I have decided to open up my matchups inbox early! Matchups are currently open for a limited time! They will be open until September 1st, 2026 to allow enough time for everyone to submit their matchup request.
Please note before you request anything, to please read my Matchup Request Rules! HERE!
I have also, to those who do not know, have added three new fandoms to the ever-growing list at the bottom of my Matchup Request Rules; Video Games, Jane Austen, and Mystery;
Mystery - I will pick a mystery character for you. This means they may be from one of the fandoms already listed, or from one of the many other fandoms I know
Video Games - I’ll pick whoever I think is your best match from the various games I know, whether they’re from a popular title or something a bit more niche
Jane Austen - I’ll pick characters for you from the various Jane Austen movies/shows/books
If you have any questions, thoughts, ideas, please do not hesitate to message me in the comments, my private DMs, or the inbox!
Hello! It's me again, can I have a matchup for DreamWorks films? Still prefer male and female characters. I'll resend my info in case it got piled up.
I’m a 24-year-old transmasc (AFAB) genderfluid person who goes by he/they. I’m Southeast Asian with Spanish ancestry, light-skinned, around 5'3", and have soft, bunny-like visuals with dark brown eyes and messy brunette hair. My style is a mix of feminine tomboy, soft edgy, and casual chic. Personality-wise, I’m an ENTP-T, 4w5, and Neutral Good — a proud Catholic, creative, outspoken, and complex mix of warmth, softness, chaos, and unorthodoxy. I’m gentle and diplomatic but also feisty, dramatic, and easily restless, hypersensitive, and self-destructive with massive anger issues.
I love art, writing, theology, pageants, makeup, astronomy, K-pop, Formula 1, and 2000s songs and rock bands. My hobbies include drawing, singing, crafting, and indulging in random curiosities online. I dislike stereotypes, telenovelas, hypocrisy, gaslighting, toxic masculinity, telenovelas (because they romanticise some uncomfortable stuff that shouldn't), and heavy rains that remind me of typhoons.
I was diagnosed with mild ADHD as a child, shifted from Computer Science to English, and have been part of choirs and campus ministry. I’m both a saint in public and a chaos gremlin among friends with the pottiest mouth, but will hate you if you have zero empathy or just being too unbearable and harmful to others—a hopeless romantic who secretly hates men, yet still believes in love despite it all, while valuing freedom and personal space.
Hello!
Welcome back!
<33
I really hope you like your matchup!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic Matchup; DreamWorks
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
DreamWorks;
Miguel -
After the golden gates of El Dorado were left behind, Tulio, Miguel, and Chel
(And Altivo)
Found themselves carving out a nomadic life across Europe
By passing Spain entirely to avoid the authorities, they lives off clever wits, loaded dice, and whatever coins Chel's razor-sharp mind could swindle from unsuspecting aristocrats
They drifted from town to town, staying in bustling inns, never settling down
That was until they stepped into a dimly lit tavern in a quiet Italian port city
Seeking refuge from a dreary evening of rain
You were standing on a makeshift wooden stage near the fire
Wearing a loose-fitting linen shirt, a fitted vest, and trousers that framed your statue
Your soft features; dark brown eyes, pale skin, and a mop of messy brunette curls, were illuminated by the firelight
When you opened your mouth to sing, the entire tavern fell silent
Your voice carried a rich, complex warmth
A melody that sounded like pure velvet mixed with raw, electric soul
Miguel froze dead in his tracks, his lute dangling loosely from his hand, his eyes wide with immediate, thunderstruck adoration and awe
"Tulio..." Miguel breathed, clutching his heart dramatically, "Do you hear that? That isn't a mortal singing."
Tulio rolled his eyes, adjusting his collar, "Miguel, please. It's a tavern singer. We have fifty silver pieces to turn into two hundred before tomorrow evening."
"Look at him, Tulio! The passion! The spirit!" Miguel gasped, practically glowing
Chel smirked, leaning against a wooden pillar and giving Miguel a firm shove toward the stage
"Go talk to him, golden boy, before someone else buys him a drink."
Spurred on by Chel, Miguel stumbled forward, tripping slightly over his own shoes and nearly dropping his lute right as your song finished
You stepped off the low stage, taking a sip of your drink, when a tall, handsome man with long blonde hair and a wildly expressive face materialized in front of you, looking like a flustered golden retriever
"I- Oh! I'm sorry- I mean, pardon me! I didn't mean to barge into your personal space!" Miguel stammered, his usual effortless charm dissolving into a frantic mess of hand gestures, "Your singing! It was- It was transcendent! I'm Miguel!"
You blinked, your dark eyes sizing him up with your usual observant stare, "Are you alright? You look like you just ran away from a bull or something."
"Only the bull of my own clumsiness!" Miguel babbled, flushing bright red to the tips of his ears, "I just... I play the lute. I love music, culture, art, the endless beauty of the horizon! And your voice... It spoke to my very soul!"
Despite your deep-seated skepticism toward men and their grand proclamations, you found his total lack of posturing surprisingly adorable
There was zero toxic masculinity in his wide, earnest eyes
Sensing his genuine nature, you asked him about him and his companions
Though he dodged specifics about their "profession," his face lit up when he talked about the joy of the open road, the stars, and the thrill of good music
Recognizing a fellow artistic soul, you used your close friendship with the innkeeper to secure Miguel, Tulio, and Chel three comfortable rooms at a fraction of the cost
"You got us the upper suite?" Tulio asked, stunned, while Chel grinned slyly
"I told you he was a miracle worker, "Chel muttered, nudging Miguel, who was blushing so hard he hid his face behind his lute
"Shut up, both of you, you're embarrassing me!" Miguel hissed softly, before turning back to you with a brilliant, hopeful smile
"Play with me tomorrow night," You said, "let's see if that lute of yours can keep up with my voice."
(Yes, Altivo got a nice place in the local stables)
What was supposed to be a one-night stay turned into three, then a week
The tavern was packed every single evening to see the "Minstrel and the Songbird"
Miguel's bright, improvisational lute playing matched your soaring, dramatic vocal range perfectly
During the day, while Tulio and Chel were off planning their next low-profile/stakes scam, you and Miguel became inseparable
You introduced him as your "partner in chaos"
Away from the stage, where you acted like a polite, diplomatic saint, you'd sit in the back alleyways with Miguel, swearing like a sailor whenever a rude carriage driver almost splashed the both of you, or ranting about the hypocrisy of local rich men
Miguel adored it
He would throw his head back and laugh, delighted by the contrast between your soft, gentle visuals ad your sharp, potty-mouthed wit
You spent hours teaching him melodies inspired by your favorite music from different cultures
Miguel would strum along, fascinated by your unorthodox musical theories and theological debates about free will and divine art
Miguel never pushed your boundaries
He respected you
Treating you with a deep, equal respect that made your guarded heart slowly thaw
Tulio offered terrible, overly grand romantic advice
"Just write him a poem about his eyes, Miguel, and bow!"
Which Chel promptly shut down
"Ignore Tulio, just bring him those sweet pastries he likes and listen to him talk about stars"
Chel was the ultimate wing-woman, intentionally leaving you two alone on the inn’s balcony during sunset
By the end of the week, when the trio prepared to move to the next city, Miguel stood by Altivo, looking like his heart was breaking
"You could... Come with us, you know," Miguel blurted out, leaning on the saddle, his eyes filled with hopeful desperation, "No schedules. No strict rules. Just art, music, freedom, and the whole world waiting for us."
You looked at Tulio, who gave a resigned nod
"He hasn't shut up about you for seven days, please save us"
And Chel, who grinned warmly
You packed your bags that afternoon
Life on the road suited your easily restless nature, but it also brought challenges
During a sudden, heavy downpour in the French countryside, the roaring thunder and torrents of water reminded you vividly of violent typhoons, triggering a wave of intense anxiety and sensory overload
While Tulio complained about his wet boots, Miguel immediately noticed you shutting down
Your knuckles were white as you clutched your cloak, your breathing shallow
Without making a grand scene, Miguel gently guided your horse next to his
He reached out, his warm, calloused musician's hand resting over yours
"Hey," Miguel said softly, his voice dropping into that tender, grounding tone he reserved only for you, "Look at me, mi corazón. Just focus on my voice. We're going to find a dry cave just up this ridge. You're safe."
He pulled out his cloak to shield you from the wind and softly hummed one of your favorite slow melodies until the anxiety passed
When your hypersensitivity or sudden bursts of anger flared up over hypocritical people you met in towns, Miguel never judged you or called you "too dramatic"
He listened, validated your anger, and smoothed out your ruffled feathers with warm hugs, sweet words of affirmation, and quiet empathy
It happened in a ruined, overgrown amphitheater on a hill overlooking the Mediterranean Sea
Tulio and Chel had gone into the nearby village to "acquire" supplies, leaving you and Miguel sitting on the ancient stone steps under a canopy of bright, clear stars
You were wearing your soft, casual-chic traveling clothes
You were sketching the constellations in your leather journal while humming
Miguel was sitting a step below you, gazing up at you with so much reverence it made your breath catch
"What?" You asked, leaning forward, a sarcastic smirk gracing your lips to hide your sudden nervousness, "Do I have charcoal on my face again?"
"No," Miguel whispered, shaking his head slowly, a brilliant, tender smile gracing his face, "You just... You look like a painting. A masterpiece that keeps changing every single day."
You paused, your dark brown eyes meeting his, "Miguel..."
He sat up, taking your hands in his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, his green eyes sparkling with absolute sincerity
"I know you've been hurt by the world. I know you guard your heart, and I respect your freedom more than anything in this life," Miguel said, his voice trembling slightly with emotion, "I am hopelessly, entirely in love with you, saint, chaos gremlin, and all. You don't ever have to change for me. I just want to make music with you for as long as you'll let me."
Your heart did a violent somersault
The hopeless romantic inside you - the part you hid behind sharp humor and cynicism - surrendered completely
"You're a hopeless idiot, Miguel," You murmured, a genuine, soft smile breaking across your face as a tear pricked your eye
"Your idiot?" He asked hopefully
"My idiot," You confirmed, leaning down to pull him into a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of sea salt, wine, and absolute freedom
He often calls you, "Mi Corazón," "Mi Amor," "Little Gremlin" when you're swearing at terrible carriage drivers, and "Mi Sol"
You call him "Goldie," or "Migs" when you're being sweet
Miguel loves introducing you to people
In public, you are the polite, educated English/Theology scholar who speaks diplomatically
But the second you two get back to your inn room and you let out a string of colorful curses about a pompous nobleman, Miguel collapses onto the bed giggling uncontrollably
"Tell me how you really feel, mi amor!"
Because you love astronomy, Miguel will set up late-night dates on hillsides
He’ll lay out heavy blankets, uncork a bottle of sweet wine (that y'all stole), and lie beside you for hours while you point out constellations and explain theological theories about the heavens
You two love busking in town squares just for the pure joy of it
You’ll sing a high-energy rock-inspired duet while Miguel dances around you with his lute, winking at the crowd and pulling you into spontaneous spins
When you're in a creative mood, Miguel sits patiently as your model
He’ll strike dramatic, heroic poses for your sketches, making funny faces when his muscles start to ache just to make you laugh
Miguel is fascinated by your makeup skills and loves watching you apply it
He’ll sit on the edge of the washbasin, gently tucking your messy brunette curls behind your ears, begging you to let him try putting eyeliner on him
He gets you unique trinkets from every city you visit
Rare leather-bound notebooks for your writing, custom silver jewelry, small crafting tools, and delicate astronomy charts
Evenings are spent in cozy inn rooms
After a long day of traveling, Miguel will sit behind you on the bed, pulling you back against his chest
He’ll wrap his long arms securely around you, resting his chin on your shoulder while you sing acoustic songs softly into the quiet room, his thumb stroking your hands until you both drift off to sleep
~~~
DreamWorks;
Eris -
The sea was a churning monster, mirroring devastating typhoons
Waves crashed over the deck of the vessel carrying you toward a new chapter, throwing you into the freezing, dark depths
You gasped, swallowing seawater, your messy brunette hair fanning out like smoke around your pale face
Your dark brown eyes began to dim as the icy grip of the ocean claimed you
Then, the water receded from your lungs
You snapped awake, coughing violently, to find a massive dome of air surrounding your head
You were lying on the abyssal seabed, surrounded by glowing bioluminescent flora
Floating above you, her starry, smoke-like form shifting and undulating with divine fluid elegance, was Eris, the Goddess of Chaos
Her eyes glinted with deep, wicked amusement, her dark mane trailing into the deep blue like ink
"Well, well, well... What a curious little creature," Her voice echoed, velvet-soft yet reverberating with absolute power, "I summoned a storm to sink a boring fleet of merchants, but instead, the sea delivers you."
You sat up, shivering in your soaked, soft-edgy outfit
"Who... Who the hell are you?" You rasped, your feisty edge cutting through the sheer terror, "And why did you wreck my ship, you chaotic psycho?!"
Eris threw her head back, her booming laugh rippling through the water
"Oh, delightful. I am Eris, darling. Goddess of Chaos, Discord, and everything delicious. And you... You have no idea what you truly are, do you?"
She drifted downward, her colossal, smoky hand shrinking to human proportion as she cupped your jaw with long, icy fingers
She stared into your soul, seeing past your soft, bunny-like visuals to the fiery divinity buried beneath
"You carry the dormant hearth-fire of Hestia," Eris purred, her eyes narrowing in dark fascination, "A child of the goddess of warmth and sanctuary, trapped in a mortal shell. You are bound to an ancient prophecy, little flame. And I am going to teach you how to burn."
For months, Eris kept you in her vast, shifting realm
A realm of shadow, floating constellations, and shattered marble pillars
She didn't treat you like a fragile human; she treated you as an intellectual equal, validating your identity without a second thought
Your daily routine involved deep, explosive debates
As an English major with a love for theology, you would challenge her on morality, human empathy, and divine corruption
Eris adored it
She’d lounge on a throne, chin resting in her hand, watching your dark brown eyes light up as you ranted about toxic masculinity, hypocrisy, or the philosophical flaws in classical pantheons
You were a saint in public and a total chaos gremlin in private
A duality that drove Eris wild
You’d sing rock anthems at the top of your lungs, echoing through the abyss, or draw intricate, gothic sketches of her in your journal
When your ADHD restlessness or explosive anger flared up, Eris wouldn't tell you to calm down
Instead, she’d hand you divine glass globes and encourage you to shatter them against the stars
"Look at you," Eris would chuckle, trailing a long fingernail down the bridge of your nose, right over your soft, delicate features, "A delicate little rabbit with the bite of a hydra. Show me that temper again, my little ember."
The shift happened during an afternoon when you were feeling deeply overwhelmed by the sheer scale of your emerging divine powers
You were sitting on the edge of a floating cosmic cliff, hands wrapped around your knees
Eris materialized beside you, not as a giant shadow, but in her refined, stunning human-sized form
She didn't press for physical contact - respecting your personal space - but simply sat, her hair flowing around you like a cool midnight breeze
"You're quiet today," Eris murmured, her tone unusually soft, "Usually, you're cursing out the Olympian gods or singing those dreadful, loud songs."
"I just... Feel out of place," You admitted, staring at the swirling nebulae, "I hate how the world tries to box me in. I hate how men treat people. I hate being constrained."
Eris leaned in, her cool breath brushing your ear, "Then burn the boxes, darling. You are space, you are fire, you are whatever you choose to be today. In my realm, you are boundless."
She reached out, gently tucking a strand of messy brunette hair behind your ear
When your dark brown eyes locked onto hers, you didn't see a terrifying monster
You saw a partner who saw your complex, dramatic soul and loved every jagged edge of it
You had finally unlocked your divine Hestian fire, summoning a massive, brilliant golden flame that illuminated the dark void, turning the shadowy realm into a glowing, warm sanctuary
You stood there, breathless, your chest heaving, a fierce, victorious grin breaking across your face
Eris floated toward you, utterly spellbound
The Goddess of Chaos, who thrived on destruction, was completely captivated by the warmth of your hearth
"Magnificent," She whispered, stepping directly into your fire, unbothered by the heat
She reached out, cupping your cheeks, her eyes wide with an emotion she had never felt in ten thousand years, "You are chaotic perfection. A saint with a sailor's mouth, a god of warmth who hates the world."
"Eris..." You breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs
"I want you," she declared dramatically, her voice echoing across the cosmos, "Not just as my pupil. Not just as a pawn in the cosmos. I want your mind, your fire, your sarcastic, feisty little heart."
She gifts you black-diamond-studded silver jewelry, rare theological texts lost to time, high-end dark makeup, and custom-crafted clothing woven from actual starlight
You gift her hand-crafted clay figures and original poetry
It was months later when the prophecy finally reached its climax
You were standing in the grand astral temple, your powers fully matured
You happened upon Eris’s pool
A dark, liquid mirror that showed memories
Curious, you touched the water, watching the scene from the day you drowned
Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces
In the vision, Eris hadn't saved you out of kindness
She had deliberately caused the typhoon that wrecked your ship, searching specifically for the offspring of Hestia
Her original plan was cold, calculating, and manipulative: train you, unlock your Hestian fire, and use your divine heart to burn down the gates of Olympus so she could reign supreme over the ruins
You were meant to be a weapon
"Enjoying the show?"
Eris’s voice came from behind you
You turned around, your dark brown eyes filled with raw betrayal, tears welling up
Your chest burned with that familiar, destructive anger
"You used me," You spat, your voice trembling with pure venom, "The ship... The storm... The prophecy. It was all just a game to you! I was just a damn weapon!"
Eris froze
For the first time since the creation of the world, the Goddess of Chaos looked genuinely shocked
She stepped forward, hands outstretched, "Little Ember-"
"Don't 'Little Ember' me!" You yelled, your Hestian fire flaring up violently around you, scorching the obsidian floor, "I trusted you! I actually believed you cared about me! You're just like every other manipulative, power-hungry creature in the universe!"
Eris didn't fight back
She didn't summon her cosmic shadow
She simply stood there, letting your divine fire singe her smoky form, her eyes filled with profound, devastating sorrow
"It was a game," Eris admitted, "In the beginning... Yes. I brought down the storm to find you. I wanted to use your fire to destroy my enemies. I treated you like a piece on a chessboard."
She took a slow, deliberate step toward you
"But I didn't count on you," She spoke, "I didn't count on your sharp, brilliant mind. I didn't count on your laugh when you sing those ridiculous songs. I didn't count on falling hopelessly, pathetically in love with a stubborn, chaotic god with a bunny smile and a fiery soul."
"I broke my own rules for you," Eris murmured, staring into your eyes, "I gave up the plan months ago. But if you hate me... If you want to burn me to ash for what I did... I won't stop you."
You stood there in the quiet, the fire crackling around you
She had lied, she had manipulated, and she had started it all as a wicked game... But as you looked into her eyes, you knew the love she had for you now was real
Bittersweet, messy, and unorthodox - just like the two of you
You let out a long, shaky breath, your fire slowly extinguishing into soft, warm embers
You crossed your arms, looking down at her with a sarcastic, tearful glare
"You are an absolute nightmare, Eris," You wiped your eyes, your feisty edge returning, "And you owe me a new ship."
Hi! I saw that your match up is open and I wanna send one in. I would like Harry Potter, Stranger things, and Marvel both Romantic and Platonic
I am a Bisexual and 16, my skin would not stay in one color, if I stay under the sun for too long I get darker but if I stay inside I get lighter, I have an almost flat stomach and good amount of muscles on my legs and arms, I have black long messy hair with cutain bangs or wavy because when I don't comb it, it just looks wavy and brown eyes.
My hobbies and interests are painting and crafting, I read mostly on my phone but I read classic books like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, the works. I am interested in psychology and science, mostly aimed at marine biology and history. My music is varied, I listen to anything I find pleasing but the common musics that I noticed I listen to is grunge, emo, indie, and during the 2000s and before the 2000s music like Elvis and The Queens. I also like nightime and I always have either a headphone or earphone on me to listen to music 24/7 (I still wonder how I am not deaf) oh, and I know sign language and communicate it with anyone that knows it.
My personality? I would say in school, I would be the average kid or the quiet kid, the one that fades in the background, I also tend to follow rules sometimes and be early or on time to class but I'm not like this always. I'm also sarcastic, I am angered easily if provoked but I keed quiet about it, I am shy but I can easily befriend anyone that I can click with. I also show my love through service or being present.
I hope this is alright? I'm not sure if I'm missing anything.
Hello!
Your request is great, don't worry, all that is missing are your pronouns, so I hope it is okay that I refer to you using they/them pronouns <3
I hope you like your matches!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic and Platonic Matchups; Harry Potter, Stranger Things, and Marvel
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Harry Potter;
Theodore Nott -
Theodore Nott was an expert at blending into the stone walls of Hogwarts when he wanted to
But you were the one person who managed to eclipse him
It was a rainy Sunday night in your Fourth Year
You were sitting in the deepest recesses in the library
The glow of your candle faintly illuminating your face as you snuck in a few your chapters of Percy Jackson
You had your headphones on, playing a muted loop of 90s grunge
With your long, messy, black, wavy hair falling forward with those curtain bangs framing your face
Theo had walked down the aisle looking for something
He stopped dead in his tracks
You were wearing an oversized knit jumper and pants, your silver ring-cad fingers turning a page as you continued to read
Theo blinked, his eyes sharpening with curiosity
He never saw a Muggle book before
"Is the desk occupied, or are you just using it to hide from the rest of the castle?" Theo's voice was low, laced with his dry, aristocratic sarcasm
You slipped one cup of your headphones off one ear, your brown eyes meeting his, "It's occupied by me," You deadpanned smoothly, "So, take a seat, if you want."
Theo allowed the ghost of a smirk to touch his lips
He sat down across from you, opening his book, and for the next three hours, neither of you said another word
It was the most comfortable silence either of you had experienced all year
Your friendship built itself in the shadows of the school
While the rest of the Slytherins and their peers were making noise in the Great Hall, you and Theo developed a quiet rhythm
You were the "average kid" who faded into the background of classes, always arriving early or on time, sitting in the back row
Theo would quietly slip into the seat beside you, especially when you shared classes
Because you both preferred the night, you'd sneak out to the edge of the Black Lake after hours
You'd sit on the damp grass, the cool lake breeze making your wavy hair wilder
You'd pull up your book to read, or watercolor small canvases
While Theo sat beside you, resting his chin on his knees, listening to you ramble about marine biology, deep-sea ecosystems, or your favorite Muggle books
"Did you know," You said one night, your voice soft as you carefully mixed a deep indigo paint, "That the immortal jellyfish can literally revert its cells back to childhood when it gets stressed?"
Theo watched your profile, the moonlight catching the muscle tone in your arms as you worked the brush, "A useful trait," He murmured, his gaze lingering on your face, "I wish I could revert my cells whenever Malfoy starts talking about his father."
You let out a sudden, sharp laugh
A rare, genuine sound that made Theo’s chest tighten
Theo’s usual circle - Blaise Zabini, Draco Malfoy Pansy Parkinson, and the rest - began to notice his sudden disappearances
Theo was never one for loud Slytherin house parties, but now he was outright refusing to go, choosing instead to sit in a quiet corridor while you worked on a wood-crafting project or read classic books
The teasing started small, "Where's Nott? Off brooding with the quiet kid again?"
Soon, rumors swirled
People said Theo was taking pity on you, or worse, that you were just a phase
You caught wind of the rumors through the castle grapevine
Being easily provoked but prone to holding your anger inside, you kept your jaw clenched and your mouth shut, but a cold insecurity settled in
You had unintentional abandonment issues, and you assumed Theo would eventually realize you didn't fit into his grand world
One evening in the library, you pulled off your headphones and looked at him directly
"You know, if your friends are giving you a hard time for hanging out with me, you don't have to keep doing this. I'm fine on my own."
Theo stopped reading
He looked at you, his eyes dark with annoyance
Not at you, but at the question
"My 'friends' are idiots who lack the intellectual capacity to understand the concept of peace," He said bluntly, leaning across the table, "I hang out with you because I want to. Don't listen to them."
A month later, the tension snapped
You were walking down a secluded corridor near the dungeon entrance, heading to the library, when you heard raised voices around the corner
You stepped back into the shadows, listening
Theo was standing there, his posture rigid, confronting Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and a couple of the others
"Come on, Nott," Draco sneered with a sharp, mocking laugh, "It’s getting embarrassing. You skip every gathering in the common room just to sit in the dirt by the Black Lake with them? They don't even talk to you much! They just sit there with those stupid headphones on, looking like a ghost. Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings for someone so mind-numbingly boring. You look like an idiot following them around everywhere, like some puppy."
You felt a cold spike in your chest, your knuckles whitening around your sketchbook
But before you could turn away, Theo moved
In a flash of pure, unbridled rage, Theo stepped forward, grabbed Draco by the front of his robes, and shoved him hard against the stone wall
The impact echoed down the corridor
"Say another word about them," Theo snarled, his voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly whisper, his face inches from Draco's, "Say one more thing, and I swear, Malfoy, you won't walk to your next class. They have more intelligence, grace, and value in their little finger than you do in your entire bloodline. Get out of my sight. Now."
Draco, shocked by the sudden violence from the usually aloof and quiet Theo, put his hands up, cursed under his breath, and scrambled away with Crabbe and Goyle (and some others) close behind
Theo stood alone in the corridor, chest heaving, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his knuckles white from gripping the fabric
You slowly stepped out from behind the pillar, your heart hammering against your ribs
"Theo?" You called softly
He whipped around, his eyes wide, looking slightly awkward and instantly defensive
He straightened his cuffs, trying to put his cool, aloof mask back on, "You... You shouldn't have seen that."
He always made it his mission for you to never see that side of him
You walked toward him, your brown eyes searching his
You tried to cover your rising nerves with a layer of your usual dry sarcasm
"What was that all about? I mean... They had to be joking, right? It's not like you actually... Like-like me or anything."
Theo stared at you
The hallway went dead silent
The aloofness melted away, replaced by a dark, intense focus
He took three slow, deliberate steps toward you
Before you could react, Theo reached out, his hand wrapping around your wrist, and gently backed you up until your spine hit the cool stone wall
He stepped into your space, completely blocking out the rest of the world
He raised his hand, his long fingers cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look into his piercing eyes
"Do you really think I’d waste my time standing in the damp grass at two in the morning listening to you explain the anatomy of a giant squid if I didn't 'like-like' you?" Theo whispered, his thumb lightly tracing your jawline, making a shiver run down your spine, "I am utterly, completely consumed by you. I like-like you so much it pisses me off."
Your breath hitched, "Oh," You breathed, a tiny, shy smile breaking through your shock, your single dimple showing, "Well... That's good."
Theo’s eyes softened, a real, breathtaking smile touching his lips before he leaned down and pressed a slow, deep kiss to your lips
He calls you "Amore" when he’s being affectionate in private
You call him "Teddy," or "Nott" when you’re being sarcastic
Theo buys you high-end art supplies, vintage leather-bound journals, classic Muggle literature, and rare dark-wood frames for your paintings
You give him handmade crafts
Small hand-carved wooden animals and watercolor paintings of the constellations
Theo loves sitting next to you while you share an earbud
He’ll sit on his bed in the Slytherin dorms or in a quiet alcove, resting his head on your shoulder while listening to bands like Deftones, Nirvana, or The Cure
He doesn't always understand the lyrics, but he loves that it’s the soundtrack to your mind
You’ll sit on the floor of an empty classroom, canvas spread out
You'll be wearing one of his heavy Slytherin jumpers that drowns your frame
Theo will sit behind you, his long legs wrapped around yours, his chin resting on your shoulder as he watches you paint
He’ll occasionally kiss the side of your neck when you're focusing too hard
Because your love language is being present and doing things for people, you show your love by fixing the hems of his robes or painting him something
He repays this by ensuring you always have a warm drink, carrying your heavy books, and creating a physical barrier between you and loud crowds whenever your anxiety flares up
~~~
Stranger Things;
Max Mayfield -
Hawkins Middle School was ablaze with rumors about the new girl from California
Max Mayfield stood by her locker on her very first day
She was aggressively trying to force a jammed locker door open, her fiery red hair swaying with every sharp tug
The hallway was buzzing, and a few kids were staring or snickering, but no one offered a hand
You walked down the hall in your usual low-profile outfit
A thrifted dark flannel shirt over a faded band tee, carrying a sketchbook tucked under your arm, headphones resting loosely around your neck playing faint, muffled tracks of 70s grunge and emo tunes from your cassette player
You weren't one to draw attention to yourself
As a quiet, background student who preferred observing people through a psychological lens, you could read Max’s body language instantly: she was terrified, overstimulated, and masking it with pure rage
Without saying a word, you stepped up beside her
You reached down, gave the bottom left corner of the locker a precise, firm kick
A trick you knew from being on time every morning
And pulled the latch
The metal door popped open with a heavy click
Max blinked, her eyes darting from the open locker to you
She adjusted her grip on her skateboard, her guard instantly going up
"I had it under control," She snapped, though her voice lacked real bite
You pulled one ear of your headphones down, offering a tiny, dry smirk, "Right. The door was clearly about to surrender out of fear."
Max stared at you for two seconds before a reluctant, sharp little grin broke through her scowl, "I'm Max."
"I know. The whole school's been gossiping about the 'mad' skateboarder all morning," You replied calmly. "I'm Y/N. If you want someone to show you where the classrooms actually are without giving you a tour of the local loser spots, I'm heading that way."
From that single moment, you became the one person Max actually trusted to be straightforward with her
While Lucas and Dustin fought for her attention at the arcade, your friendship with Max was built on a shared desire to escape the noise
You were the quiet anchor in her chaotic, volatile home life with Billy and her stepfather
While Max dominated the Dig Dug leaderboard, you’d sit on a nearby bench, your muscular legs stretched out, sketchbook on your lap, drawing quick psychological gestures of the arcade patrons or painting small watercolor landscapes on thick paper
Max loved that you didn't smother her
Since you practically lived with headphones glued to your ears, Max quickly picked up on your music taste
You introduced her to heavy grunge and raw indie tracks that matched her inner angst
On quiet afternoons sitting on the curb outside her trailer park, you’d hand her one earbud
You’d listen to the moody bass-lines in complete, comfortable silence
One afternoon, while sitting in your room surrounded by your classic paperbacks, Max noticed you signing softly to yourself while trying to translate a song lyric
"What are you doing with your hands?" She asked, kicking her feet against your bed frame
"Sign language," You answered, demonstrating a few letters, "It's easier to express things sometimes when you don't want to make noise."
Max sat up, her interest piqued, "Teach me something rude to sign at my stepbrother."
You laughed, your dark brown eyes lighting up, and taught her a few sharp phrases
From then on, the two of you developed a secret language
Across crowded classrooms or during chaotic party arguments, Max would catch your eye and sign 'bored' or 'get me out of here'
Max started noticing the little details about you
She loved how your skin tone shifted throughout the year
Darkening during long summer days spent outdoors sketching marine life near the local lake, and softening during winter months spent reading inside
She noticed the strong, lean muscle in your arms and legs from your active habits, and how your long, dark wavy hair framed your face with those effortless curtain bangs
It was a humid July night
Max was overwhelmed by the escalating weirdness in Hawkins and the constant tension at home
She showed up at your window at eleven PM, her eyes red-rimmed, clutching her skateboard
You didn't ask questions
You immediately opened the window, pulled her inside, and handed her your spare pair of comfortable headphones, playing a soft, rhythmic indie instrumental
You sat her down on your bed, pulled out a wet washcloth, and gently wiped the dirt and dried tears from her cheeks
Max watched you work, taking in your calm demeanor and the quiet strength in your hands
"You never ask me to explain myself," Max whispered, her voice cracking slightly over the music leaking from the headphones
"You talk when you want to talk, Mayfield," You said softly, setting the cloth down and sitting cross-legged in front of her, "Otherwise, I'm just here."
Max looked down at your hands, then reached out, lacing her fingers through yours, "I don't think I just like hanging out with you because you're quiet and understnd me," She confessed, her cheeks flushing red to match her hair, "I think... I think I'm safer when I'm with you than anywhere else."
The official confession happened at the Starcourt Mall parking lot, right before everything fell apart with the Mind Flayer
The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in deep purples and oranges
Max was sitting on the edge of the ambulance, her legs dangling over the side, wearing her bright yellow t-shirt and jeans
You were sitting right next to her, your dark hair blowing softly in the evening breeze
You gave her a napkin to dry her tears
"You're such an idiot," She breathed, her breath catching, "You bring me food when I forget to eat, you fixed my locker on day one, you build me stuff, and you listen to my dumb rants about movie sequels."
"Is that a bad thing?" You asked dryly
"No," Max said, her hand moving up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your curtain bangs, "It makes me want to do this."
She leaned in and kissed your cheek
"You like me?"
She nodded, "Since you got me those Wonder Woman comics."
You grinned, mimicking hers, "Then, don't go getting distracted by anyone else in class, okay? You're stuck with me."
Being Max Mayfield’s partner means balancing her fiery, sarcastic energy with your grounded, protective presence
You complement each other like a storm and a steady harbor
You and Max own the night
When Hawkins goes to sleep, you two head out to empty asphalt lots
She teaches you complex skateboard tricks, laughing loudly when you lose your balance, while you show off your strength by lifting her up easily to sit on high fences or ledge tops to watch the stars
You take her to local creeks and lakes
While you dive into the water
Max sits on the shore, taking photos of you with a polaroid camera or joining you
On rainy afternoons, Max will lie sideways across your lap while you read classic fantasy books
She’ll fiddle with her fingers while listening to the cadence of your voice.
Max saved up her own arcade winnings to buy you a high-end set of dark purple audio headphones, replacing your frayed old ones
Inside the headband, she clumsily scratched your initials next to hers with a pocketknife
You constantly craft small things for her
Custom hair ties for her long red hair, hand-drawn comic strips starring the two of you as superhero detectives, and late-night snacks snuck through her trailer window when things are tough at home and she couldn't sneak out
~~~
Marvel;
Miles Morales (Spider-Man) -
Miles Morales was completely lost in the pristine, intimidating hallways of Visions Academy
Wearing his oversized hoodie and clutching a map that made zero sense, he looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole
Until the counselor assigned you to show him around
You were standing by the lockers, headphones draped over your neck, wearing an oversized faded 2000s grunge band tee over long sleeves, your dark, wavy hair with curtain bangs framing your face
You gave him a dry, sarcastic once-over, but your tone was surprisingly welcoming
"You look like you're about to hyperventilate, Morales," You said, shifting your sketchbook under your arm, "Relax. The prep kids here look scary, but they’re harmless if you ignore them. I'm Y/N."
Miles let out a huge breath, rubbing the back of his neck, "Man, thank god. Everyone here walks so fast. And why are the hallways so bright?"
"To keep us awake," You replied with a small smirk, adjusting your headphones back over your ears, "Come on. I’ll show you where the art rooms are first. That's the only place worth being anyway."
Because you were usually the quiet kid who faded into the background, no one expected you to click with the new guy so quickly
But Miles loved your low-key, grounded energy, and you appreciated his warmth and humor
Your friendship was built on late-night studio sessions, shared music playlists, and silent communication across crowded classrooms
You taught Miles basic sign language so you could talk during boring lectures without making a sound
He caught on surprisingly fast, though he’d constantly sign ridiculous jokes across the room just to watch you fight back a laugh while taking notes on marine biology or history
You were never seen without headphones, blasting 2000s emo, indie, or old-school Elvis tracks
Miles was constantly stealing one of your earbuds to listen in
"Wait, holds up- Is this Elvis?" Miles asked one afternoon, leaning against a brick wall while you painted, "You're listening to 'Can't Help Falling in Love' while doing a grunge sketch?"
"It's classic, Miles. Respect the royalty," You deadpanned, lightly nudging him with your shoe
You were actually there the day his hands started sticking to everything
When he accidentally pulled a chunk of hair out of Gwen’s head and panicked in the hallway, you were the one who grabbed his wrist, dragged him into an empty janitor's closet, and helped him unstick his fingers with calm, practical psychology tricks to lower his heart rate
When he became Spider-Man, you didn't freak out
You just became his primary crew, helping him design his gear and keeping his secrets
Since your love language is acts of service and being present, you showed your affection through quiet, constant support
When Miles was exhausted from midnight Spider-Man patrols, you’d show up at his dorm window with a hot sandwich, a fresh sketchbook, or just sit quietly on the floor beside him while he did his homework, keeping him company so he didn't feel isolated
Miles, being hyper-observant and a fellow artist, noticed every small detail about you:
He noticed how your skin tone shifted from a lighter during long study sessions indoors to rich and warm whenever you spent afternoons sketching in the sun at the park
He admired your strong, athletic build
Tracing the slight muscle definition in your arms when you were mixing heavy paints or crafting 3D art pieces
He fell head-over-heels for the way your brown eyes softened whenever you were deeply focused on a painting or explaining a random marine biology fact about deep-sea bioluminescence
The shift happened on a rooftop after a rough battle
Miles was sitting on the ledge, his mask pulled up above his nose, bruised and emotionally drained
You didn't say a word
You just sat down right beside him, pulled off your headphones, put one earbud into his ear playing a soft indie track, and leaned your shoulder against him
"You don't have to talk, Miles," You said softly, "I'm right here."
Miles looked at you, the neon lights of Brooklyn reflecting in your brown eyes
He felt the steady, grounding presence of you, and his heart did a massive leap, "Yeah," He thought, "I'm completely done for."
You came over to his secret hideout for graffiti after class, carrying a bag of snacks, expecting to see him working on a classic sticker design
Instead, the entire back wall was covered in a massive, vibrant graffiti mural
It depicted a stunning silhouette of you, surrounded by glowing sea creatures, vinyl records, and vibrant pink and teal spider-webs
You froze in the doorway, the bag almost slipping from your hands, "Miles... What is this?"
Miles stepped out from behind a pillar, , looking more nervous than he ever did fighting supervillains
"It's... Well, it's you," Miles said, scratching the back of his neck, his voice dropping to that soft, genuine tone he only used with you, "I was trying to practice my shading, but... Every time I paint lately, it just turns into you."
You walked up to the wall, your eyes wide, tracing the sprayed lines with your fingers, "It's incredible, Miles."
"I like you, Y/N," Miles blurted out, stepping right up behind you, "Like, really like you. You're the most grounding, cool, brilliant person I know. You keep me centered when everything else is chaotic. And... I know you show love by being there for people, so... I just wanted to be present for you, too."
You turned around, looking into his warm eyes, a genuine, rare smile breaking across your face
Before he could process it, you reached up, pulled him down by his hoodie strings, and kissed him
When you pulled back, Miles had a goofy, dazzled grin on his face
You bring your paints, clay, and wood-carving tools
Miles brings his sketchbooks and spray cans
You sit on top of his favorite water tower overlooking the city sky, sharing a single pair of headphones, working on your respective projects in cozy, comfortable silence
You force Miles to go to the natural history museum and local aquariums
While most people walk fast, you spend twenty minutes staring at a single octopus tank explaining its psychological behavior
Miles doesn't care about the fish
He just stands there with his arm wrapped around your waist, watching you talk with absolute adoration
Because you have great leg strength and agility, Miles loves taking you "graffiti scouting" through low-key Brooklyn neighborhoods at night
You'll jog through back alleys, scout cool brick walls, and keep watch for him while he paints
When you're sitting on his dorm floor doing classic literature reading on your phone, Miles will sit behind you on his bed, gently running his fingers through your long, wavy black hair, pinning your curtain bangs back so they don't block your eyes
Braiding it if he can
He’ll constantly slide one of your earphone buds out just to whisper something sweet against your ear
He makes you custom-painted headphones decorated with subtle spider-web patterns and marine life; hand-drawn bookmarks featuring Percy Jackson and Harry Potter themes for your reading; oversized vintage band hoodies he "accidentally" leaves in your room so you can wear them
You make him handmade utility pouches for his Spider-Man suit; customized paint-can holders; quiet acts of service like fixing his suit seams or organizing his chaotic desk while he sleeps.
"Miles," You say one evening, looking over your phone as you lay across his bed, your legs kicking slightly in the air, "You've been staring at me for ten minutes."
Miles is sitting at his desk, a pencil poised over a fresh page, giving you a smooth, crooked smile, "Can't help it. The light hitting your hair right now is a artist's dream. Hold still."
You roll your eyes
You slip off your headphones, set them on his desk, and pull him down by his collar for a slow, sweet kiss
"Fine. But you owe me a milkshake after this."
"Deal," Miles mutters against your lips, grinning brightly, "Best trade I've made all week."
~~~
Platonic;
~~~
Harry Potter;
Luna Lovegood -
Your friendship with Luna Lovegood goes back long before Hogwarts
Your parents and Xenophilius Lovegood were old friends, meaning you spent countless childhood summers roaming the strange, hilly countryside
While the other kids thought the Lovegoods were odd, you found absolute comfort in their peaceful world
When you both entered your same year at Hogwarts, the bond only grew deeper
You’d sit together at the Ravenclaw table (or across tables during dinner), where you’d quietly eat while reading
"Your aura is a very deep shade of indigo today," Luna remarked softly one afternoon, sitting beside you near the Black Lake
She was threading bright orange radishes onto a string, "It means you've been thinking about very big, ancient things."
"I was actually reading about deep-sea hydrothermal vents and giant squids," You replied, lowering your phone with a slight smile, "So... Accurate, surprisingly."
Luna is the one person in the world who will never, ever judge you for fading into the background, being quiet, or getting fiercely annoyed when people push your buttons
Your favorite way to spend an afternoon is sitting on the grass near the Owlery
You’ll be intensely focused on a new painting or a craft project, while Luna sits beside you creating her famous butterbeer cork necklaces or sketching Wrackspurts
When you start hyper-fixating and rambling about marine biology or psychology, Luna doesn't just nod along
She integrates her own whimsical world into yours
Since you thrive at night, you and Luna frequently sneak out to the Astronomy Tower or the edge of the grounds under the cover of darkness
You’ll look up at the stars, discussing the psychology of dreams, ancient muggle history, and the quiet beauty of the world when everyone else is asleep
You show your love by being a steady, present force in Luna’s life
Especially when other students steal her shoes or tease her
You don't make a loud scene; instead, you quietly track down her hidden belongings, repair them with your crafting skills, and hand them back without making a big deal out of it
You paint beautiful, vibrant portraits of magical creatures Luna describes to you - like Nargles or Blibbering Humdingers
Luna treasures these, hanging them up in her room at the Lovegood house
~~~
Stranger Things;
Jonathan Byers -
Transferring to Hawkins High in the mid-80s mid-semester was a special kind of social nightmare
While other kids were obnoxious in the halls
You kept your head down, headphones plugged into your cassette player blasting 70s indie and grunge, your long, wavy black hair with curtain bangs framing your face
You first bumped into Jonathan in the hallway right outside the darkroom
You were holding a stack of heavy art supplies and a thick book for history class, and he had his trusty camera slung around his neck
You both literally ran into each other, sending paints and film rolling across the floor
Sorry- Crap, I'm so sorry," Jonathan mumbled, dropping to his knees instantly to help you scoop up your things, his messy brown hair falling into his eyes
"It's fine." You replied deadpan
He caught sight of the cassette tape peeking out of your bag
His eyes lit up, "You listen to The Clash?"
"Only when I want to survive second-period History." You said, adjusting your headphones around your neck
Jonathan is the ultimate quiet kid, and being around him is an absolute relief because there is zero pressure to perform or be "on"
After school, you’d walk together to his house or head straight to his darkroom
While Jonathan hung up damp photo prints to dry under the red light, you’d sit on his floor with your sketchbooks, paints, or crafting tools
Music is your shared love language
Jonathan will sit on the edge of his bed, carefully writing out track lists on index cards for custom mixtapes he makes for you
He’ll slide a fresh tape across his desk: "Track four is an obscure 70s garage track. Thought of you when I heard the bassline"
You reciprocate by sharing grunge and indie finds that make his eyes widen with inspiration
You two can go four hours without speaking a single word, and it’s never awkward
You’ll be lost in painting a canvas or reading classics while he’s reviewing pictures
Just having each other’s presence in the room is a grounding anchor
~~~
Marvel;
Peter Parker (Spider-Man) -
Your introduction to Peter Parker was... Unorthodox, to say the least
Being Tony Stark’s family came with a lot of weird perks, but being recruited onto Team Iron Man was by far the wildest
You were brought in thanks to your athletic build, leg strength, and sharp, tactical mind
During the airport battle, you noticed the guy in the red-and-blue spandex rambling non-stop while flipping off crates
It wasn't until after the battle, back in New York, that Tony casually dropped the bomb: you were both transferring to/attending Midtown School of Science and Technology
You walked into your AP Science class on Monday, wearing an oversized hoodie, wavy black hair frame-ing your face, headphones around your neck
Peter was sitting at a lab bench, wearing a dorky science t-shirt
When his eyes met yours, his jaw literally dropped
"Wait- You?" Peter squeaked, leaning across the lab desk, lowering his voice to a frantic whisper, "I know you! The one who threw a shipping container at me with your legs!"
"Keep your voice down, Parker," You said deadpan, pulling out your notebook, "And for the record, I redirected the container. Physics."
"This is insane. This is so cool!" Peter gasped, his eyes wide, "I mean- Sorry, I'm being loud. I'll be quiet. But seriously, physics!"
Peter is a massive STEM nerd who is utterly fascinated by your intellect, especially your deep-dive knowledge of psychology, marine biology, and history
Both of you try to be good, rule-following students
You show up early to class, turn in lab reports on time, and try to blend into the background
But because Peter is secretly Spider-Man and you're connected to the Avengers, your "normal" life is constantly interrupted by chaos
You two dominate science class
While Peter handles the chemical equations for his web-fluid, you’ll casually break down the psychological profiles of historical figures or explain how marine organisms adapt to extreme pressure
When Peter gets overwhelmed, anxious, or starts rambling at 100 miles an hour, your cool, sarcastic demeanor brings him right back down to earth
"Okay, so the Decathlon is in two days, Ned is tracking my suit, Mr. Stark hasn't called back, and I think I forgot my AP Bio homework-"
"Drink this juice box, breathe, and sit down. I already did your proofreading. You're fine, Spidey."
Because you show love through being present and doing things for people, you become Peter’s ultimate safe haven when the weight of being a hero gets too heavy
After a long night of patrolling, Peter will swing by your window
You’ll sit on the fire escape together in the cool night air
You’ll be listening to 2000s indie/grunge through shared earbuds, passing a bag of gummy worms back and forth while he unmasks and lets his shoulders drop
You’ll help him paint custom designs on his suit tech or craft organized storage solutions for his web-cartridges
Peter, in return, uses his tech skills to build custom, high-end noise-canceling modifications for your headphones so you can listen to your music in crystal-clear quality
He buys you marine biology encyclopedias, cool historical artifacts from thrift stores, and acrylic paints
You gift him custom-stitched camera straps, hand-crafted web-fluid holsters, and home-cooked meals when he forgets to eat
hi!! would i please be able to get a romantic (preferably male) and platonic match up for the fandoms stranger things and harry potter. i absolutely LOVE your writing!!!! :3
i am 17 years old. i have short brown hair and brown eyes. in harry potter my house is hufflepuff. while i am quiet - i still am quite confident in who i am as a person. i am very good at school, and get high grades in all of my classes. i do soccer as an after school activity (although in harry potter, i would probably do quidditch). i also tutor people through my schools tutoring program.
i love reading, writing and learning new things. a weird habit i have is that when i learn something new i will write an essay trying to find all the information possible about it. i love listening to music - my favourite artists being ariana grande & feist. i also really love playing video games. my favourite at the moment is either fortnite or dispatch.
i don’t know what my aesthetic would be to be honest. although i’m definitely more feminine in the way i present myself.
also im allergic to fish lol
thank you!!!
Hello!
<333
I would love to match you up with some characters from Stranger Things and Harry Potter!
(You didn't specify your pronouns, so I hope it's okay I referred to you using they/them)
Also, thank you! I am glad you love my writing <333
Also, I love Feist, too! You're the first requester of mine to like her, too.
I really hope you like your matches!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic and Platonic Matchups; Stranger Things and Harry Potter
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Stranger Things;
Lucas Sinclair -
You first crossed paths with Lucas during junior year at Hawkins High
Between your high grades, tutoring through the school's peer program, and playing in the varsity soccer, you spent a lot of time in the library or near the gym
Lucas, balancing his port on the basketball team, his classes, and his more dorkier hobbies
Saw you first during a tutoring session
You were wearing a soft lavender knit sweater and denim skirt, your short brown hair neatly done, patiently explaining a complex history topic to an athlete with a calm, gentle confidence.
The real spark, however, happened at the still-standing arcade on a Friday night
Lucas was trying to defeat Max's high school (still), only yo find a new name on the leader board as number three
He looked over to the adjacent cabinet and saw you
Quietly and methodically tearing through a game of Galaga, your brown eyes fixed on the screen with total, fierce concentration
"No way," Lucas laughed, leaning against the cabinet with his hands in his corduroy jacket pockets, "You're the soccer player from varsity, right? The one who tutors the freshman team?"
"I am," You replied cooly, not breaking focus as your hands flew across the buttons, "And you're Lucas. Right bench, number eight,. Though your defensive reads are pretty solid."
Lucas blinked, a broad handsome smile breaking across his face, "Oay, hold on. You play soccer, get straight A's, and jus wiped out Dustin's score on Galaga? Who are you?"
You shrugged, "You're worst nightmare."
Your friendship was built on a foundation of mutual respect, athleticism, and shared nerdiness
While Lucas could be loud with his core group of friends, around you, he dropped the performance cool-guy act
He loved that you were poised and quietly confident in exactly who you were
(Honestly, you helped him realize that real friends were better than the fake ones)
You began hanging out after school
When you weren't busy with soccer practice/basketball practice/tutoring
You'd sit at his desk in his bedroom, wearing a comfortable outfit, helping him review for AP History
In return, he'd set up two chairs in front of his TV so you two could challenge each other on early home gaming consoles
Lucas was utterly captivated by your essay habits
Whenever you leaned a new niche topic
Whether it was an obscure historical event or complex game lore
You'd sit at his desk or yours with a notebook, writing pages of deep-dive research
Instead of calling it weird, Lucas would sit on his bed or yours, chin in his hands, watching you with pure fascination and asking you questions
Lucas found out about your allergy early on when the gang wanted to go to a local diner for fish and chips
Lucas immediately stepped in, vetoing the location without making a huge fuss
"We're going to that pizza joint," He announced, "No debate."
"So let me get this straight," Lucas said one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder as you scribbled in your notebook, "You spent three hours last night writing a six-page on the history of medieval torture machines, just because you were bored?"
"It's interesting!" You said, looking up with a soft smile, "Guillotines and water boarding, it's so incredible how they work."
"You're incredible," Lucas chuckled, shaking his head with a warm look in his dark eyes, "Seriously. Nobody else thinks the way you do."
The shift from close friends to something deeper happened after a tough evening soccer practice
A sudden autumn rainstorm hit Hawkins, soaking the field
Everyone rushed for their cars, but you were stuck waiting near the bleachers because your bike had a flat tire
Lucas, who had just finished basketball practice, came running out of the gym waring his Hawkins letterman jacket
He didn't hesitate for a second, he immediately unzipped his heavy jacket and held it over both of your heads like a makeshift umbrella
"Come on, we can ride my bike," He said
You both ran to his bike, laughing throughout, and he rode you back home
At your door, you looked up at him, the rain dripping off your hair, your brown eyes wide behind your wet lashes
He was standing so close you could smell the fresh rain and his clean, cedar cologne
His hand reached out, gently brushing wet strands of your hair from your forehead
"Thanks, Lucas." You muttered, your heart pounding in your chest in a way that had nothing to do with soccer drills
Lucas looked at you
Really looked at you
"Anytime," He murmured, his gaze lingering on your mouth, before he caught himself and cleared this throat, "Keep the jacket."
It happened a few weeks later
You two had spent the afternoon at his house, listening to the radio, while you played video games on his rug
"Take My Breath Away" by Berlin was playing
Lucas offered to walk to home when the sun began to set, casting long orange and gold shadows across the neighborhood streets
He was walking close enough that his hand kept brushing against yours
Near your front porch, you stopped
You were getting deja vu from that raining night
"Thanks for walking with me, Lucas. And playing video games with me."
"Yeah, no problem," Lucas said, rubbing the back of his neck
He looked unusually nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Is everything okay?" You asked, tilting you head slightly
"Yeah. Better than okay," Lucas took a breath, stepping into your space a little and taking both of your hands in his, "Look, I know I'm not always the best at saying this stuff out loud, but... You're my favorite person. You're smart, you're strong, you're gorgeous, and you don't pretend to be anyone or anything else. I don't just want to be the guy you play games or study with. I want to be your boyfriend. If... If you'll have me."
You felt a wave of warmth wash over you, a brilliant smile spreading across your face, "I thought you'd never ask."
Lucas let out a huge breath of relief, breaking into that wide smile of his before pulling you into a loving hug, resting his chin on the top of your head
He affectionately calls you "pretty," mostly in greeting or to get your attention
You call him "Sinclair" when you're being playful, and on rare times, "Luc"
Lucas is an incredibly thoughtful gift-giver
For your birthday, he got you a heavy-duty leather-bound journal with custom-embossed initials of yours for all your essays
Along with a mixtape he curated just for you
You spend weekend afternoons at the local park
Lucas will bring a basketball, and you'll bring a soccer ball
You'll teach him footwork drills on the grass
And he'll show you proper shooting mechanics on the court
It always ends in friendly, competitive banter and getting milkshakes afterward at the diner
Lucas loves taking you to the arcade or setting up two-player games at his place
He gets so hyped when you clutch a difficult level, literally cheering and lifting you off your feet in a victory hug
On quiet Sundays, he'll happily go with you to the town library or small local bookshops
He'll sit quietly at a wooden table reading comic books or sports magazines while you research your latest topics, content just to share the room with you
When you get into an "essay mood," Lucas sets up a whole station for you at his desk
He'll bring you snacks, sharpen your pencils, and sit nearby, listening intently as you read your rough drafts out loud to him
evenings are spent in his bedroom or on your porch on the porch swing
You'll sit between his legs, while he sits on the floor or bed, leaning against his chest
He loves to play with his hair if you let him, running his fingers through the strands while you both listen to music or talk about your plans for college
~~~
Harry Potter;
Cedric Diggory -
(Sadly ignoring Cho)
You had always been a quiet presence in the Hufflepuff common room
A brilliant 17-year-old student who got straight O's in all classes and spent evenings tucked near the hearth, writing thick parchments of self-assigned research essays
But on the pitch, your confidence shone differently
You were fast, agile, and strategic, making you an undeniable asset to the team
Cedric Diggory, the house's resident Golden Boy
Was elected Quidditch Captain at the start of the term
Dressed in his yellow-and-black training robes, his brown hair swept back and his gentle eyes scanning the field
He was the picture of modesty and leadership
The first day of practice, while the rest of the team was breathless, you stood, short hair windswept, your dark eyes bright
Cedric flew up alongside you on his broom, landing smoothly
"Brilliant turn on that last dive," Cedric said, his smile genuine and warm, completely devoid of swagger, "You read the wind perfectly."
"It's simple physics," You replied with a quiet, confident shrug, "If you adjust your grip, you reduce drag by nearly twelve percent."
Cedric blinked, thoroughly charmed, "Wow, you'll have to teach me that after practice."
Your friendship blossomed naturally over shared house pride, sports, and academic drive
As fellow Hufflepuffs, you spent afternoons side-by-side in the common room
You'd be deep into your hyper-fixation of the week
Writing a massive twenty-page essay on the ancient history of Nordic Runes or Muggle video games
While Cedric say with you reviewing Quidditch plays
Cedric became your absolute protector in subtle ways
Knowing your severe fish allergy, he personally visited the Hogwarts kitchens before almost every Great Hall feast, speaking directly to the House-Elves to ensure the food was prepared with strict cross-contamination checks
He'd slide a plate of golden roasted chicken and fresh vegetables toward you at dinner with a wink
"Direct from the kitchens, completely safe."
However, an odd dynamic began to form on the pitch that you - being focused on the game and assuming Cedric was just naturally nice to everyone - didn't quite pick up on
When a Chaser missed a pass, Cedric would call a brief huddle to correct their formation
But when you missed something, Cedric would fly or land next to you, hand on his hip, saying softly, "Unlucky break! Great instinct on the angle, though. Take a breather if you need to."
He always offered you his spare flying gloves that didn't fit anymore when it rained, flew right beside you during cool-downs, and constantly checked in on your energy
After a grueling rainy practice, two of your teammates pulled Cedric aside near the broom sheds while you were gathering your gear
"Cedric, mate, we love you," The Beater grumbled, wiping mud from his face, "But you're giving us earfuls for dropping bludgers while they completely missed the trailing play and you practically bought them a hot butterbeer for it! It's not fair to the rest of the team, man."
Cedric froze, his cheeks flushing a sudden, deep red, "I... I don't threat them differently."
"You literally flew interference for them during drills so they wouldn't get hit, Cedric! You've got it bad, man. Just talk to them instead of making us run extra laps while you stare at them!"
Cedric stood there in the drizzling rain, the sudden realization hitting him like a Bludger to the chest
He hadn't realized he was doing it
He had been sub-consciously trying to win your favor, hoping his subtle extra care and TLC would signal his feelings, completely forgetting that his duty as Captain required total fairness
The next day, Cedric called a quick team meeting before practice
Standing before everyone, looking honest and humble
"Before we start," Cedric began, looking at his squad, "I owe the team an apology. I've been inconsistent with my coaching lately, letting my personal feelings affect how I run drills. That's on me as Captain, and it won't happen again."
You looked up, surprised by his speech
After practice wrapped, Cedric jogged over to where you were packing up
"Have a minute for a walk?" He asked softly, rubbing the back of his neck
You walked together down the stone corridors, the quiet clatter of your boots echoing
You wore your cozy, oversized sweater over your school uniform
It was getting colder out
"Did... Did what I say back there confuse you?" Cedric asked, pausing by the high arched window overlooking the grounds
"A little," You admitted, "I didn't feel like you were treating the team unfairly with the drills."
Cedric let out a breathy, nervous laugh
A rare look on Hogwarts' Golden Boy
"I was. Completely. Because I was terrified of you getting hurt on the pitch, and... Well, because I've had a massive crush on you since the first week of sixth year."
You blinked, taking a second to process it, "You... Do? I just thought-"
"I know," He cut in gentle, taking a brave step closer, his eyes searching yours, "I thought if I gave you extra attention, you'd realize. But I realized I was being an idiot." He shrugged, giving you a nervous grin, "I'd like to take you out to Hogsmeade."
A soft smile broke across your face, "I'd love that."
He lovingly calls you "My Heart, especially when you're alone
You call him "Golden Boy" when yo want to tease him or "Ced," when you're being all loving
He'll sit in the Hufflepuff common room for hours while you write an entire manifesto on Muggle video games, explaining victory mechanics
Ced doesn't just listen
He'll ask questions
He holds your hand under the table a lot in the libraries
You introduce him to all your favorite Muggle music
You'll sit together under the shade of the trees, listening to music
Ced loves watching you sing along, resting his head in your lap while you play with his hair
Just the two of you on the empty pitch at sunset
He still checks your food
It's a permanent habit now
At feasts he'll make sure you get dessert before all of it gets taken by other students
For your birthday, he gifts you a customized leather-bound journal and a gold heart-shaped necklace
~~~
Platonic;
~~~
Stranger Things;
Dustin Henderson -
It was autumn
Right at the start of your Junior year
You had just moved to Hawkins, Indiana
A quiet, odd little town that felt a million miles away from anywhere interesting
To escape the unpacked boxes in your new bedroom, you wandered down to an arcade, wearing a cozy cardigan, high-waisted denim, and cute boots
You were standing at the Pac-Man cabinet, quietly setting the nw high score with absolute, calm precision
Dustin Henderson walked in
He stopped dead in his tracks, watching the screen in sheer disbelief as your name clutched the number one spot
"Hold on! Hold the phone!" Dustin blurted out, rushing over and gesturing wildly at the screen, "Is that... Did you just beat that score?"
You turned around, giving him a polite smile, "Oh. Was that score yours?"
"I'm Dustin! Dustin Henderson!" He exclaimed, "And you, my friend, just entered a world of elite gaming. But don't get comfortable, because I'm taking that crown back by Friday!"
That single interaction sparked an instant, undeniable friendship
Dustin was delighted to discover that despite your quiet, polite demeanor and fem style, you were secretly a gaming prodigy who could hold your own against any of his arcade records
Because you were a high-achieving student with straight A's who spent afternoons tutoring other kids at Hawkins High, Dustin immediately respected your intelligence
He loved that you too academics seriously, but he was completely thrown off by your unique learning habit
During your Junior year, Dustin decided it was time to officially induct you into the Hellfire Club
He invited you over, setting up the DM screen
When he explained he rules, you didn't just play
You went home, spent three days researching medieval warfare and fantasy lore, and presented him with a twelve-page essay detailing your characters' backstory, weapons stats, and alignment
Dustin practically shed a tear of joy
"This... This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!"
While hanging out, you listen to music
You played varsity soccer after school some days, charging down the field with the kind of tactical precision that Dustin argued made you look amazing and fierce
Dustin would sit and watch, cheering for you
In return for his loud sideline cheerleading, you became his unofficial study partner and tutor
Not that Dustin was bad at school, but because he loved debating complex scientific theories with you until late into the evening
When you weren't at the arcade, you were at your house or his, sitting on the floor with snacks, playing video games
You’d talk endlessly about gaming mechanics
Comparing the tactical resource management of tactical games to real-world logic
At some point you both came up with your own game
This game would be an shooting game, involving characters that you could dress up and do dance moves
Not to mention victories
...
Did you both invent Fortnite?
Maybe
Dustin once tried to prepare a "gourmet" victory snack for a late-night gaming session and brought over a can of tuna
For some reason
You calmly pointed out your severe fish allergy before he could open it
Dustin gasped, practically vaulting across the room to throw the can into the outside bin
Whenever Dustin came across an unexplained phenomenon (which happened terrifyingly often in Hawkins), you were his first call
He loved that you never judged his wild theories and instead helped him cross-reference textbooks, encyclopedias, and news clippings, organizing everything into structured folders
Despite your quiet nature, your quiet confidence grounds Dustin whenever his wild energy gets out of control
You are the steadfast, brilliant logic to his chaotic enthusiasm
Whether you’re sitting on his basement steps talking about college plans, writing detailed research papers together, or dominating the leaderboard at the arcade, Dustin considers you an irreplaceable part of his party
His favorite academic rival, gaming partner, and most loyal friend in Hawkins
~~~
Harry Potter;
Hermione Granger -
It started in your first year in the dusty, quiet depths of the Hogwarts library
Hermione Granger had claimed a table in the back near Arithmancy, surrounding herself with towering piles of parchment and books
But you
A calm, confident Hufflepuff
Had claimed the exact same nook for your independent Herbology research
Instead of fighting over the space, an unspoken agreement was forged
You’d sit across from each other, quills scratching in a frantic, competitive rhythm
The rivalry officially sparked after the first Potions essay was returned
Snape gave Hermione an 'O' with a rare lack of insult, but he gave you an 'O' as well
Noting your extra-credit section on root preservation
Hermione’s eyes narrowed in fierce, fascinated curiosity
"You cited Gyllenhaal’s Advanced Botany?" She asked, adjusting her heavy book bag, "I thought I was the only first-year who read that."
"It was a fascinating read," You replied calmly, offering a warm, confident smile as you packed up your things, "Though I found his theory on Mandrake soil pH a bit derivative."
From that moment on, a legendary, mutually respectful academic rivalry was born
Unlike her tense rivalry with Draco Malfoy, Hermione’s academic clash with you was deeply healthy and genuinely fun
You were both at the absolute top of your year, constantly swapping first and second place in class rankings
By your third and fourth years, both of you were staple figures in the Hogwarts Peer Tutoring Program
Hermione managed the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, while you handled the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins
You’d meet up in the Great Hall after tutoring sessions to compare notes
"Benny is making brilliant strides in Herbology, Hermione, you just need to let him process at his own speed," You’d coach her gently
In return, she’d give you tips on how to get stubborn second-year Slytherins to master Transfiguration
Hermione quickly discovered your eccentric study habit
Whenever you encountered a brand-new concept - whether it was Muggle mechanics, obscure magical creatures, or ancient runes - you didn't just take notes; you wrote a massive, comprehensive essay exhaustively detailing every single fact you could find
At first, Hermione was astonished
"You wrote thirty inches of parchment on the history of the Chimaera just because Hagrid mentioned it in passing?!"
She soon grew to adore this trait
She’d eagerly pull up a chair next to you, dipping her quill to proofread your latest hyper-fixation essay, adding notes in the margins, and debating obscure points with you late into the night
While Hermione was often stressed by the chaos surrounding Harry and Ron, spending time with you was her ultimate mental sanctuary
You brought a grounded, confident Hufflepuff warmth to her life without sacrificing an ounce of intellectual stimulation
Hermione doesn't really like flying, but she never misses a Hufflepuff Quidditch match when you’re on the pitch
You’re athletic, quick on your broom, and play Chaser with tactical precision
Sitting in the stands wrapped in a scarlet scarf, Hermione actually cheers loudly for you
Being Muggle-born, Hermione was thrilled to find out you loved Muggle entertainment
While electronics don't work at Hogwarts, during the summer, you’d share earbuds to listen to Muggle music
Hermione was initially skeptical of pop music, but she quickly found herself humming along while studying
"The vocal control in this track is actually quite impressive from a physiological standpoint," She’d remark smartly
Hermione is fiercely protective of you
She will actively swat Ron’s hand away if he reaches across the table with a plate of salmon near your plate
"Ron, move that platter to the other end of the table this instant! You know the smell alone gives them hives!" Hermione would snap, before sliding a bowl of fresh, safe roast potatoes and vegetables toward you with a soft, affectionate smile
You got her a rare, out-of-print Muggle book on ancient educational philosophies, complete with a pressed yellow rose bookmark from the Hufflepuff gardens
You often spend quiet evenings together in the Library or the empty study room
While you organize your notes and sip tea, Hermione will occasionally rest her head on your shoulder for a five-minute power nap
A rare display of vulnerability she only allows around you because your calm confidence makes her feel totally secure
You two aren't just the smartest students in your year; you're the ultimate academic dream team
Proof that Gryffindor courage and Hufflepuff loyalty, paired with two brilliant minds, make an unbreakable friendship
Hi there! I was wondering when you're opening your matchups again And if you'd ever consider adding Hunger Games to the list (not just The Ballad)?
Hello!
<333
I will be opening my matchups in a couple of days. I thought I would be able to open them sooner, but I am sick/still getting through the last batch of matchups that I sadly neglected. :(
As for The Hunger Games, I have not watched it, and I only read the first book back when I was... 12? So, I am not confident on my writing skills for the characters from the original trilogy. I normally only add fandoms (movies/games/shows) that I've seen/played/read and have written fanfiction for in the past.
However, I do have a friend who writes amazing fanfics for all of The Hunger Games, Ballad, and Sunrise if you're interested: @drfleetflower. I don't know if they are actively taking requests, but maybe you could ask them for a fanfic or something. :)
I'm so lucky that I found your blog whilst you were reopening the match ups, I was really disappointed that I missed the last deadline. I was wondering if I could have a romantic Harry Potter and dreamworks match up with men or women, I dont mind (: I'm 18, for the age range
I'm a very quiet person, I like to keep to myself and my studies (mostly my English language and publishing development work), which has earned me some teasing amongst my friends. I adore a good story, whether that be fanfiction or a novel, and I take myself pretty seriously and with a lot of respect. I also enjoy cooking quite a lot and have learnt many dessert recipes in particular, whilst my puppy tries to sneak a bite.
I'm somewhat short for my age and tend to keep in shape by doing stretches and boxing. I have pin straight (sadly) black hair that reaches about ny middle back and grey eyes. I wouldnt say anything particularly stands out about me but i've had comments on my dress sense as its typically very old fashioned (ankle length skirts, collared shirts, doll shoes, long scarves etc). I like to look as smart as I know my capabilities are.
I'm looking forward to seeing what I get in the match up, thank you (:
Hello, I am glad you were able to send in your request this time around!
<333
I wasn't sure of your preferred pronouns, so I've used 'they/them' in the case of referring to you, I hope that's okay!
I hope you like your matches!
Enjoy!
<3333
Romantic Matchups; Harry Potter and DreamWorks
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Harry Potter;
Daphne Greengrass -
(Grace van Dien as Daphne)
In the grand, echoing corridors of Hogwarts during the late nineties, two students shared a quiet monopoly on the highest marks in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy: Daphne Greengrass and you
While the rest of the school was consumed by Quidditch rivalries and Gryffindor-Slytherin theatrics, your war was fought in the margins of parchment, executed with crisp ink and quiet, deadly precision
Daphne was poised, flawless, with her ice-blue eyes framed by pale hair, and draped in tailored Slytherin robes
She noticed you instantly
You were short, and reserved, but impeccably put-together
While others wore untucked shirts and scuffed boots, you walked through the castle in ankle-length pleated skirts, crisp collared blouses, neat doll shoes, and long wool scarves during the winter
To Daphne, your classic, old-fashioned dignity made you stand out like a polished gem amidst sea glass
"Your interpretation of the third century rune is surprisingly thorough," Daphne said to you one afternoon in the library, her voice smooth and cultured, "Though your stroke work in the draft translation lacks a bit of... Restraint."
You didn't look up immediately, taking a quiet sip of cold tea before adjusting your collar and meeting her sharp gaze with your cool grey eyes
"Restraint, Greengrass? Or simply a lack of unnecessary flourish? I write for publishing accuracy, not social posturing."
A microscopic, razor-sharp smirk touched Daphne’s lips, "A distinction without a difference. Move your inkwell. We're re-translating together."
That was how it began: a fierce academic rivalry that slowly morphed into a quiet, unwavering mutual respect
Between fifth and sixth year, you and Daphne were practically inseparable, though neither of you made a loud spectacle of it
You formed an intellectual enclave of two
While the Great Hall roared with noise, you and Daphne spent your evenings in unused classrooms or high up in a tower
Daphne would sit gracefully, sipping tea, while you retrieved parchment to share your early attempts at editing and publishing development work
She was your most brutal, constructive editor and your most loyal advocate
Daphne was endlessly fascinated by your hobbies
She loved physical discipline and was deeply impressed when she found out you kept in shape through structured stretching and boxing
"A mind as sharp as a quill and fists like iron," She once noted with quiet approval
But her absolute weakness was your baking
You’d sneak down near the kitchens, coming back with fresh fruit tarts or delicate vanilla shortbread
Daphne would feign indifference until you set the plate in front of her, watching with hidden delight as her aristocratic composure melted over a single bite of warm pastry
Daphne fell for you hard, though her icy composure barely showed a crack
She loved the way your eyes lit up when analyzing a brilliant story, your quiet self-respect, and how your old-fashioned skirts swished as you walked
But as a pure-blood Greengrass, the weight of family expectations hung heavy over her head
Arranged matches, pure-blood decorum, and the looming threat of the Wizarding War trapped her
She buried her feelings deep, convincing herself that remaining your brilliant, untouchable friend was safer for both of you
During the chaotic height of 1997, as the Dark Lord took hold of Hogwarts, communication broke down
Daphne was forced to retreat into Slytherin self-preservation to keep her family safe, while you withdrew entirely into your studies and private life to survive
A severe misunderstanding occurred
A intercepted letter, rumors of pure-blood marriage negotiations, and a bitter argument in the Library under the watchful eyes of the Carrows where harsh, defensive words were spoken on both sides
"If you truly think I am nothing more than my family's puppet, then you never understood me at all," Daphne had whispered, her voice colder than the Black Lake, before turning her back on you
You left Hogwarts shortly after
The war ended, the Battle of Hogwarts passed, and a full year of painful silence stretched between you
It was a chilly autumn afternoon a year after the Battle at Hogwarts
You were sitting near the window of a small, quiet cafe, wearing a burgundy wool ankle-skirt, a high-collared cream blouse, and a thick grey scarf
A manuscript was laid out before you, red pen in hand, a warm espresso at your elbow
The bell above the door chimed
A tall, elegant woman stepped inside, wrapping a cashmere coat around herself
Blonde hair caught the soft cafe light
Daphne stopped dead in her tracks
Her ice-blue eyes locked onto your grey ones
The year of separation evaporated in a single heartbeat
"Your posture hasn't changed," Daphne said softly, walking over to your table, her heels clicking rhythmically against the wooden floorboards
Her voice lacked its old defensive edge; it was weary and mature, "Still taking over the world one manuscript at a time?"
You carefully capped your pen, holding her gaze, "And you're still walking into rooms as if you own the foundation beneath them, Greengrass."
Daphne looked at the empty chair across from you, "May I? Or is the space reserved for someone less foolish than I was two years ago?"
"It's coffee," You said quietly, a faint, rare softness breaking through your reserved expression, "Sit down, Daphne."
That single coffee turned into three hours of brutal honesty
The misunderstandings were dissected, the regrets laid bare, and the lingering, undeniable pull between you both resurfaced, stronger than ever
After three months of catching up - slowly rebuilding trust through quiet evening walks and visiting bookshops - Daphne broke her long-held silence
You were walking her back to her London townhome after an evening spent at an antique publishing gallery
A gentle London rain was falling, reflecting the streetlights on the slick cobblestones
You stopped under the awning of a closed bookstore, pulling your long scarf tighter around your neck
Daphne stepped close to you
So close you could smell her signature fragrance of white tea, bergamot, and fresh linen
She reached out, her gloved fingers gently tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear
"I made a terrible mistake when we were younger," Daphne whispered, her icy blue eyes searching yours, "I let fear and ancient family traditions dictate my heart. I pushed you away because I thought loving you was a luxury I couldn't afford in a breaking world."
You held your breath, your heart hammering against your ribs, "And now?"
"Now," Daphne said, "I want your quiet evenings, your brilliant mind, your sharp tongue, and your heart. I have loved you since our fifth year at Hogwarts, and I have no intention of losing you again."
You didn't answer with grand speeches
Instead, you reached up, cupping her sleek jawline, and pulled her down into a sweet, lingering, deeply desperate kiss that tasted of rain and warm coffee
She calls you "Darling"
You call her "Daph," or "My Lady" when teasing her
When you move into a quiet townhome together, you bring along your energetic puppy
Daphne initially claimed she would "not tolerate canine disorder in a properly kept household"
Within two weeks, she was spotted sitting on the velvet settee in an silk robe, feeding the puppy tiny pieces of unseasoned roast chicken while whispering, "You are a refined creature, yes you are," whenever you weren't looking
Daphne uses her social standing to secure private, after-hours access to historical archives, museum collections, and publishing houses
You’ll spend hours wandering side-by-side through silent halls, your hand tucked neatly into the crook of her arm, discussing literature, ancient printing presses, and history
Daphne takes immense pride in your physical discipline
She will sit on a bench at your private gym, impeccably dressed, sipping iced water while watching you work through your boxing routines and deep stretches
She is more pilates
Daphne loves gifting you classic, high-end tailored clothing
Custom-made ankle skirts of heavy silk and fine wool, vintage silver brooches for your collared shirts, and hand-bound leather journals imported from Italy for your notes
In return, you gift her customized, rare first-edition novels and hand-baked desserts made specifically to pair with her favorite tea blends
The kitchen is your shared sanctuary
You’ll stand at the marble counter, your straight black hair tied back in a neat ribbon, measuring flour for fresh fruit tarts or chocolate tortes while your puppy sits patiently by your feet hoping for a dropped berry
Daphne sits at the kitchen island in a silk blouse, reading over your latest publishing draft with a fountain pen
Your living room is lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves
Evenings are spent coziing up under a cashmere throw blanket
You’ll sit with your head resting on Daphne’s lap while she strokes your hair, reading aloud to you in her smooth, melodious voice while you edit manuscripts in your head
~~~
DreamWorks;
Chel -
You were never supposed to be on a galleon bound for the New World, let alone on a tiny rowboat lost at sea with two chaotic con men
As a quiet publishing and language scholar with a passion for classic stories, your presence among Miguel and Tulio was an anomaly
Many people who knew you would ask, "Why are you friends with them?"
You never had an answer
You were the practical brain of the trio, wearing your sensible ankle-length linen skirt, a high-collared button-down shirt, and leather doll shoes; looking pristine and composed even while stranded in the middle of the ocean
When you all stumbled into El Dorado and were declared "gods," you took the absurdity with your usual serious, dignified grace
But Chel saw right through the illusion the second she caught you three in the temple
While Miguel and Tulio were panicking, Chel’s eyes lingered on you
She took in your sharp grey eyes, your pin-straight black hair cascading down to your back, and the surprisingly disciplined, grounded way you stood
"You three aren't gods," Chel declared with a triumphant smirk, leaning against a gold pillar in her brightly patterned skirt and gold bangles
She gestured toward Miguel and Tulio, then pointed a gold-adorned finger directly at you
"Those two are clearly improvising for greed. But you... What are you here for?"
"I am a scholar of language and text," You replied calmly, adjusting the collar of your blouse with quiet self-respect. "And I prefer we handle this situation with logic rather than shouting, as I was dragged into this and that's the least you all can do."
Chel’s smile widened, her dark eyes flashing with genuine delight, "Oh, I like you. You actually have a brain."
As Chel struck a deal to help fake the "godhood" in exchange for a way out, she quickly gravitated toward you, finding your composed, quiet nature a refreshing contrast to Miguel’s endless enthusiasm and Tulio’s...
Whatever Tulio has
While the boys were busy being pampered, you spent your afternoons in the temple’s private archives, fascinated by the native glyphs and historical codices
Chel would sit on a stone bench nearby, her legs curled up, watching you trace the ancient parchment
She found your dedication to your studies intensely attractive
El Dorado had incredible fresh ingredients - cacao, fresh coconut milk, vanilla, and sweet tropical fruits
To keep your mind sharp and relax from the absurdity of the god-charade, you began using the temple kitchens to bake and refine delicate dessert recipes
"Hey!" You’d say, raising a brow, holding a wooden spoon with sharp precision, "That was meant to set for another ten minutes."
Chel would pop the sweet pastry into her mouth, licking a trace of cocoa from her thumb, her eyes locked on yours with a playful smirk
The dynamic shifted from playful co-conspirators to something deeper during a quiet evening in the temple courtyard
A group of overly enthusiastic guards had misread a situation and moved in too fast to "protect" you
Without dropping your serious expression or ruining the crisp press of your ankle-length skirt, you executed a flawless, disciplined boxing dodge, sending the guard off-balance before smoothly stepping back into a perfect stance
Chel, watching from the balcony above, nearly dropped her cup of palm wine
Her jaw slacked slightly before a slow, sultry grin spread across her face
She walked down the stone steps, her gold jewelry jingling, her dark eyes glittering as she stepped into your personal space
She reached out, her fingers gently adjusting the lapel of your crisp collared shirt
"A scholar who reads ancient texts, bakes heavenly sweets, and knows how to throw a punch?" Chel murmured, her voice dropping into a low, warm hum, "You keep hiding all these talents under these long skirts of yours."
You kept your composure, "Physical discipline keeps the mind focused, Chel. Intelligence is useless if you cannot protect yourself."
"Mmm," Chel purred, leaning in until her breath brushed your ear, "Smart, capable, and ridiculously pretty. You're making it very hard for me to focus on the gold, sweetheart."
It happened the night before the boat out of El Dorado was finished
Miguel was off playing guitar with the locals, and Tulio was pacing over logistics
You were sitting on the edge of a massive stone balcony overlooking the waterfall, writing down notes on publishing structures in a small leather-bound journal
Chel walked out, and she didn't tease or scheme
She walked over and sat right beside you, tucked into your side, resting her head against your shoulder.
"You're always so serious," Chel said softly, looking out at the glowing city below, "So quiet. But when you speak, everyone actually listens because you never waste your words."
"I like to take my life and my work seriously," You replied smoothly, setting your journal down, "It's how I show respect for myself."
"I know," Chel whispered, turning her head so her lips were inches from yours, "And I respect you for it. More than anyone I've ever met."
She reached up, her soft, warm hand gently cupping your cheek, her thumb tracing your jawline, "I don't just want to escape this place with the gold. I want to leave with you. I want to be where you are."
You looked into her sharp, beautiful eyes, your usual quiet reserve melting into a genuine, rare smile
"Then you had better get used to the smell of fresh baked goods and books, Chel."
"I think I can manage," She laughed softly, before leaning in and pressing her soft, warm lips against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss that made the stars above El Dorado feel entirely secondary
She affectionately calls you "Gorgeous"
When she's being deeply romantic, she calls you by your name or "My Love"
You call her "Chel," but with a tone of quiet warmth that she adores, or "Siren" when she’s being particularly mischievous
Chel loves your vintage style
She finds your ankle-length skirts, high collars, and doll shoes extraordinarily elegant
She takes immense pleasure in helping you smooth out your scarves or carefully combing through your black hair at night, marveling at how soft and sleek it is
She once gave you a delicate, thin silver hairpiece shaped like a tropical leaf to hold your dark hair back while you cook
You write and bind custom stories and lighthearted adventures for her in her native dialect, illustrating them with careful sketches
You also bake her favorite tropical fruit tarts whenever she’s had a stressful day
In the quiet mornings, before the city wakes, you two go out to the secluded jungle riverbanks
While you do your morning stretches and shadow-boxing routine, Chel watches you from a sunlit rock, occasionally asking you to show her defensive footwork moves - which usually devolves into her pulling you into the grass for a playful kiss.
In your shared living space, cooking is a team effort
You execute complex dessert recipes with mathematical precision, while Chel stands beside you, tasked with chopping fresh mangoes or whipping cream
She inevitably sneaks kisses on your cheek or slides her arms around your waist from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder while you work
After long days, you sit together on a plush woven daybed
You read your novels or stories out loud in your low, dignified voice while Chel lies with her head in your lap, playing with the hem of your long skirt, completely lulled to sleep by the sound of your voice
"Chel," You say softly, pausing your reading as you feel her hand idly twisting one of your long scarves around her finger, "Are you actually listening, or are you just distracting me?"
Chel opens one dark eye, a wicked, affectionate smirk gracing her lips as she pulls gently on the scarf, bringing your face down toward hers, "I'm appreciating the storyteller," She whispers against your lips, "Now stop reading, and kiss me."
hi it’s juni here and oh my god!! i absolutely love the matchups so much im legit jumping up and down in glee. and k9 being my friend UGHH i adore it 🫶🫶
ps are you stalking me cause i actually used to have a cow called clem (clemency) LMAO but i love all the names you gave the animals!! definitely gonna have to write them down for when we get some more :3
anyway big kisses and thank you so much!! xx
Hi, Juni!
I’m so, so happy you loved the matchups! And I’m glad you liked K9 being your friend, too!
Also, I genuinely can’t believe I somehow guessed Clem, that's amazing! (Also, love the name Clemency) Thank you so much for the lovely message, it really made me smile, I always love hearing responses!
OMG i'm so so glad you added dreamworks to your matchups! I would love to request a baulders gate three and dreamworks match up with men if that's okay?👀
I'm a 5'5, straight 20 year old woman who is the definition of gangly and clumsy. I'm almost always covered in bruises but I probably dont help that fact because I love to go rock and cliff climbing. I have untamble shoulder length ginger hair that gets on my nerves and kinda boring brown eyes. I prefer to dress in practical but stylish clothing inspired by y2k fashion- usually with cropped band shirts and jeans and cool hats.
I have a major love for arcade games as well as video games, which always surprises people because i definitely seem more like an outdoorsy type. I also have a huge soft spot for kids and I love looking after my chaotic little siblings (i want to go into teaching PE or history!)
TYSM for opening matchups back open!
Hi!
<3333
I am glad that I added DreamWorks, too! I can't believe I didn't have it on the Fandoms List originally.
I really hope you like your matches!
Enjoy!
<3333
Romantic Matchups; Baldur's Gate 3 and DreamWorks
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Baldur's Gate 3;
Wyll Ravengard -
The smell of salt, cured meats, and fresh timber hung heavy in the humid air of the river port
You were standing on the gangplank of The Fireheart
Your late parents' merchant brigantine, which you now captained
Wearing low-rise canvas trousers, a cropped, hand-dyed tunic bearing the faded emblem of a tavern band, and a wide-brimmed leather hat tilted to keep the sun out of your eyes
Your untamed shoulder-length ginger hair was sticking to the back of your neck
You were in the middle of a chaotic distribution of tasks
Your deck was overrun not by hardened privateers, but by a loud, energetic crew of rescued orphan kids and your own rambunctious younger siblings
"If anyone drops another crate of smoked fish, you're scrubbing the bilge with a toothbrush!" You shouted jokingly, laughing as you hoisted a heavy sack of flour over your shoulder
Naturally, your gangly frame chose that exact moment to betray you
Your boot caught on a frayed coil of mooring rope
You went pitching sideways, legs flailing like a newborn foal, the flour sack airborne
Before you hit the hard oak planks, a strong, leather-clad arm caught you firmly around the waist
The flour sack exploded nearby, dusting both of you in white powder
You looked up, wincing, to see a handsome young man
Wyll Ravengard looked down at you, a heroic, blindingly bright smile breaking across his face despite the flour coating his high-collared doublet
"A dramatic entrance, Captain," Wyll said, his voice smooth, warm, and utterly courtly as he easily hauled you back onto your feet, keeping a steadying hand on your elbow, "I am Wyll Ravengard. My companions and I are bound for Baldur's Gate and seek trade for provisions."
You dusted off your cropped tunic, face burning hotter than your hair, "I'm... Captain. Just Captain. Or, well, Captain Y/N with a terrible center of gravity. Thanks for the catch, Wyll."
Wyll’s eyes didn't just linger on your bright ginger hair; they took in the purple-and-green bruises mottling your exposed shins and forearms, and then the absolute devotion in your eyes as a tiny Tiefling orphan ran up to tug on your hem, demanding a story about ancient history
In that single moment, the Blade of Frontiers was completely, helplessly undone
While his companions
A shadowy cleric, a snarky elf, and a fiery barbarian
Kept to themselves on deck, Wyll spent every available hour by your side
He was fascinated by the contradiction that was you: an outdoorsy sea captain who could scale a fifty-foot sheer cliff face without a harness, but who somehow tripped over flat, empty deck boards three times a day
Wyll’s courtly instincts went into overdrive
Every time the ship lurched, his hand was instantly at your waist or holding your elbow
He made a habit of carrying a small leather pouch filled with healing salves and clean linen bandages just for your constant scrapes and bruises
When you gathered the children to teach them lessons, Wyll sat right beside them, his chin in his hand, captivated
You’d use wooden figures and map scrolls to teach them history, your brown eyes lighting up with passionate energy
"You have the mind of a High Scholar and the spirit of an adventurer," Wyll remarked one afternoon, as he gently applied a soothing ointment to a fresh scrape on your knee
"I just want them to have a future, Wyll," You said softly, watching your little brother chase another child around the mainmast, "When we reach the Gate, I want to teach properly. History, physical training, survival. Give kids a fighting chance. And homes."
Wyll’s dark eye softened with profound admiration, "They already have the best teacher in the Realm."
The shift from deep admiration to burning romance happened when the ship anchored near a steep, rocky fjord to gather fresh water
A group of territorial harpies ambushed the children who were playing on the beach
You weren't a trained fighter - you didn't swing a broadsword or hurl blasts - but the moment your kids were in danger, your inner lioness roared to life
Without hesitation, you scrambled, throwing yourself between a harpy and your youngest sibling
Wyll leaped onto the ledge, his Rapier blazing with fiery magic to finish the battle
After the fight, back in your captain's cabin, Wyll was practically trembling as he cleaned the cut on your shoulder
The gallant, polished hero was entirely gone, replaced by a man terrified of losing you
"You are the bravest, most reckless woman I have ever laid eyes upon." Wyll breathed, his fingers trembling slightly as he bandaged your wound
"They're my kids, Wyll," you said, looking at him through your messy ginger bangs, "I'd climb into the Nine Hells for them."
Wyll looked at you
At your dirt-smudged face, your practical cropped tunic, your bruised skin, and your fierce, loving heart
And dropped to one knee beside your chair, taking your hand in his, "And I would follow you there, Captain. Gladly."
It happened the night before wyll and his group were set to go fight and end The Absolute
The deck was quiet; the children were all fast asleep below decks
You were leaning against the wheel, wearing your favorite wide-leg trousers, a tight cropped top, and your oversized leather hat, watching the distant lights of the city reflect on the dark water
Wyll stepped up to the quarterdeck, looking impossibly dashing in a dark velvet coat
He held two pewter goblets of spiced spiced wine
"A penny for the Captain's thoughts?" He asked, handing you a goblet
"Just thinking about tomorrow, after you end The Ab... You know," You murmured, sighing. "The kids will need housing. I'll need to apply to the academies to teach... Everything's changing. I've gotten used to this life."
Wyll set his goblet down
He took a step closer, gently lifting your heavy leather hat from your head and setting it aside so he could see your face clearly
His fingers lingered in your wild ginger hair, smoothing it behind your ear
"Some things do not have to change," Wyll said, his voice dropping to a low, velvet murmur that made your pulse jump, "I have fought devils, dragons, and monsters across the Coast... But my heart was conquered the moment a clumsy captain fell into my arms covered in flour."
Your brown eyes widened, "Wyll..."
"I love you," He blurted out, dropping all formality, his expression pure, raw devotion, "I love your laughter, your brilliant mind, your bruises, your boundless love for those children. If you will have me, I wish to stand by your side. Not just as a protector on your ship, but as your partner in everything to come."
A huge grin broke across your face
You reached up, grabbing the lapels of his velvet coat, pulling him down to your height, "You talk too much."
Wyll let out a soft, ecstatic sound, wrapping his arms securely around your waist, pulling your gangly frame flush against his chest as the ship swayed under the stars
He loves calling you "My Captain," and "My Sun"
You call him "Wyll-y"
Wyll learns how to rock climb just to spend time with you!
While you climb with natural grace, Wyll uses his athletic agility to keep up
He loves reaching a high cliff summit with you, sitting on the edge with his arm around you, sharing a picnic of fresh fruit and cheese while looking over the ocean
When you're in port, Wyll takes you to the finest taverns in Baldur's Gate, renting out the game parlors
He loves watching you get hyper-focused on winning the enchanted coin-drop games or throwing axes at targets
He'll stand behind you, cheering louder than anyone
On weekends, you and Wyll take all the ship's orphans and your siblings to the grassy parks outside the city walls
You lead them in chaotic, fun physical training games
Obstacle courses, relay races, and mock sword-drills
Wyll plays the "villain" for the kids to defeat, dramatically collapsing onto the grass when a seven-year-old taps him with a wooden sword.
Every evening before bed, you sit on the edge of the cot in your cabin, and Wyll sits on the floor between your knees
He carefully inspects your legs and arms for new, unexplained bruises, gently applying aloe and magical salves while listening to you rant about your day or teach him a piece of history he didn't know
Wyll is a master storyteller, but he prefers listening to you
He'll lie in bed, his head resting on your chest, tracing light circles on your waist while you read ancient historical chronicles out loud until you both drift off to sleep
He gifts you expensive historical books, and stylish, low-rise leather trousers fitted just for you
You give him hand-carved wooden ship models
"Wyll?" You say one morning, sitting on the deck in an oversized cropped sweater, your ginger hair a wild, blindly feeling around the floorboards
"Yes, my Captain?" Wyll asks, stepping out of the cabin with two steaming mugs of tea
"I dropped my favorite hat again. And I think I tripped over the anchor chain."
Wyll sets the tea down, scoops up your hat from the deck, places it gently back on your head, and bends down to kiss your cheek
"Hat found," Wyll smiles, his dark eye sparkling with pure adoration as he offers you his hand, "And as for the anchor chain... It never stood a chance against you, my love."
~~~
DreamWorks;
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III -
(I haven't seen the more recent movies of HTTYD, so bear with me if I get any info wrong/also ignoring Astrid, sorry!)
You were in the middle of scrambling up a steep cliff to inspect some ancient carved runes
A hobby of yours that fed directly into your work as the island's primary history and combat-drills teacher for the young Berkian kids
You were dressed in your usual style
A cropped tunic made of woven coarse cloth, dyed faded charcoal with a faded logo of a famous wandering bard troupe painting across the front, high-waisted fitted trousers, and a short-brimmed knitted woolen cap perched over your untamable, shoulder-length ginger hair
Your foot slipped on a patch of wet moss
With a sharp yelp, you slid a good ten feed down the rock face, landing flat on your back in a bush
"Whoa! Are you- whoa, hold on!"
Hiccup, the Chieftain, who had been nearby charting the coastal ridge-lines, practically stumbled over, rushing to your side
"I'm good! Total ten out of ten landing." You croaked, holding up a thumbs-up from the bush before hopping out
Hiccup paused, looking at your limbs tangled in the branches, your red hair sticking out in five different directions, and a fresh scrape already blooming on your elbow
A slow, deeply relatable smile broke across his face
"Okay, good, though, I would check your elbow out," Hiccup chuckled, "I'm Hiccup, by the way."
"I know who you are, Chief," You said, dusting off yourself and adjusting your cap with a wry grin, "I'm the person who has to teach the twenty seven-year-olds who you are. I'm the history teacher."
The friendship sparked instantly
And Hiccup wondered how the heck he hadn't personally met you yet
He also, having grown up as the poster child for clumsy and awkward Vikings, felt an immediate kinship with you
He didn't see your frequent bruises as carelessness
He saw them as badges of an adventurous spirit
While New Berk didn't have video games, it had workshops and game nights in the Great Hall
You and Hiccup quickly created your own games
You invented a game using large slingshots and carved dragon figures where you aimed to shoot wooden blocks down
You’d spend hours huddled over a workbench, competing fiercely while eating dried fish and fruit
(Yes, you invented Angry Birds (Angry Dragons))
Hiccup would often stop by your classroom
He’d lean against a timber post, completely mesmerized as he watched you teach history and basic physical agility to the village children
You were energetic, incredibly patient, and had a soft spot for the chaotic kids
You’d go out for days into the New Berk wilderness
While Hiccup mapped new territories, you’d scramble up sheer rock faces to get a higher vantage point
He loved watching you climb
Your long legs finding footholds effortlessly, your ginger hair bright against the grey granite
"You know, most people use stairs," Hiccup called up to you one afternoon
"Stairs are for people who don't want cool calf muscles, Chief!" You yelled back, wiping sweat from your forehead, your dark brown eyes sparkling, "Besides, the view of the bay from up here is amazing!"
The shift from chaotic climbing buddies to something deeper happened quietly in Gobber’s new forge
You had come in after a particularly bad fall off a sea stack, nursing a severely sprained ankle and a massive purple bruise on your knee
Hiccup didn't laugh this time
He cleared off his drafting table, lifted you up to sit on the edge, and went straight to work
With precise, gentle movements, he strapped a custom leather-and-iron brace, he had modified just for you, around your leg
His fingers were warm against your skin, his brows furrowed in intense concentration
"There," He said softly, looking up through his light brown bangs, "That should support the joint when you're scrambling up the ridges. Though... I'd really prefer if you didn't try to conquer a mountain for at least a couple days."
"I can't promise that, Hiccup," You murmured, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing, his eyes reflecting the orange glow of the forge fire, "I get restless."
"I know," Hiccup said, his voice dropping an octave, his thumb lingering just above your bandage, "I get it. You’re... You’re like a storm, you know? Always moving. It’s pretty amazing to watch."
You felt a flush creep up your neck, matching your red hair
For the first time, your usual witty, sarcastic banter failed you
It happened on the highest peak of New Berk
A sheer needle of rock that only you and Hiccup could climb to
You had dragged yourself to the top, sitting on the edge with your long legs dangling over the abyss
The sun was dipping below the ocean horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of crimson and deep violet
"I brought you something," Hiccup said, reaching into his leather satchel
He handed you a pair of custom-stitched fingerless climbing gloves made from thick, supple leather, reinforced at the palms, "So you stop tearing up your hands."
You pulled them on; they fit like a second skin, "Hiccup... These must have taken you days to make."
"Yeah. Weeks. Well," Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck, a deep blush spreading over his cheeks as he looked away awkwardly, "I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking about... About how every time I look up at a cliff face now, I don't look at the geography anymore. I just look for you."
He turned his head back to face you, his eyes steady and full of raw, honest affection
"I’m not great at the whole grand romantic speech thing," Hiccup admitted, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. "I’m awkward, I walk funny, and half the time I’m covered in charcoal. But... I love you. I love how you look after the kids, I love your red hair, and I love every single mysterious bruise you bring back to the hall. I want to be the bush who catches you when you fall. If... If you'll have me."
You didn't answer with words
You reached out, grabbed the collar of his leather flight jacket, and pulled him into a kiss
Hiccup froze for a split second in utter surprise before leaning in completely, his hands finding your waist, holding you tight against the cool mountain wind
He calls you "Red" (for your hair), "My Little Mountain Goat" (when you're being stubborn or climbing ridiculous structures), and "Teach" when he wants to tease you in front of the village kids
You call him "Chief" in a playful, sarcastic tone
Hiccup loves your style
He actively helps you design your outfits
He’ll take old linen tunic fabrics, crop them, and reinforce the hems with soft leather trim
He even forged a custom metallic belt for you with a stylized chain hanging off the hip, giving your practical climbing gear a distinctly trendy edge
You constantly wear cool woven hats he or your students make for you
Hiccup constantly gifts you gear
Custom chalk bags, reinforced boots with retractable iron spikes in the toes for ice-climbing, and beautifully carved wooden slates for your history lessons
On Fridays, Hiccup joins your classroom
You teach the historical facts of old Berk, and Hiccup does live-action demonstrations with puppets, driving the kids absolutely wild with excitement.
You two still hold late-night game tournaments
You’ll sit on the floor by the hearth, tossing carved wooden rings onto wooden dragon horns, taking turns drinking spiced mead and laughing until your ribs ache
After a long day of leading the island and teaching chaotic children, you both collapse into the large pile of fur blankets in Hiccup’s loft
You’ll lie on your stomach, resting your head on his chest while he slowly runs his fingers through your untamable hair, untangling the twigs and knots from your afternoon climb
It’s a running joke between you two
Every evening, Hiccup gently inspects your arms and legs, counting new bruises and applying Gobber's soothing green dragon-kelp salve
"Where did this one come from?" Hiccup asked one night, hovering over a small dark spot on your shin with a tub of ointment on his lap
"Tried to show Snotlout's nephew how to do a backflip off the training beam," You admitted, wincing slightly as the cool salve hit your skin
Hiccup paused, looking up at you with an amused, exasperated grin, "You're supposed to be the teacher, Red. You're setting a terrible safety example."
"Hey, the kids thought it was awesome," You smirked, reaching up to tug at his braid, gently pulling his face down to yours, "And besides... I knew my Chief would fix me right up."
Hiccup shook his head, a soft, swoon-worthy smile spreading across his face as he kissed your nose, "Always," He whispered against your skin, "Every single time."
Hi! My name is Juniper (juni/june for short) and I would Love to have a romantic and platonic matchup for Doctor Who, The Hobbit and Supernatural? Also for The Hobbit - could you please not pair me with Bilbo or Thorin as i head canon them both to be gay :) Also i would prefer male romantic matchups
I use she/her pronouns and am 22 years old. I am 5’2 with brown eyes, brown curly hair, and I am a mixed POC (my Mom is African American and my Dad is white). My favourite color is green. I’m quite brave and sarcastic and am considered an extrovert. My friends and family have always called me kind and caring.
I live on a farm with my parents. We host a lot of animals such as cows, chickens, sheep, etc. and have a lot of fruit trees and stuff. Most of my time can be spent on said farm doing chores, selling our produce, reading, gardening or doing school work. I am currently in school studying Anthropology!!
I really love films especially lotr and the hobbit (obviously), but I also really love horror/gory films such as Bones and All or American Psycho. My favourite show is The Righteous Gemstones. I really Love reading, my favourite books are probably either Lady Susan by Jane Austen or Twelfth Night by Shakespeare.
I hope that’s enough information and thank you so much!
Hello!
<333
First off, why are you living my dream life? I would sell my soul to live on a farm! In all seriousness, that's amazing!
Anyway!
I really had fun coming up with matches for you! I got to try out some new characters that I absolutely love, so I had a blast <3
I hope you like them!
Enjoy!
<3333
Romantic and Platonic Matchups; Doctor Who, The Hobbit, and Supernatural
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Doctor Who;
Rory Williams -
(Ignoring that him and Amy are together)
It was a warm Thursday afternoon, and you were in the middle of milking one of your favorite dairy cows, Clementine
You were wearing your usual farm gear
Worn denim overalls rolled at the cuffs, a muted forest-green t-shirt that complimented your skin, and your brown curly hair tied up in a banana clip to keep it out of your face
Suddenly, a strange, grinding, metallic groaning noise echoed through the barn, vibrating through the wooden beams
Clem let out an annoyed huff
You set down the milk pail, wiped your hands, and walked out to the edge of the cornfield
Right there, crushing a few stalks of sweetcorn, stood a battered, bright blue 1960s police telephone box
You crossed your arms, standing firm as you muttered sarcastic remarks under your breath about trespassing city folks
Before you could match off to find your parents, the narrow wooden door burst open
Out tumbled a tall, wild-eyed man in a tweed jacket and bow tie, a stunning redhead in a leather jacket, and a slightly bewildered-looking young man wearing a puffer vest over a flannel
"Ah! Earth! Modern...Ish? Mid-twentieth? No, late twenty-first- Wait, no." The bow-tied man babbled, pulling out a glowing device
"Doctor, where are we?" The ginger woman asked, looking around the peaceful green pastures
"Excuse me," You chimed in, your loud, confident voice cutting right through, "You're on private property. And you just crushed three rows of my dad's award-winning corn."
The third man
Rory
Immediately looked horrified
"Oh, we're so sorry! He doesn't know how to park, honestly, we didn't mean to destroy your crop!"
You looked at him
His face was full of genuine, panicked remorse, his dark eyes wide and earnest
You couldn't help the small, mischievous smirk that spread across your face
The Doctor explained that the TARDIS had pulled them here on purpose, though he wasn't sure why
Seeing that they were harmless
If completely eccentric
Your warm, hospitable nature kicked in
You brought them to your parents, who - after some convincing - offered them the guest rooms and the barn while the Doctor ran diagnostic scans around the estate
While the Doctor paced around the orchard waving his buzzing screwdriver and Amy finally relaxed on the porch swing enjoying some tea and fresh fruit, Rory insisted on helping you with your chores to "pay for their keep"
He was terrible at farm work at first, but his determination was utterly endearing
The bonding moment came on day two in the barn
Rory was sitting on a tiny wooden stool, staring at Clementine, obviously nervous
"I'm a registered nurse, you know," Rory stammered, adjusting his shirt sleeve, "I handle injections, IV drips, human anatomy. This... This is a giant animal."
"She doesn't bite, Rory," You laughed, stepping in close beside him
You reached down, placing your warm hands over his, guiding his grip onto the udder, "Gentle pressure, down and pull. Like this."
Rory froze, his ears turning bright red at your sudden proximity
You had put your hair up again and he smelled the faint, sweet scent of peach blossoms and fresh soil on you
"See? You're a natural." You teased, stepping back
"Right. Natural. Just a lad and a cow." His voice cracked, "How do you know when she'd done?"
"When no more milk comes out..."
"Oh, yeah, right..."
During the quiet afternoons under the shade of the apple trees, you'd sit together while selling produce at the farm stand
Rory was amazed by your intellect
When he found out you were studying Anthropology, he'd listen with absolute fascination as you rambled about human burial rituals or historical farming practices
"You like Lady Susan?" Rory asked one day, taking a bite of a fresh plum, "Isn't she... Terribly manipulative?"
"That's why she's brilliant!" You declared boldly, leaning against a wooden crate, "She's witty, unapologetic, and controls her own narrative. Honestly, Shakespeare wished he wrote women that chaotic- Though Viola in Twelfth Night gives her a run for her money."
Rory smiled softly, his chin resting in his hand, watching your brown eyes sparkle as you spoke
He loved how brave and outspoken you were
You were so unapologetically yourself
The peaceful rhythm broke at the end of the week
While you and Rory were closing up the barn, a blinding, neon-white light flashed through the wooden slates, illuminating the interior like high noon for three terrifying seconds before vanishing into total darkness
You both scrambled outside, hearts pounding
"What was that!?" Rory shouted, instinctively stepping in front of you
"Rory! Juniper!"Amy yelled from the second-story farmhouse window, pointing toward the vast wheat fields, "You need to see this!"
You all ran up to the second floor to meet Amy, and etched into your dad's (also prize-winning) wheat field was a massive, perfectly geometric pattern
"Crop circles," The Doctor muttered, inspecting it by pushing everyone of his way, almost falling out of the window with excitement, "Classic. Retro, even!"
Before anyone could stop the Doctor, he ran outside, and you all chased after him
When suddenly, a beam of light shot down from the sky, and out stepped three tall, gangly figures
They had oversized, bulbous heads, massive black glossy eyes, pale grey skin, and long, spindly fingers
They looked exactly like the most cliché, low-budget 1950s sci-fi movie aliens imaginable
You, being a fan of horror and gore films, couldn't help yourself
"Are you kidding me? Grey aliens? Did you guys crash land out of a B-movie set?!"
"Do not insult the Canvas!" One of the Greys warbled through an electronic translator, holding up a long, metallic rod
The Doctor raised his hands, stepping forward. "Wait, wait! 'Canvas'? You're not invading?"
It turned out, the Grey aliens weren't conquerors
They were touring intergalactic street artists
Your family’s wheat field was simply the finest "medium" in this sector of the galaxy, and they had landed to leave their signature avant-garde art piece before heading to Saturn, for some reason
After a hilarious two-hour negotiation
Where you, using your sharp sarcasm and warm charm, convinced them that your dad's wheat was sacred and offered them a giant basket of fresh peaches as "artistic tribute" instead
The aliens kindly apologized, smoothed down the wheat stalks as best as they could, and zipped back into space
The next morning, the danger was gone, and the TARDIS was humming, ready to dematerialize
"Well! Great fruit, lovely crop circles, top-tier cow milking!" The Doctor chirped, leaning out of the blue box, "Come along then, Amy, Rory! Next stop: Raxacoricofallapatorius!"
Amy jumped in, but Rory lingered on the grass next to you
You were wearing your favorite long forest-green skirt and a cozy knit sweater, your hands tucked into your pockets, looking down at your boots
"You should come," Rory said softly, looking at you with deep sadness in his eyes, "The Doctor... He can show you ancient Rome, or the Renaissance, or the actual Globe Theatre for Twelfth Night!"
You looked up, smiling through the bittersweet sting in your chest. "Rory... I want to. God, I want to. But my parents need me here. The farm is our whole life, my studies are here... I can't just abandon them."
Rory looked back at the blue box, then at your tear-stained smile
He thought about his life traveling through time, always feeling like a third wheel to Amy and the Doctor's wild adventures, never quite having a place where he was chosen first
He took a deep breath, walked up to the TARDIS door, and leaned in
"Doctor. Amy. I'm staying."
"What?!" Amy gasped, poking her head out, "Rory, it's a farm!"
"It's a great farm," Rory said, his voice firmer than it had ever been, "And... I'm needed here."
The Doctor gave Rory a long, knowing look, a soft smile playing on his lips
"Right then. Nurse Williams. If you need anything, you know who to call."
"Ghostbusters." You muttered
With a wave and a whir of the engines, the TARDIS vanished, leaving the peaceful silence of the countryside behind
Rory turned back to you, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "So... Do you need help with the chickens?"
You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace, "You complete idiot," You laughed against his shoulder
It didn't take long for the dynamic to shift from grateful friendship to deep, romantic devotion
Two months after he decided to stay, the autumn leaves were turning bright orange, red, and gold
You were sitting on the tailgate of your dad's vintage pickup truck in the middle of the orchard, taking a break from harvesting apples
You were covered in dirt, your curly brown hair a halo around your head, holding a warm mug of hot cider
Rory climbed up onto the tailgate beside you, wearing a plaid flannel shirt you had bought him from the local town market
He looked at you, the afternoon sun catching the gold flecks in your brown eyes
"You know," Rory began quietly, staring at his own boots, "When I stayed... I was worried I'd be useless here. I'm just a bloke from Leadworth who knows how to wrap bandages."
"Rory, you're amazing," You said instantly, nudging his shoulder, "My dad loves you, the sheep actually obey you, and you make me laugh every single day. Not to mention, you're a nurse. You're not useless.'' You shrugged, "I still don't know why you decided to stay here. The sheep, perhaps?" You joked
Rory turned to face you, taking your hands in his
His palms were calloused now from farm work, but his touch was impossibly gentle
"I didn't stay for the sheep, June," Rory murmured, his voice trembling with emotion, "I stayed because the moment I saw you standing in that barn, talking back to the Doctor with that brilliant, brave, sarcastic mouth of yours... I knew I didn't want to see the rest of the universe if you weren't in it. I adore you."
Your heart did a complete somersault
You set your mug aside, cupping his face in your hands, your thumbs tracing his cheekbones
"It's about time, Williams," You whispered with a soft laugh, before leaning in and kissing him sweetly under the falling autumn leaves
He calls you "Boss" when he wants to tease you during chores, or the typical cute nicknames like "Love," "Beautiful," and "Darling" (including Juni/June)
You call him "Rory-Bear" when you’re being extra affectionate
Rory loves giving you thoughtful, practical, and romantic gifts
He bought you an antique, leather-bound first edition copy of Jane Austen’s works that he found at a local estate sale
You gave him a custom-engraved pocket watch
While Rory is a total coward when it comes to real monsters, he loves sitting through gory horror films like Bones And All or American Psycho with you because it gives him an excuse to wrap his arms tightly around you and hide his face in your neck when things get too bloody
In the evenings, you take long walks through the fruit orchards, holding hands and eating fresh produce straight off the trees
Sometimes you'll lay a blanket down in the deep clover, reading Twelfth Night out loud together, taking turns playing different characters
You introduced him to The Righteous Gemstones, and now it's his absolute guilty pleasure
You’ll spend Sunday evenings curled up on the couch with a giant bowl of homemade popcorn, wheezing with laughter at the show's chaotic comedy
When you’re stressed out doing your Anthropology schoolwork at the kitchen table, Rory becomes your ultimate support system
He’ll make you fresh tea, rub your shoulders, and let you practice your presentations on him, asking genuine questions to help you prepare
Mornings on the farm start early, but Rory always wakes up first to make sure the kitchen is warm
He’ll slide into bed next to you with two hot mugs of coffee, kissing your forehead and tangling his fingers in your messy brown curls until you're ready to face the day
"Rory?" You ask softly one quiet evening, leaning your head on his chest as you both sit on the porch swing, watching the stars come out over the green fields
"Yeah, darling?" He responds, resting his chin atop your head, his arms wrapped securely around your waist
"Do you ever miss it? The space travel? The crazy adventures?"
Rory smiles softly, kissing the top of your head, smelling the sweet scent of your apple-blossom shampoo, "Juniper, I used to chase stars across the galaxy. But sitting right here with you? I've finally found home."
~~~
The Hobbit;
Kíli Durin -
Your life on the farm edge of the Shire borders was, frankly, magnificent
You had your routines
Rising early to tend to your horses, goats, cows, chickens, sheep, and the small army of barn cats that bossed you around
You spent your days shoulder-deep in cornstalks, harvesting sweet apples and oranges from the orchard, reading classical literature, and applying your anthropology studies to every ancient artifact or ruin you crossed
You were leaning on your wooden pitchfork, wiping sweat from your brow, looking over your lush green pasture, and literally thinking to yourself: My life is absolute perfection. Quiet, peaceful, productive. It would take a complete disaster to ruin this serenity
Cue the thunderstorm of the century
And thirteen drenched, rowdy Dwarves plus one battered Wizard and fellow Hobbit, knocking down your door in search of shelter
Leading the charge was Thorin
And behind him... Was Kíli
He stood, dark hair plastered to his forehead, archer's leather coat dripping onto your porch, carrying a bow almost as tall as he was
His dark eyes sparkled with instant mischief when you swung the door open, wearing a practical green linen tunic rolled up at the elbows, your brown curls wild around your face, and a look that could wither stone
Thorin greeted you gruffly and explained that they needed shelter for the night...
You were in shock
You just had to jinx yourself, didn't you?
You silently cursed the rainy sky
"Well," Kíli grinned, leaning his shoulder against your doorframe with effortless charm, ignoring the rain pouring off his nose, "Are you going to let a troop of noble warriors freeze on your doorstep, or do we have to challenge your animals for rights to the barn?"
You crossed your arms, looking down at him with an unimpressed stare, "If you try to fight my animals, master Dwarf, they will win. But wipe your boots, all of you, or I'm turning the hose on the lot of you."
From the back of the crowd, Fíli burst out laughing, shoving his brother forward
Thorin agreed to pay handsomely in silver for a week's stay to let a storm pass and resupply, but Kíli made it his personal mission to be your shadow
A Dwarf on a farm was a recipe for chaotic comedy
Kíli insisted on helping with chores to "prove his chivalry"
He was a prince, after all
It was an absolute disaster
He tried to milk your sweetest cow, Buttercup, but sat on the wrong side and got kicked into a haystack
You stood there in your boots, laughing so hard you had to hold onto the barn fence
"Do not laugh!" Kíli yelled from the hay, straw sticking out of his dark hair, though a grin cracked his face, "The beast is clearly trained to kick!"
"She just doesn't like amateur hands," You smirked, extending a hand to pull him up, "Stick to shooting things."
His favorite duty was harvesting oranges and apples from your orchard
Kíli would shimmy up the highest branches with agile ease, tossing fruit down into the basket you held
He’d intentionally drop an apple right into your hands
At night, while the rest of the Company gambled or drank your home-brewed cider, Kíli would sit beside you on the porch steps
You’d tell him about Hobbit/Human history, ancient cultures, and recite lines from Twelfth Night or Lady Susan
He was captivated
Not just by the stories, but by the fire in your dark brown eyes when you spoke about history
You loved dark, dramatic tales, telling him gory folk legends of your land
While Bilbo shuddered into Thorin's side, Kíli sat enthralled, leaning in close, his shoulder pressed against yours
Kíli loved your extroverted, fearless energy
You weren't some timid maiden fainting at the sight of a weapon; you were a working woman who could haul hay bales, chop firewood, and verbally dismantle his sarcastic jokes before he could even finish them
The shift happened when a rogue stray dog
Huge, wild, and territorial
Snarled at a mother hen and her chicks near the coops
Before Kíli could even draw his bow, you marched right out in your favorite dark green apron, grabbed a heavy wooden broom, and roared at the beast with such fierce, protective authority that the animal turned tail and ran
Kíli stood frozen by the fence, his bow half-drawn, staring at you in absolute, awe-struck silence
You brushed a stray brown curl out of your face, panting slightly, turning back to him, "What? Nobody touches my chickens."
Kíli slowly unstrung his bow, a slow, breathtaking smile spreading across his face, "By Mahal... You are the most magnificent creature in Middle-earth."
"Oh, shut up," You teased, "Help me check the coop."
From that moment, the banter took on a warm, electric charge
He knew you were his One
Every touch - his hand resting on your waist when he politely brushed past by you, your fingers brushing his as you shared freshly picked oranges - sent sparks through both of you
The night before the Company was set to march once more, the farm was quiet
The air smelled of sweet orange blossoms and damp earth
You were sitting on the low stone wall of your garden, feeling a sudden, heavy ache in your chest at the thought of him leaving
Kíli walked out from the orchard
He sat beside you, unusually quiet
"You're going tomorrow," You said softly, looking out over the moonlit pastures, "Back to your grand adventure."
"I don't want to go," Kíli blurted out suddenly
He turned to you, his dark eyes fierce and vulnerable. "I mean- I do. For my uncle, for my people. But my heart... My heart is staying right here. On this farm. With you."
You turned to him, your breath catching, "Kíli..."
"You are brave, and sharp, and kinder than anyone I've ever met," He said, taking your hands in his - his rough, calloused fingers wrapping tightly around yours, "I’ve fought Orcs and faced down beasts, but the thought of leaving you makes my knees weak. You're my One, I'm sure. Tell me I’m not a fool. Tell me you feel it too."
You let out a breathy, sarcastic laugh to hide the tears in your eyes, "You are a fool, Kíli. A massive, arrogant Dwarf." You reached up, cupping his face, your thumb smoothing over his cheekbone, "And I am hopelessly in love with you."
Kíli didn't wait
He leaned in and kissed you
A deep, fiery, sweet kiss that tasted like ripe apples and summer rain
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you laughing softly in the dark
When he comes back a year later, because of course he comes back
It's not like he was killed during the battle
No
Everyone's alive and well
Kíli attempts to teach you archery in the back pasture
You're competitive, so when you miss the target, you start ranting in frustration
He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you, adjusting your grip, "Relax your shoulders, love. Sight through the target, not at it."
When you finally hit the bullseye, he spins you around in his arms, kissing you till you're breathless
You take him riding on your farm horses
At first, Kíli complained about riding beasts that didn't have "low centers of gravity," but sitting behind you on a heavy draft horse, his arms wrapped securely around your waist, became his favorite place in the world
You pack lunches of fresh farm cheese, crusty bread, oranges, and cider, hiding away in the high cornstalks where the rest of the world can't find you
He calls you "Amrâlimê," "June," or "love/my love"
You call him "Kee," or "My Prince" when you want to mock his regal bloodline while he's covered in chicken feathers
He carved you a wooden bead for your hair, intricately detailed with dwarf-runes that translate to: "To the keeper of my heart"
You knitted him a deep dark-green wool scarf, which he wears proudly like a medal of honor
After a long day of chores, you sit together by the hearth
You’ll be reading Lady Susan aloud, putting on ridiculous dramatic voices for the characters, while Kíli lays his head in your lap or sits beside you whittling small wooden animals for your farm collection while you run your fingers through his soft, dark curls
Cooking together is pure chaos
Kíli tries to help bake orange tarts, but ends up covering your cheek in flour
You retaliate by wiping fruit jam on his nose, resulting in a full-blown kitchen chase that ends with both of you laughing on the rug
"You know," Kíli says one evening, leaning against the doorframe watching you brush down the horses in the golden twilight, "I used to think glory was found on the battlefield. In gold, and kingdom, and songs."
You look over your shoulder, smiling softly, "And what do you think now?"
Kíli walks over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, "I think glory is right here. Covered in dirt, surrounded by goats, and holding you."
~~~
Supernatural;
Dean Winchester -
(Set in Season 1 or slightly before/love this gif)
It was nearly 11 PM when the sputtering roar of a dying engine died out completely down the gravel lane
You were at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of tea in an oversized green sweater, your brown curls piled into a nice, loose bun while you annotated a passage for your Anthropology coursework
When the heavy wooden knock rattled the front door, you didn't just open it blindly
Being brave didn't mean being foolish
You cracked it open on the latch, brown eyes narrowing at the young man around your age standing on the porch in the porch-light glow
He was wearing a scuffed leather jacket, black shirt, jeans, and a pair of muddy boots
He was handsome
Ridiculously so, with piercing green eyes
But he looked exhausted, tense, and smelled faintly of gasoline and cheap coffee
"Can I help you?" You asked, your voice laced with healthy, sarcastic caution, "Because if your selling vacuum cleaners at midnight, the cows are asleep."
Dean, surprisingly, despite seeing a beautiful woman in front of him, decided not to flirt
He just let out a breathless, dry laugh, rubbing the back of his neck
"No, ma'am. No vacuums. I, uh... My car gave out down the road. Ran out of gas, and then the engine started knocking like a demon trying to break out of a trunk. Name's Dean. Dean Winchester."
You sized him up, "You look like you're either running from the law or an axe murderer, Dean."
"Axe murderer? Ouch," Dean smirked, through his eyes looked genuinely stressed, "I'm just a guy with a broken '67 Chevy Impala and zero cell reception out here in the middle of nowhere."
You hesitated, but your caring nature won out
He didn't actually look like an axe murderer
Too cute to kill an innocent woman in the middle of nowhere
You called your dad down
Your father, a practical man who knew cars inside and out, grabbed his keys and towed Dean's beloved Impala back to your farm in his Ford pickup
After a ten-minute inspection under the hood in the dim lighting of the main barn, your dad shook his head
"Alternator's shot, and you fried a belt," Your dad told Dean, "I can order the part from the supply shop in town, but it's gonna take a few days to get delivered."
Dean's face fell, but then a strange, quiet look crossed his eyes, almost like relief
He'd just had a screaming match with his dad, John, miled back down the highway, and the thought of going back to cheap motel rooms and endless hostility made his stomach turn
"Look, sir," Dean said earnestly, throwing his hands in his pockets, "I don't have much cash on me, but I can work. I'll do whatever chores you need done around here as payment for the tow, the parts, and a place to bunk while the parts come in."
Your dad looked at you, then back at Dean, "Deal. You can sleep in the guest house over there by the garage, door code is 1997. My daughter can show you the ropes tomorrow morning."
As your dad walked back toward the house, you leaned against a wooden barn post, crossing your arms over your green sweater, "Well, Dean. Let's see if those pretty hands of yours can actually handle some real labor."
Dean offered that iconic, cocky grin, "Sweetheart, you have no idea what these hands can do."
The next morning started at 5 AM
You marched Dean into the barn wearing your work boots, a faded band tee, jeans, and a green bandana pulling your hair back
Dean looked slightly bleary-eyed in some of your father's old clothes he borrowed, but he was eager to prove himself
You taught him the routine
Gathering the eggs from the coop
Where he almost got pecked by a protective hen and cursed aloud
Tossing hay bales
And milking the dairy cows
But the real surprise cam when you took him to meet the horses
In the back stall was Sea Biscuit
A stubborn, coal-black Quarter Horse who hate everyone except you
He usually nipped at people, but when Dean walked up, Dean's face softened completely
He reached out a hand, letting the horse smell him before scratching him right behind the ears
Sea Biscuit leaned into Dean's touch, snorting softly
"Well, look at that," You muttered, genuinely impressed, "He usually tried to bite off human fingers."
"Animals are easy." Dean just shrugged off
Over the next week, the two of you became inseparable
Your initial sarcasm melted into a playful, banter-filled camaraderie
Dean had spent his entire life eating cold diner food, grease-soaked burgers, and stale gas station snacks
Eating your family's home-cooked meals
Fresh buttermilk biscuits, thick stews, roasted vegetables from the garden, and homemade berry pie
It reminded him of his mother's cooking for a moment
He'd sit at your kitchen table, practically groaning in satisfaction with every huge bite
"Your mom is a saint," Dean muttered reverently around a mouthful o peach cobbler, "I might never leave."
Nights were spent sitting on the porch swing or lying on the hood of the Impala under the stars
You discovered Dean was a massive film buff
When you mentioned your love for gritty, brutal horror, Dean's jaw practically hit the floor
He had to tell you about his favorite horror movies
Like The Lost Boys from 1987
And all the westerns and Patrick Swayze films
"Wait, wait, wait," Dean laughed, sitting up on the hood, "You like Shakespeare and Jane Austen, but you also appreciate Patrick Bateman?"
"It's about the social commentary, Winchester!" You countered, gesturing with your hands, "Bateman is a critique of 1980s yuppie materialism!"
Dean just stared at you, a soft, stunning smile playing on his lips, absolutely captivated by your mind, your wit, and the way your laughter echoed through the quiet night air of the farm
Two weeks passed
The car parts were mysterious "delayed" at the shop, but neither of you complained
Dean was living a secret fantasy
For the first time in his twenty-something years of his life, he wasn't hunting, he wasn't watching his back for monsters, and he wasn't taking orders from John
He was waking up to the smell of fresh soil and blooming fruit trees
He was doing honest, physical labor that left him satisfied-tired rather than bruised-and-bleeding-tired
And most of all, he was falling hopelessly, helplessly in love with a farm girl studying Anthropology who treated him like a human being
When Dean's cell phone rang when you both were out in town - John calling - Dean would stare at the screen, jaw clenching, before shoving it back into his pocket
He texted John a brief message;
"Car broke down. Fixing it. Meeting you at the diner near the old motel in a few days."
He didn't want the real world to intrude on his paradise
You saw the hidden pain in him
You noticed the scars on his knuckles, the way his eyes scanned the tree-line, and the deep-seated exhaustion he tried to hide behind sarcastic quips
And that was just the things you noticed
You didn't know about the constant nightmares
Your caring, affectionate nature took over
You'd bring him cold lemonade while he chopped firewood
Which, just letting you know, was completely unfair for him to look that good chopping wood
And you'd make sure he got the biggest helping to the food, especially the pie
It happened on an afternoon when a sudden summer thunderstorm rolled over the farm
You and Dean rushed into the main barn to throw tarps over the remaining bales to keep them dry
water was already leaking through the aging wooden rafters
"Dammit," You swore, setting down a metal bucket on the floor, "I swear, my dad's been saying he's gonna fix this roof since I was sixteen!"
You turned around quickly, but your boot caught the edge of a slick floorboard
You lost your balance, slipping backward with a soft gasp
Before you could hit the ground, Dean's reflexes kicked in
His strong arms wrapped around your waist, catching you effortlessly and pulling you flush against his chest
The momentum forced him backward, and together, you tumbled right back into a massive, soft pile of fresh, loose hay
The impact was soft, the sweet scent of dried grass exploding around you
You ended up sprawled on top of him, your hands resting flat against his broad chest, your dark curls a little messy
For a second, neither of you moved
The rain drumming a wild, chaotic beat on the roof above, but inside the haystack, time completely stopped
Dean's hands were still on your waist, and he looked up at you, his eyes wide
"You... You okay?" Dean asked, his voice dropping an octave, rough and breathless
You held his gaze, your eyes dark and your heart hammering in your chest
"I'm okay," You muttered
It felt like you were both caught in a trance
Dean’s hand moved slowly up your back, his fingers tangling into the soft curls at the nape of your neck, gently pulling you down
You didn't hesitate
You leaned in, closing the inch between you, and pressed your lips to his
The kiss was passionate, deep, and electric
A sudden release of two weeks of unspoken tension, quiet glances, and late-night talks
Dean let out a low groan, shifting so he pulled you closer into the hay, his lips moving against yours with a fierce tenderness that made you swoon
When you finally pulled back for air, resting your forehead against his, his hazel eyes were blown out, filled with pure adoration
It was later in the day, you both were sitting side by side on the hay when Dean told you the truth
He told you about the fire on the ceiling when he was four years old
He told you about his father, the Impala, the hunting trips, the ghosts, the vampires, and the dark, hidden world lurking in the shadows
He braced himself for you to call him crazy or run away
You listened silently, your intelligent brown eyes searching his face
When he finished, you didn't laugh
"You're telling me the truth." You stated quietly
Dean blinked, shocked, "You... You believe me?"
"I know when people are lying, Dean," You said, reaching out to take his rough, scarred hand, lacing your fingers with his, "And you look like a man carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. I trust you."
The next morning was bright and sunny, mocking the heaviness in your chest
The Impala sat idling in the driveway, its engine purring smoothly
Dean stood by the driver's side door, dressed in his leather jacket, looking smaller than he ever had
Your parents had given him a big hug and a box filled with fresh produce, baked goods, and pie for the road before heading back toward the garden to give you two privacy
You walked up to him, wearing your favorite dark green sun dress and cowgirl boots
You were trying desperately to hide how heartbroken you were
"So," You said, throwing your hands into your dress pockets, offering a tight, brave smile, "Back to the hunter life?"
"I have to," Dean said softly, staring at you like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face, "My dad... It's my job. It's what I do. But I'll come back. I swear I'll come back for you."
You shook your head gently, tears glistening in your brown eyes, though you kept your tone soft and grounded, "Dean... If what you told me about your life is true, you won't have time to come back. You have a duty. You have people to save."
"No, I can make time-"
"Listen to me," You interrupted softly, stepping into his space and placing a hand on his chest, right over his beating heart, "I don't want you making promises that will get you hurt or you can't keep. I just want you to stay safe."
Dean grabbed your hand, pressing a fierce, lingering kiss to your knuckles
"And if you ever get out?" You whispered, "If you ever find a way to leave that hunting life behind... You know where I’ll be."
Dean’s breath hitched
He pulled you into one last, desperate embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your coconut-and-clover skin one last time
"I'm gonna hold you to that," Dean murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion, "You hold down the fort, sweetheart."
He pulled away reluctantly, got into the Impala, and put it in drive
As the black car rumbled down the dirt driveway and disappeared down the open highway, you stood by the mailbox in the warm sun, watching until the sound of the engine faded into complete silence - holding onto the bittersweet hope that one day, the boy in the leather jacket would finally come home for good
~~~
Platonic;
~~~
Doctor Who;
K-9 -
You stepped into the TARDIS' console room and almost tripped over a shiny, metallic box moving across the grating with a distinct whirring sound
"Watch your step, mistress! Unidentified organic obstruction detected," A polite, monotone, synthesized voice chirped from below your knee level
You looked down to see a robotic dog
You were wearing a dark forest-green jumpsuit, dirty boots from your farm back in 2026, and your brown curls tied up in a chaotic bun
Being a 2026 college student studying anthropology, your immediate reaction wasn't fear
It was sheer, unadulterated academic and personal fascination
And when a strange man came to you wearing a ridiculously long scarf raving to you about space, you just had to follow him
"Doctor!" You called out, crouching down until your brown eyes were level with the red sensor eye, "Did you build a mechanical terrier?"
"Incorrect. I am K-9 Mark I," The metal hound whirred, "Species: Homo sapiens. Origin: Earth, Year 2026. Sarcasm detected in tone, yet heart rate indicates genuine pleasure. Affirmative."
The Doctor, leaning over the console while munching on a Jelly Baby, offered a wide, toothy grin, "Oh, he’s not just a terrier, my dear! He’s a tactical computer, a blaster, and an absolute sore loser at board games!"
Your friendship with K-9 was instant
While the Doctor was off pulling levers or getting into trouble with local authorities on distant planets, you and K-9 formed a quiet, comfortable routine in the TARDIS console room
Your favorite shared activity was setting up an old wooden chessboard on the TARDIS floor
You’d sit cross-legged in your favorite oversized green sweater, while K-9 would position himself across from you, extending his small metal probe to nudge the pieces across the board
K-9 calculated moves with 99.8% accuracy, but your human intuition, unpredictable brave plays, and sarcastic bluffing often threw his logic circuits into a loop
"Mistress, moving your Knight to E5 is mathematically ill-advised. It leaves your King vulnerable in 78% of probable outcomes."
"Yeah, but K-9, you’re forgetting one key factor."
"Query: Which factor?"
"I'm feeling lucky. Knight to E5."
"Illogical... Yet effective. Check."
As an anthropology student from 2026, you loved asking K-9 about historical data, human societal shifts, and cultural artifacts
You'd tell him about your family's farm - about the cows, sheep, and fruit trees - and K-9 would store every detail in his memory banks
Whenever you were winding down after a terrifying encounter with a Dalek or a Sontaran, you’d grab a microfiber cloth and give K-9’s silver chassis a thorough polish
He’d emit a low, contented hum, his tail wire wagging in rhythmic sweeps
While you read your anthropology textbooks or Jane Austen novels, K-9 would act as a small, warm footrest
"K-9," You say, leaning back against the TARDIS console console, nursing a mug of tea, "If we survive this next planet, I’m teaching you how to play poker."
K-9’s ears swivel sharply, "Bluffing requires intentional deception. My programming is dedicated to factual truth, Mistress."
"We’ll work on your poker face. First rule: no wagging your tail when you get an Ace."
"Affirmative, Mistress."
~~~
The Hobbit;
Bilbo Baggins -
Living in the Shire as a fellow Hobbit-neighbor (or a exceptionally tall, friendly resident living near the borders of Bag End), your paths crossed over something far more important than ring-lore or dragons: gardening and fresh produce
You were carrying a woven basket overflowing with crisp green apples and fresh herbs from your garden, wearing a earth-toned linen skirt with a forest-green bodice, your brown curly hair natural
Bilbo was standing at his round green door, looking thoroughly flustered while trying to prune a stubborn blackberry bush that had dared to cross over his neatly swept stone path
"Need a hand, Master Baggins?" You called out, your voice bright and confident, "Or are you planning on scolding those thorns into submission?"
Bilbo straightened up, adjusting his waistcoat, huffing slightly but offering a polite, albeit exasperated, smile, "They have no respect for property lines, I tell you! I’ve tried clipping them three times this morning, but they persist!"
You walked up the hill, pulling a small pair of iron shears and a pouch of natural compost from your apron, "That’s because you’re cutting the stem instead of feeding the root. Here- Let a girl who knows a thing or two about fruit trees take a look."
Within twenty minutes, the bush was pruned, Bilbo’s porch was spotless, and you were invited inside for second breakfast.
Bilbo appreciated two things above all else: order and good conversation
Because you were brave, sarcastic, and deeply knowledgeable about botany and history, you became his favorite refuge from the more "boisterous" or gossipy Hobbits of Hobbiton
You’d bring him fresh cuttings from your farm’s fruit trees, teaching him grafting techniques you learned back home
In return, Bilbo would share his pristine vegetable patch secrets
Bilbo loved that you didn't just talk about the weather or the price of butter at the market
You brought over your leather-bound copies of classic plays and poetry
You’d sit in his comfortable armchairs, the hearth crackling, drinking hot spiced cider
Whenever the Sackville-Bagginses came marching up the hill to eye his silver spoons, you were always there to step in
Your brave, direct, and slightly sharp-tongued nature meant you could turn Lobelia away with a sweet smile and a sarcastic remark before she even reached the doorknob
You made Bilbo a heavy, dark-green wool blanket hand-dyed with plants from your farm for his chilly reading nights
Bilbo, in turn, gifted you a beautifully preserved, antique botanical map of the Shire
When Bilbo eventually returned from his long, terrifying journey to Erebor, shell-shocked and quiet, you were one of the very few people who didn't ask him for tall tales
You simply walked up to Bag End, handed him a cup of hot tea, sat beside him on the bench overlooking the valley, and let him sit in peaceful silence while you tended his garden
"You know," Bilbo says, taking a slow puff from his pipe as the sun sets over Hobbiton, "The dwarves were very loud, very untidy, and had absolute zero appreciation for my cutlery."
You let out a rich laugh, "Sounds like a nightmare, Bilbo. Did any of them at least bring you a good book?"
"Not a single one," Bilbo sighs fondly, looking at you, "Which is why I am immensely glad to be back sitting on this bench with someone who understands the value of a well-kept garden and a quiet evening."
"You miss them." You said softly, knowingly
Bilbo sighed, "I do."
~~~
Supernatural;
Bobby Singer -
You didn't choose the hunter life
You were born on the edges of it
Your father was an old hunting buddy of Bobby Singer’s back in the day
A man who fought ghosts and monsters while trying to raise you on a small farm
Bobby had known you since you were a little kid in pig-tails running around his junkyard, clambering over rusted Chevy hoods while he and your dad drank cheap beer and researched lore
When your father died in the line of duty, your world shattered
You were young teen, grieving, and left carrying the weight of his legacy
But Bobby Singer didn't let you fall through the cracks
He stepped right into the vacuum
He drove his beat-up truck down to your farm, parked in the driveway, stood on the porch in his worn trucker hat and flannel, looking down at you with those tired, fierce, protective eyes
"Pack your books and your gear, kiddo," Bobby grunted, his voice rough but laced with deep warmth, "You ain't staying out here alone. And don't give me any of your sarcastic backtalk- You’re coming to the salvage yard."
From that day on, you were his daughter in every way that mattered.
Growing up under Bobby’s roof meant your extroverted, brave personality flourished alongside a deep sense of practical survival
You stayed in school, studied anthropology (which Bobby secretly boasted about to every hunter who called his landlines;
"My girl’s in college, studying ancient civilizations! What are your kids doing? Getting arrested in Idaho?"
But you also knew how to salt a doorframe, hot-wire any car, and more
You’d spend evenings sitting at the cluttered wooden desk in his library, surrounded by stacks of ancient Latin texts and lore books
While Bobby was bark-talking into three different phones pretending to be an FBI supervisor, you’d be cross-referencing folklore, helping him identify whatever creature Sam and Dean were facing that week
You were one of the few people who could give Bobby a run for his money when it came to snark
You’d tease him about his terrible diet, sneaking fresh fruit, apples, and vegetables from your family farm into his fridge, throwing away his moldy leftovers while he grumbled
On rare nights when the phones weren't ringing, you’d force Bobby to sit on the worn leather couch and watch your favorite horror/gory films
You’d be eating popcorn, fascinated by the cinematic gore and practical effects in movies while Bobby sat there nitpicking the monster lore
"That's not how a vampire attacks! That's Hollywood garbage!" Bobby would growl, pointing a beer bottle at the TV
"Bobby, it’s a movie," You’d laugh, "It’s about the cinematography. Sit back and enjoy the fake blood."
"Fake blood, humph..." He’d mutter, but he wouldn't get up off the couch
Bobby was fiercely, terrifyingly protective of you
If Sam and Dean brought trouble to the house, Bobby would immediately shield you
"She’s got midterms on Monday! You keep those demonic freeloaders away from her study table, or I swear to God-"
Bobby gave you your father’s old hunting knife, fully restored with a carved silver handle featuring an anti-possession symbol
In return, every time you visited the old farm, you’d bring him fresh homemade apple pies and jams from your fruit trees
He called you "Kiddo," or "June," and when he was feeling particularly soft, "Sweetheart"
You called him "Bobby Boy," "Old Man," or "Pops"
You walk into the kitchen at 2 AM, wearing an oversized green hoodie, brown curls messy, finding Bobby staring at an old leather-bound lore book with a glass of whiskey
"You’re up late, old man," You say softly, pulling a chair up beside him and setting a fresh apple on the desk, "Need me to translate the Latin for you? I know your eyes are getting bad."
Bobby looks at the apple, then up at you, his rough face softening into a rare, proud smile
He reaches out, roughly ruffling your dark curls like he did when you were ten
"I can read Latin just fine, you smart-aleck," Bobby mutters affectionately, "Go back to sleep. You gotta drive back to campus tomorrow, and I ain't letting you drive tired."
"Night, Bobby. Love you. Don't let the bedbugs bite. Or the demons."
Hi! I’d love both a romantic and a platonic matchup for the X-Men fandom. I’m 18 and use all pronouns, and I tend to switch between masculine and feminine styles. I’m bisexual, so I’m open to being matched with men or women for the romantic matchup. Physically, I have shoulder-length dark brown hair with blonde bangs and an underlayer, blue eyes, and a curvy but strong build. I’m 5’0, have some muscle in my arms, and I also have tattoos. My style leans toward leather jackets, band tees, tank tops, denim or cargo pants, and boots, kind of a rustic, outdoorsy aesthetic.
Personality-wise, I’m pretty shy and quiet at first, but once I get comfortable, I become more outgoing and funny. I can be anxious and awkward, especially in social or romantic situations, and I get flustered easily when someone flirts with me. I tend to come across as aloof or deadpan even when I’m not upset, but I care deeply about people and always try to look out for them. I’d say one of my biggest strengths is understanding others and why they act the way they do. I can be a bit of a daydreamer, get overwhelmed by noise, and I have pretty bad performance anxiety, even simple things like playing video games in front of others can make me nervous. Weirdly, I can sit through most horror completely straight-faced, but body horror or anything involving loss of autonomy really unsettles me.
For extra details, I’m a wildlife ecology and conservation major and really love nature, especially rain and the fall/winter seasons. I also love history and reading, and I have nerdy interests like Star Wars, Mass Effect, and D&D. My humor is dry, sarcastic, and a bit deadpan. My music taste is all over the place, but I especially like dad rock, jazz, and bands like Journey. I also love long road trips. My favorite colors are green and blue. I’d love to see who you think fits me best romantically and who would be my best platonic match!
Thank you!
Hello!
<33333
I'd love to write you some matches!
<333
I hope you like them!
Enjoy!
Romantic and Platonic Matchup; X-Men
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
X-Men;
Megan Gwynn (Pixie) -
(I recently watched some Lockwood & Co and thought Ruby Stokes might be a good Megan, idk, what do you think?)
It was late November when you moved and enrolled at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters
Joining mid-semester is never easy, especially wen you're navigating a brand-new environment
You kept your head down, drowning in quiet anxiety
Rocking a dark leather jacket over a vintage band tee, cargo pants, and worn boots, you looked tough and aloof
But underneath your dark brown hair with its bleached blonde bangs and under-layer, you were just trying to survive the sensory overload of a new town and new people
Megan noticed you instantly
With her bright pink hair, cheerful Welsh accent, gossamer wings, and wearing a customized punk-rock denim vest
She was a storm of color and warmth
The moment of contact happened in the library during a sudden autumnal downpour
You were sitting by a tall window, taking in the soothing sound of the rain striking the glass while sketching a local songbird
Megan practically levitated over, her eyes sparkling
"Helo! That's brilliant!" She exclaimed, leaning over your shoulder
Her sweet, berry-scented perfume instantly filled your space
"Are you new? I'm Megan! Megan Gwynn!"
You tensed up, your eyes wide, your face flushing as your social anxiety spiked, "Uh... Yeah. I'm... I'm new."
"Well, you look like someone who knows good music," She declared with a beaming smile, "Mind if I sit? The rain's lovely. What's your favorite song?"
You hesitated but gave a small nod
You didn't know it then, but that rain-soaked afternoon was the start of everything
You and Megan became an inseparable pair
Megan's bubble, outgoing spirit effortlessly broke through your shy, deadpan exterior, creating a safe space where your dry, sarcastic humor could flourish
She was one of the few people who understood that your quiet nature wasn't you being upset or mad - you were just observing, understanding people with a deep, quiet empathy that amazed her
Megan loved long journeys
You'd take you car out on scenic road trips along the misty coast
You'd blast Journey, Fleetwood Mac, and classic 80s rock, both of you singing at the top of your lungs
Megan would hang her feet out the window, her hair hair whipping in the wind
Long before you revealed your mutation, Megan was fascinated by how animals reacted to you
Stray cats would follow you down the street, and wild deer in the woods around the mansion grounds would walk right up to you to let you stoke their muzzle
You'd ramble for hours about wildlife ecology and conservation
And Megan would listen, completely rapt, resting her chin on her hands as you explained forest ecosystems
The true shift in your friendship occurred on a chilly, overcast winter afternoon in the woods
You were sitting on a fallen log, surrounded by a flock of chickadees that were perched on your arms, legs, and head, chatting merrily with them
Megan watched from behind a tree, breathless
"You... You can talk to them, can't you?" Megan whispered softly, stepping into the clearing
You froze, "I... Megan..."
Before you could finish, Megan let out a joyful squeal
She pulled you into a hug, mindful of the many birds, "That's absolutely amazing!"
From that day on, a profound bond was sealed
You were safe with each other
But as the months flew by, your feelings began to mutate into something much deeper
Every time she blew a stray pink lock of hair out of her face, every time she grabbed your arm in excitement, your heart did weird little backflips and flutters in your chest
Graduation came and went
You were accepted into a university to major in wildlife ecology and conservation, preparing to move away
Meanwhile, Megan was recruited directly into the X-Men training squad, stepping up to take on high-stakes missions and superhero duties
The night before you both left
You to college, and her to a mission
You sat on the hood of your car parked at a lookout point over the valley
The fall leaves were bright red and gold, and a light autumn drizzle was falling
You wore your denim and favorite green flannel over a dark tank top, your tattoos showing
The air was heavy with unspoken words
You were hopelessly in love with her
With her kindness, her fairy-like joy, her punk-rock courage
But your awkwardness and fear of changing your dynamic kept you quiet
"I'm gonna miss you so much, Megan." You said, your deadpan tone cracking with genuine emotion
Megan sat close, her gossamer wings tucked against her back
She rested her head against your shoulder, wrapping her arm through yours, "We'll see each other," She murmured, "I've got teleportation, remember? Distance means nothing to us."
You parted the next morning with a fierce, lingering hug, neither of you revealing the romantic flame burning in your chests
Two years into your college degree, you were living in a cozy, rustic cabin-style rental near the edge of a university nature reserve
It was a stormy late-autumn evening
Thunder rolled across the sky, and rain drummed against your roof
The best weather
You were sitting on your porch, wearing an oversized knit sweater over denim pants, sipping hot tea, and reading a textbook on forest ecology
Suddenly, with a loud POP and a blinding flash of pink light and sparkling magenta dust, Megan appeared right in the middle of your rain-slicked yard
She was wearing her yellow and blue X-Men tactical suit under a cropped leather jacket, looking slightly disheveled and completely breathless
"Megan?!" You dropped your book, standing up, your eyes wide in shock, "What- Are you okay?!"
Megan stood in the pouring rain, her pink hair soaked, her gossamer wings glowing brightly against the dark storm
She marched up the wooden porch steps, her boots clacking loudly
"I couldn't do it anymore!" Megan shouted over the thunder, her cheeks bright red
"Couldn't do what?"
"I couldn't go another bloody day fighting and saving the world without telling you!" Megan cried out, stepping right into your personal space
Her hands came up to grasp the front of your sweater, "I’ve been in love with you since we were seventeen! I love your quiet heart, I love the way you talk to animals, I love your dry jokes, and I am completely, head-over-heels mad about you!"
You stood frozen, flustered beyond belief, your cheeks burning hot. "Y-You... You love me-?"
"You're brilliant!" Megan interrupted softly, her voice dropping into a tender whisper
She reached up, her thumb tracing your blonde bangs, drying a raindrop from your cheek, "You're my anchor, love. You always have been."
Your awkwardness melted away
You reached out, your strong, muscular arms pulling her close by the waist, ignoring the dampness of her uniform
"I’ve been in love with you, Megan. I was just too terrified to say it."
Megan let out a joyous laugh, throwing her arms around your neck, and pulled you into a passionate, rain-scented kiss that tasted like sweet berries and magic
She calls you "Bear" (referring to your strong, muscular build and protective nature), and "Love"
You call her "sunshine"
When Megan gets flustered or extremely happy during romantic moments, her wings flutter automatically, dusting your living room with faint, glowing pink pixie dust
You end up with glittering hair for days, which she finds endlessly hilarious
For your birthday, Megan gifted you a magically enchanted leather compass that doesn't point North - it always points directly toward her, no matter where she is in the world or what dimension she's fighting in
In return, you built her a custom, hand-carved wooden display case for her collection of rock concert ticket stubs and magical trinkets
On stormy days, you two curl up under a heavy weighted blanket on the porch swing
Megan tucks her wings in, resting her head on your chest while you read Star Wars lore or D&D sourcebooks out loud to her
She loves the sound of your voice
It grounds her after chaotic X-Men missions
Whenever Megan gets time off from the team, you go on massive road trips in your truck
You drive through national parks during the peak of autumn, blaring 80s rock
You’ll stop in the forest, where you’ll use your mutation to call down wild songbirds and owls to sit on Megan’s shoulders while she giggles in delight
Because you get bad performance anxiety playing video games in front of people, Megan never pressures you
Instead, she’ll sit on the floor between your knees while you play slow-paced farming or cozy RPG games, resting her back against your legs and softly humming Jazz tunes, creating an environment where you feel zero judgment
You two love horror movies, though you have very different reactions
During gory slasher films, you sit completely straight-faced with a deadpan expression, while Megan squeals and hides her face in your neck
However, if a film touches on body horror or loss of autonomy, Megan instantly senses your discomfort through her deep empathy
She’ll immediately turn the movie off, wrap her arms around you, and talk about funny X-Mansion stories until your anxiety settles
Evenings are spent in your cozy kitchen
You wear a dark tank top showing off your arm tattoos while chopping vegetables, and Megan floats around at ceiling height, reaching high cabinets for spices, singing along to Fleetwood Mac while sprinkling a little literal magic into the everyday mundane
"Oi, love?" Megan murmurs one evening as the autumn rain taps against the kitchen window
She’s floating, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind as you stir a pot of stew
"Yeah?" You reply, leaning back into her warm embrace, your single deadpan expression softening into a genuine, affectionate smile
"I was just thinking," She whispers, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your neck, "Out of all the dimensions, all the magical realms, and all the places I can teleport in a split second... Standing right here in this kitchen with you is the only place I ever want to be."
~~~
Platonic;
~~~
X-Men;
Douglas Ramsey (Cypher) -
(I've decided on Ross Lynch, as he is a pretty popular fancast for Doug, and I rather like him; I was thinking Joe Keery, but-)
You arrived at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters as a transfer student focusing on wildlife ecology
Feeling entirely out of place among teenagers who could throw cars or shoot plasma beams out of their eyes
You looked like you belonged in the Pacific Northwest forests rather than a mansion full of mutant prodigies
The first week was sensory hell
Too much noise, too many opinions, and an overwhelming amount of raw power
You ended up retreating into the mansion’s sub-basement library during a heavy autumn downpour, wearing your favorite oversized cargo pants and cradling a warm mug
That’s where you found Doug Ramsey
He was eighteen, his sandy blonde hair a bit disheveled, hunched over three different computer monitors at once, surrounded by archaic history texts and coding manuals
He looked just as non-physically-intimidating as you felt in a school full of god-like mutants
"You know, if you're looking for the Danger Room, it's two doors down," Doug said without looking up, his fingers flying across a keyboard, "Though if you're like me, you're down here explicitly to avoid getting thrown into a wall by an alien simulation."
You leaned against the doorframe, your blue eyes cool, giving him your signature deadpan stare
"I'm a wildlife conservation major. The only thing I want to throw into a wall is the person who keeps leaving the common room TV on full blast."
Doug paused, turning around in his swivel chair
He took in your rustic, outdoorsy vibe, the tattoos peeking from your tank top under the leather jacket, and the absolute lack of pretense in your face
A huge, warm smile broke across his face
"I'm Doug. Omnilinguist, certified mansion nerd, and fellow noise-hater," He said, holding out a hand, "Please tell me you know what Mass Effect is, because I am currently trying to translate a rogue code string and my brain is turning into scrambled eggs."
"I know the entire codex by heart," You replied dryly, taking a seat across from him
Your friendship built itself on a foundation of mutual understanding
Doug, whose mutation is entirely mental (translating any language, code, or body language instantly), often felt useless in physical combat alongside the X-Men
You, with your deep understanding of human behavior and high anxiety, understood his imposter syndrome instantly
In return, Doug recognized your quiet nature and performance anxiety right away
You loved video games, but playing in front of people gave you unbearable performance anxiety
Doug became your ultimate safe space
He’d hand you a controller in his room, turn off the main lights, open the window so you could smell the falling rain, and put on a smooth jazz or dad rock playlist (you both bonded heavily over Journey)
If you missed a jump in a game or died to a boss, Doug didn't tease you
His omnilinguist brain would just break down the enemy's attack pattern like a language
"Okay, look at his left shoulder- The pixel cluster shifts three frames before he swings. You've got this."
Doug was the ultimate Dungeon Master
Because he understood language on a structural level, his world-building was insane
He built a entire custom D&D campaign set in a ancient, ruin-filled forest just for you
You would sit on his rug for hours while rain lashed against the windowpanes, drinking herbal tea, detailing your character's backstory, and discussing real-world historical tactics
You both could spend six hours straight debating the political intricacies of the Galactic Senate or comparing ancient Earth warfare to sci-fi lore
Your dry, sarcastic humor matched his bright, hyper-fixated enthusiasm perfectly
When the mansion became too loud or intense, you and Doug would steal away for long road trips in one of the school’s older, beat-up sedans
You drove (because you loved long drives), resting one muscular, tattooed arm on the open window frame, while Doug navigated and controlled the radio
You'd drive through upstate New York during the peak of autumn, red and gold leaves raining down on the windshield
The stereo would be blasting Journey’s "Separate Ways" or classic '80s rock, with both of you singing at the top of your lungs
You’d take him out into the deep woods to teach him about local wildlife ecology. Doug was fascinated by how nature spoke its own "language"
"Look at the bark damage on that pine," You’d point out in your calm, quiet voice, crouching down in your heavy boots. "Deer rub. Means we're in their winter corridor."
Doug would squat beside you, his blonde hair falling into his eyes, looking at you with genuine awe
"It’s wild how you read the forest like a book, Y/N. No mutation needed, just pure observation. You're brilliant."
You were famous in the mansion for sitting through intense psychological horror movies with a completely straight, deadpan expression while big, tough mutants like Blob or Pyro flinched
Doug loved watching movies with you because you didn't scream - you just made dry, sarcastic commentary about the terrible survival decisions of the main characters
However, Doug knew your absolute boundary: body horror or loss of autonomy
Because he could read body language instantly, the second a movie shifted into something that made you uncomfortable, Doug’s hand was already on the remote
"Nope, turning it off," Doug would say casually, swapping the input to Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back before you even had to ask, "That director's pacing was terrible anyway. Let's watch AT-ATs instead."
You have a strong build and some serious muscle, combined with hand-to-hand common sense
When Doug got bullied by some of the rougher mutant kids or felt insecure about his lack of physical power, you’d step in
You’d stand beside him, arms crossed, wearing your leather jacket, giving the offender a deadpan look that could melt steel
"If anyone touches my DM," You'd say softly, your voice completely flat and terrifying, "I'm going to explain the lifecycle of the parasitic wasp in graphic detail while you eat lunch."
It's more effective than you realize
Doug protects your peace
He acts as your social buffer
If a party in the lounge gets too loud, Doug will seamlessly pull you away
"Hey, I need Y/N in the lab to help me translate this ancient Greek wildlife scroll," He’d lie smoothly, giving you an exit ramp to escape sensory overload
Doug Ramsey provides the one thing a shy, anxious, daydreaming nerd needs most: a zero-pressure space to just exist
He doesn't need you to be loud, outgoing, or super-powered
He loves your dry wit, respects your deep ecological knowledge, protects your boundaries without making a scene, and will gladly spend every rainy autumn evening sitting on the floor with you, talking about Star Wars lore and sipping hot tea while the world outside rages on
I want to thank you for all your love and support over these last couple of months as I get through the last batch of matchup requests, it means so much to me <3
I just wanted to say that my Matchup Inbox will be opening in just a couple days! (I will make an additional post announcing the Inbox is open). Also, I will be making a few changes to my rules, fandoms I write for matches, and more. So keep your eyes out for that if you are thinking on sending in a request!
Below are the new fandoms I have added; they are also posted on my Matchups Rules below the fandoms list!
NEW FANDOMS:
1. If you choose/write Mystery as a fandom, I will pick a mystery character for you. This means they may be from one of the fandoms already listed, or from one of the many other fandoms I know.
2. If you choose/write Video Games as a fandom, I'll pick whoever I think is your best match from the various games I know, whether they're from a popular title or something a bit more niche.
If you have any questions, thoughts, or ideas, don't hesitate to ask me in my comments, DMs, or Inbox!
hello! i was wondering if i could possibly get a romantic KPDH, Top Gun Maverick and Supernatural:))? i’m bi so i’m fine with both masc and fem pairings!
my name is Spencer and as of tomorrow (so april 20th) i will be turning 19! i’m non-binary and will be starting college in September to study to become a registered veterinary technician, animals have been my special interest my entire life and i often end up yapping about them to the people around me. i’m also very interested in the performing arts.
i’m around 5’6 with brown hair but usually it’s dyed red, i have green eyes and don’t really have a specific clothing style, i jusr wear whatever feels comfortable for me and looks nice. i can be very energetic and am incredibly loyal although social cues are hard for me as well as tone so i more often than not need people to be very direct with me. i’m pretty people oriented; my i value my social circle incredibly deeply.
like i said earlier i’m also a huge yapper and can talk people’s ears off, especially about my interests or when the person that i’m talking to and i arw geeking out over the same thing!
i am also neurodivergent so i can get overstimulated and have moments where i just need to sit in the dark with my headphones and have silence.
i have two dogs (Morkies) and a leopard gecko as well!
Hello, Spencer!
<3333
I am sorry for the wait, and happy belated bday!
I really hope you like your matches!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic Matchups; K-Pop Demon Hunters, Top Gun: Maverick, and Supernatural
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Romantic;
~~~
K-Pop Demon Hunters;
Mystery -
You had only agreed to go to the Saja Boys concert because your friend had practically begged on their hands and knees
The arena was a sensory nightmare
Flashing, blinding pyrotechnics, neon glowing sticks, and thousands of screaming fans
You survived the show tucked into your favorite oversized, worn-in hoodie, your green eyes slightly hidden behind your red-dyed bangs, and your trusty noise-canceling headphones clamped firmly over your ears
The muffled music was actually pretty catchy, and you found yourself watching the strange, tall member whose long hair completely obscured his eyes
When the lights came up, you thought you were finally home free
Until your friend excitedly dragged you toward the VIP backstage lounge
You let out a quiet sigh, stepping off to the side near a row of equipment cases to decompress as much as you could while your friend went to meet the group
To keep your hands busy, you pulled out your favorite tactile fidget toy, spinning it repeatedly between your fingers
Then, your grip failed you
The toy clattered onto the floor, rolling several feet before bumping directly into a shoe
An occupied shoe
You froze
Looking up, you saw Mystery
Up close, his aura was wildly erratic
He stood completely still, his long, silver hair covering like 80% of his face, his arms resting awkwardly
You had noticed, out of the boys, that Mystery was the oddest of the group
He fit in, but also didn't
If that made sense
And to you, it did
He didn't pick up the toy like a regular normal human (demon) person would
He somehow, with skills you wished you had, kicked your toy into the air to catch it in his palm
Taking long strides to you, he extended his arm, holding the toy in a rigid, slightly unnatural posture
"Your." Mystery said, his voice a low, raspy, but also somehow soft, rumble
It was short, direct, and completely devoid of the sugary K-Pop idol persona
"Oh, thank you," You said, taking it back
because social cues and tone weren't always your strong suit, you didn't feel intimidated by his bizarre, blunt behavior
In fact, you found it refreshingly straightforward
Enough that you took your headphones off
"I drop things all the time. Did you know that leopard geckos actually drop their tails if they feel threatened?"
Mystery's head tilted sharply
A fast, uncanny, animalistic movement
Beneath his heavy bangs, his eyes fixed entirely on you
He didn't interrupt or brush you off
He didn't make fake small talk
He just stood there, leaning in slightly, listening to you
And you didn't even feel like he was just standing around just to be polite
You hated when people fakes niceness
And when the other Saja Boys were being herded out towards the back to their transport, Mystery pulled out his phone, unlocked the screen, and pushed it directly toward your face
"Number." He grunted
You blinked, tapped your contact info into his phone, and just like that, the quietest, strangest idol had your number
Texting Mystery was a fascinating experience
He almost never sent actual sentences
Just like in real life, he was a man of few words, if any
He communicated in single words, photos, gifs, or middle-of-the-night "Tap To Play" games
Which were usually Words With Friends or Stardew Valley
He'd text you at three in the morning with a photo of a stray cat
You'd reply with a full-on paragraph explaining the fun differences between orange cats and calicos, followed by a voice memo yapping about your two Morkies
He'd simply reply with "Cool"
When you finally visited their private residence, you were nervous
But Mystery immediately claimed you
(Romance really wanted to sweep you off your feet and woo you)
The moment you walked through the door, he didn't offer a polite smile, finger-heart, or a bow
He literally walked up to you, leaned down, and sniffed you
Sniffed you
(At first you thought you smelled and this was his way of telling you, but you guessed wrong)
Anyway, he'd then take your hand, and take you away to hang out in, most likely, silence
Because you struggle with tome and need people to be very direct, Mystery was unexpectedly the most comforting person you'd ever met
He didn't do passive-aggression or polite lies
If he wanted you near him, he'd tug your hoodie sleeve
"Stay" He'd say
If he was sick of the other boys talking or bothering you, he'd flat out growl and take you away to somewhere quieter
You quickly became his favorite creature in the world
You'd sit on the plush couch in his room while he laid his head on your lap
Heavy and warm like a giant hound
While you rambled on about veterinary medical procedures, performing arts, or your gecko's feeding schedule
He wouldn't say much, but he was hanging on every single word
The slow burn took months
Beneath his almost bashful K-pop facade, Mystery was a creature of dark, volatile impulses
Apathetic about human soul, fiercely aggressive when plans fell apart, and utterly exhausted by playing a cute idol
But around you...
His sharp edges smoothed out into possessive, protective devotion
The shift happened on an afternoon when you came over to the Saja Boys' house after an overwhelming day
You were completely overstimulated
The noise of traffic, school stress, and bright lights had pushed you to the verge of a shutdown
You walked into his room, pulled your hood over your head, put on your noise-canceling headphones, and sank into the dark corner of his room, hugging your knees
Mystery was mid-frustration
He had just kicked a coffee table because Gwi-Ma's orders were becoming more demanding
But the second he saw you sitting in the dark, clutching yourself, his aggressive energy instantly turned into absolute focus
He walked over, dropped down, and sat right beside you
He didn't force you to talk
He didn't even ask what was wrong
He gently lifted his arm and draped himself over you like a weighted blanket, burying his face into the side of your neck, holding you firmly against his chest
He stayed perfectly still in he almost pitch-black room for two hours
Giving you the deep pressure and total silence you needed to self-regulate
When you finally slipped one side of your headphones off, you whispered, "Mystery? You're heavy."
"Good," He grunted softly into your shoulder, "Mine."
Your heart gave a massive, violent thud in your chest
You realized then that this chaotic, terrifying demon boy was the safest place you had ever been or known
Despite that evening feeling more like a confession, it didn't feel... Solid and confirmed until way later
You didn't know what had happened that made Mystery snap
But when you came to see their rehearsal, you found Mystery pacing the back alley behind the studio
His hair was slightly messy, his breathing heavy and ragged, and his shoulders raised high
"Mystery," You called out, "Hey, it's me, Spencer. What do you need?"
Mystery whirled around
In two fast strides, he closed the distance between you, trapping you against him and the brick wall behind you
Now, if you were any other person, and you didn't know Mystery the way you had, you 1) might've freaked out a little, or 2) went all crazy fan that THE Mystery was pinning you against a wall
But you knew him and you were scared, surprised yes, and you weren't some crazy fan
He ducked his head down, pressing his forehead directly against yours
Through his long fringe, for the first time, you could barely make out his gleaming eyes looking straight into your green ones
"Sick of them," Mystery growled out, "Sick of the singing. Sick of the humans."
"Okay," You said softly, reaching up to grab his sleeves, "Let's try and think happy thoughts."
Mystery moved, pressing his nose against your cheek, breathing you in, before pressing his lips to your jaw
"You," He muttered against your skin, his face digging into the crook of your neck, "Only Spencer. Always."
You let out a breathy laugh, "Myst... Are you confessing to me?"
"Yes," He huffed, "Be my mate. Or I bite."
Well...
This was the first you were hearing anything about "mate"
You still weren't too savvy on demon lore
"You don't have to bite," You smiled, wrapping your arms around him, "I'm already yours."
He doesn't do nicknames
As you know, Myst doesn't really do much or say much at all
He just calls you by your name
When he's feeling particularly possessive/protective, he says "mine" while holding you
You jokingly call him "Pup" when you notice he's acting a bit too much like a dog, but you mostly call him also by his name or simply by "Myst"
If you're sitting down, he will physically lay his entire upper body across your lap, demanding you run your fingers through his hair
If you stop petting his hair, he will pout
He guards you
If someone steps too close to you in public or speaks to you in a tone he doesn't like, Mystery will stand right in front of you, and growl until they back away
He loves resting his chin on your shoulder or head when you're standing together
Because he hates crowds, daylight, people in general, and idol life, your dates are often at night
You'll wear your comfortable hoodies, and h'll trail beside you like a giant guard dog while you walk through quiet parks
You yap continuously about animal anatomy or veterinary medicine, and he holds your hand
You took him to a quiet, private retile rescue once
Mystery was utterly fascinated by your gecko
(You think, you couldn't tell for sure but it seemed like he liked your gecko)
Seeing you work so gently with creatures made his dark demon core turn to mush
He'd sit on the floor, holding your gecko, absolutely rigid
But if he had a tail, it would be wagging
He doesn't give normal gifts
He brings your odd things
Like a crow, he brings you stones, feathers, or whatever else he just sees and thinks of you
You bought him his own weighted blanket
And a cute hairbrush
Mystery is the ultimate anti-sensory partner
If you're having a bad day, he will literally carry you to his bed, pull the blackout curtains shut, put your headphones over your ears, and lay on top of you like a massive, warm pressure pad
The weighted blanket over there?
No, you don't need that
Your two Morkies were initially terrified by his demon energy
But Mystery treated them like little pack members
It's now a regular sight to see this terrifying, sullen demon lying sprawled on his back on your living room rug with two tiny Morkies sleeping soundly on his chest while you study your vet tech flashcards aloud
"Spencer." Mystery rumbles one evening, his face buried deep into the crook of your neck as you both cuddle on the sofa, you legs over his
"Yeah, Mystery?" You answer, flipping a page in your textbook
"Yep." He grunts simply
You chuckle, "You want me to talk?"
"Yes. I like your voice."
You looked up at him surprised, because this was the most he'd ever said to you in such a short time
"Okay, big guy. I'll talk."
Mystery lets out a deep, contented sigh, his heavy arm tightening around your waist as he closes his eyes, completely tethered to the world purely by the sound of your voice
~~~
Top Gun: Maverick;
Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia -
You stepped into the TOPGUN briefing room at NAS North Island in your comfortable, slightly worn flight suit, your dyed-red (that you somehow were allowed to have) tied back, and your green eyes scanning the room
You were used to standing your ground around military aviators, but tone and unspoken social cues had always been a headache for you in the Navy
That was until Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia turned around in his chair,
Wearing his standard flight suit with his helmet bag slung over his knee, his eyes lit up the second you were introduced
"Everyone, this is Spencer L/N," Maverick announced to the Dagger detachment, "Call sign still pending."
"Pending?" Fanboy grinned, sliding into the seat right next to you, "No way. I've already heard about you. You're the one with the dogs!"
"Dogs?" Hangman perked up
"I like dogs!" Bob exclaimed uncharacteristically
Before long, the others had crowded around you as you pulled out your wallet, showing off pictures of your two Morkies
Maverick sighed deeply
There goes his briefing
"These are my Morkies," You said proudly, "They're my whole world."
Fanboy took one of the photos you were passing around for everyone to see, and he stared at it before he snapped his fingers
"That's it, Maverick! I've got the call sign. They're "Morkie.""
You took a second, needing to process if he was making fun of you or being serious
Fanboy noticed your pause immediately
He dropped the teasing grin and looked right at you, "I'm not making fun of you, Spence. I think it's a great call sign."
That directness, and his power to somehow read your thoughts, was like a breath of fresh air
Your friendship built up fast
Fanboy became your favorite person on the base because he eliminated the guessing game that usually drained your social battery
In Fanboy was happy, he told you
If he was tired, he said it
If he didn't understand something, he asked
Because of his naval aviation training - where clear communication literally saved lives - he never used passive-aggression or double meanings
If you asked, "Are you mad at me?" He wouldn't roll his eyes
He'd stop, look you right in the eye, and state clearly, "No, Morkie. I am not mad at you at all. I am just focused on this next mission."
Mickey's call sign exists for a reason
He's a total nerd for aviation, pop culture, and hyper-fixations
When you started prepping for your upcoming September start in college for your part-time veterinary tech degree, you'd sit at the Hard Deck bar with your textbooks
Mickey would sit beside you, drinking a beer, totally mesmerized as you yapped about your gecko and other reptiles
He'd even buy you a bowl of peanuts (if you're not allergic) since you can't drink
You loved the performing arts
For some reason you found yourself flying jets
Anyway...
Mickey was the first Dagger to willingly sit through you singing whole musical numbers
He'd even join in on the chorus, drumming his hands on the briefing table while Payback laughed in the background
The shift from best friends to something deeper happened on a Thursday after a grueling one hour dogfight training exercise
The roar of the jet engines, the bright Cali sun, and the loud, chaotic post-flight debrief in the locker room pushed your sensory limits over the edge
You hit complete overstimulation
You slipped away, sitting on the floor, regretting not having your noise-canceling headphones
You pulled your knees up to your chest as you tried to control your breathing and tune everyone out
Mickey didn't yell for you
He tracked you down
When he saw you tucked away, he didn't ask a million questions or force you to explain
He quietly slid down the wall, sitting right next to you
He didn't touch you
Knowing sensory overload meant physical touch might be too much
He held up his hand after a while, a silent invite
You looked at his hand, and slowly you took it
Relief filled your eyes and chest
You leaned sideways into his chest
Mickey wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your hair, holding you in silence until the world stopped spinning
That night, you realized you weren't just fond of Mickey Garcia
You were madly in love with him
It happened at the beach near the Hard Deck after the team played some football
The sun was dipping low over the Pacific, casting deep orange and purple light across the water
You were sitting on the tailgate of Mickey's truck, reading a book, and wearing an oversized hoodie
That was totally not Mickey's that you stole
(It was his and you did steal it)
(Legally)
Mickey walked up, holding two drinks
Non-alcoholic obviously
Shirtless and sweaty...
He handed one to you, then leaned against the truck bed right beside you
"Morkie," He said, turning his head
"Yeah, Mickey?"
He took a deep breath
Mickey didn't know what to say
He did... But.. Well, he was nervous
He took another deep breath
He grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours
"I am going to state something very directly to you right now so there is zero confusion or misunderstanding," Mickey said, his brown eyes locking onto your green ones with absolute intensity, "I am head-over-heels in love with you, Spencer. Not just as my wingman, and not just as my best friend. I want to take you out on a real date. I want to hear you yap about your pets and other animals for the ret of my life. And I want to be the guy who sits in the dark with you whenever the world gets too loud. How do you feel about that?"
Your heart pounded so hard against your ribs you thought he could hear it over the crashing waves
A massive, uncontrolled smile broke across your face
"I am also stating very directly," You replied, leaning forward until your forehead rested against his shoulder, "That I love you too, Mickey. Big time."
Mickey le out a loud, breathless laugh, pulling you into his arms and spinning you around on the sand while the rest of the Daggers cheered from the bonfire
Mickey knows tone and cues can be tough, so he intoduced, "Status Checks"
Whenever he senses you pulling back or looking confused, he’ll simply say: "Status Check, Morkie"
You can ask him directly what he meant by a phrase, or tell him your battery is at 10%, and he will answer with 100% honesty
No mind games, ever
He calls you "Morkie" (in front of the squad), "Spence," and "Red," (teasing your bright dyed hair)
You call him, "Fanboy," and "Mick"
Mickey is completely, shamelessly obsessed with your animals
Your two Morkies treat him like a giant chew toy the second he walks through the door, and he will literally lay flat on the floor letting them lick his face while he talks to them in a high-pitched, baby voice
He even built a custom, temperature-controlled wooden enclosure stand for your leopard gecko, decorating the outside with tiny custom drawn top-gun wings
His favorite dates to take you on involve your special interest
He’ll drive you out to local wildlife rescues, tide pools, or ethical animal sanctuaries
He brings a notepad and literally writes down the fun facts you tell him while walking through the exhibits, showing off his notes later like a proud student
He surprises you with tickets to touring Broadway shows in San Diego
He dresses up in a sharp suit, buys you the big souvenir program, and holds your hand in the dark theater, smiling as he watches you whisper along to every single song
When September hits and you start your vet tech classes, your apartment becomes a haven of flashcards and highlighters
Mickey will sit on the couch with your two Morkies asleep in his lap, holding up flashcards of canine skeletal systems, patiently testing you for hours
Since you dye your hair red, Mickey takes on the duty of helping you retouch your roots
He wears a pair of flight-line safety goggles and rubber gloves, taking it extremely seriously
He’ll carefully section your hair, painting the dye on while you both sing along to the "Wicked" or "Rent" soundtracks
The sun has gone down over your apartment
The living room is dim, lit only by the warm glow of your leopard gecko’s habitat lamp
You’re sitting on the rug, leaning back against the sofa, wearing an old soft t-shirt and sweatpants
Mickey is sitting behind you on the couch, his long legs framing you, his hands gently detangling your freshly dyed red hair while you yap about an article you read on marine mammal rehabilitation
"And then the sea otters actually have a pouch under their forearm to store their favorite rocks!" You explain, your hands moving wildly in the air as you turn around to look at him, "Can you believe that? A favorite rock!"
Mickey stops his hands in your hair, looking down at you with pure, unadulterated adoration in his brown eyes
He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right between your brows
"You are the most incredible person I've ever met, Spence," He says softly, his voice completely clear, direct, and full of warmth, "Now, tell me more about the otter rocks. I’m all ears."
~~~
Supernatural;
Sam Winchester -
It was late October during your freshman semester at Stanford
You were sitting at a secluded table in the back stacks of the library, surrounded by stacks of veterinary anatomy textbooks and comparative animal physiology journals
You were wearing a soft, worn, oversized emerald cardigan over a vintage graphic tee, your green eyes framed by crimson-dyed hair that caught the warm light of the study lamp
You were quietly humming a line from Sweeney Todd - a subtle vocal stim - while intensely cross-referencing notes on reptilian metabolic bone disease
Across the aisle sat Sam Winchester
At eighteen, Sam was tall, broad-shouldered, and trying desperately to fit into the life of an ordinary pre-law freshman
He was wearing a faded plaid flannel over a grey t-shirt, his floppy brown hair falling over his forehead as he flipped through thick volumes of political theory
You had let out an audible gasp when reading, (why? you still don't know), accidentally knocking a highlighter off the table
Sam leaned down to catch it
"Sorry!" You said quickly, "I got completely caught up. Did you know leopard geckos store their fat reserves exclusively in their tails?"
Sam didn't look annoyed or ask you to be quiet
Because, this is a library
Instead, his hazel eyes lit up with that classic Winchester intellectual curiosity
He set his pen down, adjusting his posture
"Exclusively in the tail?" Sam asked, leaning forward on his elbows, "Is that a survival mechanism against starvation, or primarily a predator distraction technique? Because in medieval bestiaries, reptilian tail-autotomy was often misidentified as magical regeneration."
You blinked, thrilled, "It's both! But biologically speaking- Wait, do you actually want to hear the full breakdown?"
Sam pulled out the wooden chair across from you with a warm, genuine smile, "Spencer, right? We have Astrology with Professor Baker together. Please. My brain is fried from tort law. Tell me everything."
You talked for two hours straight until the librarian gave you both a stern look
Sam didn't just listen - he pulled out a legal pad and actually took notes, comparing your veterinary facts to obscure historical anecdotes
The friendship formed rapidly
As a neurodivergent person who struggles with indirect social cues and subtle shifts in tone, you found Sam’s presence profoundly refreshing
He said exactly what he meant, never played passive-aggressive mind games, and appreciated absolute directness in return
You and Sam became the ultimate "research duo" at the campus coffee shop
You’d yap about animal medicine, surgical techniques, or your two Morkies back home, and Sam would yap back about constitutional law, folklore, and historical case studies
You were both massive geeks who loved the thrill of acquiring knowledge
Because you often needed direct verbal feedback, Sam adjusted instinctively
If you paused mid-sentence, worried you were interrupting or annoying him, Sam would look you straight in the eyes and say plainly: "Spencer, I am fully engaged in what you're saying. You aren't annoying me, and I'll tell you directly if I need to study for an exam."
Sam was secretly fascinated by your passion for theatre
While he spent his youth moving from town to town, you brought him into a world of artistic expression
You’d play cast recordings of musicals during long study nights
The transition from close friends to something deeper happened one evening in November
The campus quad had been holding a loud, chaotic bonfire rally
Between the roaring crowds, flashing lights, and overlapping music, your nervous system hit an absolute wall of severe overstimulation
Your chest felt tight, your hands started hand-flapping rapidly to process the stress, and you felt an intense shutdown coming on
Sam saw it immediately
He didn't ask a million questions or draw attention to you
He simply stepped in front of you, blocking the crowd with his tall frame, and spoke in a low, grounded voice
"Spencer. Look at me," Sam said gently, keeping his hands visible and his voice perfectly calm, "Too much?"
You nodded mutely, pointing to your ears and pulling out your noise-canceling headphones
"Okay. My dorm room is empty right now. Let's go."
He walked you back to his room, unlocked the door, and immediately shut out the hallway noise
Without a word, he pulled down the window shades, turned off every overhead light, and guided you to sit on his bed with your back supported against the wall
He didn't try to force conversation
Sam grabbed his own book, sat on the floor with his back pressed against the edge of the mattress right beside you, and flicked on a tiny clip-on reading light pointed away from your eyes
He provided a safe, quiet anchor in the total dark
After forty minutes of pure silence, your heart rate finally settled
You pulled off your headphones
"Sam?" You whispered in the dark
"I'm right here," He replied softly from the floor, turning his head up toward you
"Thank you for not making it weird. Or asking me to explain."
Sam reached up, gently resting a warm, large hand over your shoe on the edge of the bed - a safe, non-intrusive gesture of support
"You told me what you need when you get overwhelmed. I listen to you, Spencer. Always."
Looking down at his silhouette in the dim amber light of his reading lamp, seeing how completely safe he made you feel, you realized your heart wasn't racing from overstimulation anymore
It was beating for him
By spring, Sam was completely smitten
For an eighteen-year-old boy who had spent his entire life surrounded by secrets, violence, and heavy expectations, your loyalty, vibrant energy, and genuine sweetness were like fresh air
Lots of fresh air is being given...
He loved your crimson hair, your expressive green eyes, and the way your face lit up when talking about animal conservation
It happened after you took him to see a local college theatre production
You were walking under the lit sandstone arches, yapping excitedly about the lighting design and vocal arrangements, your hands moving enthusiastically as you walked
Sam stopped walking, pulling you gently by the sleeve of your jacket
"Spencer," He said, his voice carrying a nervous tremor that was rare for him
You stopped, turning around, "Did I interrupt you? Sorry, I know I talk too fast when I'm excited-"
"No, stop apologizing," Sam cut in softly, stepping closer
The tall, academic boy looked adorable with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, his cheeks slightly flushed, "I love hearing you talk. I love your energy, I love how deeply you care about animals and art, and I love how honest you are with me."
You blinked
"I don't want to just be your study partner, Spencer. I'm in love with you."
A huge smile broke across your face, your energetic nature taking over as you jumped up slightly, grabbing the lapels of his jacket, "Sam Winchester, you have no idea how long I've wanted you to say that!"
When Sam visits your place or sees photos of your pets, he treats them with incredible care
He learned the exact handling protocols for your leopard gecko so he could hold them safely, and he lets your two Morkies climb all over his giant frame on the couch while he reads, smiling broadly as they lick his chin
Sam loves taking you to quiet outdoor spots like the foothills
You bring binoculars, and while you yap about local bird species and mammalian habitats, Sam holds your hand, carrying a backpack stuffed with your favorite snacks, extra water, and your noise-canceling headphones just in case
Sam buys tickets to local plays and musicals, making sure to secure aisle seats so you don't feel trapped in a crowded row
Afterwards, he takes you to a late-night diner
Sam is an incredibly thoughtful gift-giver
He gifts you expensive, high-end veterinary medical illustration books, customized earplugs for loud environments, and handmade bookmarks stamped with quotes from your favorite musicals
Evenings in his or your room are low-key and comfortable
You’ll sit curled up together on the bed
You wearing his oversized hoodies, studying your vet tech manuals, while Sam works through his law briefs
If you get fidgety or need to stim, Sam doesn't bat an eye; he just stretches his leg out so you can lean against him and hands you a cool fidget toy
Sam maintains a sweet habit of direct emotional check-ins
Every evening before bed, he’ll look at you and ask plainly: "How is your social battery on a scale of one to ten, Spence?"
If you say three, he immediately transitions into quiet-care mod - making you tea, turning down the lights, and holding you close while you rest your head on his chest
"Sam?" You murmur one night, sitting on his desk while he organizes his study notes for the week
Sam looks up immediately, resting his hand on your knee, his hazel eyes full of warmth, "Yeah, Spence? What's on your mind?"
"Did I tell you about the physiological differences in mammalian vs. avian red blood cells today?"
Sam smiles, leaning up to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips, "No, you haven't yet. Sit in my lap, and tell me every single detail."
i’m 25 years old and my pronouns are she/they. i’d like a romantic matchup with any sexuality/gender :)
I’m 5’9 (all legs, no torso lol). i’m on the curvier side; i’m very solid. i have red, fire truck colored, shoulder length wavy hair and i have my bridge, septum, and vertical labret pierced.
i love reading, musical theatre, basketball, and chemistry! i’m an august leo. my favorite colors are pink and black. i love horror movies like Us and Jennifer’s Body.
that’s all i can think of, but let me know if you need more! 🖤
Hi!
<333
I am sorry for the wait!
I hope you like your match!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic Matchup; DC Comics
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
DC;
Harper Row (Bluebird) -
(I really liked the idea of Auli'i Cravalho as Harper)
You met Harper in the dingy, underfunded basement science wing of Gotham University
(Before the place was funded by Bruce Wayne)
You were in the middle of the late-night chemistry lab, leaning against the counter wearing a black, oversized band tee, faded pink cargo pants, leather boots, and safety goggles perched on your head
Harper - a brilliant, self-taught electrical engineering student working as a campus lab tech to pay the bills - walked in carrying a soldering iron and a spool of copper wire
She was rocking her signature spiky electric-blue hair, a distressed leather vest over a white crop-top, ripped jeans, and her own boots
But it were her smirk that really caught your attention
"Hey, red," Harper drawled, leaning against the doorframe, taking in your vivid hair, your piercings, and your tall frame, "You know your beaker's about two seconds away from exploding, right?"
You blinked, looking down at your beaker as it began to bubble
You quickly stabilized it, before looking up at her with a deadpan expression
"I had it under control," You replied, "And the name's not 'Red.'"
"I'm Harper," She said, stepping in, her dark eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity as she looked at your formula notes on the whiteboard, "And for the record? Chemical equations make my brain melt, but whatever you're doing was hot."
That was it
Two alt-fashion STEM nerds in the grimiest city on the East Coast
It was an instant, high-voltage connection
Your friendship was built on an unfiltered, laid-back, flirty vibe
Harper wasn't used to people who could keep up with her sharp tongue and mechanical genius, but your shared love for science gave you an instant intellectual bond
Your nights were spent in Harper's cramped, cluttered apartment
The space smelled of motor oil and takeout
But like, in a good way...
You'd sit cross-legged on her thrifted couch, dressed in your favorite pink-and-black loungewear, while she tinkered with circuit boards on the coffee table
You bonded over the dark, somewhat campy, and psychological horror
You introduced her to "Us" and "Jennifer's Body"
Harp, as you began to call her, would sit with her legs draped over yours, eating popcorn out of a plastic mixing bowl, yelling at the screen
"Oh, come on! Who leaves the crowbar in the basement? That's basic tactical stupidity!"
You're more built body made you a menace on the local Gotham courts
Not legal, no
Harp, being shorter and scrappier, loved watching you play basketball in the local parks that had a decent hoop that still had the net
She'd sit on the bench in her steel-toed boots, cheering for you even when you had no one to play against
She wooped whenever you got the ball in the net
And, yeah, she played against you sometimes, too
Harp pretends to be a hardened, cynical Gotham punk
But you caught her softly humming songs from Sweeney Todd while she was wiring a fuse box
When you called her out on it, her face flushed, but from that day on, you two blasted broadway soundtracks right alongside 90s grunge
As the months passed, the dynamics began to shift
Harp was fiercely protective of her brother, Cullen, and didn't let people into her inner circle easily
But you became her safe harbor to sail to
She loved the way your alt style complemented hers
The contrast of her electric-blue hair against your fire-truck red
Your pink-and-black aesthetic softening her harsh, leather-and-chains exterior
A big pro is that you'd both have a blast shopping in Hot Topic
She'd subtly find excuses to touch you
Fixing the strap of your tank top, tracing the silver of your bridge piercing with her thumb, or resting her head on your shoulder after a long "shift"
(What she claimed was late-night engineering work)
"You've got a killer posture, you know that?" Harper murmured one night, leaning back on the couch beside you while you read a chem paper, "All legs. Makes me feel so short standing next to you. You think you can save some height for the rest of us." She joked lightly, and she knew she meant well
"You're not short, Row," You chuckled, looking down at her through your lashes, "You're just compact. Like a bomb."
Harper looked up at you, her dark eyes locking onto yours, "Yeah... Well... Just don't get too close when I go off."
The lie couldn't last forever
One night, you were waiting at Harper's place for a horror movie marathon
This time you were watching The Craft
When the window slid open, it wasn't Harp in her leather jacket she hardly took off
It was Bluebird, covered in dirt and grime
She froze on the fire escape, she was shocked
even though she was wearing a mask, you knew who it was
You just knew
"Harper?" You breathed, standing up, your heart hammering, "What... What is it? What are you wearing?"
She pulled off the mask completely, her hair messy and her skin sweaty, "Crap. Crap, no, no, no. You weren't supposed to see me like this."
"Are you a superhero?" You exclaimed, rushing over to help her step through the window, noticing the gash on her side, "You're bleeding! Harp, what the hell?"
"I am Bluebird, okay!?" She snapped, wincing as she sat down, her hands shaking as she tried to unbuckle her armor, "I hit the streets! I fight the scum of the Earth! I didn't tell you because... Because people who know who I am get targeted! I was trying to protect you!"
You grabbed her first aid kit from the bathroom, kneeling between her knees
You set to work cleaning the cut, your hands steady despite your anger, surprise, and confusion
"Protect me? By lying to me every single night?"
"Yes!" Harper yelled, her voice cracking as she grabbed your hands, stopping your movements, "Because I can handle getting shot at, okay? I can handle Batman grunting at me, I can handle Punchline and whoever else! But if someone hurt you? If some freak-out mobster used you to get to me? I would burn this whole city to the ground."
The small apartment went completely silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the rotating fan in the corner
"I-I love you," Harper muttered, her dark eyes shining with unshed tears, her fingers tightening around yours, "I've been in love with you since you excitedly ranted to me about that movie "Sinners." You're smart, you're strong, you look like a goddamn goddess, and you're the only part of my life that isn't broken. I hid this because losing you would literally kill me."
You stared at her before letting out a long, shaky breath, "I wish you told me sooner, but I am glad that we had this conversation."
She stared at you, "That doesn't sound like either friend-zoning or returning my feelings."
"I didn't know how to tell you," You smiled softly, taking her hands into yours, before closing the distance and pressing a kiss to her cheek, "But, I love you, too, Harp. And thank you."
"Thank you? For what?" She asked, cheeks burning, and heart in her chest almost exploding with happiness
"For the compliment. I am a goddamn goddess."
She calls you "Red"
And you call her "Blue," "Row," or "Sparky"
You look iconic together on the street
Her blue hair and dark punk gear alongside your red hair, piercings, and pink/black wardrobe
People clear the sidewalk when you two walk down the block holding hands
You turn heads
Dates often double as tinkering sessions
While she builds tech upgrades for her Bluebird gear, you experiment with chemical compounds
You make her smoke bombs and flash-bangs
Sitting side-by-side at a workbench, passing tools back and forth, is peak romance for the both of you
She'll rent out a secluded indoor go-kart racing
She always wins
You'll teach her how to shoot three-pointers, wrapping your arms around her from behind to guide her form, teasing her when she misses
She loves making you gifts instead of buying you things
She would make you jewelry
Like cool earrings or piercings
You'd get her vintage vinyl records from the 60s and 70s and even a jacket that you got custom-made for her
Domestic life with a vigilante means quiet, tender post-patrol moments
You'll sit on the edge of the bathroom sink while she stands between your legs, letting you stitch up cuts, apply ice packs, or help shave the side of her head
Harper is a notoriously restless sleeper
And a light sleeper
Due to night patrols and nightmares
But when she's with you, she buries her face into your chest, her arms wrapped around you
Appearance: I’m 5,2 with hazel green eyes and brown wavy hair. I’m mid size and have very pale skin. I usually dress in colors such as red wine or Prussian blue.
Personality: I’m an ENTP. I’m an ambivert person and normally very social. I’m adaptable to a lot of people and I adjust quickly to new situations.
I more of an avoidant kind of person when it comes to relationships when there’s any kind of emotional intimacy. I often joke about things and I’m good coordinating people.
Likes: I love to try out new things and I can never sit still for too long. I especially like zoology, ants in particular and I also enjoy history and geography themes. I love water sports such as windsurf or diving. I also love to read and to embroider.
I love your post and other matchups I’ve read.
Hello!
<333
I would love to make you a matchup!
And also, thank you!
<333
I am sorry for the wait!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic Matchup; Gotham
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Gotham;
Jerome Valeska -
The Galavan estate was a cold, grand mausoleum of old money and dark ambitions
But as a close friend and ally to Tabitha Galavan, you had free rein
You, with your pale skin, hazel-green eyes, and wavy, dark hair, stood out against the Gotham gloom in your tailored wine-red coat and dark Prussian-blue velvet matching, equally-tailored suit
You were an invaluable asset to Theo
A brilliant hacker, a master coordinator, and someone who held significant, quiet power in the city's underground networks
When Theo broke the inmates out of Arkham to form his "Maniax," the estate transformed into a chaotic circus
You first met Jerome Valeska in the grand drawing room
He was lounging on an antique silk sofa in his scuffed Arkham jumpsuit
While the other inmates were loud, lumbering brutes
(And honestly not you cup of tea)
Jerome was a red-headed firecracker of theatrical violence
When Tabby, as you called her, introduced you as her confidante and elite tech specialist, Jerome stopped mid-spin, his eyes lighting up with dark curiosity
"Well, well, well... Who's the delicate little masterpiece?" Jerome drawled, springing off the sofa with the grace of lion stalking its new prey
He leaned down, his ginger hair falling into his eyes a little, invading your personal space until you could smell the copper on him
"Look at those eyes! Tell me, red velvet, do you bite?"
You didn't flinch
With an adaptable nature, you simply tilted your head, a sharp smirk playing on your lips
"Only if you step on my shoes, Valeska. And by the looks of it, you're really close to doing so."
Jerome burst into a booming, cackling laugh that echoed off the high ceilings, "Oh, Theo! Where'd you find this one? I want to keep her!"
From that moment, Jerome was hooked
You weren't terrified like the Galavan servants, nor were you an arrogant sociopath like Theo
You were clever, quick-witted, and wildly entertaining
Jerome made it his personal mission to bug you whenever you were at the estate
While Theo gave orders and Tabby trained
Jerome would drag a chair over to your temporary office, resting his chin in his hands to watch you work
You loved trying new things and couldn't sit still for long
You'd be cracking a GCPD security mainframe in a Prussian-blue silk blouse, and black trousers, and Jerome would be leaning over your shoulder
When Jerome discovered your hyper-fixation on zoology
Specifically your fascinated rambles about any colony hierarchies and super-organisms
He didn't make fun of you
In fact, he was enthralled
Neither of you could sit still
On nights when the estate felt suffocating, you's sneak down to the docks together
While you loved high-energy water sports like windsurfing, Jerome would watch from the pier, throwing rocks into the harbor water, cheering you on with whistles as you cut through the waves in the dark
Sometimes, if you were really crazy, you and him would set off fireworks, until the cops were calling
Jerome was unhinged, unpredictable, and loudly affectionate in his own twisted way
You, on the other hand, had a massive wall around your heart
Deep down, emotional intimacy terrified you
Closeness felt unsafe, overwhelming, and unpredictable
Whenever conversation drifted toward genuine feelings, your defense mechanism flared
You turned everything into a joke, defected with dry sarcasm, or threw yourself into work to avoid vulnerability
Or it was none of these
Jerome, possessing a strange, razor-sharp intuition, saw right through it
During a late-night prep session for an attack, you were embroidering a intricate floral design onto the lapel of a jacket
Jerome snatched your attention
"You're doing it again." He purred, his voice dropping from manic to raspy and dangerous
"Doing what, Valeska? Crafting?" You joked smoothly
"Deflecting," Jerome smirked, leaning in close, "Every time I tell you that you're the prettiest thing in this god-forsaken city, you made a joke about my body count- Ah, don't smirk. You're scared, sweetheart. Scared I'm gonna get under that sharp little skin of yours."
"I'm not good with emotional intimacy, Jerome." You replied, your heart hammering against your ribs, "It's unpredictable."
"Good thing I'm unpredictable, too." He chuckled, his grin widening, "We can make such sweet disasters together."
After a successful Maniax attack, Jerome dragged you up to the roof of an abandoned building overlooking the skyline
The wind swept through your hair, your eyes reflecting the moonlight and stars
Jerome grabbed your waist, pulling you against his chest
"Look at it! The whole city is burning, and you lit the fuse for me!" he cackled, before suddenly stopping
He framed your face with his hands, "I don't care about Theo. I don't care about Tabitha. I want you running the stage with me."
Panic flared in your chest, it felt suffocating, "Jerome, don't do this. I don't-"
Jerome didn't yell
He didn't get angry
"Then pull away, doll face. Run as far as you want! I'll just hunt you down and drag you back, "He muttered, "You don't have to fall into the abyss of emotions, just trust me."
You stared at him for a long time, pursing your lips
"I trust you."
"Good." He grinned before pressing his lips to yours
Jerome understood your need for space better than anyone expected
Because he was so chaotic, he never forced you into traditional, sappy emotional conversations
Instead, your relationship was built on action, shared intellect, and a mutual understanding that you didn't need to speak your feelings to prove them
When you felt overstimulated or terrified by vulnerability, you'd quietly shut down
Jerome wouldn't pry
He’d simply sit beside you, toss an arm over your shoulder, and start rambling about historical military disasters or geography trivia he'd picked up, letting you listen until you felt safe enough to talk again
He loves calling you "Red Velvet," "Sweetheart," and "Dollface"
You often just call him by his name or "Valeska"
Jerome loved giving you absurd, extravagant gifts he'd stolen
Rare books and high-end equipment
since you loved water sports, Jerome would steal you a speed boat
You'd ride the waves under the moonlight while he steered like a lunatic, firing flares into the night sky
Knowing your love for history and geography, Jerome's idea of a date is to break into the Gotham Historical Museum of Fine Arts
You'd stroll through the ancient Egyptian and Greek exhibits
Driving around the city in stolen sports cars, listening to blasting music, laughing
Evenings in your hidden safehouse were surprisingly cozy
You'd be curled up on a dark velvet sofa, Jerome lying with his head in your lap
On nights neither of you could sleep, you'd sit on the floor listening to music or talking
Hello! Can I have platonic and romantic matchups for marvel and stranger things? I'm 17, and a lesbian! My pronouns are she/they and I have short blonde hair as well as glasses and blue-grey eyes, I'm also very tall for my age, about 5'10-5'11. I'm autistic and my special interests are marvel and writing! I'm very loyal and kind, but I'm also quite stubborn, I can be very ambitious and determined when I set my mind to something but I'm a people pleaser and tend to be very shy. I write a lot as well as read, especially fiction, my favourite shows are Agents of shield and Agent Carter while my favourite movies are Black Widow and Thunderbolts! I enjoy a wide variety of music, but I listen to Mitski and Marina a lot. My favourite colours are lavender and mint green and my style is like a colourful grunge, but I'm very masculine. I also occasionally have to use a cane or other mobility aids because of my HeDs!
Hi!
<333
I am sorry for the wait!
I really hope you like your matches!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic and Platonic Matchups; Marvel and Stranger Things
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Marvel;
America Chavez (Miss America) -
(Based more on her in the comics, I've only read three so my knowledge is limited, I am sorry for mistakes!)
You were recruited into the Young Avengers after a series of strange dimensional rifts started tearing through your hometown
Despite your flares requiring you to rely on a sturdy, custom-stickered cane, your tactical brilliant mind and sheer, stubborn determination held off a squad of extra-dimensional evil-alien scouts
America Chavez was the first on the scene, busting through a star-shaped portal in her signature denim jacket over a cropped hoodie, boots hitting the asphalt with a heavy thud
She stopped dead in her tracks, her dark brown eyes widening as she took in the sight of you: short blonde hair slightly disheveled, blue-grey eyes sharp behind your glasses, standing tall in an oversized, faded band tee layered over a lavender flannel, multi-colored jeans, combat boots, and mint green laces.
"Damn," America grunted, "Nice style."
You leaned on your cane, panting a little, but gave her a dry, stubborn tilt of your chin
"It's not a style, it's practical. And I had the situation under control before you broke through the drywall."
America let out a booming laugh, tossing her dark curls back, "Oh, I like you. You’ve got nerve."
From that moment on, America made it her personal mission to stick close to you during team briefings
She was captivated by your colorful grunge look
The way you blended masculine silhouettes with soft lavender and mint accents
And deeply impressed by your refusal to let your physical limitations stop you from being a powerhouse strategist
As teammates, you became inseparable
America’s confident, larger-than-life personality was the perfect counterbalance to your initial shyness
When the team got too chaotic, America would subtly step in, placing her broad, strong frame between you and the crowd to give you breathing room
After fighting interdimensional threats, while the rest of the team went out, America would grab your arm - always asking first if you were okay with physical contact - and lead you back to your room
America isn't much of a reader, but she loves hearing you speak
She would sit cross-legged on the floor of your bedroom, wearing an oversized mint green hoodie she stole from your closet, while you read chapters of your original fiction aloud
You’d put on Mitski or Marina on low volume
America would lean her head back against your bed frame, closing her eyes, letting your voice and the music wash over her after a long day of throwing punches across dimensions
"Read that last paragraph again," America murmured one evening, her boots kicked off, revealing socks with tiny stars on them"
"You actually like it?" You asked softly, adjusting your glasses, feeling that familiar people-pleasing worry creep in, "I thought the pacing was a bit off."
America sat up, looking you dead in the eye with fierce intensity, "Hey. Stop doubting yourself. It's brilliant. You wrote it, which means it's badass."
Some days your joints simply wouldn't cooperate
You hated asking for help, your stubborn streak making you try to push through the pain
But America never made you feel like a burden
On a high-flare day in the mansion, you were trying to reach a book on a top shelf in the archive, your cane slipping slightly against the polished floor
Before you could lose your balance, a pair of strong, arms steadied you from behind
America lifted the book down effortlessly, but didn't pull away immediately, her chest warm against your back
"You know," America whispered in your ear, her voice dropping its usual boisterous tone, "It’s okay to let people help you. Especially me."
"I can do it myself, Chavez," You huffed
"I know you can, blonde," She smirked, stepping around to look at you, her dark eyes melting with affection, "You're the toughest person in this building. But I like being your muscle."
It happened on the roof of the Young Avengers hideout
America had portaled the two of you up there to watch the sunset
The sky painted in deep shades of lavender and pink
You were sitting on a plush blanket she’d carried up for you, your cane resting beside you
You were rambling about something you were reading, and your enthusiasm made your blue-grey eyes shine
America was sitting next to you, her arm resting on her knee, staring at you with total, unadulterated adoration
"What? Is there something on my face?"
"No," America chuckled, "You're just... Incredible. You talk about these stories with so much heart. You're ambitious, you're brilliant, and you look insanely hot in that oversized leather jacket."
You blinked, stunned into silence. "America..."
"I’m not subtle," She smiled, "I’ve traveled through dozens of universes, seen a million worlds. And there isn't a single person in any dimension I'd rather be with than you. Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," You breathed out, your stubbornness melting instantly
When her lips met yours, it was warm, firm, and grounding - like coming home after a long journey.
She calls you "Blonde"
America custom-pimping your mobility aids is a massive headcanon
She literally got Leo Fitz/S.H.I.E.L.D.-level tech built into your cane, including a collapsible hidden compartment for your favorite pens and a soft, lavender leather grip that reduces wrist strain
Portal picnic!
America will punch a star-portal to a completely empty, quiet beach in another universe, setting up blankets while you play Marina on a portable speaker
Going to local underground rock shows where you wear your favorite colorful grunge outfits, and America stands behind you like a royal bodyguard
"Hey," America says one night, wrapping her leather-jacketed arms around your waist while you sit at your desk typing out your latest story, "When you finish this book, I’m taking you to a dimension where they have apples that taste like bananas."
~~~
Stranger Things;
Robin Buckley -
It was 1986 at Hawkins High
You were the tall, incredibly stylish new kid in class
5'11", striking blue-grey eyes, wearing an oversized men's corduroy button-down over a graphic tee, dark jeans with mint green socks peeking out, boots, and leaning on an ornate wooden cane
Robin Buckley sat two rows behind you, completely captivated from day one
You were shy and kept to yourself, usually writing furiously in a thick leather notebook the second the teacher stopped talking
The real spark happened during a free period in the library
You were sitting at a back table reading a vintage comic book, mumbling under your breath
Robin, wearing her oversized denim vest covered in band patches, casually dropped her stack of books onto your table and sat down with a clatter
"Okay, I have to ask," Robin blurted out, her hands flying everywhere as she spoke at a mile a minute, "Are you writing a novel or preparing a top-secret government manifesto? Because you’ve been scribbling in that notebook for three days straight, and if it’s a manifesto, I need to know if I should be worried or if I should offer my services as a translator because I know four languages!"
She earned a shhhh from the librarian
You're startled, "It's... It's just a story. A spy drama. Inspired by S.H.I.E.L.D."
Robin’s eyes went wide, "Wait, like... Tactical covert operations? Natasha Romanoff style? Oh my god, please tell me everything. I am literally dying of boredom in this town."
You started info-dumping
Cautiously at first, then with absolute, unbridled passion
You explained the intricate lore of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent Carter, and the complex character arcs of Black Widow
Robin didn't interrupt to change the subject; she leaned in, resting her chin in her hands, completely enchanted by the way your shy aura vanished the second you talked about your special interests
You quickly became Robin’s favorite person in Hawkins
She invited you to hang out at Family Video during her shifts with Steve Harrington
You had a habit of apologizing constantly or trying to agree with everyone to keep the peace
Robin caught onto this immediately
"Stop saying sorry for existing!" Robin would squawk, waving a VHS tape of The Terminator in the air, "You're 5'11" of pure genius and high-key fashion! Own it!"
Robin’s fast-paced, chaotic rambles matched perfectly with your deep-dive analytical mind
While Steve stared at both of you in complete confusion, you and Robin would have 40-minute discussions comparing the narrative structure of Thunderbolts to classical literature
The shift happened on a rainy Tuesday afternoon
Your joints were aching terribly, and you were forced to stay home from school
To your complete surprise, Robin showed up at your front door carrying a massive box of records, two mugs of hot cocoa, and a stolen Family Video poster of a spy movie
She was wearing her favorite baggy lavender sweater
"I told Mr. Hauser you had a sudden emergency," Robin announced, kicking off her shoes and barging in with a warm grin, "Where’s the couch? We are setting up Base Camp."
She spent the entire afternoon pampering you
She fluffed your pillows, brought you ice packs, and put your favorite Mitski and Marina vinyl records on the turntable
When you tried to get up to grab a notebook, she gently shoved you back down onto the cushions
"Nope! Executive order from Agent Buckley," Robin declared, pointing a finger at you, "You sit. You rest. I bring you snacks. End of discussion."
You looked at her, sitting under a mint green throw blanket, feeling a lump form in your throat, "Why are you being so nice to me, Robin? I'm just... Awkward and broken today."
Robin stopped dead in her tracks, her expression turning unusually soft
She walked over and sat on the edge of the couch, gently placing her hand over yours
"You are not broken. You're the coolest, most brilliant, most stubborn person I’ve ever met. And I... I care about you a lot. Like, a lot lot."
It happened in the backseat of Steve’s car, parked near the woods after school
Steve had gone into a diner to grab takeout, leaving you and Robin alone. Marina's Froot was playing softly on the cassette deck you’d brought along
You were wearing your favorite colorful grunge ensemble
Robin was fidgeting nervously with the strap of her bag, her face bright red
"Okay, I'm just gonna say it because if I don't say it right now, my brain is going to short-circuit and I’ll explode into a million pieces," Robin blurted out, turning to face you, "I like girls. Specifically, I like you. I like your tall stature, I like your short blonde hair, I like your incredible stories, and I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about Marvel."
You stared at her, your jaw slightly slack
"Oh god, I said too much, didn't I?" Robin gasped, slapping her hands over her face, "I'm sorry, I'm rambly, I'll shut up-"
You reached out, gently taking her wrists and pulling her hands down from her face
You looked her right in the eyes, your heart pounding, "Robin. Shut up for a second."
"Shutting up," She squeaked
"I'm a lesbian too," You whispered, a soft smile breaking across your face, showing off that quiet, confident charm you held, "And I've been in love with you since you offered to translate my manifesto."
Robin let out a dramatic, relieved squeal, leaning forward and cupping your face to give you a quick, incredibly sweet kiss
Robin calls you "Honey," "Babe," "Tall Glass of Water," or "Smarty-Pants"
You call her "Robi"
Robin becomes your official editor/beta reader!
She sits beside you at the desk, reading your pages as fast as you write them, leaving chaotic, enthusiastic notes in the margins like "OH MY GOD THEY KISSED?!" or "THIS PLOT TWIST IS INSANE!"
On your bad days, Robin sets up "The Fort"
A massive pillow-and-blanket nest on her bedroom floor
She’ll lay beside you, playing Mitski softly on her cassette player, stroking your blonde hair while you rest your head on her chest
She buys you custom patches for your jacket featuring Marvel-esque symbols, searches thrift stores for vintage lavender/mint sweaters in your size, and gifts you smooth, polished crystals to use as fidget toys while you write
"Hey," Robin murmurs, resting her chin on your shoulder while you both lean against the wall at a party you both wanted to escape from, "You doing okay? Joints hurting?"
"A little bit," You admit, leaning your weight against her solid frame
"Alright, mission abort," Robin says decisively, grabbing your hand, "We’re stealing Steve's car, going to my house, putting on a movie, and eating ice cream in bed. Moving out!"
~~~
Platonic;
~~~
Marvel;
Daisy Johnson (Quake) -
It started with a S.H.I.E.L.D. ping
Daisy - back when she was still finding her footing as an agent - found your encrypted writing files on a heavily encrypted server
Impressed by your digital footwork, Daisy tracked you down herself
She walked into the quiet corner of your local library where you were sitting in your oversized lavender flannel over a faded black band tee, your cane leaning against the wooden chair, glasses perched on your nose, and a notebook full of handwriting spread out before you
"Nice firewall," Daisy said, leaning against the bookshelf in her dark leather jacket and grey jeans, a slight, knowing smirk on her face, "Though using a double-layered proxy to hide a 200-page sci-fi manuscript is a little extra, don't you think?"
You blinked up at her with your blue-grey eyes, adjusting your glasses, "Who are you? And how did you bypass my encryption?"
"I'm Daisy," She said, pulling out a chair and turning it around to sit front-facing, "And I think you have a mind that S.H.I.E.L.D. could really use. Plus, I heard you're a fan of high-stakes fiction- How about seeing the real thing?"
Because you’re both tech-savvy, stubborn, and fiercely loyal, the bond was instant
Daisy immediately understood what it was like to be a bit of an outcast with an incredible drive
She took you under her wing, making sure your hypermobility was respected during tactical training without ever treating you like you were fragile
Daisy had Fitz-Simmons modify a custom cane for you
It was made of lightweight carbon fiber with a hidden stun-taser tip and a built-in hacking drive in the handle
It was painted in a muted mint green with black accents to fit your colorful-grunge aesthetic
When your hyperfixations took over, Daisy never tuned you out
You’d sit in the lounge, rocking back and forth or fidgeting with your pen, rambling about narrative arcs or complex lore, and Daisy would lean on the counter drinking her coffee, listening with genuine interest
After intense field missions, you’d sit together in her bunk listening to Marina or Mitski
Daisy would lay on her back staring at the ceiling while you drafted your latest story on your tablet, occasionally asking her for technical advice on tactical dialogue
"Okay," You said, tapping your stylus on the screen, "If an agent is trapped in a Hydra facility, would they use a flashbang or bypass the ventilation system?"
Daisy tilted her head, a grin spreading across her face, "Option C: Summon an Earthquake."
"I'm trying to make this realistic!"
"Realistic is boring," Daisy laughed, throwing a throw pillow at you, "Put the earthquake in."
As an older mentor, Daisy is protective of your people-pleasing tendencies
She notices when you’re pushing through pain or overexerting yourself to prove your worth to the team
If Coulson gives you an assignment and you try to power through a flare-up without speaking up, Daisy steps in immediately
She’ll walk into the lab, take the datapad right out of your hand, and hand you your cane
"Break time. Coulson can wait, your joints can't."
For your birthday, she got you a military-grade leather notebook with a mint green bookmark
She affectionately calls you "Kid," or "Shakespeare"
~~~
Stranger Things;
Max Mayfield -
It was the summer in Hawkins
You were 17, tall, quiet, and sitting on a bench outside the arcade, resting your legs during a joint flare-up, using your cane painted in lavender with dark grunge stickers
You were listening to Mitski on your Walkman, writing furiously in your worn notebook
A red-headed girl in an oversized blue hoodie and worn sneakers came skidding to a halt on her skateboard right in front of you, flipping the board up into her hand with a loud clack
"Hey," Max said, her blue eyes narrowing as she looked at your outfit - your oversized flannel, combat boots, and colorful grunge style, "Cool cane. Is that a custom paint job?"
You pulled off your headphones, startled, your shy nature kicking in, "Oh- Yeah. I painted it myself. Mint green and lavender."
Max nodded in approval, dropping her board back down, "Nice. I'm Max."
"I'm Y/N," You replied softly, adjusting your glasses
Max looked at the notebook in your lap, "What's that? A diary?"
"A story," You said, getting defensive and stubborn, "Fiction."
Max smirked, sitting down on the edge of the bench next to you, "Cool. I like stories. It better be good."
From that day on, you became Max's designated "older sibling"
Replacing Billy
Even though you were shy and soft-spoken, your 5'11" height made you look like a formidable presence when walking alongside her, and Max loved having someone older who actually listened to her and treated her like a person rather than an annoying younger sister
Max tried to teach you the basics of skateboarding on your low-pain days, carefully holding your hands so you wouldn't fall
On your high-pain days, she’d do trick demonstrations right in front of the bench where you were resting, waiting for your feedback like a kid showing off for an older brother or sister
You were one of the few people who didn't let Billy Hargrove intimidate you
When he tried to yell at Max in the driveway, your tall frame and deadpan, stubborn gaze would step right between them, your hand resting firmly on your cane
Billy would scoff at your colorful grunge look, but your unyielding loyalty to Max made him back down every single time
You introduced Max to darker, dramatic synth-pop and alternative music that fit her angst, while she introduced you to the high scores at the arcade
You’d sit on the floor of her bedroom, listening to tapes, with you drawing Marvel-inspired characters in your sketchbook while she cleaned her skateboard bearings
"Max, if you jump off that ramp, you're going to break your arm," You said, not looking up from your notebook
"I'm not gonna break my arm!" Max yelled back, adjusting her elbow pads, "Watch this!"
She pulled off the turn cleanly, landing with a loud thud, and looked at you with a smug grin, "See? Perfect."
You let out a quiet laugh, your blue-grey eyes crinkling, "Okay, fine. Seven out of ten."
"Oh, come on!" Max complained, running over to punch your shoulder playfully
Max saved up her arcade prize tickets for weeks to get you a set of colorful gel pens for your writing, along with a custom sticker of a skateboard she made herself to stick on your cane
On days when you're stuck in bed, Max would come over to your house, kick off her shoes, and sit on the edge of your bed with her Walkman
She didn't force you to talk; she’d just read over your shoulder while you wrote your Marvel comics or original stories
"Hey," Max said one late afternoon, leaning her head against your arm as you both sat on the hood of a car watching the sunset over Hawkins, "Thanks for always hanging out with me. Everyone else in this town is weird."
You smiled, wrapping your arm around her shoulders to keep her warm in the evening chill, "We're pretty weird too, Max."
"Yeah," Max smirked, looking up at you, "But we're the cool kind of weird. I wish, when you get out of this town, you could take me with you."
Helloo! Could i please get a Stanger Things romantic matchup?
Im 17, and im a she/he fem presenting nonbinary. I dont mind the gender of who im matched with as im bisexual.
I have shoulder lenght purple-red ish hair, blue eyes and i wear glasses and im a bit chubbyish.
Im a rlly shy at first but once i get close to ppl im somewhat childish and i always try act enthusiastic. I rlly prefer dates to be just hanging out at me or my partners places. My favourite music artists are cults, i really like their Static album. My favourite colors are olive and orange. Im rlly into Gyaru and Lolita fashion!
I hope i gave you enough info for this, thank you so much if you decide to do my req and have an amazing day ★
Hello!
<333
I am sorry for the wait!
And your info is great, I hope you have an amazing day, too!
I really hope you like your match!
Enjoy!
<333
Romantic Matchup; Stranger Things
~~~
Romantic;
~~~
Stranger Things;
Dustin Henderson -
(Was listening to "Everywhere" by Fleetwood Mac while writing this btw)
It was 1983 when Will Byers brought you to Mike's house on one of the days that they planned to play D&D in the basement
You were a quiet, shy kid tucked into an oversized olive-green jacket, your blue eyes wide behind thick-rimmed glasses, and your dark hair back then hiding part of your face
You were kind of terrified of being too much or getting made fun of, but Will insisted
"Don't worry, my friends all mean well. Mike is sometimes funny, Lucas is cool, and Dustin may be loud but he is really nice, I swear."
When you walked down to the basement, Dustin was halfway through explaining something to Mike and Lucas
The moment his eyes landed on you, he completely lost his train of thought
"Who's this?" Dustin blurted out, a wide, gap-toothed grin instantly spreading across his face
"This is my new friend," Will said gently, "She's really smart."
"Well, welcome!" Dustin beamed, stepping forward without an ounce of hesitation, his signature cap tilted slightly up, "I'm Dustin. That's Mike- He's bossy- And that's Lucas- He's cynical. You like science? You like radios? What's your favorite candy? Mine is Three Musketeers! Do you want one? I have three in my backpack!"
You didn't realize it then
Partly because you were so overwhelmed by his sheer volume
But that was the exact moment Dustin caught feelings
To a twelve-year-old Dustin, you were instantly the most interesting person in the room
For years, you were a staple in the party
As you hit high school, your shy outer shell dissolved into a bright, enthusiastic, wonderfully chaotic personality when you were around Dustin, Mike, and the others in The Hellfire Club
You dyed your shoulder-length hair a vibrant, rich purple-red
And started experimenting with bold, dramatic styles
You fell in love with Gyaru and Lolita fashion
Layering ruffles, bold orange and olive accents, statement socks, and intricate accessories that turned heads in conservative Hawkins, Indiana
But you didn't care
While other high school guys would have been confused by your bold aesthetic, Dustin thought you were the absolute coolest person on the planet
He thought you were very confident and cool for not caring about what others' thought
Dustin would sit on his basement sofa, chin resting in his hands, listening to you explain the difference between Classic Lolita and Sweet Lolita for forty-five minutes straight
He didn't just nod along
He took mental notes
"Wait, wait, go back," He'd interrupt, waving a half-eaten chip, "So the whole shape of a petticoat determines the entire silhouette of the dress? That's so interesting! Incredibe!"
Your absolute favorite way. tospend an afternoon was hanging out in Dustin's room or your bedroom, completely advoiding the outside world
You'd put on some music, lying on the carpet, staring at the ceiling together
Dustin would use a flashlight like a microphone, dramatically lip-syncing to make you laugh
When you were comfortable, you had a sweet, delightfully childish streak
You'd get ridiculously excited over little things
A cool lace trim
A rare snack
Or a good arcade high score
Dustin matched that energy step-for-step
You two would literally jump up and down
Holding hands and squealing in his living room over a new comic book or a great thrift find
You had developed a crush on Dustin during the summer before high school
Watching him grow into his brilliant, fiercely loyal, hilarious self made your heart ache
But you kept quiet
You figured that he only saw you as a friend
Especially since when you thought back to Suzie, his last relationship, you were very different than her
You didn't think you were his type or anything
Dustin, meanwhile, had been harboring his crush since the day you met
He realized it was undeniable, deep love at the end of either grade, but he was terrified of ruining the best friendship he had ever had
The came the battle at Starcourt Mall
During the chaos of the Mind Flayer's attack and the Russian base, you took a nasty fall trying to help the group escape, fracturing your wrist and taking a sever blow to the head
When Dustin finally got you to safety, he was crying
He didn't no for an answer when he forced himself into the back of your ambulance
In the hospital, while you were propped up on pillows with a cast on your arm, a bandage over your forehead, and a slight concussion, Dustin didn't leave your side
Nurses took care of him as he sat in the uncomfortable vinyl chair, holding your uninjured hand
He even insisted on signing your cast first
"You scared me," Dustin choked out, his voice cracking, eyes brimming with more tears, "You can't get hurt like that. You can't."
"I was trying to help..." You mumbled, your eyes hazy
"I don't care! You're... You're too important to me," He muttered, leaning down to press his face into your hand, "If anything happened to you, I wouldn't survive it. I mean it."
Looking down at his curly hair resting against your hand, you knew
But with Vecna and the impending doom of Hawkins hanging over everyone's heads in the years that followed, the timing was never right
Until the final war was won
It was months after Vecna was officially defeated
Hawkins was slowly rebuilding
And the nightmare was finally over
The air was cool and crisp as autumn rolled in
You were hanging out in Dustin's basement
Your absolute favorite place in the world
The room was cozy, lit by the warm amber glow of mismatched desk lamps
You were wearing a olive-green Lolita-style skirt with bright orange accents, your hair framed softly around your face
Music was playing softly on your portable tape player
You were sitting on the floor, leaning against the sofa, enthusiastically building a tiny plastic model house
Dustin wasn't looking at the model
He was sitting next to you, looking at your face, his dark yes filled with absolute, overwhelming adoration
"Dustin? Are you even listening to me?" You teased, nudging his knee with yours, "I was explaining the color palette for the kitchen. I was thinking 50s themed."
"I love you," Dustin said softly
The basement went completely quiet, save for the soft music playing the background
You froze, your eyes widening behind your glasses
"What?" You muttered, your shy side suddenly rushing back
Dustin shifted closer
If that was even possible
Taking the small plastic piece of a chair of your hand and setting it aside so he could take both of your hands in his
"I love you," He repeated, his voice now confident, "I've loved you since I met you, since Will introduced you to Lucas, Mike, and I. I loved you when you dyed your hair. I love how smart you are, how ridiculously passionate you get about your clothes and hobbies. And how you sing at the top of your lungs. I've loved you through every crazy thing this town threw at us. And now that it's over. I couldn't go another day without telling you."
Tears pricked at your eyes
You let out a breathy, excited laugh
That bright, childish sound he loved so much
"You complete dork," You squealed, throwing your arms around him, "I've been in love with you since freshman year!"
Dustin let out a triumphant bark of laughter, hugging you so tight, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "Yes! I knew it! Well- I didn't know it, but YES!"
If he wasn't holding you, he would've fist-bumped
Neither of you gives a single care about fancy restaurants or crowded parties
Your ideal dates, if they weren't cute picnics in parks or at the bookstore, were home-based
You set up your sewing machine and you'd sit making cute clothes for yourself while Dustin either read aloud to you or watched
You tried teaching him
He's okay at it
You'll sit for hours in comfortable silence
Or tossing random trivia back and forth
Whenever you get your hand on a new tape, you schedule a listening party
Dustin prepares snacks and you both lay on his bedroom floor and listen to music while sharing snacks
Trying to toss food into each other's mouths
Whenever you finish assembling a new Gyaru or Lolita outfit, Dustin insists on a "Full Fashion Show"
(Fashion show, fashion show at lunch)
He’ll sit on the edge of his bed
He cheers, claps, and demands you do a full 360-degree spin
Dustin boasts about you constantly
He will slam his hands on a table, if available, and announce to Steve, Mike, Lucas, whoever: "Did you guys know that my partner literally hand-stitched an entire petticoat this weekend? None of you have a partner with that level of artistic dexterity. None of you!"
Steve usually just groans and throws a pillow at him
Dustin takes great interest in your dyed hair
He’s learned the exact regimen you use to keep your purple-red color from fading fast
On Sunday nights, he’ll wrap a towel around your shoulders and help you carefully rinse it in the sink, getting his own sleeves completely soaked in the process and just laughing it off
Dustin spends weeks scouring vintage catalogs and electronics swap meets to find rare orange and olive lace, unique vintage buttons, and imported Japanese street fashion magazines
You give him hand-sewn customized patches for his favorite jackets and caps, vintage sci-fi paperbacks, and curated mixtape cassettes with custom-drawn album covers featuring his favorite characters
"Hey, Dustin?" You ask one evening, sitting on the floor of his bedroom while he brushes out a tangle in your purple-red hair.
"Yeah, honey?" Dustin replies softly, his fingers working gently through your strands so he doesn't pull
"Do you ever get tired of me rambling about fashion history?"
Dustin stops brushing, leaning down until his nose touches your hair, lovingly nuzzling, "Are you kidding? I’m planning on listening to you ramble for the next eighty years. Now keep going- You were telling me about the lace patterns from the 1800s. I’m taking mental notes."
