#all that glitters is not silver (ooc)

[creatureshrieks]

hey just a reminder that maria is a dancer (yeah, a stripper), but that doesn't make her trashy or someone that just constantly wants sex. or that she's 'easy'. she might be flirtatious but outside of James who is a massive exception to literally everything (and even then there's nuance), she doesn't want to jump your muse. she's not going to just have sex with your muse.

you probably couldnt afford her even if you wanted it.

[newfngs]

michael should kiss david on the lips it's what david deserves

[64ko]

lol. lmao, even

[blxcklxdge]

transparent thumbs up cooper for all your transparent thumbs up cooper needs

[vegone]

Todd's an idiot.

[deepdarkdelights]

How would this whole situation work if after ATG jimin got married he had to go to the military. But wait, can you imagine if he went in his 20s and he sees mc coming to visit her boyfriend who's on ATG Jim's unit 💀

Hm, that's an interesting question. To be honest, I never think about military service when I'm writing my works and generally I don't specify what country the story takes place in so that it can be more applicable to readers from different countries (although I am aware that I have not always been 100% successful at that).

With ATG we know they go to Jeju island so the setting of the fic leans toward South Korea but other factors in the fic lean towards the U.S.

But oh boy, would that scenario end poorly if that happened, I would hope after everything they have been through the MC would be smarter and not make a decision to do something like that 😂

[nghthowls]

it's hearing nothing but breathing from behind the mask. it's unable to see what's under it. what does it look like? what are they feeling? it's unable to see where they're looking. what they want from you. desire? love? hate? do you they want to kill you?

[pomefioredove]

May I please have a sugar cookie, order number 15, with sprinkles & chocolate chips?

I'm super excited I came in time for this event, I adore your blog & am excited to see what comes of this.

(Pardon me as I cross my fingers in hoping to get one of my babygirls or just one of my faves)

—🐈‍⬛

you get one of MY babygirls. praise mana-sama for helping me through requests today

order #15, sugar with sprinkles and chocolate chips

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ unlike yourself

tropes: hurt/comfort, fake dating characters: rook additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, short and sweet, probably ooc

It's strange, you think.

Rook Hunt, the mysterious, distant vicewarden, loved you more in an evening than anyone else had in months.

Only an act. You had to remind yourself of that, every time he squeezed your hand or pulled you closer to him.

Every time he whispered something silly in your ear, every time he kissed the back of your hand. Only an act.

"I could write a thousand poems of you, mon amour, and never become bored of it,"

At some point, you had stopped looking at the others. You had forgotten they were there altogether.

It's only an act.

It felt like a fairytale, glittering, iridescent and silver, yet one that still ended at midnight in rags and pumpkin seeds.

You didn't want to think about that.

That by sunrise, the event would be over, and you would be back to your life. Back to your drafty dorm and secondhand clothes, back to your cold, lonely mornings. Back to yourself.

Back to the person you so hated.

Rook made you feel something unlike yourself. You were someone beautiful to him, someone interesting, someone loveable, someone worth teaching to dance, no matter how many times you stepped on his toes.

He only smiled.

You had asked him to be your date, to lie with you, to act with you, to prove to everyone that you were that someone, so unlike yourself, that you were beautiful and interesting and loveable, and worthy.

It had been your request. Just two hours, you said, and now you selfishly want more. You want years.

You want to make him feel the way he makes you.

"Your eyes are watering," Rook whispers, holding your face and drying your tears with the gentle touch of his gloved thumbs.

"Why are you sad, mon ange?"

You can't tell him. It's only an act. It's only an act. You want him to stay. He can't. He won't.

You can't ask him to stay.

"You are tired," he says, smiling sweetly, his cupid's bow curving. "Let's get you home, Trickster."

He's right, of course.

And you don't want to leave, you don't want to lose something on the velvet steps of the dorm, but you do, for him.

He walks you back to Ramshackle himself. He tucks you in bed and makes you something warm to eat since you both know the silver-plated hors d'oeuvres weren't enough.

You don't want to close your eyes. But he asks you to sleep, and you do, for him.

And so you wake up in your drafty dorm and your secondhand clothes in a bed that isn't really yours, feeling like yourself again.

But today, on this cold morning, he's sitting with you, and it isn't lonely.

"Oh, Trickster," he whispers, leaning over your, holding your face and gazing at you with something like softness.

"You did not have to ask me to stay. The answer is always yes."

And he kisses, again and again, your lips, your cheeks, your nose and head. He kisses that person, the one in rags, the messy one, the lonely one, you. He kisses you. He wants you.

And you think, perhaps this person, this yourself, isn't so bad.

Rook loves them, after all.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Please can you write something with Bill? 🥺 I would really like him in your writing style

✮⋆˙ twinkle twinkle little star (Bill Cipher x reader)

author note: hii, so this is my first time writing Bill Cipher (if we’re not counting smut LOL), so if he feels a little OOC, I’m so sorry in advance :((

“You’ve got no idea how small you are. A little ant, crawling on the rim of a soda can, thinking the universe stops where the metal curves. But you’re lucky, babe. You’ve got me to show you the truth.”

You never should’ve made that deal and you knew it.  

You should've known better than to trust him.

“Love” wasn’t the word for it.

At first, it felt. . .  flattering. Who wouldn’t be seduced by the idea of being special in the eyes of something so vast, so incomprehensible? But Bill wasn’t the type to love, not in the way you understood it. 

He didn’t love you, not the way humans did. Bill Cipher didn’t do love. You were his curiosity, obsession, a bright, burning light in his endless void. 

He called you his little star, but very soon it turned into his pretty, breakable toy. And you hated how the words made your skin prickle, how his attention felt like sunlight filtered through glass, so beautiful and searing, but dangerous if you stayed too long.

He never asked you to love him. That would imply some sort of equality, wouldn’t it? Something mutual, balanced, tender. No, Bill Cipher wasn’t a man or a demon. . . or a whatever he was, who traded in such mortal trivialities. Love? What even was that, anyway? A chemical spill in the brain? A pathetic excuse for self-destruction? Hilarious!

Instead of your love, Bill demanded your existence. Every breath, every thought, every fleeting moment of fear or fury or fascination, it all belonged to him, as surely as the stars belonged to the sky. And wasn’t that the whole point? To take something so ordinary, so inconsequential and remake it in his image?

Bill didn’t love you. He consumed you. 

He didn’t care about your happiness or well-being, but he cared about your essence and your potential. 

The stars were his obsession, and now you were too.

When he first spoke to you about the them, he said, “you humans love to romanticize the heavens, don’t you? Gazing up with your sad little eyes, dreaming of escape, like you’re anything more than dust stuck in a whirlpool. But you, sweetheart, you could be a star if you wanted.” 

And it sounded too tempting.

***

With fear and trepidation, you realised that you would like him to appear more often in your life. You felt lonely and empty without that singular eye which was so damn alive in ways human ones could never be. When Bill Cipher looked at you it felt as if the fabric of the universe peeled back, and for the first time, someone truly saw you.

“You’re different,” he whispered once and his voice sounded like molten gold. “They’re all rats in a maze, but you’ve got potential. You could shine, dear.”  and you believed him.

Maybe that’s why, when he first tore the sky apart and dragged you into a void of glittering stars, you didn’t scream.

Because Bill doesn’t show you space, he shoves you into it. 

It was fucked up, all of it. 

The way he could snap his fingers and peel the world apart like wallpaper, exposing the writhing void beneath it. Bill doesn’t do anything halfway. One moment you’re standing on Earth, listening to him wax poetic about infinity; the next, you’re drowning in the universe itself. 

“Look what I can do. Look what I’ve seen. And now, you get to see it too!” Bill said excitedly meanwhile all you could do was only stare, slack-jawed, as galaxies spun like pinwheels with their light painting you in hues of silver and violet.  

Bill’s laugh cuts through the silence like static on a dying radio. “Beautiful, isn’t it, dear? A front-row seat to the cosmic symphony! And guess what? You’re the lucky guest of honor!”

“Fuck,” you whispered in awe, not even daring to blink.

Bill laughed at you again. “Exactly, baby! Fuck! That’s the kind of reaction I’m talking about! Do you get it now? While all these other ants were busy bumping into walls, I saw this. This!”

His eye spun toward you, unblinking, watching you from head to toe. He watched you both worshipful and utterly unhinged because for him you were part of those infinite constellations he adored, he watched you like you were the only thing that mattered in a universe of infinite distractions.

“You could be one too. A star.” Cipher spoke.

You didn’t ask what he meant back then, only laughed. “Stars burn out, Bill.”  

“Yeah, but they make one hell of a show first.” 

But how sad that stars didn’t just shine, they exploded.

***

It wasn’t all chaos and destruction, not at first. There were soft and tender nights, when the storm of his mind calmed just enough to let the starlight through.

Bill Cipher didn’t have lips to kiss, but he had power and he wielded it for you when he felt like it.

One of the clearest proofs of his power was that night by the lake.

You remember it, the night the moons danced just for you. 

Bill hated water, loathed its constraints, its rules, but he was levitating beside you anyway, watching as you waded deeper. You floated on your back, staring up at the night sky, feeling the silence, enjoying it. His eye gleamed in the darkness, lighting you up, taking you in like a masterpiece he didn’t know how to ruin just yet, but there was unusual softness in his voice when he snapped his fingers. 

And the moons, now two of them, impossibly large, swelled and glowed with light. And then the lake shimmered, the ripples reflected the radiance until it looked as though you were swimming through liquid silver, no. . . melted pearls in their beauty.

And it took your breath away.

“You like it?” he asked in a casual tone. “I can make it brighter, if you want. Or darker. Or gone.” 

And as if reading your mind, Bill snapped his fingers once more and the two moons shone even brighter.

“Better now, right? It’s for you, sweetie,” he said, leaning on his cane. “The moon, the stars. . . hell, the universe.”

You hated how beautiful it was. How much it felt like it was for you. But back then, you felt loved. Or at least, something close enough to it.  

***

Bill was everywhere. In your mind, in your shadow, in the air you breathed.

But love with Bill was never meant to be gentle, it meant to be a trap. A game played in his favor, in which you were destined to lose. It started small, quiet, too quiet to notice and react, his words cutting deeper, his charm was imbued with a poison. He didn’t just want you near; he wanted to own you, to reshape you in his image, to pull you apart until there was nothing left but the star he claimed to see in you.

He didn’t just want your attention, he demanded it, craved it with a desperation that was feral. And when you tried to push back, tried to claim even the smallest piece of yourself, he didn’t take it well.

One night, after you’d dared to argue with him, to tell him no, he burned with a rage that lit up the sky. His form glowed red, large, his voice so loud and low that made the ground tremble beneath your feet.

“You think you can defy me? You think you can just walk away? Newsflash, sweetheart: you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”

He grew restless. Obsession turned to cruelty. When he spoke, it was no longer about the stars you could see, but the ones he wanted you to become. His anger was cosmic, vast and unrelenting, and it terrified you.

“You’re wasting yourself here,” he snarled one day, his triangular form flashing red again as he hovered above you. “These people, this place, they’re nothing. I could make you mor—”  

“W-what are you even talking about, Bill?” you spat, though your voice trembled. “I’m human, Bill. I can’t—”  

“Bullshit! You can. You just won’t. And that’s what makes you pathetic. You think you can leave me? Do you even know what I’ve done for you? What I’ve shown you?”

You stared at him, trembling, but still defiant. “You’ve shown me a prison with a prettier view.”

And Cipher only laughed. “Prison? Sweetheart, I’ve given you the fucking stars! You’d be nothing without me. Nothing.” if he had a mouth, it’d be that disgusting crazy wide grin.

You wanted to run. But how do you run from someone who can rewrite the very ground beneath your feet?

***

You remember the terror of Weirdmageddon because you were at the center of it all. Not by choice, never by choice, but because that’s what he wanted. And what Bill Cipher wanted, he took.

But when it was over, when the Pines family managed the impossible, when Bill was defeated, erased from Stanley’s mind, when they unraveled Bill’s madness, tore him apart, and your world snapped back into place, the silence felt. . . deafening. 

You didn’t see Bill fall, not directly, but you felt it, you knew it was over, the sudden, aching silence where his presence used to be.  

The world felt smaller without him, quieter, duller. And you hated yourself for noticing.

You should’ve been relieved.

But instead, you stood in the ashes of his world, staring up at a sky, at the empty space where his chaos had once burned so brightly.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t laugh. 

And you remembered the stars. But Bill taught you that stars were always meant to burn out.

You remembered the way his voice softened when he talked about them, how excited and happy he sounded, the way he’d show you galaxies as if they were flowers he’d plucked just for you. You remembered the way he watched you, like you were the only thing in all of creation that mattered.

Even now, after his fall, you hope he remembers the galaxies. . . or if he’s just another forgotten star, lost to the void.

And you wondered if, somewhere, in some forgotten corner of the universe, he remembered and saw stars too.

[ivohex]

who do you like more? || LADS 🔞

"Of course you'd start without me," Xavier grumbles, shooting Lumiere a dirty look over your shoulder. "I couldn't keep our little bunny waiting, could I?"

Summary: Lumiere suddenly appears in Linkon City. You and Xavier make the most of things.

Rating: E for EXPLICIT. MDNI! 🔞 Mind the tags!

Word Count: ~1.2k

Relationship: Xavier x fem!Reader x Lumiere

Tags: complete and utter filth, barely edited, plot what plot, consensual nonconsent, MFM threesome, double penetration, first time anal fingering/anal sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, rough sex, spanking, handjob (Lumiere on Xavier), selfcest, creampies, use of bunny/little bunny and good girl as petnames, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, come eating, hair pulling, lumiere calls xavier little prince, jealousy, dirty talking, 100% ooc but idec, lumiere topping xavier topping you

Note: While I'm working on requests(!!!) please enjoy this short fic featuring you getting railed by both Xavier and Lumiere because I'm depraved. Merry Christmas 🤪

Smut below the cut!

"Of course you'd start without me," Xavier grumbles, shooting Lumiere a dirty look over your shoulder.

"I couldn't keep our little bunny waiting, could I?"

Lumiere emphasizes his point with a sharp upwards thrust, and your cunt clenches around him greedily. You brace your hands against his chest, gripping the lapels of his coat and panting, while two glittering eyes stare back at you behind his silver mask. His hands slide up your bare waist, encouraging you to grind against him.

One of Xavier's hands kneads your breasts, the other coming to clutch at your jaw and force your head to the side. "Don't look at him. Look at me," he breathes, and then his lips close over yours in a bruising kiss. His hips bump into your backside, and you can feel his length pressing insistently against your ass.

"You've always been selfish, little prince," Lumiere chides Xavier. He reaches around to grab the other man's hips, bringing him to a sudden stop.

You've never heard Xavier growl the way he does now, and the sound goes straight to your cunt.

"Be still," Lumiere commands. "We have to prep you."

You squeak as he yanks you against his chest. One of his hands encircles your wrists and holds them in place at the small of your back.

"Wait," you whimper, but neither pay you any mind.

"Xavier," Lumiere says, nodding his chin towards the nightstand.

You can practically feel Xavier glaring at Lumiere as he plucks the bottle and pops the cap open. In the silence that follows, all you can hear is the sound of your own panicked breathing. You try to twist to look at Xavier, but Lumiere won't let you.

"Eyes on me," he demands. You struggle to meet his gaze, shivering at the heat you see simmering in his eyes.

Behind you, something cold and wet gently grazes your other hole.

You thrash in Lumiere's grip. "Wa-wait—oh, fuck—"

A fingertip presses into the tight ring of muscle. He rubs your thigh soothingly. "You have to relax, bunny."

"I-I can't—"

Lumiere interrupts you with another pointed thrust. When you cry out, he brings one of his hands between your legs, and gently strokes his thumb against your clit. "Yes, you can. Breathe."

You focus on steadying your shuddering breaths. Xavier keeps prodding you, pushing deeper each time until his entire finger slips inside.

It isn't a sensation you're used to at all—but as he adds a second and third finger, you can't stop yourself from rocking back onto his hand.

"Does it feel good, bunny?" Xavier breathes into your ear, nibbling on your lobe in the way he knows you like. But before you can speak, his hand is suddenly picking up its speed.

When you don't answer, Lumiere jerks his hips again again, hard. You let out a sharp cry. "Answer us," he murmurs, his soft tone contrasted against the way that Xavier's fingers are pistoning in and out of your tight hole. "Do you like it?"

"N—ah, fuck! I—" Your words break off into moans as Lumiere starts thrusting into you.

"You didn't let her finish," Xavier snaps, withdrawing his fingers. You whimper, and you aren't sure if it's out of relief or desperation. "I guess we'll have to keep going to see if she likes it or not."

Lumiere slows. "Come here," he says to Xavier.

Xavier shuffles forward, and this time, Lumiere lets you watch as he wraps a fist around Xavier's cock. Wordlessly, Xavier grabs the bottle of lube again and squeezes a few drops onto Lumiere's hand.

Lumiere strokes, and Xavier's composure crumples for the first time. You stare, enraptured, as his hips jerk forward, and he fucks himself into Lumiere's fist.

"I should make him cum like this instead of letting him cum inside you," Lumiere muses. The muscles in his forearms tense as he grips even tighter, and Xavier's head falls back as he lets out a shaky moan. "I bet I could. I doubt he can last as long as me."

The glare Xavier shoots Lumiere has you clenching on his cock, and Lumiere inhales sharply, glancing at you with a warning look.

"Careful," Xavier says, his voice dark and low. "Or I'll make you eat your words."

Lumiere just scoffs, wiping his hand on the sheets. "Ready?"

You aren't sure who he's talking to, but you suppose it doesn't matter as he grabs the plush of your ass and spreads you apart. You feel Xavier moving behind you again, and then the tip of his cock presses against your ass.

You make an attempt at a sudden escape. Xavier's hand slaps down on your ass, hard, and you keen, but keep struggling. Lumiere grips a fistful of your hair and pulls, and you're forced into submission, whimpering.

"Don't fight us," Xavier whispers against the shell of your ear. "Be a good girl, okay?" His hand soothes the red mark on your ass, and he pushes a little further, his tip breaching the ring of your ass.

"No—oh—"

Xavier groans behind you, his hips stuttering forward, his cock settling deeper with each tiny movement, until he's finally nestled all the way in.

You've never been this full. And you aren't sure you'll ever settle for less again. This has ruined you.

They only give you a moment to adjust. Xavier breaks first, his arms wrapping around your waist as he starts thrusting.

"You're so fucking tight," Lumiere grits out, his hands gripping your hips in a way that you know will leave bruises. "Fuck—you like this. I can feel you clenching."

His hips raise to meet yours, and then you're gone.

They fuck you brutally through your first orgasm into a second. The burn, the stretch—it's so delicious, so mind-numbingly good that it has your eyes rolling back. Skin slaps against skin, echoing against the walls, the sound as decadent as it is obscene.

Xavier suddenly wrenches you upright, pulling you by the hair against his chest, and bites down on your neck. Lumiere's hand chases your clit, rubbing you roughly, sending you screaming into a third orgasm.

They had both called you bunny, but they were the ones fucking you like animals in heat.

"I'm gonna—" Xavier gasps.

"Ah, fuck, I'm—" Lumiere starts.

You feel them both tense up. A moment later, you're keening again as they spill inside of you, filling you with a hot, liquid heat.

Then you're laying on your back, Lumiere stroking your hair as Xavier settles between your legs, using his fingers to gather up the mess they'd made and push it back into your cunt.

The overstimulation has you moaning brokenly, even as you clench on his fingers. "Xavier, don't..."

"What's the safe word, bunny?" Lumiere asks.

"Red," you murmur.

They wait. You don't say it.

Of course you don't.

"Good girl," Xavier breathes, dipping his head down to tongue at your entrance.

"Don't go to sleep, bunny," Lumiere says, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. His hand slides down your form to rub your clit in slow, gentle circles as Xavier laps greedily at your cunt. "We aren't done playing with you yet."

Thanks for reading! Make sure to give this a like and reblog if you liked it! ❤️

[creatureshrieks]

ur onions. give me ur onions.

[newfngs]

i still hate that 'new' blogs have the 'for you' first and you can't move them.

[64ko]

what if the todd blog is called vegone.

[blxcklxdge]

not my muse but every time dale cooper is on screen i just start giggling and stimming this man makes my heart swell so much

[vegone]

Look at this 😭😭😭 I wanna be a wallace so bad but IK deep down I'm a Todd 💔

NOOOOOO TODD!!!! POOR TODD!!!! Wallace you threw away a GOOD MAN!!! AND FOR WHAT!!!

But mood, I get it</3

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 starlight

Pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

Warnings:  ooc mattheo ig, strangers?? to lovers, some things may not be accurate with the hp timeline but shhhh.., no mention of y/n, no mention of house or gender but written with f!reader in mind, time skip, bad writing.., nor really related to “starlight” by taylor but it's hinted.. somewhat

an: finally (!!!!) posting, I plan to post more this month and next year! since fluff is winning the poll, why not just post before the poll closes! ill post something else soon, enjoy this active era... don't know how long it'll last... anyways, I decided to make a Mattheo fic, I wasn't planning on writing for fancast characters but oh well...

4k words :3

The music echoed through the grand hall of Hogwarts as the ballroom glittered with candlelight and charm. The Great Hall had been transformed, enchanted with silver and gold streamers that twirled in the air, floating like ribbons of light. Students twirled and danced in their finest robes, laughing and spinning beneath the enchanted ceiling that reflected a thousand stars.

You stood on the edge of the room, watching the scene unfold with a quiet smile. It was a magical night—one of those rare nights at Hogwarts when everything seemed to shimmer a little brighter, when the worries of exams and dark rumors faded into the background. You could hear the soft murmur of conversation and the click of shoes against the polished stone floors, but all of it felt like a dream, something out of reach.

Then, as though the world had shifted, you saw him.

Mattheo Riddle.

He stood across the room, bathed in the soft glow of the lights, his dark hair falling slightly into his eyes. His black suit was tailored to perfection, sharp enough to cut glass, and yet somehow, it made him look even more out of place among the laughing couples and chattering students.

He wasn’t the type to care for events like these, not with his reputation. But there he was, looking like he had stepped out of a story—a page from a fairytale written in shadow.

Before you could turn away, your eyes met his. For a brief moment, time slowed, the bustling world around you fading to a whisper. There was something magnetic about Mattheo, something that made it impossible to look away. He didn’t smile, not at first, but there was an almost imperceptible tilt of his lips, a challenge in his gaze.

You took a breath, feeling the weight of the moment. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of him. The rumors about Mattheo Riddle had followed him around for as long as you could remember. He was the son of Voldemort, after all, and most people saw him as nothing but a shadow of his father’s dark legacy.

But standing there, amidst the glamour of the night, he didn’t seem so terrifying. He seemed… alive. And that was enough to make your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

As if on cue, Mattheo took a step toward you, his movements confident, but there was something almost hesitant in the way he approached.

"Don't tell me you're avoiding the dance floor," he said, his voice low and smooth, like it always was, the corners of his mouth barely lifting in amusement.

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I prefer to watch," you replied. "Not everyone likes being the center of attention."

"Ah," he smirked, his eyes glinting in the soft light. "But you would be, wouldn't you?"

Your gaze flicked to the crowd around you—pairs of students swaying, spinning in time with the music. You shrugged, feeling a spark of defiance rise in you. "Not if I don't want to be."

For a moment, you both stood in silence, the music continuing to swirl around you. Then, unexpectedly, Mattheo extended his hand.

"Shall we, then?"

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because of all the things that might follow—rumors, questions, the consequences of dancing with someone like him.

But then, you looked at him—really looked at him—and saw something beyond the darkness of his family name. There was something in his eyes that was raw, something that felt familiar.

You took his hand.

The moment your fingers brushed against his, the entire room seemed to shift. The crowd, the noise, the shadows—all of it melted away as if you and Mattheo were the only ones who existed in that moment.

He led you onto the floor, his grip firm yet gentle, and together, you moved. You didn’t need words. The music took over, and as you both swirled and stepped in perfect sync, you felt as if the very night had been made for this—a moment, fleeting yet infinite.

The whole place was dressed to the nines, the lights casting everything in gold and silver. You were dancing, dancing like you were made of starlight. The floor beneath your feet felt like it was floating, the air crackling with magic. There was no sense of time, no sense of anything other than the rhythm of the music, the warmth of his hand in yours, and the overwhelming feeling that you were a part of something much bigger than yourself.

For once, nothing else mattered. Not the expectations of your houses, not the whispered rumors that followed Mattheo wherever he went, not even the legacy that hung over his every move. In that moment, you weren’t the daughter of this family or the son of that one. You were just two people, dancing beneath the stars, lost in the magic of the night.

As you spun around, Mattheo’s face softened. His usually guarded eyes shone with something you couldn’t name, a kind of freedom that was rare for him, rare for anyone in this world that demanded so much.

“You look like you’re made of starlight,” he said, his voice barely louder than the music around you. “Like you’ve never known anything but this—this moment.”

You laughed softly, breathlessly, spinning in a circle as he twirled you, the movement effortless, like it had been practiced a thousand times in some distant dream.

“Maybe I have,” you teased, “but I don’t think I’ve ever danced with someone like you before.”

His lips curled up slightly, a hint of something softer behind his usual cool demeanor. “I’m not who they say I am,” he said quietly, his words only for you. “And I don’t think you are, either.”

For the first time, the truth in his words felt real. The world around you faded, and there was only the two of you, dancing together under a night full of stars—like you were made for this, made for each other.

As the song reached its final notes, you both slowed, your hearts still racing with the electric energy of the dance. The night was far from over, but in that moment, everything felt possible.

The last note of the slow melody echoed in the air, and the room seemed to hold its breath as you and Mattheo stood still, caught in the moment. The other students around you began to return to their conversations and laughter, but neither of you moved, still wrapped in the enchantment of the night.

Mattheo’s hand remained on your waist, his fingers grazing lightly against your skin, making it feel as if the night wasn’t quite ready to let go of its magic. There was an unspoken understanding between you both, a sense that, just for this one night, the rules didn’t apply. And you found yourself caught up in the moment, as though you were both playing parts in a story where anything was possible.

"Well," you said, breaking the silence, a playful glint in your eye, "that was fun. Too bad it’s almost over."

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Who says it’s over?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Mattheo Riddle, are you suggesting we do something reckless?”

His eyes sparkled with an almost dangerous amusement. "I’m suggesting we do whatever we want. No one’s going to stop us."

You took a breath, feeling the adrenaline surge through your veins. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the starlight, or maybe it was the fact that you had never met anyone like him before, but in that moment, you realized that you didn’t want to let go of this feeling. Not yet.

"Alright," you said, grinning, "what do you have in mind?"

Mattheo’s smile widened, a glimmer of mischief lighting up his dark eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I know a way to make this night unforgettable.”

He took your hand, and without waiting for another word, he led you toward the back of the hall, away from the crowd. The further you walked, the more it felt like you were stepping away from the rules of the school, stepping into something that was entirely your own. You could almost hear the soft hum of magic around you, as though the night itself was urging you forward.

"Where are we going?" you asked, your voice low, full of anticipation.

“Trust me,” Mattheo said with a grin, his hand still firmly holding yours. “This is going to be much more fun than anything in there.”

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Before you knew it, you were sneaking down the hidden corridors of Hogwarts, away from the watchful eyes of the professors. The sounds of the ball faded behind you, replaced by the quiet hum of the castle’s stone walls and the rhythmic thud of your shoes on the floor.

“Where are we going?” you asked again, this time more curious than ever.

Mattheo turned to you with a grin that was nothing short of devilish. "We’re going to do something no one’s ever done before. Something no one’s allowed to see."

You raised an eyebrow, your heart beating faster with excitement. "What, like sneaking into the Restricted Section?"

"Even better," he replied, his grin widening. "You’ll see."

Soon, you found yourself outside one of the secret entrances to the castle—a hidden door that led to the courtyard. Mattheo gave you a look, as if daring you to question what was about to happen. Without another word, he stepped outside, pulling you along with him, the cool night air hitting your skin like a wave of freedom.

Outside, the world had transformed. The moonlight bathed the courtyard in soft, silver light, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. You could hear the distant sounds of the ball still going on inside, but it felt far away now. It was as if you were living in your own little world, far removed from the structure and rules of the school.

Mattheo gave you a wink before walking toward the small, abandoned boathouse by the lake, a place where few students ventured. You could tell by his confident stride that this was no accident, no last-minute idea. This was exactly what he’d been planning all along.

As you reached the boathouse, he turned to you, his eyes alight with something mischievous. “Ever sneak into a party no one invited you to?”

You laughed, knowing exactly where this was headed. “Are you really asking me that?”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, enchanted key—a key that unlocked a small, rusted door at the back of the boathouse. It creaked open, and you followed Mattheo inside, only to find yourself standing in front of a small boat, hidden from the view of the rest of the castle. The boat was waiting—its silver oars gleaming softly under the moonlight.

"This is where the fun begins," Mattheo said, as though the whole world were an open invitation. "We’re going to take the boat out onto the lake, just like a couple of royal rebels—no one will know. We’ll be our own duchess and prince, living on our own terms."

You couldn’t help but laugh, the feeling of wild freedom washing over you. This was absurd, ridiculous, and absolutely perfect.

Mattheo winked at you, his expression playful. "If anyone asks, we’re a pair of nobles escaping the confines of their royal duties."

The image of you and Mattheo sneaking out under the stars, pretending to be royalty, made you laugh again. It was like a scene from some fairy tale, a far cry from the expectations of the world around you. For once, you didn’t care who was watching. You were exactly where you were meant to be.

You climbed into the boat beside him, the cool night air swirling around you as the two of you set off into the lake, the boat gliding silently across the water. The lights of Hogwarts twinkled in the distance, but here, in the middle of the lake, it was just the two of you—alive, free, and made of starlight.

The boat creaked gently as it floated back toward the shore, your hands still tangled in Mattheo’s. The night air was cool now, the stars shining brightly above you as the two of you made your way back to Hogwarts, the ball long forgotten behind you. The distant sounds of laughter and music still echoed in your mind, but it was almost as if they belonged to someone else’s world now—the world you had left behind when you stepped outside with Mattheo, a world of rules and expectations.

Your thoughts were swirling. This night had been more than just a dance or a stolen boat ride—it had felt like an escape, like you and Mattheo were breaking free from everything that had ever tried to define you. It felt like you could dream impossible things, and for a fleeting moment, those dreams were more real than the walls of Hogwarts itself.

But as you neared the shore, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that had come before this night, everything that had been lurking in the back of your mind. The pressure of your future, the weight of what people expected from you, the doubts you had about yourself—it all came rushing back in.

You glanced over at Mattheo, the full moon casting a silvery glow over his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made you wonder if he, too, was caught up in the same thoughts.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, his voice low as the boat gently bumped against the rocks of the shore.

You hesitated, not sure how to explain the whirlwind inside your head. “I’m just... thinking,” you said softly. “About everything. About the future. About things I can’t change.”

Mattheo’s gaze softened, and he let go of the oars, turning to face you fully. “You know,” he said, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “you worry too much.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Worry too much? About what?”

He reached over and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch light but deliberate. “About things you can’t control. Things you can’t change. You’ll spend your whole life singing the blues if you keep thinking that way.”

His words felt like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, but you couldn’t quite let go. "But what if I can’t change them? What if I’m just stuck?"

Mattheo leaned back slightly, looking up at the sky, his gaze distant for a moment as if he was searching for something. His voice was low, but firm. "You can’t change the things that happen to you. But you can change how you see them."

He paused, his eyes meeting yours again, this time with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"Don’t you see the starlight, starlight?" he asked, his words slow, deliberate. "Don’t you dream impossible things?"

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the sudden depth of his voice. It was almost as if he was pulling you into his world, asking you to forget about the weight of reality and just... believe.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching for yours again, his fingers brushing over your knuckles. “There’s magic in this world, you know. Not just the kind that happens in the classrooms or the halls of Hogwarts. But the kind that comes when you stop worrying about everything you can’t change and start dreaming about everything you could.”

You found yourself leaning in just slightly, drawn to the fire in his eyes. The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment, everything else vanishing into the starlight. "What if my dreams don’t come true? What if all this is just... just a fleeting thing?"

Mattheo’s lips quirked into a smile, but there was something so genuine in it, something that made you believe him. "Then at least you’ll know you tried. And I can promise you this—you’re never alone in your dreams."

There was a weight to his words, an unspoken promise that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it made your heart race. You took a deep breath, trying to steady the feeling that was blooming inside you, something warm, something real.

The air around you felt alive, as though Mattheo’s words had summoned something powerful between you—something bigger than Hogwarts, bigger than the worries you had been carrying for so long.

“Mattheo,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if we just... forget everything? Just for tonight.”

His gaze softened, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

Mattheo took your hand once more and pulled you gently toward the shore. The moonlight illuminated the two of you as if you were the only two people in the world. And for the first time all night, you felt a sense of peace, a sense that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. That you could dream beyond what you thought was possible.

The weight of everything you couldn’t change, everything that had been pressing down on you, seemed lighter now, as if Mattheo had taken it all away with a few simple words.

“So what’s next, then?” you asked, your voice light, playful. “Where do we go from here?”

Mattheo chuckled softly, the sound carrying across the stillness of the lake. “We go wherever we want,” he said, his voice filled with conviction. “And wherever we want is our world. The world we’re going to make.”

You smiled, finally letting yourself believe him. It was crazy, it was reckless, but it felt right. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to let go of the things you couldn’t control. For once, you were going to dream impossible things—and maybe, just maybe, they would come true.

Mattheo’s hand was still in yours, and you could feel the magic of the night wrapping around you both like a promise.

This was only the beginning.

And as the two of you stood there on the shore, under the starlit sky, you both knew that anything was possible. Even dreams that seemed impossible.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Three months had passed since that unforgettable night on the lake, where Mattheo and you had escaped the confines of Hogwarts and found freedom under the stars. Since then, things had changed in the most unexpected, but wonderful way.

You and Mattheo had gone from secret stolen moments to open affection, from daring adventures to quiet, late-night talks. There was something easy about being with him, something that felt as though it had always been meant to be. The once carefree moments of rebellion had turned into quiet afternoons together, exploring the world beyond the walls of the castle, letting each other in in ways you hadn’t thought possible.

Tonight, though, things were different. You were at the Yule Ball, one of the most anticipated events of the year. The air was filled with the gentle hum of magical music, and the grand hall was glowing with enchanted lights, just like the first time you’d danced with Mattheo. This time, though, you were no longer strangers. You were a couple, and there was a deeper sense of understanding between you two.

Mattheo looked as handsome as ever, dressed to the nines in a deep emerald green suit, his dark hair tousled just the right amount. He looked at you with a familiar, lazy smile as you met him in the center of the floor.

“Ready for another night we won’t forget?” he asked, his voice smooth and full of promise.

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “Always.”

As the music began to play, you found yourself swept into a gentle waltz. The orchestra’s soft melody filled the air, and Mattheo’s hand slid easily into place at your waist, pulling you in closer.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly as you both moved in sync, the ease of your connection making the dance seem effortless. The way his hand held yours, the way his eyes locked with yours—it was like a scene from a dream.

And then, something strange happened. As you spun in the circle of his arms, you felt a rush of deja vu, a sense of déjà vu that made everything feel like it had happened before—this exact moment, this exact dance, this exact feeling of being swept away.

The music was now the same song that had played on that first magical night—the night when everything had started. You remembered the boat ride, the starlit sky, the way Mattheo had told you that you could dream impossible things. It felt like the universe had conspired to bring you back to this moment.

Mattheo seemed to sense it too. He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing just slightly, his grip on your hand tightening.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the music.

You nodded, the feeling of being here with him—again—too strong to ignore. “Yeah... It’s like we’ve danced this dance before.”

A slow smile spread across his lips. “It’s because we have. It just took us a little while to get here.”

His words echoed in your mind. We’ve danced this dance before. And in a way, you realized, you had. This wasn’t just a simple waltz. This was a story that was continuing, a dream that you had both shared and were now living in real-time.

You spun again, the room spinning with you, but this time, everything was in perfect harmony. The music, the people around you, the glittering lights. It was all a part of the magic you had built together. A love you’d crafted from impossible dreams and starlight.

Mattheo leaned in as the music softened, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know,” he said in that playful, teasing voice that made your heart race, “I’ve been thinking…”

You raised an eyebrow, still caught up in the rhythm of the dance. “Uh-oh, should I be worried?”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Well, I was thinking that, maybe one day, we could get married. Have ten kids. Teach ‘em how to dream impossible things, just like we’ve been doing.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a soft sound that was filled with affection. “Ten kids? That’s a bit ambitious, don’t you think?”

Mattheo grinned, his lips curling into a devil-may-care smile. “Hey, I’m just dreaming impossible things here.”

You leaned into him, the soft beat of the music surrounding you both. There was a certain magic in that idea—impossible, maybe, but thrilling all the same.

For a brief moment, you both fell into a quiet, peaceful silence, the song washing over you like a tide of shared memories. The whole place was alive with the hum of the ball, but in that instant, it felt like it was just the two of you, wrapped in the starlight, with the impossible dreams you shared.

As the song played on, the world seemed to blur around you, the room twinkling like the stars above. You and Mattheo danced, lost in the rhythm, lost in the magic of this moment. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like the world wasn’t something to be feared or controlled. It was something to be embraced, to be dreamed into existence.

When the song ended, you and Mattheo stood there, both of you breathing slightly heavier, faces flushed from the intensity of the dance. His hand lingered on your waist, and yours was still tightly wrapped around his. The crowd around you had grown louder with the ending of the dance, but the two of you seemed to exist in a bubble—one that had been created by the impossible dreams you both shared.

“You know,” Mattheo said softly, his voice almost a whisper against the music, “it’s moments like this... that make me feel like anything is possible.”

You smiled, your heart swelling. "I know exactly what you mean."

He pulled you closer for another slow dance, as if time itself was standing still, and for once, it felt like the impossible was within reach.