over him, and he quickly scanned the room again, his gaze frantic. Most of your clothes were gone too. Panic surged through his veins, his mind racing with questions.

Where were you?

Why had you left?

Had you overheard the conversation yesterday? Did the news of the arranged marriage drive you away?

He rushed around the room, calling your name in a panic, as though you might suddenly materialize out of thin air. But the room remained still, empty, and cold.

Fíli sank onto the edge of the bed, his breath shaky. He buried his face in his hands, torn between dread and confusion. His heart twisted, wondering if he had already lost you. If you had left because of the arrangement. Because of the future he could not escape. No, he was going to escape this fate. As he sat there, a glimmer of something caught his eye. A small piece of parchment lay on the edge of the bedside table. With trembling hands, Fíli reached for it, his breath catching in his throat as he saw your handwriting scrawled across the page. His heart pounded as he read, the words on the page sinking into his chest like a dagger. You were leaving.

The letter was short, but the message was clear - you believed your presence would only be a hindrance to his happiness, that his new path was the one he had to follow. He couldn’t breathe. Fíli’s gaze swam with disbelief, the words blurring before his eyes. No. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You couldn’t just leave like this. He couldn’t let you go. With the letter still clenched tightly in his hand, he stood, determination lighting his eyes. He wasn’t going to lose you like this - not without a fight. 

~~~

Three months had passed since you left Erebor. The trip to Rivendell had taken much longer than you had originally hoped. Each day seemed to stretch on endlessly, as your fatigue deepened with every mile. At first, you had tried to push through it, thinking that it would pass, that it was simply the result of the emotional toll you’d carried with you when you left Fíli behind. But as the days and weeks stretched into months, it became clear that being with child while traveling long distances was overwhelming. Your body felt weaker, slower. Your energy was spent by midday, and you found it harder and harder to focus on the road ahead. The cold seemed to settle into your bones, and the exhaustion clung to you like a shroud. But, you pushed through. You had done this all before when you traveled with the Company, you could do it again.

There were also some minor setbacks - things you hadn’t accounted for when you’d decided to flee. One of the worst occurred when you found yourself trapped in a cave for three days, the weather worsening outside as relentless rain poured down, turning the paths into streams and making travel impossible. You hadn’t minded, as the cave offered warmth and shelter.

The rain didn’t let up, and you had no choice but to wait it out. Your mare, though brilliant and strong, was becoming restless in the confined space, and you feared continuing the journey in the worsening weather would only lead to more problems. You couldn’t risk getting sick - especially not with how weak you had already felt. You didn't want to possibly endanger your baby. So, you waited. You rested. The storm raged outside while you tried to find comfort in the silence; speaking to your pretty mare for company. She was a great listener. But all you could think about was Fíli. His face, his smile, his touch… All of it haunted you, pulling at your heart with a force you couldn’t ignore. 

Finally, when the rain cleared, you managed to resume your journey, though it felt as though the weight of the world pressed down on your shoulders. You were getting closer to Rivendell, but it didn’t bring you the peace you had hoped for. Instead, a quiet, lingering dread had settled in your chest. Would you ever truly be able to escape your heart's desire? Would you ever be able to stop longing for Fíli’s presence, for the warmth and love you had left behind?

You didn't know.

Rivendell was a breathtaking kingdom. The beauty of it all struck you as soon as you entered its gates - lush greenery, delicate waterfalls, and buildings that seemed to glow softly with an ethereal light. The air felt fresher, and crisper, and for the first time in months, you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, though the ache in your chest remained. As you dismounted your mare, weary from the journey, Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell, greeted you. His eyes softened when he saw you, a small, sad, but knowing smile touching his lips. It made something inside you twist. He had always been wise, and there was an understanding in his gaze that seemed to reach beyond words.

"Welcome back," He greeted you, his voice calm and warm. "We have been expecting you."

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Expecting me?" You asked, your voice soft with a hint of curiosity. "How did you know I was coming?"

Elrond’s smile grew faint but not unkind. "I had a vision," He replied simply, his tone suggesting that it was not the first time such things had happened to him. His knowing gaze lingered for a moment longer before he gestured for you to follow him. "Come, I have a room prepared for your arrival."

As he led you through the halls of Rivendell, Elrond asked about your life so far to ease the obvious tension that weighed heavily in your chest. You told him about your time since the reclaiming of Erebor - how you had helped the dwarves rebuild, how the land was slowly healing, about Fíli... Elrond listened intently, his quiet presence somehow soothing despite the unease that clung to you. When you arrived at your chambers, the sight of the warm light spilling from the room’s entrance seemed inviting, almost comforting.

He opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, noticing immediately how the room was well-appointed, its beauty matched only by the peace it seemed to offer. The scent of lavender and soft herbs filled the air, and you realized that it was the same room that you stayed in all those many months ago.

"You must be exhausted," Elrond said as he glanced around. "I will have someone help you with your things. A warm bath has already been drawn for you. I imagine it will do wonders after such a long journey." You nodded gratefully, a small, appreciative smile tugging at your lips. You had not realized how much you needed rest until now, the weight of the past months settling in on your shoulders. "If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask," Elrond continued, his voice full of kindness. "Rivendell is very much your home as it is mine."

You turned to him, meeting his eyes with gratitude. "Thank you, Lord Elrond," You whispered, the first words of real relief escaping your lips. As he left the room, you sat down on the bed, letting the reality of being here, in Rivendell, wash over you. 

~~~

As the weeks flew by, you slipped into life in Rivendell surprisingly easily, though it wasn’t without its differences. Rivendell was not like Erebor. It lacked the warmth of the mountain’s hearth, the familiar scent of stone and iron that you had grown so accustomed to. The sound of the wind whistling through the halls of Erebor, the echoing calls of the dwarves working together in their forges, was a rhythm that had been with you for so long. And, despite the serenity of Rivendell, you would always miss that comforting closeness. The hustle and bustle, the sense of purpose that Erebor had given you... Here, it was peaceful, almost too quiet at times.

But, amidst the new routine, life had a way of continuing, whether you were ready for it or not. Slowly, your body began to change. Your stomach began to grow noticeable. It wasn’t drastic, but it was enough that even the maids who had tended to you since your arrival noticed. And you soon realized that Lord Elrond had known about the child, perhaps when you had first arrived.

He had been quietly supportive, and over the weeks, you found yourself with at least two maids - Imra and Anarzee - with you at all times, almost. They helped with dressing, ensuring your comfort, bringing you food when you couldn’t bring yourself to get out of bed, helping with your morning sickness, helping you with whatever random food craving you had, and bathing you when you felt too exhausted to do it yourself. It was, in a strange way, relaxing. You had been pampered more in the past handful of weeks than you ever had been before, but it was something you never truly allowed yourself to enjoy before.

Yet, in the quiet of the night, the peace that Rivendell offered often became too much for you to bear. You would find yourself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, your mind racing with thoughts of Fíli, of the life you had left behind. The joy of being with child should have been enough to quiet the storm inside you, but it wasn’t. It only intensified the ache in your chest, the emptiness of missing him, of missing your old life. And on those countless nights, tears would slip from your eyes, soft and silent, as you cried for the future that could never be.

Leaving Fíli had been the hardest thing you had ever done. Every step away from Erebor, every mile that put more distance between you and him, felt like your heart was being left behind. But despite the agony it caused you, you knew deep down that it was for the best - for him. He was going to marry someone else, someone his uncle had arranged for him. He was the heir to Erebor, and his duty had always been greater than anything personal.

Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no sign of Fíli coming after you. At first, you tried to convince yourself that he would find you - that he would search for you, desperate to bring you back. But reality was cruel. Yes, it had been a stretch to think he might come after you when you hadn’t even told him where you were going. 

You brushed your fingers gently along your bump, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you felt a little kick. You didn’t blame your child. You couldn’t. This little one, growing within you, had already captured your heart in a way nothing else could. The bond you shared with them, the tiny life that would soon be part of you, filled you with love so deep it was almost overwhelming. You promised them that you would love them with everything you had, no matter what.

And soon, the day arrived.

It was a grueling and painful few hours, each contraction feeling like an eternity. You gripped Imra's hand tightly, the pressure in your chest and lower abdomen growing with every wave of pain. Sweat beaded on your brow, trickling down your face as you fought to keep your breathing steady, remembering everything the healers had told you in preparation. The herbs they had given you helped, but no amount of preparation could truly alleviate the sheer intensity of what you were going through.

Anarzee, ever calm and steady, stood at your other side, offering soft words of encouragement. She wiped your forehead with a cool cloth, her voice a quiet anchor in the storm of pain that raged through you. 

Lord Elrond’s healer, Caerthynna, was guiding the process with quiet professionalism, her steady hands assisting in ways that left you thankful for her expertise. Her words were soft, assuring you through every push. "You're doing well," She murmured, her voice like a balm to your nerves. "Two more pushes, just two more, and you’ll have your baby in your arms."

With your next push, the pain surged again, sharper this time. You could feel your body straining, your muscles aching as you did your best to breathe through the agony, your mind focusing solely on the task at hand. "Breathe, slowly, breathe," Imra coaxed, her face etched with both concern and admiration.

Then, with one final, overwhelming push, the pressure eased, and the room fell into a heavy silence. The sound of a baby’s cry pierced the air, a beautiful, life-affirming noise that brought tears to your eyes. Exhausted, drenched in sweat, you collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for air as the weight of the moment settled around you.

"A beautiful girl." Imra spoke with a smile as Caerthynna cleaned your newborn in a soft cloth, before placing her gently in your arms as Anarzee grabbed a small blanket to place over your babe, over your arms. The world outside seemed to blur as you gazed down at your little one. Feeling her tiny hands pressed against your chest, and for a brief, precious moment, you forgot all the pain, all the heartache. All that mattered was the life you had brought into the world.

Tears, silent but flowing, gathered in your eyes as you whispered softly, your voice trembling. "You’re here." You brought your hand up to brush the little golden tufts of soft hair on her head, "My little Áine."

~~~

You held your precious Áine in your arms, the soft creak of the rocking chair blending with the gentle rhythm of your humming. The melody was one that had been passed down from your mother, a soothing lullaby that you had always found comfort in as a child. It seemed only right that you would now pass it on to your daughter. As you rocked slowly, you brushed her tiny, golden tufts of hair with your fingers, the softness almost too delicate to believe.

It had been a couple of weeks since Áine's arrival, and each day felt like a gift. Her presence was a quiet, constant joy in your days. Ever since she had come into the world, Lord Elrond had been kind, bringing gifts for her - a beautiful cradle carved with intricate designs, soft blankets that smelled faintly of herbs, vanilla, and lavender, clothing in gentle colors, and toys that would bring her delight as she grew. He had been a gracious host, and his kindness had not gone unnoticed. You didn't know how to repay him.

But as you sat in the quiet of the room, humming to your daughter, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of her resemblance to Fíli. The soft curve of her face, the delicate features, the tiny hands that were so much like his. And those eyes - those bright, sapphire-blue eyes - every time she blinked, you were reminded of him. 

"You're perfect, Áine," You whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath. Her tiny fingers curled around yours as she settled against you, her little body nestled against yours. The peacefulness of the moment filled you with a quiet sense of fulfillment. Your little Áine, whose quiet gurgles would be your new song, the melody that kept you grounded, no matter the storm of emotions that sometimes threatened to overwhelm you. With a soft sigh, you continued to hum, the soothing rhythm of the lullaby settling over both you and Áine as your exhaustion began to take hold. The gentle rise and fall of her chest, her tiny breaths, became your anchor. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered closed, and her little fingers loosened their grip on your hand. The peaceful silence filled the room, and you knew it was time.

Carefully, you shifted her into her cradle, laying her down on the soft blankets. Your heart tightened as you gazed at her, her sweet face peaceful in slumber. It was hard to leave her, but you knew that she was safe. Imra was there, her presence a quiet reassurance.

Imra smiled at you as you turned toward the door, a silent acknowledgment of your departure. “Go, my lady,” She said gently, “I will watch over her.”

You smiled back, a bittersweet expression crossing your face as you gave one last glance at your daughter. Then, with a soft breath, you stepped out of the room. It was hard, the thought of leaving Áine behind, but you needed a moment, just a moment to breathe, to clear your head. 

As you made your way through the halls of Rivendell, your fingers subconsciously pressed against your stomach, the same gesture you’d made countless times before. It was a habit, the comforting gesture that you had grown accustomed to. The fountain was in sight. It was a place you had frequented when you needed solitude. The sound of the water trickling into the basins was soothing. A soft smile crept onto your lips as memories of your time with the Company surfaced. The first time you had visited Rivendell, the dwarves had been so out of place, their grumbles about the food and the constant complaints about eating greens. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself. They had been so serious, so earnest in their disdain for the elven cuisine - and music - and yet there had been a charm in it, a warmth that had made those days unforgettable.

But now, the memories felt distant, almost like another lifetime. Things had changed, and you had changed. And yet, despite it all, the feeling of longing remained. You sighed softly, fiddling with your courtship bead Fíli had gifted to you so long ago. The past would always be a part of you, but the present was something you had to face, with or without Fíli. With or without the life you thought you'd have. And in that fleeting moment, at least, you could allow yourself to smile and remember the laughter, the joy of days gone by. Especially when they decided to swim in Lord Elrond's fountain; that memory always made you chuckle.

As you began to head back, the familiar, comforting space of Rivendell wrapped around you once more. The gentle curve of the hallway walls brushed against your fingertips as your other hand fidgeted with the soft purple silk of your dress, the fabric a soothing texture beneath your fingers. Perhaps, when you returned to your chambers, you would have enough time to have a nap yourself before Áine awoke. 

"Amrâlimê." You froze, hearing Fíli's voice, for a split moment, you thought that you were dreaming, hearing things.  

Your breath hitched, your heart hammering in your chest as you slowly turned around. And there he was.

Fíli stood at the end of the hallway, his golden hair slightly disheveled from travel, his bright blue eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine, and exhaustion written in every line of his face, but none of that mattered. Not when his gaze was filled with something you hadn't seen in so long - relief, longing, and something dangerously close to heartbreak.

Your lips parted, but no words came. You could only stare, frozen in place as emotions warred within you. 

Fíli took a hesitant step forward, "I have been searching for you."

Your lips trembled as you finally found your voice, barely more than a whisper. "Fíli..?" Your heart clenched, your fingers tightening in the silk of your dress. "What are you doing here?"

Fíli moved closer still, his expression unwavering, full of quiet determination. "I have come for you," He said firmly. "To bring you home." Your breath caught, but he continued before you could respond. "Ever since I found your letter, I have not stopped searching. I wrote to every nearby kingdom, inquiring if you had been seen - King Thranduil in Mirkwood, Bilbo in the Shire, and ever the Iron Hills." You swallowed hard, emotions surging within you as he took another step forward. "Then I sent one to Lord Elrond," Fíli continued, his voice softer now. "Weeks passed before I received a response. And when I did, I left Erebor without hesitation. I had to find you."

Your throat tightened as he drew closer, stopping just a few feet away. His presence was overwhelming, the warmth of him, the reality of him standing right there. You had spent months convincing yourself he would never come. That he had chosen another. And yet - here he was.

Your fingers twitched at your sides where they gripped at your dress, you desperate to reach out, to touch him, to reassure yourself that he was real. Your heart ached with the longing to close the space between you, to feel the warmth of his embrace once more.

"Fíli-"

"Why did you leave?" His voice was strained, a mixture of hurt and frustration woven through his words.

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth. The weight of your decision, the pain of that night, came rushing back with full force. Slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, the sorrow in them clear. "The night before I left Erebor," You began, "I overheard you and Thorin speaking. I heard Thorin arranging a marriage for you." You exhaled shakily, blinking against the sting of unshed tears. "I thought… It was best. For you. To leave. To give you a chance to be the heir you were meant to be, without me complicating things."

Fíli’s brows furrowed, confusion flashing across his features before something like realization settled in. His jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You believed leaving me was best?" His voice was barely above a whisper, but the raw emotion in it was unmistakable. Fíli took another step closer, his expression torn between disbelief and heartbreak. "Would you not think that I would know what is best for myself?" His voice was stronger now, edged with frustration, yet still laced with that unmistakable tenderness he had always reserved for you. You opened your mouth to speak, but he didn’t let you. "I was going to handle it," He continued, "I was going to tell Uncle that I was already in courtship with another, that I loved you, and that there was nothing he - or anyone else - could do to change that." 

Your heart clenched painfully in your chest. You had left, believing you were sparing him from a burden he hadn’t chosen. But here he was, telling you that you had always been his choice. Why had you been so stubborn? Why had you convinced yourself that leaving was the only option? That he wouldn't fight for you?

Your gaze dropped to the floor, shame creeping in as you muttered, “I… I thought I was doing what was right. I thought-” You swallowed hard, hands trembling at your sides. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the way.”

Fíli let out a sharp breath, his frustration evident, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he reached for you, his fingers brushing over your hand before he caught it completely, holding you firm. “Easier?” He repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Amrâlimê, losing you nearly destroyed me.” His fingers tangled with yours as he looked up at you, so vulnerable, "Come home," He pleaded to you.

You parted your lips to speak, to say something - anything - but before you could, a soft cry pierced the air.

Áine.

Your eyes widened, and you instantly pulled away from Fíli's grasp, moving swiftly toward your chambers. Behind you, Fíli hesitated only a moment before following.

Stepping inside, you found Imra gently bouncing Áine in her arms, her expression apologetic as she looked up at you. “Apologies, my Lady. She has become restless but she does not seem to be hungry.”

Fíli’s breath caught as he took in the scene before him, his brow furrowing in confusion. But you barely noticed as you reached for your daughter, gathering her into your arms with practiced ease. The moment Áine was in your embrace, she quieted, her tiny fingers curling into the fabric of your dress, her cheek pressed against your chest. You pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, your heart full. And then, as if sensing the weight of the moment, you looked up - meeting Fíli’s stunned, wide-eyed gaze.

Imra, ever perceptive, cast you a quick glance before swiftly exiting the room, shutting the doors behind her, leaving you and Fíli alone. Silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words, with emotions too tangled to unravel in mere moments.

Fíli swallowed hard, wetting his lips as he struggled to find his voice. “You-” He started, then faltered. He exhaled sharply, his voice quieter when he tried again, hesitant, unsure. “You have moved on?”

Your heart clenched at the thought, at the hurt in his voice. You shook your head immediately, frantic to reassure him. “No, Fi. No.” You breathed out, “I have not moved on. I have not loved another.” You hesitated, words catching in your throat as you glanced down at the baby nestled against your chest. “Just-” You paused, sighing softly as Áine’s tiny blue eyes blinked up at you, her lips parting in a small gurgle of contentment. Fíli was silent, unmoving, as if afraid to breathe. You shifted, moving to the rocking chair by the window, settling in carefully with your daughter in your arms. Rocking gently, you finally looked back up at him, your voice softer this time. “Come see her.”

Fíli hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his boots barely making a sound against the floor. Slowly, cautiously, he came to stand beside you, peering down at the tiny bundle cradled in your arms. She was wrapped snugly in fine satin, deep purple and soft blue, fabrics gifted by Lord Elrond himself. But it wasn’t the elegant cloth that caught Fíli’s attention - it was her. Her golden hair shimmered in the sunlight filtering through the window, wisps of it glowing like spun gold. And her eyes - bright, strikingly blue - mirrored his own, sparkling with curiosity as she let out another soft gurgle. And then, realization struck him like a hammer to the chest.

He sucked in a sharp breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Is she mine?”

You smiled wistfully, your gaze dropping to Áine as you gently stroked her soft cheek. Was it fear that kept you from looking at him? Or was it the overwhelming urge to burst into happy tears now that he was here - that he had found you, that he had found her?

Your throat felt tight as you nodded, doing the best you could to steady your voice. “Her name is Áine.”

Fíli let out a shaky breath, “That night, in the clearing…” He murmured, almost as if he was still trying to grasp the reality before him.

You nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes… That night.” A silence stretched between you before you found the strength to continue. “I found out I was with child the night I overheard Thorin,” You admitted, your fingers absentmindedly running over Áine’s tiny hand. “And I left… Thinking it would be easier for you. I thought if I were gone, you could be the heir without this - without me - being a burden to you.” You swallowed hard, guilt pressing down on you like a weight. “But now I know… Leaving was a mistake.” Your voice cracked as you met his gaze, tears slipping freely down your cheeks. “These past months without you have been unbearable. But having her… Having Áine, it felt as if I could breathe again.” Fíli’s expression was unreadable - his blue eyes glistening with emotions too vast to name. A choked sob left you as you shook your head, voice thick with regret. “I am so sorry, Fíli. I did not think my poor decisions would lead us here. I thought I was sparing you, but all I did was hurt us both. I hurt her...”

Fíli gently grasped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “No, amrâlimê,” His knuckles brushed against your cheek, a featherlight touch before he wiped away your tear with a calloused thumb. “I understand,” He said softly. “I do not blame you for leaving out of fear.” He let out a shaky breath, his thumb lingering against your skin as if reassuring himself that you were real. “I only wish you had told me. That you had trusted me enough to face this together.” His voice wavered slightly, but he held steady. “But the past is in the past. We are together again. We should not worry about the past any longer." Fíli exhaled softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I will write to Uncle, tell him I have arrived in Rivendell and that you, Áine, and I will return home.” His voice was steady, but there was something unshakably determined in his tone - a promise, a vow.

Your breath hitched, a teary, joyous smile breaking across your lips as you nodded. "Alright." Your voice was but a mutter. 

“I have already spoken to Lord Elrond when I arrived." He continued, "I had been confused as to why he mentioned sending a carriage and a few of his finest warriors for whenever we decided it best to leave, but I understand now.” His eyes dropped to Áine, his expression softening, and slowly, he reached out. The tip of his fingers brushed along her chubby cheek, and Áine responded instantly, letting out a mix of a giggle and a gurgle, as if she knew. Tiny fingers reached out, grasping his much larger one, holding on tight. Fíli sucked in a breath, his lips parting slightly as wonder flickered across his face. “She’s strong,” He whispered, “Just like her mother.” Fíli’s gentle smile shifted into something more playful, mischief dancing in his bright blue eyes. “And clearly, she has my good looks."

A laugh bubbled past your lips, the weight in your chest easing for the first time in months. “Oh, is that so?” You mused, reaching up to tug playfully on one of his mustache braids.

His grin widened, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let you guide him closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Absolutely,” He murmured.

“Come here,” You whispered, and Fíli didn't hesitate.

He leaned in, closing the distance, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss - one that spoke of everything left unspoken. Of love lost and found again. Of home.

~~~

Main Masterlist | The Hobbit/Lord Of The Rings Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

A Voice So Beautiful - Dean Winchester X GN Reader

Title: A Voice So Beautiful

Dean Winchester X GN Reader

Additional Characters: N/A

WC: 2,501

Warnings: Mentions of hunts, italics, (I know he's supposed to be a bad singer, but Jensen-,) slightly suggestive, nicknames, teasing, banter, flirting, slight insecurities, and fluff

At first, it was just humming. A soft and deep melody that would happen randomly at times. When you first heard him, you thought you were dreaming. And you doubted that Dean even realized that he was humming. But he was, and it caught you off guard as much as it captivated you. Maybe you were biased - after all, you were dating the man - but that didn’t make his voice any less mesmerizing.

You had come to notice over the period of time when he would hum, that the tunes he chose were always classic rock riffs. And he hummed when he thought no one was listening - or subconsciously - usually while preoccupied with something else; in the bathroom while shaving, making himself lunch in the bunker kitchen, or packing his bags as he prepared to leave the motel.

You would stop and listen, shutting your eyes to let the sound of his humming soothe you before you would reluctantly walk away. You didn’t say anything at first. You were worried that he might get embarrassed and make an effort to not get caught, or just not hum anymore. He trusted you - he told you this often - but what you had together was still somewhat new. 

But then, one fateful evening, you were sitting on the bed in Dean’s room. Which was slowly becoming “our room” in Dean’s words since most of your belongings were already stashed around the room. You were mindlessly reading a book, something you picked up at the book thrift store a month prior on a hunt but never really got around to reading. You were highly interested in the plot and summary, but, sadly, the writing wasn’t what you were expecting. 

Dean was in the shower, as he was for the past five minutes since you finished brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed. The muffled sound of running water was the only thing breaking the peaceful, quiet of the room. You shifted on the bed, flipping another page. You really wished the story was good, entertaining, but it was oddly annoying to say the least, which upset you, since you spent your money on it. Yeah, it was only seven bucks, but still. You hoped that it would get better, continuing to read it anyway, if only to avoid staring at the ceiling and counting the minutes until Dean joined you. Funnily enough, the man spent a lot of time in the shower. And he liked to tease you about how long you spent getting ready.

Then, faintly, over the sound of the shower, you heard it. It was subtle at first, barely audible over the steady rush of water, but it grew more distinct as you focused. Dean was singing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and your book slipped from your hands, falling unceremoniously into your lap. For a moment, you sat frozen, unsure if your ears were playing tricks on you. But no… It was definitely him. You’d never heard him sing before. Ever. The only thing that was close was when he’d dramatically lip sync. But, here he was, singing a low, almost soulful tune that sent warmth flooding through your chest. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t meant to be. But it was heartbreakingly beautiful.

Your book lay forgotten as you leaned slightly closer, hands pressed into the mattress as your breath caught; somewhere between awe and disbelief. How had you gone this long without knowing he could sound like this? Yes, you only became official a couple of months ago, but you’ve known him for years… Every note seemed to tug at something deep inside you, filling your mind with memories of all the reasons you’d fallen for him in the first place. And now, somehow, you were falling all over again.

Your chest tightened as you smiled softly to yourself, your heart pounding just a little harder. You didn’t care what song he was singing - it didn’t matter. All you could do was sit there, utterly captivated, as Dean unknowingly stole your breath away with nothing but his voice.

You didn’t know how long you had been staring at the bathroom door, completely lost in the sounds of his voice. Time seemed to stretch, every second filled with that low, deep song, wrapping around you like a warm, comforting embrace. It was only when the water shut off that you realized how long you’d been sitting there, completely mesmerized. His singing stopped as abruptly as the water did, and you immediately missed it.

You snapped back to reality, your heart still pounding in your chest as you scrambled to grab your discarded book from your lap. Your hands fumbled with the pages as you tried to act casual, but your mind was still spinning, replaying the soft melody over and over.

Your gaze flickered up to the door just as it swung open, revealing Dean. He walked in with an effortless swagger, sweats low on his hips, sleep shirt clinging to his chest, as he rubbed his damp hair dry with a towel. Your cheeks flushed despite having seen him like this countless times before, but something about the way he moved - so completely at ease, so utterly Dean - sent a flutter through your chest. He looked up, catching your gaze, and a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

You turned your head quickly, pretending to be absorbed in the book, but the heat in your face betrayed you. You knew Dean would see right through you if he looked closely. But the truth was, you couldn’t help it. You were still reeling from what you had just heard, still feeling the echo of his voice in your mind, and you had no idea how you were supposed to act now.

Dean sighed silently, tossing the towel he was using into the small basket near the door. Looking back down at you, his eyes narrowed as he noticed the way your fingers gripped the book a little too tightly. "Alright, what’s up?" His voice was casual, but there was an edge of curiosity and amusement beneath it.

You forced yourself to look up, meeting his gaze for only a second before dropping your eyes back to the book. "Nothing. Just reading."

"Uh-huh." Dean didn’t buy it for a second. "You always look that guilty when you’re just reading?"

You scrambled for an excuse as he slid into bed beside you. "It’s- it's a suspense novel. Tense stuff."

Dean huffed a quiet laugh, and you knew he wasn’t convinced. The playfulness in his expression softened into something more sincere. “Talk to me,” He said gently, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Really, De,” You give him a small smile, “It’s nothing.”

Dean sighed deeply, wrapping his arm around you, his hand resting on your waist; pulling you into his side, his warmth and the scent of his body wash engulfing you, “Fine,” He muttered stubbornly, he pressed his face into your shoulder, “Good book, anyway?” He then asked, voice muffled by your shirt.

Well, it was his. He loved finding you in his clothes. If he was looking for a specific shirt, and couldn't find it, the odds were that you had it. Whether it was his shirts or flannels, he loved it. But he was going to run out of shirts sooner than later. Dean pressed a kiss against your shoulder where his face was, his large hand slipping underneath, finding your soft skin.

"Yeah, it's... Good," You replied, trying to sound casual.

He hummed softly, clearly amused and without missing a beat, he reached over with his free hand and took the book from your hands, flipping it around. "Maybe it’d be easier to read if it wasn’t upside down.”

“Well, you don’t know,” Your face flushed deeper as you realised your mistake, so you tried to play it cool, "Maybe I like reading it like this," You muttered, stubborn, just like him.

Dean chuckled softly, thumb brushing along your spine, "Sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night." He nudged your shoulder lightly with his nose, "You’re not foolin’ anyone, though."

You huffed, but it was more out of embarrassment than annoyance. With a sigh, you closed the book, setting it down on your bedside table. You bit your bottom lip, your front teeth pulling at it in a quiet nervous habit.

Dean raised his head from your shoulder, his gaze softening as he watched you. Before you could even think to look away, his hand came up, gently cupping your cheek. His touch was warm, sending a pleasant shiver through your skin, and he turned your head just slightly so that you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

You could feel his eyes searching yours, trying to figure out what was going through your mind. The soft, golden light from the sunset spilled through the window, casting a warm glow over your face. It reflected in your eyes, making them shimmer as you looked up at him, still a little lost in the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions swirling around you.

His calloused thumb brushed tenderly along the soft skin of your cheek, and you could see the way he admired you - like he was taking a moment to appreciate everything that made you, you. It made your heart swell in your chest, and before you could process it, his lips pressed gently to your forehead.

When he pulled back, his eyes still locked on yours. He tilted his head slightly, "So, what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?"

You could barely think straight with the intensity of his gaze, but you found yourself smiling softly despite the lingering butterflies in your stomach. Reaching up, you cupped his hand on your cheek, shutting your eyes, nuzzling further into his hand. “If I tell you, will you hate me?” You muttered, barely above a whisper. Dean’s expression shifted, growing confused; his eyebrows furrowed, and his grin faded into an equally confused frown. You sighed softly, gathering your thoughts, unsure whether or not to tell him you heard him… But when your eyes fluttered open to meet his, it encouraged you to speak. "You have the most beautiful voice, De," You said, each word sincere, filled with awe. "When I heard you, it took my breath away. I couldn’t stop listening. It’s so captivating..." You felt your chest tighten with the intensity of the emotions in the moment, and instinctively, you took his hand from your cheek, pulling it gently to hold it in your own. "I could listen to you sing all day, all night... It’s... It's just so beautiful." You raised one of his hands to your lips, pressing featherlight kisses against his palm, feeling his skin against your lips.

Dean froze for a moment, his breath catching, and you could see the shift in his expression, something flustered passing over him. He cleared his throat softly, and you could practically see the warmth creeping up his neck, ears, and cheeks.

"You… You heard me?"

You nodded, "I did.” You muttered, "Why would you hide your voice?" You asked, genuinely curious, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

His lips parted slightly as if unsure how to respond, and for the first time in a while, you could see a layer of uncertainty in his eyes. "Guess I didn’t think anyone would care to hear it.”

You shook your head, your heart tugging at his words. "I care," You whispered, holding his gaze with a tenderness that made his chest tighten. You couldn’t help but repeat, "I care, Dean." You then wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He instinctively wrapped his arms around you, steadying you as you slid easily into his lap, your body fitting perfectly against his.

"You’re somethin’ else," He muttered, his hands gently gripping your thighs, "And here I thought I was the one who was supposed to be throwin’ out the compliments."

You pulled back slightly, but only to look him in the eyes, a mischievous sparkle in yours. "Well, you deserve compliments too, De. And if you’re going to keep singing like that, maybe I will learn how to bake you pie," You teased, a grin tugging at your lips.

“I’d do anythin’ for pie.”

You huffed, amused, shaking your head as your fingers brushed along the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "Anything?" You teased with an arched brow.

Dean smirked, tilting his head like he was considering it. "Well, yeah, I would do anythin’ for pie." He admitted easily, "Maybe pick up that ol’ guitar of mine, and write love songs for you-" Your eyes widened at his words and you quickly tried to slip out of his arms. Dean’s hands reluctantly slipped from you as he watched you with a mixture of confusion and amusement, clearly you were on a mission. His brow quirked, lips twitching with an entertained smirk as you hurriedly slipped your slippers on. "Uh- what are you doin’?"

You glanced at him over your shoulder, feigning urgency. "I need to go get you a pie. Immediately." You knew that he was just teasing, but for even the slightest chance for that to be true, pie at midnight sounded delightful.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head, and before you could take another step, his arms wrapped around your waist. With one smooth motion, he pulled you back onto the bed. You squeaked as your back hit the mattress, Dean’s weight hovering over you, his hands planted on either side of your head. His smirk was downright smug as he looked down at you, eyes filled with mischief.

You pouted up at him, feigning disappointment. "I thought you wanted pie."

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Sweetheart, I’m always down for pie," He admitted, his voice lower now, rougher. "But you ain’t gotta make me pie for me to write you a love song, baby, I’d do that for you anyway."

The teasing in his tone faded, replaced by something softer, more sincere. His eyes wandered over your face, lingering on your lips for a beat before returning to your gaze. Your breath caught, warmth blooming in your chest.

Slowly, you reached up, arms wrapping around his neck as your fingers slipped into his hair, playing with the strands again; nails dragging along his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut for half a second at the feeling before he exhaled, pressing just a little closer.

As you both leaned in, your breath mingling, you murmured softly, "I really want to hear you sing again."

Dean’s lips curved into a small smirk, his nose brushing against yours. "Any requests?"

Your fingers tightened in his hair, a smile playing at your lips. "Surprise me."

His chuckle was warm against your skin, but whatever teasing remark he had was lost as he finally closed the distance, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Matchups - 2/17/25

Requested By: Anon!

Hi!

I am really excited for this!

I hope you like your matchups!

For Disney and the Lord Of The Rings!

<33333333

Enjoy!

:)

<33333333

Romantic Matchups: Disney and Lord Of The Rings

(Matchup Exchange)

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Disney;

Eugene Fitzherbert -

It started with an apple.

Not just any apple - your apple.

You had a small stall in Corona's marketplace, selling fresh produce on the side all the while juggling your studies.

Your hands were full arranging the apples just right when you noticed, out of the corner of your eye, a quick movement - a shadow flitting past.

Instincts kicked in.

Before he could disappear into the crowd, you grabbed him by the wrist.

Eugene, ever the smooth talker, put on his most dazzling smirk.

"Wow, you're fast. And strong. Have you considered a career in bounty hunting?"

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but mildly amused.

He tried to charm his way out if it, spinning a tale of how he thought that the apples were free, since you didn't have a sign with prices.

You were buying it, but something about his roguish grin, those ridiculously expressive eyes, and the sheer audacity of his lie made you laugh.

Instead of turning him in to the nearest city guard, you let him go, tossing in an extra apple for the hell of it.

It seemed to you, that he needed it more than you did.

That completely threw him off.

"Wait, serious?"

He stared at them, and then at you.

It wasn't pity in your eyes, just something... Different.

He wasn't used to this kindness without strings attached.

That moment stuck with him more than he cared to admit.

Eugene kept showing up after that, claiming he was "making sure the apples were fresh for any of the possible customers around" but really just looking for excuses to talk to you.

He was endlessly fascinated by how hard you worked - balancing your studies with helping in the market, your passion for learning, and your meticulous attention to detail.

You, in turn, found his wit and effortless charm both infuriating and endearing.

At first, he liked teasing you just to see how you'd react.

"You know... If you wanted to follow in my footsteps, with your brains and my good looks, we'd be unstoppable."

Your deadpan response?

"With your ego and my patience, we're a miracle."

He found himself enjoying your sharp wit, your ability to keep up with his banter, and your knack for knocking him down a peg or two when needed.

Despite his usual bravado, Eugne was drawn to the way you really listened when he spoke - when he let slip something about his past, about his childhood...

You had a way of seeing right through him, and somehow, that didn't terrify him as much as it should have.

At this point, you knew him by his real name, 'Eugene.'

Eugene had always been smooth with it came to romance.

He could flirt, he could charm, he could sweep anyone off their feet - so why did it feel different with you?

Maybe it was the way you'd absentmindedly adjust his collar when it was crooked, your fingers lingering just a second too long.

Or how you'd give him a withering look when he was being dramatic but still smuggle his favorite pastries to him when you thought he wasn't looking.

Maybe it was the fact that, despite your self-deprecating humor and stubborn streak, he could see how much you cared.

How you worked yourself to the bone, how you gave so much of yourself for others.

And maybe - just maybe - it was the way his heart flipped every time you laughed.

He realized he was in trouble the day you dragged him to a play, determined to educate him on the finer points of theater.

He spent half the time watching the show and half the time watching you, utterly captivated by the way your face lit up when you got invested in a scene.

That was the moment it hit him - he wasn't just interested in you or attracted to you.

He was totally, absolutely, and whole-heartedly gone for you.

Eugene was many things - a charmer, a schemer, a man with a plan - but confessing feelings?

That was terrifying.

He tried to be subtle, dropping hints.

"You know, if I were to ever settle down, I'd want someone exactly like you."

But you, being delightfully oblivious, for some reason, just thought he was being his usual dramatic self.

Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.

One evening, under the warm glow of lanterns strung across the marketplace, he finally blurted it out.

"Okay, so here's the thing- I'm ridiculously in love with you."

You nearly dropped the basket of apples you were carrying.

"You- what?"

"You heard me."

He grinned, but his eyes were serious, nervous.

"And before you say anything, yes, I know, I'm a handful. And yes, I know, you deserve someone who isn't a reformed their with a questionable past. But if you'll have me, I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice."

And when you finally managed to say yes, he kissed you like he was afraid that it was all a dream.

A very nice dream.

It wasn't a dream.

But you were his new dream.

Wink, wink.

Eugene insists on taking you on the most outrageous dates, from sneaking into a masquerade ball just for fun to racing through a field on horseback.

You always pretend to be exasperated, but deep down, you love the excitement.

Despite his love for adventure, Eugene adores the quiet moments with you.

Waking up to find you curled up against him, cooking together, and slow dances in your little home after a long day.

Knowing how overworked you can get, Eugene makes it his mission to make your life easier.

He'll force you to take breaks, sneak little notes of encouragement into your books, and even learn bits of your studies just to impress you.

You both constantly challenge each other with witty banter, and he lives to make you flustered or laugh.

"Darling, I do believe I just caught you staring."

"I was glaring."

"Tomato, tomahto."

Eugene is fiercely protective of you, not just physically but emotionally.

He understands your struggles with perfectionism and self-doubt because, in his own way, he'd been there.

Whenever you start being too hard on yourself, he pulls you into a hug and murmurs, "Hey, you're already incredible."

He loves playing with your hands, tracing circles over your palm absentmindedly.

He'll braid your hair if you ask.

He brings you little trinkets - pressed flowers, shiny stones, anything that reminds him of you.

He'd learn your favorite songs on the lute just so he can dramatically serenade you in the marketplace.

He'd also drop everything the second you needed him, no questions asked.

You'd patch up his minor scrapes when he inevitably gets into trouble, scolding him the entire time.

But you'd also be the first to defend him when anyone brings up his past of being a thief, making it clear to all that would hear that Eugene Fitzherbert was a good man, no matter what anyone says.

And that?

That's everything he could ever want.

~~~

Lord Of The Rings;

Aragorn -

Your journey back to Gondor from Dale had been a long one, your horse - your only companion - for miles upon miles.

As a healer, you were accustomed to traversing vast distances to provide aid, but the trek had been exhausted nonetheless.

The city gates were nearly in sight when your horse suddenly spooked - a shadow, a distant sound, whatever it was, it sent the creature rearing.

You barely had time to react before you found yourself unceremoniously thrown to the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs as you watched your only means of transport gallop away.

Panic set in for only a moment before instinct took over, and you scrambled to your feet, chasing after the creature.

The trees blurred as you ran, feet pounding against the earth, but it was futile.

The horse was faster, vanishing through the dense woods.

Just when you thought all was lost, you burst into a clearing - and there, standing with effortless grace was a man.

King Aragorn.

You recognized him immediately, though you'd only seen him in passing before.

Tall and noble, with piercing grey eyes that held both wisdom and kindness, he had an aura of quiet strength about him.

Your horse had stopped in front of him, claimed by his mere presence, as if the beast knew instinctively that here stood a man who could be trusted.

"You ride hard," Aragorn said, amusement in his tone as he gently a hand down the horse's nack. "Though I fear your mount disagrees with the pace."

Still catching your breath, you blinked at him, utterly at a loss for words.

And then, to your absolute fortifications, your first to meeting the King of Gondor was:

“… And here I thought something spooked her.”

There was a beat of silence.

And then, Aragorn chuckled - low and rich, the sound of a man who was not used to laughing freely but found himself unexpectedly charmed.

And just like that, your fate was entwined with his.

Despite his station, Aragorn never acted superior to you.

He spoke to you as an equal, something you appreciated more than you could ever say.

You were used to people dismissing you, either for your restless perfectionism or your social awkwardness, but Aragorn?

He listened.

Even when you rambled, even when you went on long-winded tangents about herbs, historical medicine, or the nuances of healing magic, he was always engaged.

And it wasn't just empty courtesy - he was genuinely interested.

He'd ask questions, thoughtful ones that proved he'd been paying attention, and you'd often find yourself marveling at his patience.

You bonded over your shared sense of duty.

While he was responsible for an entire kingdom, you dedicated yourself to healing its people.

The two of you would often find yourselves in the Houses of Healing, he'd speak to you while you treated the wounded.

Aragorn admired your work ethic - how you pushed yourself despite exhaustion, how you never stelled for less than perfection when it came to the well-being of others.

He saw himself in you, in the way you carried burdens without complaint and though he worried about you, he respected your drive too much to tell you to slow down outright.

Instead, he found ways to care for you in quiet, subtle ways.

He would insist on walking you back to your chambers after long shifts, making sure you ate when you got too absorbed in your work.

And when he noticed you struggling with exhaustion, he'd wordlessly place a steaming mug of tea beside you, one infused with herbs known for their calming properties.

He never said much about these gestures, but you knew.

And that knowledge warmed you more than any fire ever could.

It started with small things.

The way his hand would linger just a little longer on your arm when he guided you through the bustling streets of Gondor.

The way his gaze softened when he looked at you, lingering even when you weren’t aware.

The way your conversations grew more intimate, filled with quiet admissions and shared secrets.

You didn’t realize you had feelings for him until one evening when you attended a gathering in the palace.

You had donned a deep red gown - your favorite color - and the moment Aragorn saw you, he visibly faltered.

“You look…” He trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

Your usual instinct was to deflect, to make some quip to ease the tension, but something in his eyes stopped you.

He looked at you as if you were something precious, something rare and irreplaceable.

It was then that you realized - Aragorn wasn’t just a friend to you.

And judging by the way he had to tear his gaze away from you that night, the feeling was mutual.

If there was one thing you were horrible at, it was expressing your feelings.

Saying anything overtly romantic made your skin crawl with secondhand embarrassment and the idea of outright confessing to Aragorn?

Impossible.

Unfortunately, Aragorn was no fool.

He noticed the way you became flustered around him, the way your usual wit turned into nervous rambling whenever he got too close.

And one evening, as the two of you stood atop the city walls, looking over the kingdom, he decided to finally address it.

“You are a healer,” He said, breaking the comfortable silence. “And yet, you cannot seem to mend your own heart.”

You blinked at him.

“Excuse me?”

A small smile tugged at his lips.

“You care for others so deeply, yet you shy away from being cared for in return.” He turned to you, his expression softer now. “Do you not see it, meleth nîn? The way I look at you?”

Your brain promptly short-circuited.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, only to make an unintelligible noise somewhere between a squeak and a laugh.

Aragorn chuckled, and before you could overthink it, he reached for your hand, pressing it gently between his own.

“You need not say anything,” He murmured. “Just… Let me love you if that is your wish.”

And in that moment, looking into those stormy grey eyes, how could you wish for anything else?

Aragorn is incredibly gentle with you.

Despite his warrior’s past, he treats you as something to be cherished, not protected or possessed, but respected.

He adores your love for vintage aesthetics.

He loves seeing you in red.

You both adore stormy weather, so on rainy evenings, you sit by the window together, watching the world grow hazy with mist as he tells you old stories of his travels.

He learns your favorite songs, humming them absentmindedly as he works.

If you sing, he listens, utterly transfixed by your voice.

If you get overwhelmed with your work or your perfectionism spirals, he knows exactly how to ground you.

He’ll pull you into a slow, warm embrace and murmur, “Enough. You have done enough, meleth nîn.”

He respects your awkwardness with romantic words, but he finds it endearing.

If you struggle to say “I love you,” he never pressures you.

Instead, he memorizes all the little ways you show it - through your touch, your acts of service, your presence.

When you can’t sleep, he reads aloud to you, his voice deep and soothing, lulling you into dreams.

You both are cat people.

If there’s a stray in Gondor, you’re bringing it home, no questions asked.

Aragorn sighs, but he secretly loves it.

You call him “King” teasingly, just to watch him roll his eyes with that small, exasperated but amused smile.

At the end of the day, Aragorn is utterly devoted to you.

You are his equal, his love, his heart.

And he will remind you of it every single day, whether in grand gestures or the quietest, simplest moments of love.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

The Basics: My name is Eurydice (not my real name), I’m 21 and use she/her pronouns. I’m heterosexual and heteromantic, but also on the ace spectrum lol, I think demisexual is probably the right way to describe me. Also I’m 5’0 so very throwable. 

My Aesthetics/Tastes: I’d describe my style as “Girl Reporter” because I incorporate a lot of 40s-60s vintage/vintage inspired elements, but I keep it generally pretty comfortable and practical to move around in. Same for makeup, I like my bold lips and fun eye-makeup but nothing too complex that it can’t be done in under 30 minutes before class. Also my favorite color is red and I may be a *tad* bit obsessed with it. My music tastes are similarly vintage, I’m not a genre snob but I don’t tend to prefer swing jazz, musical theatre, jazz standards, classic rock, etc (I also have a soft spot for classical). In terms of genre I *adore* a good mystery/whodunnit, or historical, or action/adventure, or comedy. My sense of humor is more British than American, it leans on the drier, wittier, more cynical side and I *really* don’t like gross-out humor. Also, I do *not* like heavy drama or horror, although I will watch horror if I have someone with me to cling onto (if they don’t mind the odd accidental clawing lol). Also I adore cats, I have two siamese cats they are my babies, and I think crows are hella dope. I love stormy or humid weather but only when its warm, honestly I dislike cold weather in general unless there’s snow. 

My Romantic Sensibilities: (Trying to keep this fairly simple so you’ll choose the people you think I’m the most compatible with rather than who I’d like to most). I prefer nice guys/heroic types, and I have particular soft spot towards former villains/douchebags turned heroes (self-honesty and active character development is hot tbh). Appearance-wise I love men with beautiful eyes, not of any particular color or shape or what have you just lovely and expressive. I also prefer more masc presentation. My giving love languages are acts of service, physical touch and gift giving. My receiving love languages are acts of service, quality time, and physical touch. I am very very awkward and inexperienced in love and so so bad at being assertive and honest about my feelings, I’m rather self-conscious about being vulnerable like that. Saying romantic things makes me feel so embarrassed and I definitely go a little thunder as I try to deflect with humor lol.

Hobbies/Work: I’m pre-med and a chemistry major so a solid portion of my life is taken up in school and I also work as a volunteer EMS/at a free healthcare clinic/peer tutor (no, I don’t get paid for the EMS or the clinic, yes, I do end up working the same number of hours as a full-time job 😭 I like it though. I do get minimum wage for tutoring!). In the spare time I do have I like to participate in theatre on and off stage (I take musical theatre and classical singing lessons! I’m actually really proud of my voice; I’ve won competitions before), I can’t dance for shit though, three left feet. I also play D&D and other TTRPGs and love love love Rennfaires. I’m also a big nerd about history, American comics, and folklore, among other things. I’ve been trying to get more into cosplay/historical costuming because I’m super interested in it but I don’t have the time or money 😭. I don’t have a ton of time for reading but when I do I try to find some fun, lighthearted classic lit (like Jane Austen, The Scarlet Pimpernel, etc), because I want to spend my limited time on something worthwhile reading and important but also I don’t like being sad and bored?

Personality: I’m a major perfectionist, but I’m proud of how hard I work. I’m passionate about what I do, for fun or for work. Sometimes its healthy but sometimes it can spiral into self-hatred, or at least self-consciousness, when I don’t live up to my own high standards. I can be a bit obsessive, autistic hyperfixation go brr. I like to talk about the things that interest me. I talk a lot, I’m more than a bit socially awkward, I tend to ramble and I can be more than a bit oblivious to subtle social cues or the feelings of other’s sometimes, also I’ve got that vampire Autism where you have to explicitly invite me into conversations. I’m very emotionally expressive when I speak. I have a bit of a temper, I’m impatient and stubborn and can get surly, but I’m working on it. I’m proud to say I’m actually really good in a crisis, something I’ve learned from first hand experience. Although I’m pretty ass at leadership, lol its a skill like anything else, and I don’t have a ton of practice (I tend to be a bit of a loner). Also fun fact: I have sensory processing disorder, which leads to me having chronic insomnia, needing subtitles on everything and being a majorly picky eater (woo, fun). 

HI, Eurydice!

I hope you like your matchups! :)

I'm pretty excited about all of them, I had a lot of fun writing this.

It's a bit of a read, but I was heavily inspired!

So, without further ado!

Your matches!

Enjoy!

Romantic Matchups; Marvel, DC, X-Men, and Once Upon A Time

(Matchup Exchange)

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Marvel;

Steve Rogers -

You and Steve first met after you were recruited to the Avengers, your skills and sharp intellect making you an invaluable asset to the team.

You were the one who came up with innovative field tactics, analyzed enemy movements in real time, and provided the team with strategies that turned the tide in battle.

Whether it was your background in chemistry, medicine, or just your sharp mind, Steve quickly noticed how essential you were - not just to missions, but to the team's morale.

He was drawn to your sense of humor right away.

You had a way of making the team laugh with your dry, quick wit, sometimes catching him of guard with a clever remark that made him smirk or grin before he even realized it.

Your mutual love for history sparked long conversations - what started as causal chats about historical figures turned into late-night talks about philosophy, ethics, and the way the world has changed from his time to the current.

You were one of the few people who could keep up with Steve in a discussion about past events and the morals behind them, and he found himself fascinated by your perspective.

And your curiosity regarding his time in the 1940s.

There was also something about your perfectionist tendencies that struck a chord with him.

He saw how hard you pushed yourself, how you held yourself to impossibly high started, and he recognized that struggle all too well.

He admired your dedication, but he also saw the way it could wear you down.

Even before the two of you were close, he found himself stepping in when he saw you overworking, offering small words of encouragement or a quiet reminder that you were already doing more than enough.

You and Steve became fast friends, though it took some time for you to open up fully.

he was patient with you, never pushing, just offering a steady presence that you found yourself drawn to.

He was one of the few people who didn't mind when you rambled about history, folklore, or a particularly intricate D&D campaign you were running.

He actually enjoyed listening - your enthusiasm was infectious, and even if he didn't fully understand some of the niche topics, he loved seeing your face light up as you spoke.

You often found yourself sparring together.

Steve took the time to help refine your combat techniques, offering pointers and advice in his usual calm and supportive manner.

He was always mindful of your sensory processing struggles, making sure to adjust his approach if he saw you getting overstimulated.

He won't push you to continue your training, because he is a gentleman, obviously, so if you need a break, he's all for it.

And when training was over, he was the first to suggest a well-earned break, sometimes leading you to an empty balcony where you could both unwind and enjoy the warm summer air breezing by you.

Your shared love for vintage music and aesthetics made for some unexpectedly fun moments.

Steve was endlessly charmed by your "girl reporter" style, always giving you that soft, appreciative once-over whenever you stepped into the room in a vintage-inspired outfit.

It kind of reminds him of home, actually. It's comforting.)

For a while, neither of you acknowledged the growing tension between you.

You were awkward with emotions, deflecting with humor whenever something got a bit too real, and Steve was nothing if not patient.

As said before.

He noticed the way you got a bit flustered when he complimented you, how you'd fumble slightly before brushing it off with a joke.

But he also noticed the way you looked at him when you thought he wasn't paying attention - they way your gaze softened, the way your fingers twitched like you wanted to reach out for him.

Steve fell for you in stages.

It was in the quiet moments - when you sat beside him after a long mission, your head resting against his shoulder without a second thought.

It was in the way you always saved a seat for him at team dinners, how you instinctively sought him out in a crowded room.

It was in your stubbornness, your fire, the way you never let him brood for too long without pulling him back into the moment with a sharp remark or a playful jab.

For you, the realization hit all at once.

Maybe it was the way he always managed to steady you when you were feeling overwhelmed, or the way he somehow understood when you needed space and when you needed someone to anchor you.

Maybe it was the way he looked at you - with those pretty blue eyes of his - they would soften only for you.

It wasn't a grand, dramatic moment.

It wasn't even planned.

You were both caught in the aftermath of a particularly rough mission, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins.

You had a few scrapes, but Steve had taken the brunt of a hit that was meant for you, and that fact alone had your hands shaking as you helped bandage him up in the med bay.

He honestly insisted against you patching him up, he had a fast healing factor, but you insisted right back.

He let you fix him up.

"Y'know," You muttered, trying to keep your voice steady, "For a guy with a super-soldier body, you're really bad at dodging."

Steve huffed a quiet laugh, "Couldn't let you take that hit."

You swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. "You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do," He said softly, "And I'd do it again." Something about the way he said it - so quiet, so sure - made your chest tighten. He continued, "I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you." Steve reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. His gaze was steady, warm, filled with something - a look - that made it hard to breathe.

"I mean it," Steve murmured, "You're... You mean a lot to me. And- And if you'll have me-"

"Yes." The word came out faster than you intended, voice soft, breathless.

Then, there it was, that beautiful, flawless smile of his.

Once you were together, everything felt so natural, like it had been leading up to this the whole time.

Steve was endlessly patient with you - and I can't say this enough, it seems - never pushing you to be vulnerable before you were ready, but always making sure you knew he was there.

He was the kind of boyfriend who showed his love through actions - acts of service.

He'd bring you coffee or tea when you were buried in work, he'd bring you breakfast in bed whenever he could, he'd let you curl up against him after a long day without expecting you to say anything.

You both had your little traditions.

Slow-dancing in the kitchen to old jazz and classical records, even when you stepped on his feet occasionally.

Weekend trips to hidden bookstores where you'd excitedly rant about your latest finds, and he'd just smile, watching you with quiet adoration.

Actually, the bookstore was one of the places that you and Steve would frequent the most for little dates.

Many hours were spent sitting the the deep depths of the bookstore, sitting on the floor, leaning against the shelves, quietly reading together.

Nights were spent stargazing, where he'd tell you stories from his past, and you'd share your own in return.

Steve adored your cats, even if they didn't fully trust him at first.

He had infinite patience for their slow acceptance, letting them sniff him out and eventually curl up beside him.

It wasn't long before they started waiting by the door for him just as much as they did for you.

He would spoil them, by the way.

You'd lie together on the couch, your head on his chest, while he read aloud to you in that steady, soothing voice of his.

The city was always quieter at night, and he loved taking you on peaceful strolls, his fingers laced with yours.

Whenever you struggled to sleep, he'd stay up with you, talking softly about anything and everything until you drifted back to sleep.

He would make sure you don't overwork yourself, gently pulling you away from your books or laptop when you've been at it for too long.

"Just give me twenty more minutes."

"You said that twenty minutes ago, doll, it's time for a break. We can watch a movie if you like."

He would learn about your sensory sensitivities so he can help you when things get overwhelming.

He would make sure the subtitles are always on for you.

He would write little notes and leave them for you to find, always with something encouraging or sweet inside.

He would always save a dance or two for you at every formal event Tony would start up.

Not the biggest with nicknames, but a few he would use are "doll," "honey," and "sweetheart."

Whether it was singing, D&D, or cosplay, Steve would be your biggest cheerleader.

For holidays or birthdays, he'd gift you vintage items that go along with your aesthetic that were red.

You helped him adjust to modern trends, but never forced him to change - you just gently introduced him to things you know he'd enjoy.

Even though you didn't need to, you would fix his hair before missions.

You and the rest of the team would meet up on the jet, ready to head off to fight, and you'd lean up, brushing your fingers through his hair, making it neat.

Even though it didn't need to be done, Steve appreciated how you wanted to take care of him.

You would hold his hand under the table during annoyingly long debriefings, silent support.

You also made it your mission to show Steve ren faires.

For all his strength, Steve carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

You reminded him that he deserved to be taken care of too.

You also reminded him, every single day, that he was loved and that he was enough.

~~~

DC;

Clark Kent -

Could be seen as any Clark, honestly.

You and Clark first met at The Daily Planet, where you were the newest addition to the investigative reporting team.

Your vintage-inspired wardrobe and sharp, inquisitive mind caught Clark's attention immediately.

It wasn't just your style - though he secretly adored the bold red lipstick - it was the way you carried yourself, the fire in your eyes whenever you tackled a lead, and your razor-sharp wit that kept even seasoned journalists on their toes.

Clark found himself gravitating toward you, drawn in by the way you could effortlessly switch from excitedly rambling about a lead to fiercely debating the ethical implications of journalism over coffee in the break room.

You, in turn, found Clark... Interesting.

Not just in a "Wow, he's tall and built like a Greek statue" way, (though, yes, that was also true), but in how utterly kind he was.

In an industry full of jaded reporters, Clark was an anomaly - genuine, humble, and always willing to help, whether it was carrying stacks of files or lending his own notes for your research.

At first, you assumed he was just nice in that country boy Midwest kind of way, but after a while, you started noticing little things - how he always made sure to refill your coffee when you were too absorbed in words to notice your cup was empty, how he never laughed or seemed irritated when you trailed off mid-rant only to start up again five minutes later, and how, whenever you were out on dangerous assignments, he always made sure to be your partner for it.

Your friendship with Clark was effortless, built on mutual admiration and easy banter.

You both had an insatiable thirst for knowledge, though your approaches were wildly different - you, fast-talking, passionate, and prone to info-dumping; Clark, quiet, thoughtful, always giving you his full attention no matter how much you rambled.

Clark found your hyperfixations adorable.

He'd ask you questions about history or folklore just to see your eyes light up and hear you go off on an excited tangent.

If he ever noticed you getting self-conscious about talking too much, he'd gently reassure you.

"I love hearing you talk about things you care about. Don't stop on my account."

You'd drag Clark along to every museum, historical reenactment, and ren faires you could.

And though he wasn't nearly as obsessed as you were, he loved watching you geek out over a well-made period costume or historical artifact.

Ad when you complained about your lack of time for cosplay or costuming, Clark would casually surprise you with custom-made pieces from "a friend who sews".

Spoiler: it was definitely him.

His Mama Martha totally taught him how to sew.

Your shared love for classic literature also became a cornerstone of your friendship.

You'd trade books back and forth, arguing over the best adaptions.

Whenever you caught Clark rereading "Pride And Prejudice," you'd tease him.

"You're such a Darcy fanboy, Kent."

He doesn't mind the teasing.

And when you were swamped with work or exhausted from your pre-med responsibilities, Clark was always there - bringing you food, forcing you to take breaks, and gently nudging you to rest when you were running yourself to the ground.

Clark knew he was in trouble when he started looking for excuses to be around you.

Volunteering to help you with investigative pieces, lingering by your desk, getting irrationally flustered whenever you playfully fixed his tie before interviews.

For you, the realization hit slower.

You knew you admired Clark, that you cared about him more than you probably should, but love?

That was harder to admit.

You weren't used to being vulnerable, and the very thought of confessing made your stomach twist.

You deflected with humor, laughed off the tension, but every time Clark gave you that soft, earnest look...

That one that made you feel so seen...

You felt your resolve cracking.

And then there were the little things.

The way Clark always stood between you and a busy street, the way his touch lingered just a second too long when he passed you a file, the way he always seemed to know when you needed someone to remind you that you were enough, even when you didn't believe in it yourself.

It happened late one evening, long after everyone else had gone home.

You were both working on a big expose, poring over notes, when you sighed, rubbing your temples.

"I swear, if I have to look at one more redacted document, I'm gonna-"

"Go on a dramatic rant about government corruption?" Clark teased lightly, a fond smile on his face.

"You know me so well," You smirked, but your heart pounded when you caught the way he was looking at you.

There was something different in his gaze - something softer, more intense.

He hesitated for a moment, then, he spoke, "I do, you know."

"Do what?"

"Know you... Well, I like to think I do..." His voice wavered ever so slightly, it was almost unnoticeable, but what wasn't was how tightly clenched his hands were. "And I- care about you. More than I probably should, co-worker-wise."

You froze.

Your brain short-circuited.

Clark Kent, the golden boy, the sweetheart, the nicest guy you'd ever met, was looking at you like you were the most important person in the world.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Clark reached for your hand, grounding you, "You don't have to say anything. I just... I needed you to know."

For once, you didn't deflect.

You squeezed his hand, voice soft, "I care about you too, Clark."

Dating Clark Kent was like breathing fresh air.

Warm, steady, grounding.

He was the kind of boyfriend who made you feel safe in ways you didn't even realize you needed.

(I mean, he's Superman, but you don't know that yet...)

He adored your cats.

You caught him once, dead asleep on your couch, with your two Siamese curled up on his chest.

You took so many photos.

Clark always made sure you had your favorite coffee or tea in the morning, especially when you were too sleep-deprived to function.

Or needed coffee or tea in the morning to function.

(That's me.)

He loved it when you wore red.

You both went on mystery-solving dates - you know, like those mystery dinners people hold for events.

You both give each other massages.

Clark made you laugh, really laugh.

Sometimes, when you couldn't sleep, Clark would hold you close, whispering soft reassurances against your hair.

Clark loved you for you - for your brilliance, your passion, and your fire.

~~~

X-Men;

Scott Summers -

Again, imagine any Scott you wish.

You first met Scott Summers at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters.

As a fellow mutant, you were training to perfect your powers while also juggling missions and trying to live a semi-normal life.

You were always busy, either volunteering at the school's clinic or practicing your combat skills.

Scott noticed early no - partially because of your bold, vintage-inspired style that made you stand out in the halls, but mostly because of your sharp wit and no-nonsense attitude.

At first, Scott was a bit taken aback by how direct you could be, especially when it came to your passions.

You had no problem calling people out when necessary, and he quickly learned that you were more than willing to argue your points in a debate.

He found it... Kind of refreshing.

While many people tiptoed around him because of his leadership position, you treated him like any other teammate.

If anything, you were more critical of him than most, especially when you thought he was being too harsh on himself.

Scott, ever the disciplined and controlled person, found your expressiveness fascinating.

He admired how deeply you cared about everything you did.

He also noticed that despite your social awkwardness, you had a way of drawing people in when you started talking about something you loved.

It wasn't long before he started looking forward to hearing your lastest hyperfixtion.

Despite your differences, you and Scott naturally fell into an easy friendship,

He respected your work ethic and often found himself drawn to the moments where you let yourself be passionate and excited about your work.

He liked listening to you talk about history, theater, and all the nerdy things you adored, even if half the time he didn't know what you were talking about.

Your words and rants made him want to know.

One time, you went on a twenty-minute tangent about "The Scarlet Pimpernel," and he just sat there, absorbing your excitement more than the actual details.

Scott, being the protective type, started looking out for you in small ways.

He knew how much you took on between school, missions, and volunteering, so he'd make sure you remembered to eat, rest, and take breaks.

Sometimes, he'd "casually" bring you a coffee or a snack, acting as if he just so happened to have an extra.

He'd make sure the snack was something that you loved nothing that you had struggles eating because of texture or taste.

Other times, when he noticed you struggling to wind down, he'd invite you to take a walk outside.

Those little gestures didn't go unnoticed.

For your part, you helped Scott let loose a little.

You weren't afraid to tease him, calling him out whenever he got too broody.

You'd playfully mess with his serious demeanor, nudging him to have a little bit more fun.

When you found out he had a good sense of humor, (dry, with a hidden playful side), it became your mission to get him to crack a smile more often.

You also never shied away from calling him out when he was being too hard on himself.

If he was going to make you take breaks and rest, than you were going to do the same for him.

One of your shared activities became late-night talks.

With your insomnia and his contact overthinking, it wasn't uncommon for you to both be aware at odd hours.

You'd meet in the kitchen or the common room, talking about everything from past missions to existential questions about life and mutantkind.

Somewhere along the way, those moments became something you both relied on.

Scott was the first to realize he had feelings for you.

It hit him one day when he was watching you excited ramble about a theater production you wanted to see.

The way your eyes lit up, the way you used your hands to emphasize every detail - he was completely entranced.

He found himself thinking about you constantly, noticing little things...

How you absentmindedly tapped your fingers when you were deep in thought how you always had a knowing look when he tried to deflect with sarcasm.

For you, realizing your feelings took a little longer.

You weren't used to romance, and you had a habit of deflecting with humor whenever you felt too vulnerable.

But the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself seeking out his presence.

You felt safe with him in a way you hadn't expected.

He didn't just tolerate your quirks - he seemed to genuinely appreciate them.

Things came to a head after a particularly dangerous mission.

He had gotten hurt - not badly, but enough to scare you.

When you found him in the med bay later, you stood there, tense, before finally blurting out, “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”

Your voice was tight with emotion.

That was the moment you knew.

You really, really, really liked him.

Scott wasn’t great at being emotionally vulnerable either, but he knew he had to be direct with you.

One night, after one of your late-night talks, he hesitated before saying, “I care about you. A lot more than just as a friend.”

It was simple, but the sincerity in his voice made your heart race.

You, of course, immediately turned into a flustered mess.

“I care about you too. A lot.”

He smiled - a real, soft, Scott Summers smile - and that was that.

Scott is the king of acts of service.

He’ll bring you coffee during long study sessions, carry your books without you asking, and make sure you’re taking care of yourself.

You do the same for him, always making sure he’s not overworking himself.

Slow dances when you're cooking or just hanging out.

Scott is subtle about PDA, but he loves holding your hand - whether it’s during a walk around the mansion grounds or when you’re studying together.

He doesn’t get your love for Austen, but he’ll sit beside you while you read, occasionally asking questions just to hear you talk.

He loved it when you read out loud to him.

He’s surprisingly affectionate in private.

If you’re having trouble sleeping, he’ll let you rest your head on his chest while he absentmindedly traces patterns on your arm.

Scott is your biggest supporter.

Whether it’s theatre, cosplay, or history, he’ll listen, help, and even join in if it makes you happy.

He worries about you but knows you can handle yourself.

He just makes sure you always have someone watching your back.

Over time, you develop a ton of inside jokes.

He loves that he can be himself around you.

Scott understands your perfectionism, your stubbornness, and your struggles with vulnerability.

And he never makes you feel bad for it.

Since he struggled with that too.

Scott Summers isn’t an easy man to love - he carries a lot on his shoulders.

But with you, he finds something rare: a partnership built on mutual understanding, trust, and deep affection.

You challenge him in the best ways, and he makes you feel truly seen.

Through late-night talks, quiet support, and shared laughter, you both find a love that’s steady, strong, and undeniably real.

~~~

Once Upon A Time;

Killian Jones -

Killian Jones first meets you under less-than-ideal circumstances - perhaps you were investigating something that led you directly into his path.

In Storybrooke, you’d likely be working as a detective, using your sharp intellect and near-obsessive attention to detail to solve cases others overlook.

Holmes.

Yes, that was your last name.

And the name of your detective agency; The Crimson Holmes Detective Agency.

You have a reputation for being intimidatingly brilliant, a master of deduction with an uncanny ability to read people like an open book.

When Killian arrives in town, whether it’s during his initial revenge-seeking days or later when he’s working with the heroes, he instantly recognizes that you’re unlike anyone he’s ever met.

"Ah, love, you’ve got quite the sharp tongue on you, don’t you?"

He smirks, watching as you effortlessly unravel the latest town mystery while simultaneously critiquing his lack of subtlety.

But you see past his flirtatious bravado, straight to the deep sorrow, loyalty, and buried goodness in him - and that terrifies him.

You’re the only one who can see through his carefully crafted pirate persona, and it frustrates and intrigues him all at once.

You match his wit blow for blow, which both annoys and thrills him.

“You try far too hard to convince people you’re nothing but a roguish pirate,” You remark one day, eyes twinkling. “It would be more effective if you weren’t so painfully obvious about caring.”

He pretends not to be affected, but you’re in his head from that moment on.

Your friendship starts off as a battle of wits and stubbornness.

You both have a natural inclination toward independence and control, so neither of you is quick to admit when you actually enjoy spending time together.

Killian tries to ruffle your feathers with flirtatious remarks, but you deadpan your way through them effortlessly, often leaving him flustered instead.

However, over time, he starts to respect you deeply.

He admires the way your mind works, the relentless way you seek the truth, and how you push yourself to your limits, even when you probably shouldn’t.

Despite being a pirate, he is incredibly protective of you, even though he knows you can hold your own.

He doesn't hover or patronize you - but he watches your back in a way that’s both subtle and deeply reassuring.

"Not that you need my help, love," He says casually, stepping up beside you in a tense moment, "But let’s just say I’d rather not see what would happen if you took a blade to the gut."

Together, you’re a formidable team - him with his sword and instincts, you with your keen mind and razor-sharp deductions.

He enjoys watching you work, marveling at the way you piece things together before anyone else has a clue.

The shift from friendship to romance is agonizingly slow and filled with delicious tension.

You’re both stubborn, sarcastic, and avoidant when it comes to your own feelings.

You deflect with humor, while he hides behind his usual roguish charm.

Neither of you wants to admit what’s painfully obvious to everyone else.

Killian adores your mind, and he often finds himself mesmerized by the way you talk - even when you’re rambling about something completely obscure.

He listens, really listens, because he loves the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about.

There are moments that shake him, though - like when you’re injured on a case, and he abandons all pretense, his voice raw with worry.

Or when he catches you softly singing to yourself, completely unguarded, and something deep in his chest tightens.

And then there’s the way you lean into his touch without thinking, trusting him implicitly.

The way he always finds himself reaching for your hand when he’s nervous or uncertain.

The realization hits him like a tidal wave one day: he’s fallen for you, completely and irreversibly.

Killian’s confession isn’t grand or dramatic - it’s intensely personal and heartfelt.

Maybe it’s after a close call, or maybe he just can’t take pretending anymore.

Either way, it’s one of the few times you see him completely vulnerable.

"You terrify me, love," He admits one evening, voice low. “Not because of your mind - though let’s be honest, that’s enough to make any man feel completely inadequate. But because I never thought I’d meet someone who could see me so clearly... And still stay.”

You’re stunned.

And for once, you are the one fumbling over your words.

But when you finally find your voice, your response is simple: "I was never going anywhere, Killian."

Being with Killian is an adventure in every sense of the word.

He is devoted, protective, and wildly romantic.

He writes you love letters in old-fashioned calligraphy, leaving them for you to find when you least expect them.

He adores your vintage aesthetic, often comparing you to the heroines of classic novels.

"Red suits you, love," He murmurs, brushing his fingers over the fabric of your favorite outfit. "Then again, I suspect you’d make any color look divine."

He takes you on moonlit sails, where the only sound is the waves against the hull and his soft voice murmuring stories of the stars.

At home, he cooks for you, using whatever ingredients he can find, often resulting in chaotic yet endearing meals.

He steals kisses when you least expect it - while you’re deep in thought, while you’re trying to work, just to see that rare, flustered look on your face.

You, in turn, surprise him constantly.

With small, meaningful, gentle acts of service that show how much you care, even when words fail you.

He adores your cats, often talking to them, “Well, mates, looks like I’ve got some competition for her heart,” He jokes, scratching behind their ears.

When he noticed that you’re stressed, he might take over one of your tasks for the day, running errands or cooking you dinner without you asking - though he won’t make a big fuss about it.

He’d also keep your personal boundaries in mind, especially with your sensory processing disorder.

Knowing how much you dislike loud, overwhelming spaces, Killian would always be the first to suggest quieter places for dates or getaways.

Whether it’s a cozy cottage by the water or a quiet spot in the forest, he’d make sure you feel at ease, taking care to keep your environment calm.

He wouldn't be pushy, and if you ever needed some space to recharge, he’d be completely understanding, always there when you’re ready but never pressure you.

On your end, you show your love through small gestures, acts of service, and quality time.

With your busy schedule, Killian knows how hard it is for you to slow down, so you make it a point to ensure he knows just how much he means to you.

You’d also keep him grounded when his past weighs heavily on him.

You understand the complexity of people, especially when they’ve lived through darkness and come out the other side.

You’re not afraid to remind him of the goodness within him and would encourage him to confront his inner demons without shame.

When things get tough, you’d give him a gentle but honest pep talk, and he’d appreciate how you never sugarcoat things but always manage to keep him grounded.

Killian makes you feel cherished, in a way no one else ever has.

And in return, you give him something he never thought he’d have again - a reason to believe in love.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi, could I please get a romantic and platonic matchup for DC please? I’m 18, my pronouns are she/her and I’m asexual. I would like to be matched with a male character romantically.

I am short (158 cm/5’2), chubby, with light brown, type 3, long hair. I have blue eyes and wear glasses due to being short sighted. I am very flexible but also very clumsy. I am an introvert with social anxiety, ADHD and dyslexia. I am Slavic and feisty so I do get annoyed and angry easily. I have two dogs but one I’m very attached to and panic if he escapes (he goes for walks in the village to visit his friends).

I am an equestrian, artist and actor. I really love all kinds of animals (I fear bugs) and like to train my dogs to do all kinds of tasks and tricks. I love reading and studying about mythology. I can seem shy at first but when I get close to someone I am very talkative. My love language is physical touch (mostly hugs and poking my friends in the ribs lightly). My favorite movies are Star Wars, I love shows like NCIS and I like musicals. I love to travel. I dislike crowds and loud noises.

Thank you for making matchups, I can’t wait to see who you match me with <3

Hello.

I would love to write you a platonic and romantic DC matchup!

(Also, you're an actor? That's super cool!)

I hope you like your matchup!

<33333333333333

Enjoy!

Romantic and Platonic Matchups; DC

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

DC;

Tim Drake -

(I couldn't find the specific gif I was looking for :( Tim is college-age in the comics, so ignore the gif of Young Justice Tim below.)

The Wayne family was, of course, attending one of Gotham’s many high-profile charity events - something Tim usually found dull unless it involved a mystery or someone attempting to commit a crime.

That is... Until his eyes landed on you.

You were there as a guest, given your growing fame as an actor, and while you didn’t particularly love big, crowded events, you knew how to navigate them with practiced ease.

But despite the glittering crowd, Tim felt like everything else faded when you two locked eyes.

He wasn’t even sure why - but something about you felt interesting in a way that these events never were.

You, on the other hand, weren’t expecting to catch the attention of Tim Drake-Wayne, but when you saw him watching you with that quiet intensity, something inside you stirred - like you knew him, somehow, even though you’d never met.

One accidental conversation (a classic bumping into each other while trying to avoid crowds moment), and suddenly, you two were deeply discussing mythology, art, and literature.

Tim was fascinated by your knowledge and the way you talked about your interests.

He found himself drawn to your intelligence and passion for the things you loved.

You found yourself completely at ease around him, which was rare in these situations.

Despite his status, Tim felt genuine, someone who actually listened.

And he felt the same about you.

By the end of the night, you had exchanged numbers, and neither of you could stop thinking about the other.

What started as casual messages about books and random facts about mythology turned into deep, late-night conversations that neither of you wanted to end.

Tim quickly became one of the few people you felt completely comfortable around.

He got you - your introverted nature, your ADHD, the way you overanalyzed things sometimes.

He didn’t judge, he just understood.

You, in turn, became one of Tim’s safe places.

You never expected him to be the Wayne heir or a perfect genius.

With you, he could be a nerdy, tired young man who forgot to sleep way too often.

He loved hearing about your work as an actor, listening to you rehearse lines, and even letting you drag him to a few musicals (which he pretended to tolerate but secretly enjoyed).

You helped him with his bad habits - reminding him to eat, sleep, and exist as a human being instead of a hyper-focused detective gremlin.

When you weren’t talking about deep topics, you were teasing the hell out of each other - your feisty, sarcastic nature clashing beautifully with his dry wit.

Poking Wars™ became a thing, where you’d try to get a reaction out of him by lightly poking his ribs.

Tim would act unaffected until he inevitably struck back with his own pokes.

He loved watching you train your dogs.

He wasn’t much of a pet person before, but seeing how much you adored them (especially your one escape artist dog) made him soft.

Tim also loved watching you with horses.

The way you carried yourself while riding?

The calm confidence?

It left him speechless (and maybe a little weak in the knees).

Tim refused to acknowledge his feelings at first.

He told himself that you were just his best friend - that the way his heart raced around you was just totally normal admiration.

But then, when you’d hug him goodbye after hanging out, and he realized he never wanted to let go?

Yeah.

He was doomed.

He started noticing everything - how you looked when you were deep in thought, how your glasses would slide down your nose when you were focused, how you smelled like a mix of fresh air and something uniquely you.

Jealousy hit him out of nowhere when he saw other people flirting with you.

He’d try to act unbothered, but the sharpness in his gaze and the way he suddenly stood closer to you said otherwise.

Meanwhile, you had no idea he felt this way.

You adored Tim, sure, but you never thought he of all people would like you like that.

But then, you caught him looking at you one day - really looking.

Like you were the most important thing in his world.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

Tim wasn’t good at emotional vulnerability, but he also knew he couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t in love with you.

So one night, after another deep conversation that left him feeling too much, he just blurted it out.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“… You think?”

“No. I know.”

You were stunned.

Not because you didn’t want it, but because you never thought he’d actually say it.

But then you grinned, poked his ribs teasingly, and said, “Awe, I know I'm in love with you too."

Tim let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head before finally - finally - kissing you.

Tim is so soft for you.

He'd do anything for you.

He never thought he’d get to have something this good, this real, but he cherishes every second of it.

He’s still Tim - awkward, overthinking, and prone to getting lost in work - but now he has you to pull him back.

Physical affection?

Oh boy.

Once he realizes he can just hold you whenever he wants?

(As long as you want it too, by the way, this boy is a gentleman.)

Expect lots of back hugs, forehead kisses, and fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

Domestically, he’s a mess.

His place is cluttered with coffee cups and case files, so you make it a mission to help him not live in chaos.

Movie and game nights are a staple.

He lets you pick (unless you want to play detective games - then it’s on).

Studying mythology together.

He gets so invested in your knowledge and loves how passionate you are about it.

Horses still make him weak.

He will 100% watch you ride for hours, completely captivated.

Late-night rooftop talks.

Sometimes, he just wants to sit in comfortable silence with you, looking over Gotham’s skyline.

Learn everything about your interests.

Even if he wasn’t into something before, he is now.

Memorize your schedule.

If you have important events, he makes sure you eat, sleep, and take care of yourself.

Tech support.

Glasses broken?

He’s already ordered new ones.

You lost something?

He’ll find it.

Surprise notes.

Little messages are left in your books or jacket pockets, just to remind you how much he cares.

You make sure he sleeps.

Dragging him away from his laptop and into bed, where you cuddle until he actually rests.

You doodle cute things on his notes.

Little sketches of you, his brothers, and even his dog (because let’s be real, you’d get him a dog).

Constant little touches.

Poking, nudging, leaning against him - it’s grounding for him.

You keep him from overworking.

If he’s spiraling into a work obsession, you’re there to remind him there’s more to life.

~~~

Platonic;

~~~

DC;

Kori (Starfire) -

You met Kori through your boyfriend, Tim Drake.

Since he’s part of the Batfamily, you inevitably found yourself spending time around the others, and that meant meeting Dick Grayson’s incredibly radiant, warm, and endlessly affectionate girlfriend - Kori.

At first, you were a bit shy around her.

She’s this tall, beautiful, confident alien warrior who could probably lift you with one hand.

Meanwhile, you’re an introvert who struggles with social anxiety.

Kori, however, didn’t let you stay in your shell for long.

The first time you officially spent time together was during a Batfamily gathering.

You were standing quietly in the corner, overwhelmed by the noise, when Kori noticed your discomfort and immediately swooped in, offering you some fresh fruit she had brought from Tamaran and engaging you in a conversation about animals, a topic she could tell you were passionate about.

Kori adores you.

She sees you as a little sister of sorts and immediately takes on a protective, doting role in your life.

She is fascinated by your equestrian skills and will often ask you about the horses, wanting to understand the bond between humans and animals.

She is especially curious about how you communicate with them.

When she hears about your love for mythology, she’s ecstatic.

She starts telling you all the myths from Tamaran, and she’s so animated and passionate that you can’t help but be completely absorbed.

You both bond over your shared dislike of loud crowds.

She completely understands your discomfort and never forces you into situations that would overwhelm you.

However, if you ever need someone to literally carry you out of an overwhelming crowd, Kori will swoop down, pick you up bridal-style, and fly you away without a second thought.

You introduce her to your favorite musicals, and she loves them.

She sings along loudly (even if she doesn’t always get the words right), and she insists on choreographing little routines with you.

Kori adores your dogs and always wants to learn how to train them.

She’s surprisingly good at it, mostly because animals are naturally drawn to her warmth and positive energy.

She finds your attachment to your one dog incredibly sweet and always reassures you when you panic about him escaping.

When she finds out you’re an artist, she is obsessed.

She wants you to paint her, draw her, or even design outfits for her.

In return, she tries painting something for you - it’s a mess, but it’s made with love.

Kori isn’t afraid of horses, but she is incredibly fascinated by how much trust goes into riding.

She asks a million questions, and if you ever let her ride with you, she’s so excited, even if she’s a little clumsy at first.

Since you love traveling, Kori suggests spontaneous trips whenever possible.

She can literally fly you anywhere, and she’s always down for a road trip with just the two of you, away from the chaos of Gotham.

Since you’re dating Tim and Kori is with Dick, the two of you inevitably end up spending a lot of time with the whole Batfamily. Kori is always the one making sure you feel included in their chaotic energy.

Also! Double dates!

She immediately shuts down any teasing from Jason about your height.

“Her stature is most pleasing! She is compact and powerful, like a small but mighty sun!”

Damian respects you solely because Kori does.

If she likes you, that means you are trustworthy.

Bruce is secretly grateful that Kori looks after you when things get too overwhelming.

And Tim loves that you are getting along with everyone.

He sees that she makes sure you aren’t left out.

If anyone ever makes you feel uncomfortable in public, Starfire mode: activated.

She is fiercely protective of you and will not tolerate anyone being rude or dismissive of you.

Even if she doesn’t fight them, she will shut them down with a single intimidating stare.

If you ever get lost or overwhelmed in a crowd, Kori doesn’t hesitate to pick you up and fly you out of there.

She’s always looking out for you, especially when you start to get anxious.

She loves hugging you, playfully picking you up, and just draping herself over you like a giant cat.

You know those movies from the 2000s where the two best friends just hang out on the other's bed and talk about boys and stuff?

Yeah, that's you two.

She adores your little pokes and teases you about them.

“Ah! You have attacked me once more with your affectionate jabs! How shall I ever recover?”

If you’re feeling down, Kori will wrap you in a big, warm hug and float just slightly off the ground, gently swaying with you until you feel better.

She always hypes you up, whether it’s about your acting, your art, or just existing.

“You are most glorious! Truly, if others do not see your greatness, they are most definitely blind!”

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hi and congrats on your milestone!! I've been following for a while and it's been awesome to read other matchups and your fics (I'm a little behind but that's what this weekend is for 🤩)

If it's possible to submit a matchup request here are my details:

I'm 32, 5'8, weight is being worked on - back in size 16 pants, Strawberry blonde shoulder length- slightly wavy hair, gold/brown eyes. Pronouns are she/her and I'd like to be matched with a man.

Personality: Overprotective, overthinker, worries about everything, caring, creative, introvert, likes to be competitive and silly sometimes. Aesthetic style: licenced logo shirts - bands, tv shows, movies, anything colourful and cotton based clothing. I dress for comfort rather than fashion and style. Favourite colours: ocean blue or rainbows. Hobbies: Swimming in the ocean, collecting shells and rocks on the beach, browsing new or second-hand bookshops, eating out at fun family or steak restaurants, reading fantasy or scifi books from 90s-2010s.

Favourite movies: What's Your Number? James Cameron's Avatar, Crazy Rich Asians, Sleeping Beauty. Favourite TV shows: Westworld, 1883, Gargoyles, Resident Alien. Favourite artists: Empire of the Sun, Nickelback, Human Nature, Coldplay. Favourite songs: How Bizarre by OMC, Rocketship by Llunr, Friday Night by McFly, I See You by Leona Lewis.

And the three fandoms are Lord of the Rings, Marvel or X-Men, and happy for both platonic and romantic matchups

Thanks and hope you are having a wonderful weekend!

Hi!

:)

I am so glad that you like all my fanfics and matchups! Thank you for all of your support! <33333

I hope you like your matchups!

(I'm nervous, I had a lot of fun with this, and gosh, I felt like I rambled a bit)

<3333333

Enjoy!

<3333333333

Romantic and Platonic Matchups; Lord Of The Rings, Marvel, and X-Men

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Lord Of The Rings;

Boromir -

You were personally asked by Elrond and Gandalf to join the Fellowship, knowing your unique skills and strength would be an asset to the quest.

While you were honored, you worried about the dangers ahead and overthought every possible worst-case scenario before agreeing.

Boromir wasn’t sure about you at first - not because he doubted your abilities, but because he worried about another person being burdened with this dangerous task.

He could tell you had a thoughtful mind and a caring heart, and in his experience, those were the ones who carried the heaviest grief when things went wrong.

The first time he really took notice of you was when you expertly navigated a difficult terrain, finding a path for the Fellowship that was much safer than the one Aragorn had suggested.

He respected your intelligence and attention to detail from then on.

Boromir quickly took on a protective role with you, always making sure you were safe in battle and watching your back.

While at first, you found it unnecessary (you were more than capable of handling yourself), you soon realized it was just his nature to care deeply for his comrades.

You two bonded over collecting little things from your travels - while you picked up interesting shells and rocks, Boromir would sometimes carve small wooden tokens or keep trinkets from places you passed through.

He once found a riverstone in Rohan and gave it to you, saying it reminded him of you.

You both had a competitive streak and often challenged each other to small competitions - who could walk the farthest without stepping on a crack in the path, who could catch the most fish, and once (to Aragorn’s horror), a wrestling match where you actually managed to take Boromir by surprise and pin him for half a second before he flipped you over.

He loved your humor, your sarcasm, and the way you could bring light to even the darkest days of the journey.

He often teased you, calling you "the Fellowship’s secret weapon", because you could outthink any situation and keep everyone in good spirits.

Boromir was the last person to realize his feelings.

Everyone else noticed the way he watched you, the way he automatically reached out to steady you whenever the ground was rough, and the way he seemed to listen to you more than anyone else.

He hated seeing you stressed or overthinking things.

He would always tell you, “Do not trouble yourself with worry. We will see this through. Together.”

The moment he realized how deeply he cared for you was when you got injured during a skirmish.

You brushed it off, but he refused to leave your side for the rest of the night, making sure you had water, food, and rest.

When Aragorn joked that you were in good hands, Boromir just nodded, not even arguing.

You started feeling the same way when you realized Boromir made you feel safe - not just physically, but emotionally.

He never dismissed your worries, but instead, reassured you that he would carry some of them for you.

It happened one quiet evening when the Fellowship was resting.

You were both sitting together, talking in hushed voices while everyone else was sleeping.

You mentioned that you feared what would happen after the quest, and he simply said, “Whatever happens, I will be at your side.” When you looked at him, confused, he sighed and finally admitted, “I would follow you anywhere. Not because of duty, but because I do not wish to part from you.”

He was nervous - Boromir was a strong man, a warrior, but when it came to emotions, he was unsure.

When you reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly, he finally let out the breath he’d been holding.

Boromir is the definition of protective.

He’s always looking out for you, always ready to put himself between you and danger.

He’s surprisingly affectionate - he’ll drape his cloak over you when you’re cold, sit close to you by the fire, and sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking, brush his fingers against yours just to feel you there.

He loves to hear you talk about the ocean.

He has never seen it, and he always asks you to describe it to him, picturing it in his mind.

He swears, “When this is over, I will take you to see it. I want to see it through your eyes.”

You love watching him train with his sword, and sometimes, he’ll offer to teach you a few moves.

The training sessions often end in laughter, especially when he exaggerates his movements to make you laugh.

He loves the way you take time to collect small, beautiful things.

After the journey and the defeat of the ring.

(Boromir isn't dead, but Denethor is-)

One day, he hands you a small, silver pendant in the shape of a wave.

“I had this made for you in Gondor,” He says gruffly, looking away as if embarrassed. “I thought you should have something to remind you of the sea.”

You take care of him in return, making sure he doesn’t carry too much weight on his shoulders.

You remind him that he is allowed to be vulnerable and that he doesn’t have to bear every burden alone.

When you finally do reach the sea together, he is speechless.

He stands there, watching the waves crash, before looking at you with a soft, awe-struck expression.

“It is as beautiful as you said. But I think it is even more so because you are here.”

Simple domestic moments would involve him helping you gather books to read at night, sitting beside you as you get lost in a fantasy tale, his fingers occasionally brushing against your hand.

He loves running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, especially when you’re sitting together after a long day.

Boromir isn’t a poet, but he always finds simple ways to make you feel loved.

When you’re feeling anxious, he will press his forehead against yours and say, “You are not alone.”

He teaches you Gondorian songs, sometimes humming them softly as you drift off to sleep.

He will absolutely carry you if you’re tired.

You can protest all you want, but he’ll just smirk and say, “It’s either this, or you sleep on the road.”

If you ever cry, he will sit with you, hold you close, and let you have your moment.

~~~

Marvel;

Thor Odinson -

You were already part of the Avengers when you met Thor, your magical abilities catching the attention of the team.

Your powers resembled telekinesis, and it was clear you had a vast, untapped potential.

Thor was immediately intrigued by your strength and grace.

The first time you met, he was more than a little over-the-top in his greeting, which you found endearing, despite his boisterous nature.

He introduced himself with the charm only a god could possess.

“I am Thor, son of Odin, and this…” He gestured to you grandly, “Is a fine day to meet one so powerful!”

You were taken aback by his size and demeanor at first, but once you saw the warm smile behind that godly exterior, you couldn’t help but smile back.

Thor was genuine in his admiration for you from the start.

He liked that you were powerful and kind, two traits he deeply respected.

He instantly began to watch your powers in awe, asking you how you did what you did, always interested in learning more.

You two bonded over your shared experiences of having powers that were at times overwhelming and unpredictable.

Thor could relate to that - his own powers came with immense responsibility and control, which wasn’t always easy.

There was a bit of playful rivalry at first between you both.

He loved hearing about your interests, especially when you talked about your love for fantasy novels.

You’d spend time swapping stories about your adventures, and Thor would often tell you about his travels across realms, making you laugh with his overly dramatic retellings.

“And then, with the might of Mjolnir, I sent the beast flying through the air, and-”

You’d tease him, “You always leave out the part where you almost fell off the cliff after, though.”

He’d listen intently whenever you talked about your worries.

He might be a god, but that didn’t make him blind to human struggles.

He was there for you, always.

You realized your feelings for Thor the more time you spent together.

It was when you caught yourself smiling whenever he spoke, and how your heart skipped a beat whenever he would look at you with that unguarded softness.

Thor, on the other hand, took a bit longer.

Oblivious boi~

He wasn’t sure if you were simply being friendly or if there was something deeper there.

But when he started to notice how you would worry about him, especially after dangerous missions, he began to understand.

Your kindness, your attention, your way of caring - he realized that you made him feel truly alive in a way he hadn’t in centuries.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you both sat together on the roof of the Avengers compound, watching the stars.

You didn’t speak at first, but when Thor reached over and brushed your hand lightly, it was like everything fell into place for him.

But his time to go back to Asgard was approaching fast.

“I do not wish to leave without you, my star,” He said softly, his voice unusually quiet.

Your heart clenched at his words.

You reached for his hand, holding it tightly. “I wish I could come with you.”

"Then come with me." He spoke, "To Asgard."

That moment sealed it for both of you.

The unspoken feelings were there, and you both couldn’t deny them anymore.

Thor didn’t know how to confess his feelings.

He wasn’t one for subtlety, but when he did try to speak about his emotions, he could barely find the words.

So, on one of the many balconies in the castle of Asgard, Thor finally spoke.

“I have seen many things in my time, but none have captivated me as you do,” He said, the words finally tumbling out.

You turned to him, heart racing. “Thor…”

He smiled, that same easy smile, but there was something more behind it now.

“I find that I cannot imagine my days without you in them. You make everything brighter, even on the darkest days.”

You both laughed, nervous and giddy at the same time.

Thor was a god, but at that moment, he was just a man who had fallen in love with you.

You spent your days together, training, laughing, and sometimes, just sitting together in quiet understanding.

Thor often pulled you aside when you were having a rough day, offering comfort and companionship without asking for anything in return.

Your relationship was simple yet profound - Thor would hold you after a tough mission, letting you rest your head on his broad shoulder while he stroked your hair gently.

He would surprise you with small gestures of affection: a bouquet of wildflowers, a warm cup of tea after a long day, or a handwritten note left by your bedside.

He loved spoiling you, but not in a flashy way - just little things that showed you how much he cared.

He was surprisingly shy when it came to expressing his deeper feelings, often tripping over words or becoming embarrassed.

In return, you would always reassure him that you loved his sincerity and that he didn’t need to be anything but himself.

You loved how he would make you laugh, even when the world seemed like it was falling apart.

Thor would often carry you on his shoulders after a long day, making you laugh as he pretended to be your personal “chariot of the gods.”

When you were both alone, he would rest his head on your lap, closing his eyes with a content sigh, while you gently stroked his hair.

He liked to surprise you with your favorite meals, especially when he learned about your love for certain foods from Earth.

He would try to cook them himself, often making a mess, but always with the best intentions.

Thor would also love to pick you up and spin you around when you weren’t expecting it, making you laugh uncontrollably.

~~~

X-Men;

Charles Xavier -

Charles found you one day, wandering through a second-hand bookstore in a quiet little town.

You were picking through a pile of dusty books when he noticed you, quietly flipping through a book of ancient lore.

He was immediately intrigued by you since he knew that you were a mutant.

You know, he can tell with those things.

He approached you gently, using his telepathy to read your curiosity, and asked you about the book you were holding.

When you looked up at him, there was a flash of recognition in your eyes - another mutant.

"You're like me." You had spoken.

Charles introduced himself as Professor Xavier and mentioned that he ran a school for gifted individuals, offering you a place there if you ever decided to join.

He sensed you were apprehensive but kind-hearted, and knew you’d fit in perfectly.

Charles respected your quiet nature, knowing that you liked to keep to yourself.

He admired how intelligent you were, especially with your love for books and deep interest in learning.

He started having you help with the school library, knowing you’d take care of the books with the same meticulous care that you gave to everything in your life.

You’d often find each other in the library late at night, quietly organizing the shelves or reading together.

He’d tell you stories about his own life, sharing his hopes and dreams for the future.

You would listen, offer support, and, on occasion, suggest a book he could read to relax.

Your friendship grew naturally, and soon, you were one of the most trusted people at the mansion.

Charles came to rely on your opinion, knowing that you were one of the few who would always tell him the truth, even when it was difficult.

As time went on, you began to notice the little things about Charles that set him apart from others - the way his smile would light up when he was genuinely happy, the way he’d listen intently when you spoke, and the quiet moments when he would show vulnerability, opening up about his past.

Charles, on the other hand, began to feel an intense pull towards you.

He’d catch himself staring at you during your late-night study sessions, or when you’d quietly read in the corner of the room.

You had a quiet strength about you that he found incredibly alluring.

It wasn’t just your mind - it was the way you saw the world, the way you always managed to stay calm and grounded even when things were chaotic.

You were the first person he could truly open up to without fear of judgment.

And in return, you began to admire him for more than just his intellect.

You saw the kindness and care that radiated from him, and it made your heart beat a little faster each time you saw him.

The confession came one evening when Charles was feeling particularly vulnerable.

He had just finished a meeting with the students, and he was exhausted from trying to juggle so many responsibilities.

You found him alone in the garden, staring up at the stars, lost in thought.

You sat beside him, offering him quiet company, which he appreciated more than words could say.

Without warning, Charles turned to you, “I cannot pretend any longer,” He said, his voice soft but firm. “I find that you are always on my mind, and I cannot imagine my days without you in them.”

You were taken aback, but when you looked into his eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity. “Charles, I…”

You couldn’t find the words, but your heart said it all.

He smiled gently, understanding the quiet way you expressed yourself.

“I would like to take care of you. You mean more to me than anyone ever has.”

As a couple, Charles would always encourage you to pursue your dreams and help you grow in any way he could.

He’d offer you support, whether it was telepathically guiding you through difficult decisions or just being there when you needed someone to lean on.

You often spent time together talking late into the night, discussing everything from philosophy to your childhood memories.

Charles had a way of making you feel safe, and you would find yourself seeking out his company after long, stressful days.

There was something deeply intimate about the way you both shared your lives.

Charles loved that you took the time to get to know him for who he truly was - beyond his powers and the weight of his responsibilities.

Charles would often surprise you with quiet moments, like sending you a book he thought you’d enjoy or asking you to meet him in the garden to stargaze together.

He loved listening to your thoughts without intruding, letting you talk freely about whatever was on your mind, and always validating your emotions.

He would leave little notes in your room, hidden in places only you would find, telling you how much he appreciated you and how happy he was to have you in his life.

Charles would often take you to a quiet spot, just the two of you, where he could hold you close and whisper how much you meant to him, knowing you could feel his sincerity even in his softest words.

~~~

Platonic;

~~~

Lord Of The Rings;

Aragorn -

Unlike most, you didn’t barrage him with questions or demand stories of adventure - you simply shared a companionable silence, which intrigued him.

You were the type of person who observed rather than spoke, and Aragorn found himself gravitating toward your presence, appreciating the peace you provided in contrast to the chaotic world he often navigated.

Your bond grew through quiet moments by the fire - him sharpening his sword, you browsing through an old book you found.

Occasionally, he would ask about what you were reading, and you’d end up in a deep discussion about fictional worlds, comparing them to the lands of Middle-earth.

Aragorn admired your creativity, often asking about the stories you wrote in your spare time, and he would even try to come up with tales of his own for fun (though he’d insist he wasn’t much of a storyteller).

He noticed how overprotective you were of your friends, and though he never said it outright, he deeply respected that trait.

In return, he made it clear he always had your back - whether it was keeping an eye out while you wandered alone or subtly stepping in if someone made you uncomfortable.

Long walks in nature.

Sometimes, no words are needed - just the sounds of the wind, birds, and footsteps.

Aragorn understood the comfort in quiet companionship.

Searching for unique rocks and shells while traveling.

You once found a particularly smooth stone that reminded you of the ocean, and Aragorn kept it as a good luck charm in his pouch.

Occasionally humming a tune or singing softly while tending a fire.

He found your voice calming and often encouraged you to share more.

~~~

Marvel;

Natasha Romanoff -

At first, she didn’t pay you much mind - she was always on guard, especially with new people.

But she couldn’t ignore your wit, sarcasm, and ability to make her laugh when she least expected it.

Despite your introversion, Natasha found it easy to talk to you.

You had a way of making people feel safe, and she valued that more than she could ever express.

She’d tease you about how much you overthink things, but at the same time, she’d help ground you when you started spiraling.

“You’re worrying about things that haven’t happened yet,” She’d say, pushing a plate of food toward you. “Eat first, panic later.”

Natasha loved how competitive you could get - it made things fun.

Whether it was a playful argument over who could run faster or who knew more random trivia, she enjoyed having a friend who didn’t back down.

Training sessions.

Natasha insisted on teaching you self-defense, even if you weren’t keen on fighting.

“You never know when you’ll need it,” She said, smirking.

Late-night drives.

Natasha wasn’t the type to sit still for long, and sometimes she just needed to escape for a while.

She’d bring you along, blasting music and letting you pick the playlist.

Bookstore browsing.

She wasn’t a huge reader, but she enjoyed watching you get excited about old fantasy and sci-fi books.

Occasionally, she’d pick one up just to have something to talk about with you later.

~~~

X-Men;

Ororo Munroe (Storm) -

You were the quiet guardian of the X-Mansion’s library, keeping the shelves organized and helping students find books.

Ororo had always loved literature, and naturally, she frequented the library often.

The first time she saw you carefully repairing an old, torn book, she smiled and struck up a conversation about your love for preserving stories.

Ororo admired your patience and your creativity.

She often sat with you in the library just to enjoy the peace, sometimes reading together in comfortable silence.

She found your love for ocean blue and rainbows beautiful - so much so that, one day, she brought you a tiny prism to hang in the window, letting the sun scatter colors across your desk.

She understood your overthinking tendencies and always knew how to calm you down, whether it was with soft-spoken reassurance or a gentle breeze carrying the scent of fresh rain through the open window.

Beach days.

If there was anyone who could ensure perfect weather for a day at the ocean, it was Ororo.

She loved watching how at peace you looked while swimming, and she’d collect unique shells to give you later.

Reading under the stars.

Some nights, she’d take you to the mansion’s rooftop, where you’d both read or talk about the things you wished to create.

Cooking together.

Ororo had a knack for making simple but delicious meals, and she loved having you in the kitchen with her, even if you were just taste-testing.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

hiya! could I do a romance matchup request for spn, marvel and kingsman please! C:

I am 19 and a straight female so id like male matches please! the only exclusions id ask is for kingsman to have one of the younger(?) characters eg eggsy, whiskey, tequila- as much as i love harry and merlin it would be more like as mentors! and for marvel id be cool with like anyone besides peter because again lil brother vibes haha!

appearance: 5’7”, long dark blonde hair, blue eyes. very girly style, fake tan, glowy natural makeup. glasses if im at home, contacts if im going out.

i am very loud, bubbly and comedic, but i do also need time to decompose and relax. i am an emotionally lead person but it takes me time to open up to others. clumsy, academically smart but lacking in common sense at times. totally fine standing up for myself in an argument but cannot physically fight to save my life. my friends often say i am a drama queen! my confidence tends to falter when it comes to romance and i can get unusually nervous, but once im comfortable I’d become very affectionate.

likes: drawing, sweet scents, sweet foods, spicy foods, tea, candles, flowers & houseplants, anything pink, comedy and action movies. forever a pop music girly but also a bit of a lover of rock. beaches, historical landmarks and random facts.

i hope this is okay, tysm ^-^

Hello!

I made sure to not choose any of the characters you did not want.

I hope you like your matchups!

<333333

Enjoy!

Romantic Matchups; Supernatural, Kingsman, and Marvel

~~~

Romantic;

~~~

Supernatural;

Dean Winchester -

You weren’t supposed to be in danger.

You were just visiting a small town, enjoying a little getaway, when things went horribly wrong.

One minute, you were enjoying a late-night walk, admiring the moonlit scenery, and the next, you were running for your life as a werewolf set its sights on you.

You tripped - of course you did, because clumsiness is your curse - and just when you thought it was over, a gunshot rang out.

You hoped for a silver bullet.

You barely had time to process the silver bullet taking the creature down before a man with a leather jacket, green eyes, and a cocky smirk helped you up.

“You alright, sweetheart? ‘Cause that was a hell of a close call.”

You were too out of breath to do much more than nod, but the second wave of panic kicked in, and Dean was right there to calm you down, cracking a joke to ease your nerves.

Dean never expected you to stick around, but somehow, you did.

You shouldn't have, but you had already seen too much.

You were too curious about the supernatural world to walk away, and let’s be honest - Dean kind of liked having you around.

Your bubbly personality was a stark contrast to his gruff demeanor, but you had this infectious energy that made even the worst hunts a little lighter.

You always brought sweet-smelling candles to the bunker because, “Dean, it smells like a man cave in here, and not in a good way.”

Dean pretended to roll his eyes but secretly liked them, especially the vanilla-scented ones.

You bonded over rock music, arguing about the best bands.

"Sweetheart, if you say one more pop song is better than Zeppelin, I’m leaving you on the side of the road."

You’d bake together, you enjoying the process and Dean just wanting to eat.

He’d steal bites of cookie dough and claim it was for "quality control."

Will help make pie with you.

Dean knew he was screwed when he caught himself staring at you a little too long.

The way your nose scrunched up when you laughed?

The way you always made sure he had a hot cup of tea after a long day?

The way you absentmindedly hummed classic rock songs?

Yeah, he was a goner.

You weren’t much better.

Your confidence always took a nosedive when it came to romance, so you brushed off your feelings.

But the tension?

Palpable.

Sam noticed.

Cas noticed.

Hell, even Crowley probably noticed.

Dean started getting more protective, always standing just a little too close when you were on a case, hand hovering near your waist as if ready to pull you back at any moment.

And oh, when someone flirted with you at a bar?

The way his jaw clenched?

You’d never seen him down a beer so fast just to get you out of there.

He even stopped bringing other women around.

How odd, you thought.

It happened after another close call on a hunt.

You almost got hurt - again - and Dean just lost it.

“I can’t keep doing this, sweetheart. Watchin' you almost die. Thinkin' about what I’d do if you weren’t here. I- hell, I’m no good at this, but I think about you all the damn time.”

You were stunned, heart pounding, and it took all your courage to blurt out, “Good, because I think about you all the damn time too.”

Dean just looked at you, then kissed you, desperate, yet still soft, like he’d been waiting forever to do it.

Mornings together are slow, filled with teasing as you steal his flannel shirts and complain about how he steals the covers.

Sweet gestures like him buying you flowers randomly.

"Just 'cause, alright? Don't make a thing out of it."

Candlelit movie nights - you’d watch action and cowboy films with him, and he’d begrudgingly watch your pop star documentaries in return.

Protectiveness cranked to a hundred.

You stub your toe?

He’s checking it like you broke your foot, carrying you around until you beg him to let you walk on your own.

"I'm fine, De."

"Nope, I'm gonna carry you forever. Don't want you stubbin' your toes again."

Someone looks at you wrong?

He’s staring them down.

"De, stop glaring at the puppy."

"He's givin' ya a weird look."

He would die for you.

But also, he would kill for you.

"I'd kill for you, ya'know?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, De."

Just saying.

~~~

Kingsman;

Tequila -

You were a brand-new recruit at Statesman, fresh out of training, and trying very hard not to let the nerves get to you.

Tequila noticed you the moment you walked in, all confidence with that girly style that made you stand out in the sea of tough agents.

“Damn, sugar, didn’t know we had a beauty contest going on.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the grin.

Oh, so he’s that kind of guy, eh?

Tequila flirted with you constantly, but it quickly became your dynamic - fast-paced, playful, and full of teasing.

You’d playfully call him “Cowboy Casanova” when he got too cocky.

He’d make it his mission to get you to flush, just to watch you fluster about for a second.

Training together?

He’d push you hard but always made sure to make you laugh in between.

You were terrible at hand-to-hand combat.

“I ain’t lettin’ you fight anyone, darlin’, but I’ll teach you how to duck.”

Will pin you to the mat-

It snuck up on him.

One day, the flirting wasn’t just flirting.

He wanted you to be his.

And he wanted to be yours...

He got jealous when another agent hit on you, wrapping an arm around you and grinning, “She’s spoken for, partner.”

You thought that he was just saying that to get the other agent away from you, and it worked, and you were thankful - the guy was weird - but his words made your cheeks burn.

You would find out soon enough that he was serious about you.

The confession?

Smooth as ever.

A casual, “So when are we gonna stop pretendin’ we ain’t crazy about each other?”

He calls you “sugar” and “darlin’” like second nature.

Tequila spoils you - flowers, good food, and slow dances in the kitchen.

He loves lazy beach days with you, watching you bask in the sun while he brags, “Best lookin’ woman in all the world, right there.”

Protective, but in a teasing way.

“Ain’t nobody gonna mess with my girl, not unless they wanna meet my rifle.”

Massages, he's pretty good at them.

No more knots in your shoudlers, that's for sure.

Surprise forehead kisses.

Constantly.

You've been warned.

~~~

Marvel;

Thor Odinson -

You joined the Avengers with a vibrant personality and an eye-catching, girly style- something Thor found delightful.

He was fascinated by how effortlessly you could make even the grumpiest teammates laugh.

(Cough Bucky cough).

You told him random historical facts, and he was genuinely enthralled, often responding with, “Truly? Midgard is full of wonders!”

Thor was immediately taken with you, but it wasn’t just attraction - it was the way you shined, how you made every room brighter just by being in it.

He loved listening to you ramble about your favorite movies and songs, even if he barely understood what “pop music” meant.

You taught him how to make tea properly, and now he insists on brewing it for you every morning, proudly calling it “a Midgardian ritual of great importance.”

The protectiveness?

On another level.

He didn’t just stand near you on missions - he practically formed a shield around you.

“None shall harm you while I stand, Lady Y/N.”

Thor doesn’t do subtle.

When he realizes his feelings, he doesn’t hesitate.

One day, after a particularly dangerous mission, he pulls you aside, brows furrowed in concern.

“I do not wish to waste another moment in uncertainty. My heart belongs to you, and I would be honored if you allowed me to cherish you as more than a confidant.”

You’re stunned, nervous as hell, but when you admit you feel the same, he grins like the sun before lifting you off your feet in a victorious, bone-crushing, Thor hug.

Super affectionate.

Thor is all about physical touch.

If you’re in the room, he’s holding your hand, carrying you effortlessly, or pressing soft kisses to your forehead.

Gifts you Asgardian jewelry, always picking out gems that remind him of your eyes. “This crystal shines like the wamrth of your gaze, my love.”

Big spoon forever.

(Will be little spoon for you though-)

You curl into him at night, and he wraps you up like you’re the most precious thing in the universe.

Museume dates!

Loves brushing your hair.

He’s fascinated by the softness and will run his fingers through it absentmindedly.

Will let your brush his hair too, and braid it!

Whenever you bake, he gets way too excited about trying all the sweet treats.

“By the gods, Midgardian food is a gift! Another!"

"Thor, you already had four slices."

Carries you all the time.

You could be walking just fine, and suddenly, boom, you’re in his arms.

“Why walk when I can carry you, my love?”

Flowers?

All the time.

Thor will pick entire fields of flowers just to make you smile.

"Thor, where did you get those flowers?"

"I retreived them from the garden outside the Tower."

Poor Pepper, those were her favorites.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

2K Followers Celebration! - 2/14/25

Thank You for 2,000 Followers!

I can’t even begin to express how grateful I am for each and every one of you! Every like, reblog, comment, and message means the world to me, and knowing that so many of you enjoy what I create is truly amazing.

Thank you for your kindness and your support. Whether you’ve been here from the beginning or just found your way here, I appreciate you more than words can say.

To celebrate, I am going to start a new fairytale/myth series. I love fairytales, and I love retelling them with my favorite characters. I currently have my Beauty And The Beast series, but I have been wanting to write another retelling soon. So! I thought it would be fun to see what you all would like to see!

(Characters for these retellings have not been chosen yet, except for one, oh secrets).

If you have any other fairytale/myth that you like that is not on this list, let me know below!

Thank you all again for 2K followers! <333333333

-Chloe <3

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Recently Uploaded - 2/14/25 - Valentine's Day - Fanfic Friday

Checkmate - Joker X Female Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - 1.3k

Beauty And The Beast - Chapter 4 - Loki Odinson X Female Reader - - Slight Angst/Fluff - 1.3k

I Love All Of You - Harry Hart X GN Reader - Slight Angst/Fluff - 1.3k

The City Of Love - Helmut Zemo X Female Reader - Mini Angst/Fluff - 3.0k

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Checkmate - Joker X Female Reader

Title: Checkmate

Joker X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Jim, police (Mentioned), and Harvey (Mentioned)

WC: 1,398

Warnings: Interrogations, could be seen as any other Joker, italics, teasing, banter, brief mention of kidnapping, sarcastic Reader, mentions of being used as a pawn, DC canon violence, nicknames, The Dark Knight canon violence, mentions of murder/killing, gunfire, Reader is giving Harley Quinn personality, but more like Joker than anything, chaos, slight angst, and fluff

The fluorescent light shining above you was blinding. It burned the backs of your eyes as you blinked rapidly and tried to adjust them to the sudden brightness. You found yourself sitting on a metal chair that was bolted to the ground. Your arms were pulled behind you, handcuffs wrapped around your wrists. You tried to move your hands apart, only to feel the cuffs tighten, forcing you to pull back into the seat. A shiver ran through you and goosebumps spread across your skin. You tugged at the handcuffs, trying to break free, but they held firm. 

You looked up, and you looked around the room, seeing the old, off-white tile floor, and the two-way mirror on the wall. At the sound of a door opening, you turned your head back in front of you. You watched as Jim Gordan entered the room. He said nothing, only clearing his throat before walking further into the room and sitting down in the chair in front of you. He let out a sigh, finally meeting your hardened gaze, his hands coming up to interlock with one another on top of the metal table; a folder laid under his hands.

Jim stared at you, frowning slightly as you stared right back at him, "Y/N..." He began, his voice soft, yet firm. You couldn't help but feel he was speaking to you as if he was your father, rather than an investigator. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?" You asked, tilting your head to the side, only making Jim sigh disappointedly.

"You know who I'm talking about, Y/N," He spoke, "Where is the Joker?"

You pursed your lips, glancing down at the file under his hands; you wondered what was in it, "I think you got the wrong person." You looked up at him, "Did you and your buddies over there do any investigating, or did you just decide to go out and kidnap me from my bed at four in the morning just for the fun of it? Business slow these days?"

Jim sighed again, looking away and shaking his head, "Y/N..."

"Look, Jim," You spoke, your voice becoming quieter, more serious, "I don't have time for games. I want to get home and get back to bed. I need my beauty sleep."

He nodded, his eyebrows furrowed once again, "Alright, Y/N..." He said slowly, unlacing his fingers to grab the folder on the table, and opening it up. You watched, surveying as he slid photo after photo out of the folder; all depicting you and the Joker from what you could only assume was from street-view cameras. You couldn't help the smile from forming on your face, seeing a photo of you and the Joker, his hand in yours as he dragged you down the street.

You remembered that night, you and him had just gotten back from speaking to all the mob bosses. The adrenaline that you were feeling had made you so high and giddy. You could still remember your laughter ringing out around you as you both ran around the corner of the street, and into the get-away van.

Humming, you looked up, "These are nice pictures... Can I keep them?" You asked, before jiggling your arms, making the chain of the handcuffs rattle against the metal chair slightly, "You know, after you let me go. They’d look great framed in my hall." You finished, voice hopeful and joyful, but Jim only shook his head.

"He doesn't care about you." He spoke suddenly, making you scoff.

"Wow," You rolled your eyes, "That's harsh. Do you do this with everyone you interrogate? Make them turn on their partners?"

Jim didn't respond, merely letting out a sigh of frustration. Instead, he shifted in his seat before continuing as if you hadn't said anything at all. "He doesn't care about you, Y/N." He repeated, "He's using you."

Your jaw dropped, "What?" You asked in faux surprise before shaking your head, "You're wrong, Jim. He loves me." There was no doubt in your mind. You knew it deep in your heart, you saw it in the way he treated you; what he did for you. He didn't have to say that he loved you - he didn’t have to - you knew it. And he knew that you loved him too. 

Jim stared at you. He sat there in silence for several moments. Finally, after some time, he spoke, "He doesn't, Y/N."

You frowned deeply, "You're wrong. He cares about me. You don't know what he's like. You can't see how he's trying to show you, and everyone else in Gotham, that anyone can turn to the side of chaos. Dent did." You finished, seeing Jim's eyes harden at the name. “You just don’t like it because J’s right.”

"You can't possibly believe that, can you?" Jim asked, staring at you intently.

You shrugged, "Why wouldn't I?" You stated confidently, shrugging. "I'm living proof, aren't I?" 

Jim shook his head again, tapping one of the pictures that he slid out onto the table - one of just the Joker. "He left you," Well, that surprised you, "He left you on your doorstep a week ago, and you haven't seen him since." Jim spoke as you tilted your head.

"How do you know that?" You narrowed your eyes, leaning back against the metal chair before you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Nevermind. I forgot you’ve got eyes and cameras everywhere.”

“He left, Y/N.” Jim emphasized, before harshly pointing his finger down at one of the photos, his finger digging into it, “He was using you. You weren’t special to him. He is a murderer, a killer. I’m surprised that he spared you. But I have no doubt in my mind that he thought of you as nothing more than a pawn in his plan.”

You pursed your lips, dropping your eyes on the photos on the table, “Hmph,” You hummed, before dragging your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Wrong again, Jimmy,” You looked up at the man. “I’m no pawn…” You trailed off, a wicked grin forming on your lips, “I’m the Queen.” At that, there was a loud explosion, making Jim’s eyes widen towards you before he jumped out of his seat; hearing the cries, screams, and gunfire. “You see, Jim,” You spoke up again, loving the horrified expression on his face as he turned to face you, “You have oh-so foolishly found your king backed into a corner…” A sharp click echoed throughout the small interrogation room. Your hands were free. “Checkmate.”

Jim didn’t know what to do, but his detectives and officers were in trouble. Grabbing his gun, he left the interrogation room as you stood, tossing the handcuffs on the metal table. Humming a song, you bounced your head to the beat as you grabbed the couple of photos of you and Joker from the surveillance cameras.  

Leaving the interrogation room, you grabbed your confiscated things before you spotted him; your Joker. His dark eyes met yours, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. The chaos of the police station swirled around you both, but in that moment, it was like time had stopped. You could feel the adrenaline in your veins, a familiar thrill that only he could bring out in you.

He looked at you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. It was a look that spoke of danger, excitement, and something that made your heart race. You had been waiting for this moment to reunite with him, to be by his side where you belonged.

"Well, well, well," Joker drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. "Look who decided to join the party."

You couldn't help but smirk as you sauntered over to him - giddy - the photos in your hand. "Miss me?"

He chuckled, a low and dark sound that sent a thrill through you. "Always, dollface."

Without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you close. The familiar scent of him - grease paint, gunpowder, and something uniquely Joker - filled your senses, grounding you in the madness.

The sounds of gunfire and shouting filled the station as the two of you moved through the chaos, Joker leading the way with a reckless abandon that you had come to adore. You followed him, trusting him completely, knowing that wherever he led, you would go without question.

~~~

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Beauty And The Beast - Chapter 4 - Loki Odinson X Female Reader

Title: Welcome Home

Loki Odinson X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Bucky, Steve (Mentioned), Clint, Natasha, Laura, and Wanda

Beauty And The Beast Retelling Fanfic

Chap 1 | Chap 2 | Chap 3 | You Are Here | Chap 5 | Chap 6 | Chap 7 | Chap 8 | Chap 9 | Chap 10 | Chap 11 | Chap 12 | Chap 13 | Chap 14 | Chap 15 | Chap 16 END |

WC: 1,331

Warnings: Imprisonment, rude Loki, italics, banter, teasing, nicknames, crying, slight angst, and fluff?

“I should have been with you.” You said, hugging Bucky tightly, knowing this would be your last moment together. The warmth of his familiar embrace grounded you, but the weight of what was to come pressed heavily down on your chest.

Bucky’s breath hitched, “Oh, no, no. Y/N, listen to me. It's all right. Now go. Live your life. And don’t forget about me.” He gently pulled away, placing his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm. “And make sure Steve doesn’t do anything dumb.”

You met his tear-filled gaze, refusing to let him see your own fear. You managed a small smile despite yourself. “You know that's impossible, right? Steve's the king of dumb decisions.”

Bucky chuckled softly, the sound bittersweet, his eyes softened as he cupped your face briefly before letting go. “I love you, Y/N. Don’t get into too much trouble.” His tone was sad, defeated as he tried to smile, but failed.

You clenched your fists, refusing to crumble under the weight of the moment. “I love you too, Bucky, but no promises.” With a grim expression, you moved before he could react, shoving him out of the cell, and slamming the cell door shut; locking yourself inside the cell, taking Bucky’s place.

“Huh?” Bucky turned around in disbelief, his hands gripping the bars.

The Beast, looming in the shadows, took a step forward, his dark fur shifting with each movement. “You took his place,” He muttered, his voice low, rumbling. 

You stood tall, defiant. “He's my friend,” You huffed, wrapping your hands around the cold iron bars, staring unflinchingly at the Beast’s imposing figure.

The Beast’s gaze lingered on you, his snarl softening to a disdainful scoff. “He's a fool. And so are you,” He chided, turning his back on the cell. His heavy steps echoed as he dragged Bucky away.

“Bucky! Please, don't hurt him!” You cried out after them, but the sound of Bucky’s protests soon faded, leaving you alone in the chilling stillness of the dungeon.

You sniffled, sliding down against the cold stone wall, pulling your knees close. The tears you had been holding back finally spilled over. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating, until a strange, slightly chipper voice interrupted your sorrow.

“Forgive my intrusion... But I have come to escort you to your room,” The voice said, its accent overly formal, and obviously fake.

Blinking away the tears, you looked around, startled. Your gaze fell to the floor, where a candlestick with a face stood, looking up at you expectantly. You blinked again, unable to process what you were seeing.

“My room? But I thought...” You trailed off, still confused, as the candlestick reached up with his arms and unlatched the cell door with surprising dexterity.

The candlestick, full of exaggerated pomp, waved his arms theatrically. “Oh, what? That... ‘once this door closes it will not open again’? I know. He gets so dramatic.” His tiny flames flickered as he shook his head.

You took a hesitant step forward, eyes wide. “Who are you?” You asked, bewildered.

The candlestick puffed out his tiny chest proudly. “My name is Clint!” He declared with a flourish, his voice brimming with energy.

You stared, utterly baffled. “And you can talk?” You stammered.

“Well, of course, he can talk. It's all he ever does,” Came a new voice, more grounded and impatient. A clock waddled into view, their face fixed into a look of mild annoyance. “Now, Clint, as head of the household... I demand that you put her back in her cell at once.” The clock - Natasha - grumbled, her small hands tapping against her wooden frame.

Clint waved her off dramatically. “What do you want to be for the rest of your life, Natasha? A woman, or a mantle clock?” He gave her a sly grin, making the clock roll her eyes.

‘That name... Natasha? Why does that sound familiar?’

Clint turned back to you with a nod. “Ready, miss?” His eyes seemed kind, and though your nerves hadn’t quite settled, you gave him a slight nod. “Trust me,” He said, leading you up a spiraling staircase. You followed, your footsteps echoing in the narrow stone corridors. Along the walls hung paintings, their eyes seeming to watch you as you passed.

~~~

As you entered a grand hall lined with more portraits, Clint glanced back at you, his flickering flames casting shadows on the walls. “Oh… You must forgive first impressions. I hope you are not too startled.”

You gave a small smile, trying to steady your nerves. “I was at first, but I think I’m getting used to this. Not every day I talk to candles.”

Clint corrected you with mock seriousness. “Candelabra, please. Enormous difference. But consider me at your service.” He dipped his head as if he were tipping a hat.

Natasha strode ahead of you both, her ticking loud enough for it to echo throughout the hall. “The castle is your home now... So feel free to go anywhere you like. Except for the west wing. Which we do not have,” She added hurriedly.

Your brow furrowed. “Why? What's in the west wing?”

Natasha stiffened, her gears clicking anxiously. “Oh, nothing,” She replied a little too quickly.

Clint chimed in, mirroring her discomfort. “Nothing.”

“Storage space,” Natasha muttered, irritation creeping into her voice.

“Storage space,” Clint repeated, nodding sagely. You gave them a dubious look but said nothing as you followed them up the last set of stairs. Clint’s flame flickered with excitement as he gestured grandly. “This way, please. To the east wing. Or as I like to call it, the only wing. Watch your step!” He warned, catching himself as he nearly tripped.

They stopped at a large, ornate door. Natasha straightened herself. “Welcome to your new home. It's modest but comfortable.”

You opened the door and stepped inside. The room was grand beyond anything you’d ever imagined, with a massive bed draped in emerald silk and rich fur blankets. The walls were lined with oil paintings, the dim lighting giving everything a surreal, dreamlike quality. Out of all the rooms in the castle, this room was surprisingly clean… Ish.

Your breath caught in your throat, gasping, you murmured, “It's beautiful.”

Clint beamed. “But of course! His Highness wanted you to have the finest room in the castle!”

You raised an eyebrow at that statement as a voice fluttered down from above, accompanied by a cloud of dust. “Oh, my! We were not expecting guests, my dear. Don't worry. I'll have this place spotless in no time.” A feather duster flew down, twirling elegantly.

Clint’s voice suddenly dropped an octave, his candelabra arms stretching dramatically toward the feather duster. “This plan of yours is dangerous. I would risk anything to kiss you again, Laura.”

Laura swooned as she floated into his arms. “No, my love. I've been burned by you before.”

Clint’s tiny flames flickered, casting soft light across Laura’s feathers. “We must be strong,” He proclaimed.

She fluttered out of his grasp with a wistful sigh. “How can I be strong when you make me so weak?”

You smiled at the scene, the warmth of their banter easing some of your anxiety. “Is everything here alive?” You asked, glancing back at Natasha.

“This is just your wardrobe. Meet Madame Wanda. A great singer... When she can stay awake,” Natasha introduced, motioning to the large wardrobe against the wall.

The wardrobe creaked open slowly. “Natasha! Some of us need their beauty sleep.”

Natasha raised a brow. “Stay with us, Madame Wanda. We have someone for you to dress!”

Madame Wanda’s doors opened fully, her voice rising in excitement. “Finally… Oh, look at you! Such a smile! Such a figure! Perfect canvas. Yes! I will find you something worthy of a princess.”

You flushed, fidgeting with your simple dress. “Oh, I’m not a princess.”

“Nonsense! Now, let's see what I've got in my drawers,” Madame Wanda said as moths flew out with her enthusiasm. “Oops. Sorry.” 

~~~

@meganlpie @lokixryss @violethaze @johnmurphys-sass @greep215

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

I Love All Of You - Harry Hart X GN Reader

Title: I Love All Of You

Harry Hart X GN Reader

Additional Character: Mr. Pickle Jr.

WC: 1,348

Warnings: Post-Kingsman: The Golden Circle, insecurities, Harry's scar, Kingsman canon violence mentioned, possibly depression hinted to, hurt/comfort?, affirmations, this man needs love, nicknames, description of his scar, scars, mention of injuries, italics, slight angst, and fluff

It was a quiet Friday night as you sat on your bed, a book in your hand. Jane Austen's "Pride And Prejudice." There was the soft sound of rain falling, pitter-pattering against the roof and trailing down the windows. It was soft and peaceful, you always loved the rain; it was one of your favorite sounds. Sometimes you liked to just stand in it, letting the cold chill of the rain fall upon you, wetting your hair and lashes. You used to do it a lot as a child, playing in the puddles and laughing in the rain until it thundered. You missed those days. 

From downstairs, you heard the front door open and close. Harry was home. A smile graced your face as you continued to read, hearing his tired feet climbing the stairs and soon enough, the bedroom door opened. Mr. Pickle Jr. jumped up from your legs, tail wagging furiously as he leaped from the bed and ran to his feet. Harry smiled softly, reaching down to brush his fingers through the puppy's fur before he moved to the closet. 

The night went like clockwork. You read whilst Harry got ready for the night, undressing and redressing in his pajamas before he headed to the bathroom to finish up. Every night followed the same pattern. As the bathroom door shut, you continued your reading, but as a few minutes went by, and then ten, you looked up from the pages. You looked at the bathroom door, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern. Harry was taking an unusually long time in there. 

Sitting up further, you placed your book on your nightstand, before slipping out of the bed, your feet landing on the soft carpet below. Walking over, you hesitantly knocked on the door, calling out, “Harry?” Silence. You frowned, before opening the door. There, Harry stood, hands pressed against the sink, hunched over, staring down at the white porcelain. There was a hardened expression on his face, a look that you had come to know well and recognize. 

Without a word, you stepped closer, reaching for his hand. The contact seemed to break whatever trance he was in, his body stiffening before his gaze met yours. There was a quiet sadness in his eyes, but there was also something else - a longing, a vulnerability that he wasn't used to showing. You raised his hand up, pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles. One after the other, your lips soft and tender. His hand, once cold and tense, relaxed in your touch, and you could feel the relief in the way his fingers lightly curled against your skin. The tips of them brushed along your soft skin as you pressed little kisses along his palm. 

You wished you could take away his pain - emotional, physical, and everything in between. But you couldn’t. All you could do was be there, offer comfort, ease his burden, and love him in every way you knew how. And if it meant helping him forget, even for just a little while, you would do it a thousand times over.

Silently, you led him back to the bedroom, your hand in his as you pulled the covers back, urging him to get into bed. He did so without protest, his movements slow, almost hesitant. Slipping under the blankets, you positioned yourself above him, straddling his waist, and let your hands rest gently on his abdomen. You gazed down at him, your heart swelling with the overwhelming love and care you had for him. He looked up at you, visible eye soft but wary, and you could see the battle he was waging within himself.

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned down, your lips hovering just above his. Without a word, you began to kiss him. The same little kisses that you pressed against his hand, brushed along his skin.  Starting at his chin, you trailed your lips to his cheek, then to the other, before caressing down his jaw, grazing his nose, and forehead, before finally brushing the corners of his lips. Harry lay still beneath you, his breath catching for a moment before he exhaled slowly. 

He reached up, his hands finding purchase on your waist, fingers lightly digging into the fabric of your sleep shorts; he shut his eye. You continued your journey, pressing kiss after kiss, decorating his skin in little invisible pink tingles of your love. Slowly, you sat back up, hands slipping down his chest before resting back upon his abdomen. You bit your lip, hesitant as you reached up and slowly took hold of his glasses. You felt Harry's hands on your waist tighten, but they relaxed again as you slid them off, folded them close, and sat them on the bedside table.

You had seen his eye before. Or at least, the space where it used to be. You were no stranger to it. Where his eye used to be was a scar, the wound has long since healed, only leaving a small opening of tissue; overall, you didn't know how to explain it, but that didn't matter. He was still as beautiful as the day you met him, all those years ago. You felt a deep warmth fill your heart as you admired him. You couldn't help it. You could look at him forever if you could.

Leaning back down, you pressed another soft kiss to his chin, your lips lingering for just a moment before you whispered, "Beautiful." You moved to his cheek, kissing it gently, then to the other, each time adding the words as you went. "Gorgeous," You murmured, your lips brushing against his skin. "Handsome," You followed the path along his jawline. "Hot," You breathed against his forehead, "Pretty," You said, your lips lingering on the corner of his mouth. Then, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his eyelid, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke, "Stunning." And, finally, you pressed a gentle kiss to the scar, the scar that marked his resilience, and whispered, "Breathtaking."

When you pulled back, he chased your lips, making your smile widen as you leaned back down for one more. Pulling back again, Harry gave you a small smile, his eyes glimmering. Smiling back at him, you brought your hands up, cupping his face. Your thumbs stroked over his cheeks, brushing away stray tears that had gathered there. You brought your hands forward, tilted your head, and pressed a light kiss against his lips. "I love you, Harry." You spoke, shutting your eyes, nuzzling your nose against his as you continued, "I love all of you."

One of his hands left your waist, reaching up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing along your skin. And with a swift movement, he flipped you both over, pinning you beneath him on the mattress. You let out a surprised giggle, your heart racing as his nose brushed against yours, mirroring the tender gesture you had shown him.

"I love all of you, too, darling," He whispered, his voice low and full of admiration for you, and only you. Slowly, his lips met yours - his silent thank you - and you melted into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck, fingers slipping into the soft strands of his hair. His kisses always left you breathless, making you crave more.

As he pulled away, his body shifted, laying upon you but careful not to put his full weight on you. His face nestled into the warmth of your neck, his arms wrapping around you. You sighed contentedly, running your fingers through his hair; your nails lightly grazing his scalp. It didn't take long until Harry's breathing softened and he fell asleep, and you were close behind him. Your eyes began to flutter, a silent yawn escaping you, the rain outside lulling you to sleep. As you drifted into dreamland, your hand still buried in his hair, you heard the faintest of paws hitting the ground before Mr. Pickle Jr. hopped back up on the bed, curling up at your side.

~~~

Main Masterlist | Kingsman Masterlist

[justsomerandomfanfic]

The City Of Love - Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Title: The City Of Love

Helmut Zemo X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's friend, the driver (Mentioned), and college people (peers/professors) (Mentioned)

WC: 3,059

Warnings: Modern AU, age gap very briefly hinted at (Reader's 23 - Helmut's 40), italics, love at first sight?, teasing, banter, flirting?, instant attraction, brief mention of long distance, brief suggestiveness, nicknames, brief mention of drugs (none used), ignoring Marvel plots, very very mini angst, and fluff

Out of all the things you wanted to do today, sitting through a seminar was not really one of them. You couldn’t really help it, however. It was Friday and it wasn’t like you could skip out on school. You could skip for the day, but then you’d be celebrating alone for the most part. It was your birthday, number twenty-three, and you were more or less so excited about it. You didn’t have any huge plans. That morning, you had planned to go to your favorite cafe, grab your favorite drink and maybe a scone… But, your alarm decided to ignore you and you woke up late, resulting in no special cafe drink and no birthday scone. 

You weren’t too upset about it. However, that cafe was open between six in the morning and two in the afternoon. And, it was half past two. So all plans of going there after your seminar were out the door. So, you sat back in your seat, notebook open on the desk in front of you, purple gel-pen in hand. It was kind of hard to pay attention, as your teacher droned on and on. Normally, you could pay attention but your mind would occasionally drift to a certain someone.

You met him at a library in the middle of Paris, France. Your college had funded a trip for your French class during your second year. So, you and the other twenty-seven students got on a plane one day and set off to France for the next week where you and your peers could get the full French experience, whilst also putting your two-years of French knowledge to the test.

You were allowed a sum of cash - in euros - and you were sent off in small groups to explore Paris. There were rules, of course. Your college wasn’t going to let you just run off and start a new life in France, no. You were placed in groups, five or six people per group, and each given enough money to probably have one or two fun experiences a day; whether that was to go to a cafe, restaurant, store, museum, or otherwise.You were also supposed to check in with your professors and chaperones at a meeting point; the hotel you were all staying at. And, lastly, you had to stay in Paris, you couldn’t leave the city. It was an amazing experience. Never in your life did you think that you were going to ever see Paris.

~~~

With the money you all had been given, your group of five all agreed to go to a cafe, which was also a bookstore. Your favorite places all rolled into one. While your group had grabbed their drinks, bread, or little desserts, you went to the other side of the cafe; the bookstore. You mused through the aisles, fingers brushing along the spines of books, your eyes fluttering from title to title. You were so caught up in the books, that you really weren’t paying much attention to your surroundings. You ended up bumping into someone. 

Your apologies, sadly not in French, flew out of your lips, stuttering and a mess as you helped the stranger pick up their books that had fallen to the floor. It felt like a movie, some cliche rom-com that your roommate and best friend would’ve forced you to watch, the moment yours and the stranger’s hand met reaching out for the same book. You hand snapped to your chest, another apology - this time, in French - leaving you as your eyes met his. 

Beautiful brown eyes met yours. For a moment, you were star-struck. Your mind going blank except for one question; were his eyes more of an auburn or chestnut? His eyes weren’t the only thing you thought was beautiful. Faint hint of stubble, dark blonde hair- no, it was more of just a light brown, but his short hair was neatly combed yet with a natural tousle. There was just something about him, something refined yet effortless, and the subtle trace of expensive cologne and his regal clothing. The well-fitted, dark wool coat with a high collar, the rich dark red turtleneck underneath, black slacks, and sleek leather gloves only confirmed your theory. 

You were quick to look away, realizing a second too late that you had been staring. As you stood up, he followed, his movements unhurried, graceful even. You apologized again, but this time, he spoke in English - his voice smooth, accented - saying that there was no need to apologize, before asking if you were alright. You were immediately intrigued by his accent, a mix of German, and something else that you just couldn’t quite put your finger on. But you answered, a bit nervous, and definitely awkward and mighty embarrassed; you were indeed alright.

Time shifted, stretched, folded in on itself. You didn’t know how long you had been speaking to him, but one moment, you were apologizing again for bumping into him, and the next, names were exchanged with an ease that felt almost natural. Helmut Zemo. That was his name. There was something intoxicating about him - not just his words, but the way dark his eyes lingered, the slight tilt of his head as he listened, stray strands of brown grazing along his forehead. The way his lips quirked in the corners, subtle but knowing as you both spoke of your favorite French poets. The quiet pauses, the brush of his fingers against yours as he passed you a recommended book, lingering just long enough to make your breath catch and butterflies to erupt in your stomach. This wasn’t just any conversation, it felt like a dance. A dance that neither of you wanted to end. 

It was difficult leaving the bookstore when it was nearly time to check in at the hotel with your group.You had expected that meeting Helmut was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, a fleeting moment never to be repeated. You wished you had more time. And it seemed that he did too. Just before you stepped out of the book aisle, apologizing that you had to go, his gloved hand found yours - warm despite the leather, firm yet hesitant. You barely had time to react before his voice cut through the air between you. “May I see you again?”

From that day until your last day in France, you met up at a small cafe close to your hotel. It was an easy place to meet up, since your group enjoyed their strawberry and blueberry crepes. So, every morning you would walk in and find him, a book in hand, and your favorite drink already ordered for you. You were crazy to leave without exchanging numbers. It was nice to be able to text him and call him, to hear his voice the following days after your trip. 

Was it crazy to feel this way? To have such a connection, an attraction, so quickly? It had only been a week… Maybe you really were in a rom-com. 

~~~

You fiddled with your locket between your fingers, a present from Helmut from his last trip over to see you. He said that he saw it in a store window somewhere in Spain, and immediately thought of you. You had to have it. Once he clasped it around your neck, you never took it off. You never thought that your college trip to France would lead you to meeting your boyfriend. Maybe the saying was true; Paris was the city of love.

Since your trip, Helmut would visit often. He would surprise you with little trips on college holiday breaks. Eating at rooftop restaurants in Spain, walking the sandy beaches of Australia, and watching the Northern Lights in Iceland; you traveled the world together. Aside from holidays, he bought a lavish vacation home for the both of you in your city, where the both of you stayed when he flew over. Helmut even said that you could fully move into the home, and so you did. It wasn’t too far from your college, and Helmut even hired you a personal driver, who would drive you to and from. 

God, you loved him. You loved how he spoke to you, how he looked at you, how he held you, touched you, loved you. You loved his smile, and how his face would light up upon seeing you. You loved the way his arms would wrap around you tightly whenever you were reunited. And you loved the way he would kiss you, deeply and passionately. The way he would say your name left you breathless. And waking up beside him? A whole other level of feeling. Curled into him, your face tucked into the warmth of his neck, limbs tangled, skin touching. He smelled wonderful, not only of his cologne but of citrus, spice, leather, and his natural musk. He hold on you, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist, fingers feather-light along your spine. He reminded you of comfort, of safety, of love, and of home.

You missed him… Helmut was in Sokovia. He had called you the night before, apologizing that he couldn’t see you on the day of your birthday as he had planned. You didn’t mind, especially since he said that he would come over the following day as soon as he could. Soon, however, the constant flights back and forth weren’t going to be an issue for the both of you. Once you graduated, you were moving in with him in Sokovia.You just had a couple months left…

By the time your class was over for the day, you made your way to meet up with your best friend before grabbing a late lunch. Walking down the sidewalk between her building and your English building, you waved, your smile was big, matching hers. 

“Hey, hun!” She exclaimed, pulling you into a hug, “Miss birthday girl!”

“Yeah,” You sighed happily, pulling back from the hug, “I’m just another year older, nothing too crazy.”

Your friend waved a dismissive hand in the air, “Spfft, nothing too crazy?” She repeated your words as if you saying them was ridiculous, looping her arm with yours as you both began walking, “You’re twenty-three! That’s a huge deal!”

You looked at her, giving her a knowing look, “What makes turning twenty-three a big deal?”

She pursed her lips, her eyebrows furrowing, “Well, you can still drink and your brain is almost fully developed.” She answered as you both made it to the street corner, waiting for the pedestrian light to switch over, “And you’re two years away from being twenty-five, and that’s a great year.”

“Really?” You asked as you both began crossing, “How so?”

“Well,” She began, “My aunt told me a story about how she and my mom went out clubbing and got super high before they went stargazing on the roof of my mom’s camper van.”

You sputtered out a laugh, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “So, you want me to go out clubbing, get high, and stargaze?” You sighed deeply, very amused, “You mom was crazy in the 70’s.”

“You’re telling me,” She huffed out an amused kind of laugh herself, “She was crazy! Did I tell you that one time she went to a concert and she-”

“Got high with the band backstage?” You finished for her, shaking your head, “Yeah, no, I don’t think that happened. But, yeah, you’ve told me.” Arriving at the small restaurant, you entered, being immediately greeted by the wonderful smell of food. Your stomach grumbled. “Come on, let’s eat. I am famished.”

“Let’s! My treat, birthday girl!” Your friend pulled you over to find an empty place to sit. 

You and your friend sat and ate, laughing and having a good time. Reminiscing. Taking a sip from your drink, you listened to your friend’s story, something about a new movie that she saw in theaters and how the people sitting in front of her left half-way through the movie, even leaving their unopened candy - which, she, of course, took. Which then led into a conversation about the new thrift store that opened down the block that you were both interested in checking out sometime. 

Then, suddenly, your senses were overtaken by the scent of cologne. The smell was so familiar, you knew who it reminded you of. Home. You could almost feel his fingers brushing through your hair, no, wait, no, that was real. Turning around in your chair, your smile instantly brightened. 

"Helmut!" You exclaimed, your hand subconsciously reaching out for him, fingers grasping at his coat. "You're here! I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow." 

"I finished earlier than I had previously anticipated," Helmut explained, his gloved hand reaching up to tilt your chin up slightly, and leaning down to press a kiss to your awaiting lips. "Happy birthday, my love." He whispered against your lips before pulling away.

You giggled softly, "Thank you." But, then remembering that your friend was with you, you turned back to her, giving her a bashful smile, "You remember Helmut, don't you?" You asked, and she nodded, a mischievous little grin on her face.

"Yes, I remember. Hello, Helmut." She greeted your boyfriend, who nodded in greeting back. 

“Good to see you,” Helmut then looked back down at you, tilting his head to the side slightly, "Do you have any plans for today?"

You looked to your friend, only for her to shake her head and wave a dismissive hand in the air, "Go, hun, have some fun! We can go to that new Thai place and thrift store when you get back." She offered, and you nodded, standing from your chair, you walked over to the other side to hug her, while Helmut grabbed your bag from off the back of your chair. 

"I'll text you when I get home," You said to her as you were pulling away from the hug.

"You better," She spoke, "And you better have fun, birthday girl."

You huffed, waving goodbye as Helmut led you out of the small restaurant, his hand on the small of your back. As you exited, the bell above the door ringing behind you, you looked up at him. "So," You began as he handed you your bag back, "What's the plan for today?"

Helmut smirked, his hand still on the small of your back as he opened the passenger seat of his car for you. "Oh, just a few things," He spoke as he shut the door, walking around the side to hop in as well, "Firstly, we're going to head home, so you can pack."

You raised your brows, a smile already forming on your lips, "Pack? Where are you taking me, honey?" You mused, only for the man to wave his pointer finger in the air as he began to drive.

"I will not reveal any surprises, my love. But, I assure you, you will enjoy it." 

The ride home was soothing, the wind blowing through your hair, the radio on your favorite station, Helmut's hand resting on your thigh. Once you arrived home, he sent you off to pack. And so you did, strolling back to him with your suitcase packed for whatever adventure he had planned for you. Locking up the house, he then drove you to the airport, where you hopped on his private jet, and a couple of hours later you found yourself sitting on the terrace of Helmut's vacation home in Paris, overlooking the Eiffel Tower. You let out a deep, content sigh before taking a sip of the cherry blossom tea Helmut made for you, occasionally snacking upon the Turkish Delights before you as well. You were very thankful that tomorrow was the beginning of the weekend. Three beautiful days in Paris sounded wonderful. You missed the sights, the sounds, the smells…

Your hair was brushed aside, the feeling of warm lips pressing against your neck - mixing with the cool of the chain on your neck - causing you to hum. Helmut pressed another soft kiss against your throat, nuzzling his nose into your neck before releasing a content sigh.

Rising, he found his seat beside you, "What would you like to do first, my love?" He asked, taking a sip of his own tea, "We have some time to kill before dinner tonight. I got us reservations at Jules Verne."

You sighed again - warmth filling your heart - your smile widening at the thought of having dinner on the Eiffel Tower. You bit your bottom lip, thinking before saying, "Could we go to the Louvre?" You looked over at him with an hopeful expression, “I would love to see the Mona Lisa again.” You reached over, grabbing a Turkish Delight, plopping it into your mouth, “And see Psych and Cupid. That sculpture just feeds my soul.”

"Of course." He agreed with a smile, "Anything for you.We can leave whenever you wish." 

Setting down your tea, you then stood, "Well, then I'm going to go get ready." You leaned over him, just as he did to you earlier in the day, "I love you, Hel," You muttered as you cupped his cheek, leaning in close enough to press your lips against his. 

He hummed in response, tasting the flavor of rose from the Turkish Delights from your lips, one hand rising to grab the back of your thigh, lips brushing along yours; your love addicting. "I love you more, meine schatz." He muttered, his warm fingers caressing along your leg before you reluctantly slipped from his grasp. 

You wanted to stay, forever in his grasp, but if you didn’t go to get ready, you both would never leave. Backing up, you bit your bottom lip, trying to hide the almost giddy smile crawling on your kiss-plump lips, eyes fully focusing on his before you turned around and left the room; your cheeks burning.

Helmut watched you go, his eyes following you until you disappeared from sight. Fully making sure that you were gone, he waited a moment, before sticking his hand into his slacks’ pocket. He couldn't stop the adoring smile from growing on his face as he pulled out a small red, velvet box. As he opened it, his smile softened, his dark eyes looking over his gift to you, before he carefully shut it, and placed it back into his pocket.

~~~

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[justsomerandomfanfic]

Hello, my love! If you're still doing matchups, could I please get a romantic and platonic matchup for The Hobbit, X-men, Star Wars, Marvel & Supernatural?

I'm a decently quiet and closed-off person when you first meet me, but once I get to know you, I become a little louder and more open. I don't enjoy social places and prefer to stay at home most of the time, watching my favorite movies or TV shows (My favourite movie is Hairspray & my favourite tv show would probably have to be The Good Place)

I also really love reading. One of my favorite books would have to be 'A Room of One's Own' by Virginia Woolf. I am currently in uni studying English and philosophy with hopes of becoming an English teacher!

I'm around 5'5, with blonde hair and brown eyes. I normally wear colorful tights with a jean skirt, paired with either a baggy t-shirt or blouse. I'm Australian and Maltese. I speak Maltese around my family but, obviously, I speak English as well

I am okay with being shipped with either gender! Thank you so much, and I hope you have a lovely day xx.

Hello, yes, my matchups are still open! But, I would like to ask you to please read my Matchup Rules and send in your request again if you wish.

Thank you,

-Chloe :)