All The Things We Were Given
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- Parts 4
Ongoing34m
Last published Fri, Jan 23, 2026
A coming of age Tom Riddle fanfiction. All rights reserved to original owners.
Money makes the world, go around.
In New York, money matters. You don't. At the end of the day, what matters is how much you make and how quickly you can make it. Rent does not wait for your moment of shining.
The same is true across everywhere on the globe.
Nessa Viscounti is the ripe example of a born rich girl. But, she had a lot that is expected of her, doesn't she? People hate her family, people love them just as much. Living in an underworld, in a time of facist politics and society, how do you stay in the middle?
Going to Hogwarts is a terrifying escape. Especially when the terror meets your gaze from across the platform, and he's the only one who does not look frightened, or with those spiral eyed gaze that many in the world, especially Europe, had.
Do you pray on the weak, too?
Or, is it only my country?
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#203
enemieswithbenefits
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"Treat my wound" he said, laying down on the cold floor of the maid's room in his mansion. "B...but it's too deep. I can't... you need to go to the hospital, sir" the maid replied, her lips trembling, tears pooling in her eyes. "Do it" he said calmly, no trace of pain on his face as he turned his back toward her, his skin carved with wounds. With shaking hands, she stepped closer, the first-aid kit clutched tightly. Tears slid down her cheeks as she began treating him. He lay there on the floor, careless of dignity, of blood, of the world, his eyes fixed on her. And in them lived something forbidden... something powerful enough to destroy everything. He asked her to treat his wounds. But what he truly wanted... was for her to heal him. And she...she was forbidden to even think of him. Forget healing him. What will happen when a sinister mafia becomes obsessed with his maid? Will a soft, pure-hearted girl fall in love with the man the world fears to even look at? Read the story to find out what destiny has planned for them.
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