#age gap art: not mine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

felassan · 3 months ago

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Sylvia Feketekuty: "To celebrate DA day, I've made a bluesky account that I'll keep active for a few days to talk about my work on Inqusition or Veilguard! After a few days I'll lock the account, because I'm not a social media person. Happy to talk until then though. I want to say straight off: the reception to Emmrich, Manfred, the Mourn Watch, and the Grand Necropolis has been heartwarming for all of us who worked on those people and places. Thank you all very much!" [source, two]

Rest of post under cut due to length and spoilers. [Post Two, Post Three]

Sylvia Feketekuty: "In the meantime, I do want to talk about a couple of things I saw floating around regarding Emmrich: 1. Emmrich being 52 or 50. I think people got 50 from data mining a character file, but we can't do a ranges in those files. As in, I couldn't input 50-60, it had to be a whole number. I put down 50 as an early ballpark, then went more accurate in later audition scripts. 2. Fifty-two is a old number I threw into an early document before his art or character was totally final. (And which caused another developer a headache because they thought it was accurate, I never updated it. Sorry about that.) 3. "Wait, how old is Emmrich then?" Once I saw his final character art, I felt more mid to late 50s. MAYBE early 60s. But unless we specifically state a character's age in the game, it's all malleable. I honestly would just adjust it to your impressions unless stated otherwise. 4. I've also seen comments on how weird it is for Emmrich to act like there's an age-gap in the romance if your Rook is around his age. And you're right. 5. The reason is because Rook WAS younger when those scenes were written and worked on. I felt it'd be odd if I never addressed the May-December aspect, especially as it hooks into some of Emmrich's worries. 6. By the time that shifted, it was really too late to change without catastrophic repercussions to the excellent cinematics and music and other things that depend on line delivery and timing. 7. To be clear: you can feel how you want about the age gap coming up at all! But that's how the discrepancy came about. 8. "Is there a way to reconcile Emmrich acting like my Rook is way younger than him if they're not?" Great question! I have several suggestions: -Accept it's an error. (True, but unexciting) -Emmrich considers a gap of 3-5 years scandalous. (Funny, albeit a bit cartoonish.) -The Mourn Watch has perfected swapping out organs, and Emmrich is nervously hiding that he's way older than he looks out of vanity. (Untrue, but funny.)" [source thread]

User in reply to point 6. above: "I'm personally glad it was too late to change because their argument about it is genuinely my favorite scene in the entire game! 😭💕 It's such an important moment to me" / Sylvia: "Thanks! That one was one where I was all sweatily trying to balance things out, with tone, with pacing, etc. Really glad it came together for you. (Cine and the actors did heroic things there to get it feeling just so!)" [source]

More snippets:

Emmrich's favorite ice cream flavor? Rum raisin [source]

Lots of people on the dev team shared the vision of having a bunch of gothic weirdness in that pocket of Thedas [source] (Necropolis/Nevarra)

Sylvia "especially liked writing the Mourn Watch origin, it was fun to write a fellow nerd for Emmrich to chat with" [source]

Sylvia poured some personal worries and fears into writing Emmrich [source]

On Vorgoth and their nature: "I'm a little leery of saying anything, partly because I'm cowardly avoiding publicly defining anything more until/if I ever need to. And partly because I did want them to be a fresh unknown. Sorry!" [source] "I'm glad you like Vorgoth, but I'm afraid I don't have much for you that isn't in the game. I deliberately wrote them so as to leave room, if we ever revisited them, or for Vorgoth to remain mysterious, if we did not. I'm sorry if that's not a very satisfying answer!" [source] "I will say, it was fun to throw in a few lines about Vorgoth's art collection. Their passion for it is sincere and deep. (I wanted all the Watchers to have a little non-death related hobby or interest, because they can be so singularly focused.)" [source]

Dwarven Mourn Watcher is a rare origin combo for Rook so Sylvia wanted to call it out [source]

On the outcomes of Emmrich's quest: "I tried really hard to make the options equally viable, and more up to the player's interpretation or preferences of what it would mean for Emmrich in their view. It's been interesting seeing reactions to it, which hinge sometimes on various single lines pushing people one way or another!" [source]

"The Grand Necropolis is always eager and ready for a new member of the Mourn Watch to grace its ranks." [source]

User: "I loved Emmrich's view on death and what his personal quest ultimately went on to say about the nature of death itself, and how the beauty of mortality lies in its impermanence and unpredictability." / Sylvia: "I really wanted to dig into those themes, and everyone in cine and art and level design and editing and the whole team honed in exactly on the vibe. The floral stuff especially, I was so thrilled when I played through the Memorial Gardens' with the art and lighting in." [source]

User: "I experience thanatophobia and that first conversation w/ Emmrich was so affirming and helped me describe my own anxiety to others" / Sylvia: "Thanks, the thanatophobia was, as you may've guessed, a personal experience for me too. I'm glad it was something that helped a little." [source] "I suspect that phobia is way more common than people think, and part of the reason Emmrich talks about it was to express that sentiment out loud. I find it helps sometimes just to acknowledge it." [source]

What languages does Emmrich speak other than Trade? "I think he'd be familiar with Tevene, since there's surely many, many old texts about magic written in that language. Kind of like a doctor that knows latin through their work. I also named that MW alphabet "tomb-script", though I'm not sure if it has a spoken component or not since it never came up in-game. If it does, he'd be able to speak that for sure." [source, two]

User: "Playing as a Mourn Watch Rook has been an absolute delight!!!" / Sylvia: "Thank you so much, I really liked writing those branches of the dialogue. Since Emmrich's so focused on necromancy, it was fun having a Rook who could be both casual and knowledgeable about it." [source]

User: "In your opinion, what outcome do you prefer for a romanced Emmrich (lich/non lich)?" / Sylvia: "Interesting question! To be honest, I'm afraid to answer it properly in case anyone takes my answer to be a canonical one. I really wanted either path to feel equally interesting/correct for whatever you decide fits your Rook's relationship with Emmrich. (We're also in the strange waters of meta-reasoning. I GAVE Emmrich his fear of death-Sorry Emmrich!-which makes me feel a little culpable for that, even though he's entirely fictional. And that might prey on my mind when trying to decide. A very odd experience!)" [source, two]

What music genres would Emmrich be into? "Classical music is very much playing to type for Emmrich, but I feel it's also correct. He'd enjoy a nice concerto or an organ recital. Or, if he's feeling daring, a bold new Orlesian opera! But I don't think his tastes are too outré in that area. That said, I saw someone post something like "Leave Emmrich alone, let him attend the Depeche Mode concert" while listening to Depeche Mode's "Violator", for the first time, which made me laugh. (Great album. If he could get over the shock of synths, Emmrich might enjoy "Waiting for the Night".)" [source, two]

When writing Emmrich the devs wanted to try and hit the gothic romance vibe [source]

Does Emmrich mix his own fragrance/cologne? Does he ever vary it by the season? "I think Emmrich goes to some of the many perfumers that have set up shop in Nevarra City around the Necropolis, just because he trusts their judgement and expertise. I hadn't considered him varying it by season, but that's very fun! I certainly think he has more than one bottle of scent." [source]

User: "How does Lich Emmrich have sex?" / Sylvia: "I don't mind the question! But my answer's a bit boring: I generally stay at arm's length on the more explicit romance stuff, just because if it's not stated or shown in-game, I don't want to bring in a canonical answer that might affect what people imagined. My general preference for romantic scenes that get physical is to leave blank space somewhere, so players can imagine what happens next. It's not the ONLY way to do it, I think there's legitimate artistic reasons to go more explicit. But that's how I approached Emmrich (and before him Josephine.)" [source, two]

User: "The scene with the fade glow where he touches your hand haunts me in the best way" / Sylvia: "Aw thank you. Our animators and audio people made that scene way better than I could've hoped! They took such care with everything there. I want to say that little eye-peep from Rook was added in by one of them, which was the perfect touch." [source]

User on Emmrich: "i’m curious whether you think he’d prefer dogs or cats (or both, or neither)" / Sylvia: "I think he'd consider cats and dogs a little too noisy and messy for his tastes. Not like a nice, quiet plant or skeleton! (Weirdly, I actually had a scrap of banter going over this exact subject at one point. It got tightened down to the exchange with Harding about the pig he used to hug when he was a kid.)" [source, two]

Sylvia was trying to tease Nevarra with the Tevinter Nights story Down Among the Dead Men [source]. "It was really fun to tease the Necropolis, so to speak, in TN, and I'm grateful we got to actually let players through its gates at last." [source]

User: "if Rook chooses to save Manfred and keep Emmrich mortal, what would Emmrich wish to become of his body once he did pass on?" / Sylvia: "Good question. I think he'd want to remain active and useful in death. A guide for other Mourn Watchers, or posted as a mystic guide somewhere dangerous, or perhaps an oracle in the library." [source]

User: "when and how was it decided that Emmrich would be romanceable? I remember reading that he would not be a romance option." / Sylvia: "I'm not sure where that came from, because I pitched him and then shortly after that we decided the entire cast was romanceable. That was fairly early on in the development of Veilguard, as I recall it. (Could've been a crossed wire?)" [source]

Trick Weekes: "Sylvia wrote the fantastic Emmrich "the Vol-carnage" Volkarin and everything that happens in Nevarra while dealing with a lead writer whose attitudes about corpses and undead are... not dissimilar from Taash's." [source] / Sylvia: "I still remember when you gave the very accurate feedback "I think we need to give players whose Rooks aren't into corpses some roleplaying choices to express this" and I was all "Ohhh yeaaaaaah." (Thank u Trick, you were right)" [source] / Trick: "Specifically, being able to express this without locking themselves out of the content! (For non-Sylvia folks) Given my issues with corpses, Emmrich as a whole was SUPER Not For Me, so I gave one caveat and then said, "For the rest of my critique, I will be impersonating his target audience." [source]

Sylvia on the secret origins of Manfred: "After I pitched Emmrich, I started jotting down notes and thoughts on his plots, his quirks, all that kind of stuff. It was very early on Veilguard, anything was still possible. We were chatting in the writer's room about it one day, and I think we'd just seen some early concept art for Emmrich. And our lead writer Trick Weekes joked that Emmrich looked like a man who'd have a skeleton named Manfred. And I laughed and went "Yeah he does!" And then I thought about it. It's wild in retrospect, but that one comment spurred a train of thought that led to the core of Emmrich's arc. He may've ended up a very different character without it! tl;dr: I stole it from Trick." [source, two, three, four]

"I got to play with a pretty free palette when defining the way Emmrich and the necromancers view death and spirits. But I tried to keep it within the confines of existing lore. That's one reason why that scene where Emmrich talks about Manfred to Harding goes into "the eternal question" of whether a soul actually returns with the dead or not. Nevarra has distinct beliefs, but I thought it'd be interesting if its people argue over their interpretations of those beliefs." [source, two]

"the other writers also suggested a bit later on that the big choice dig more into Emmrich's philosophies. Initially, it was more personally focused on his fears, which made it 'relatable' but pettier. Without that correction, I think it would've been weaker, I totally needed the team push." [source]

"I have a few guides to graveyard symbology, and it's so packed with references and meaning." [source]

User: "Did any of your own fears & experiences, make it into the writing of Emmrich? If yes, is it information you’re comfortable sharing with us? If it’s too personal to give any details, that’s fine as well. Also, across the other games, who do you think Emmrich will get along with best?" / Sylvia: "some of his fears are absolutely personal. The reflexive-compulsive panic over death is something I'm very familiar with, and I wanted to explore that through him. Because I suspected it was not uncommon, and worth examining. The question of who he'd get along with from the other games is surprisingly tough! Because without asking the other writers about their characters, I wouldn't know for sure. So I can only really speak to Josephine with surety. That said: -I think Josephine would be polite, and grow to like him, but would never entirely be over the ostentatious necromancy. -I think Emmrich meeting Sera would be the funniest match." [source, two, three]

"Peter Cushing was also one of my go-tos as an example of what I wanted Emmrich to be." [source]

"(Huge shout out to all the animators and level designers making Manfred run, quite literally. Like 95% of his personality lives in his movement, I think they nailed it.)" [source]

On Emmrich: "I tried to put a lot of passion and sincerity in his love for the dead, and I admit the Necropolis was THE big place I wanted to see in Thedas myself ever since reading about it in a codex." [source]

User: "Thank you for letting him have that cemetery dream date!" / Sylvia: "Having the date in the cemetery was one of the first things I wanted when thinking about the romance." [source]

"Josephine was the first time I was entrusted with a new character and a new romance at once, and that'll always be special to me." [source]

User: "How much input did you have in Emmrich's appearance in the podcast?" / Sylvia: "In the podcast, none myself. I believe it was handled by a third party but reviewed by a few people at BW, I don't know too much past that. (We did provide a descriptor and character rules. Stuff like "Emmrich never swears" and "always says amongst" and broader, more thematically useful things.)" [source]

User on Emmrich: "Are you planning any other external-media stories for him?" / Sylvia: "Thanks very much, The Flame Eternal has a special place in my heart for being the first time Emmrich got to be center stage in a story. (And very flattering to hear about the cross stitch. That's so cool!) I can't speak to any external-media plans, I'm afraid. That's not an implied hint about anything existing or not, it's just literally outside what I'm allowed to chat about. It'd be fun to do something like that again though!" [source, two]

"I must give full credit to Nick Borraine, Emmrich's voice actor. He got the compassion and tenderness the character needed right away." [source]

"And glad him being closer to your age resonated, I really wanted someone older out on an adventure. No reason that has to stop at any age IMO." [source]

User: "do the mourn watcher/nevarra in general raise their pets after they die to keep them around? like a dog skeleton with a whisp in it?" / Sylvia: "To be honest I hadn't thought out this one, but it's a very good question. I'm not sure how common that would be, or even if it's permitted to have pets running around the family crypt. (I definitely thing people would WANT to do it.) You know, I think I'm going to have to leave this one in the vague quantum foam of the future. I think I'd want to not only double check existing lore, but answer that in-game (or in a book or etc.) if we ever need to. (Hope that's not too much of a cop out. Sometimes I like to leave questions I'm not sure about alone, because until it's in an official game or story, it doesn't quite count.)" [source, two, three]

User: "as someone who shares emmrich's anxiety about mortality, getting to spend time with him, and in the grand necropolis and with the mourn watch, was genuinely soothing" / Sylvia: "Thank you, I'm glad he was a comfort. It's a familiar fear for me too, and I'd hoped he would connect that way with people very much." [source]

On the giant ribcage 'ceiling' in the Necropolis: "sadly, even I don't know all the mysteries of the Necropolis. (Which is to say it's a very cool bit of art but has no stated origin yet. Could be a large dragon, a giant...or something weirder!)" [source]

On TN story Luck in the Gardens: "It was nice change up, writing in first person and with someone so rascally. I've got an enduring affection for the Lords after writing Hollix, the scamp." [source]

User: "I just love his genuine enthusiasm for everything he does. If the other party members had fan clubs Emmrich would be the president of each and I love that for him" / Sylvia: "Thank you! I really wanted him to embody a kind of expansiveness and generosity of spirit, to stand in contrast to the eeriness of his abilities." [source]

User: "What was your inspiration for Josie?" / Sylvia: "My girl! When I came on to Inquisition, there'd already been work done on setting up the spine of the main plot, and figuring out the overall cast. But one of the advisors was a little murkier. It just said "Diplomat" on the white board. We knew we wanted someone in that position, but not who. So in a game where you were out exploring, killing demons, etc., but also had a big organization to run? I immediately wanted to make a Diplomat firmly there for you. Somebody you could hand the keys to the entire Inquisition to while you were out, and know it'd be in good hands. I also thought it'd be fun to have someone from Antiva, since that area wasn't covered yet by anyone in the cast. And I needed her to be polished, smooth, but heartfelt, because of that aforementioned trust. And that was the core of Josephine! Her voice actor, Allegra, brought her to life with such lovely charm, and hearing those early sessions also helped me further hone her tone." [source, two, three, four]

"Our music supervisor Ron Dazo hit it out of the park with Emmrich's music IMO. And so glad you liked Hezenkoss! Just very fun to write as a character." [source]

User: "Did any specific watcher raise MW Rook?" / Sylvia: "Good question! I kind of left that one alone because I wasn't sure if I wanted to let Rook define that themselves, or leave it open, and also I'd have wanted a full conversation on it. In the end that was a little out of scope so I left it unsaid. Which is to say that it COULD be Vorgoth who helped raise your Rook. And that stands until/unless we give a definitive answer (or let you choose from a range of answers) one day." [source, two]

"It was such a pleasure for all of us to finally get to explore the Necropolis, I am very glad we got to throw open the gates." [source]

User: "I was wondering if there were any Mourn Watch details you wished you had more time to explore? I was so struck by some of the ethical implications in your stories" / Sylvia: "Geeze, now that's a question. I mention it with Emmrich, but there's some resentment over the power the Watchers hold as THE mortalitasi of the Grand Necropolis, between them and the other orders. There's something to that situation I liked. There's also questions of how they select people for the order. What their standards are, how closely they work with benign spirits. And how they cultivate those relationships. How deep does that go? I also mentioned in a codex "the lives and bodies of those who tamper with the undead of the Necropolis are forfeit unto the Mourn Watch." which is pretty chilling. What's that punishment like, exactly? And in general, writing about anything weird or unexplained in the Necropolis brought me much enjoyment, and it would be fun to dig around how the Mourn Watch deals with (or what they want out of) all these mysteries and entities." [source, two, three, four]

"Geeking out with Emmrich about spooky stuff was a delight to write." [source]

"I liked writing someone older this time, it was something different for me and rewarding in some unexpectedly different ways. (And thanks especially for the nice words on DAtDM - I was very excited to introduce people to the Mourn Watch there!)" [source]

"Ah, tomb-script. I named it but it was our concept artists who went developed it with the hexagon shape-language of the Mourn Watch, which I loved. Conceptually: I think it's used purely an occult or sacred language. Something for the graves, or books on magic, but not everyday things." [source]

"Some trans people kindly offered their help with some feedback on some of the romance lines and others, which absolutely made them much better." [source]

"Trick Weekes actually wrote a ton of the banter where Emmrich inquires into qunari artifacts and customs, and Taash talks about what it was like to grow up under a scholar. I really dig the dynamic they unearthed between the two there." [source]

User: "Do you remember what was written in the script to describe ✨this✨ moment? [link]" // Sylvia: "Lol. I miiiiiight? Let me look at my notes. Ah hah, I do! My note says that Emmrich "takes a second, surprised." And then he's touched afterwards." [source, two]

Sylvia: ""i hope it's not too late, but were there any designs in mind for what Nevarra City looks like?" Not too late! We've got a few sketches in the World of Thedas books, but that's it. If the team ever went back to Nevarra City proper, I'd imagine the art team would want to do a deeper dive." [source]

Sylvia: "(Glad you liked Myrna in particular. My first Mourn Watcher everyone got to know!)" [source]

Sylvia: "I'm glad to hear getting to know Emmrich has been of some comfort." [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #dragon age: tevinter nights #dragon age: vows & vengeance #lgbtq

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voxslays · 1 month ago

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HWANG IN-HO MASTERLIST

⋆｡°✩ Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars…

…Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars ✩°｡⋆

Dunggeulge Dunggeulge | During mingle, player 001 goes out of his way to personally protect you and saves your life more than once.

My Love is Mine all Mine | When your husband In-ho informs you that you will have to take a short one month stay at the island, you are distraught. Even more so when you go into labor when your husband is nowhere to be found.

Oshibana | Days before your passing, In-ho gives you a lovely bouquet filled with your favorite flowers, as he spends his days by your side—only to discover you turned it into art and preserved it for him to find years later.

Ephemeral | In-ho—despite his best efforts—must choose between you and the games during the last round of Mingle.

If I die young | Being laid off from his job was hard, but the thought of losing you and your unborn child? Even harder. In-ho forces himself to join the games in hopes that he can save both of you before it’s too late.

Sleepy Prince | You and your husband have a nightly routine of tucking your son in to bed, before reading him a short story…together.

In-ho/Young-il/Player 001 Headcannons | The type of guy he would be during the games and how far he’d go to protect you.

Husband Material | What our favorite villain and frontman, In-ho, would be like as a doting husband.

Valentines Day | What spending Valentine’s Day with him would be like.

Need Someone Older | You and In-ho/Player 001 with a fifteen year age gap.

Breeding | In-ho and his Fem! S/O with a breeding kink.

NSFW Headcannons | Just some nsfw Headcannons for the frontman.

Smutty In-ho Headcannons | General Headcannons of what In-ho would be like during steamy time. Breeding kink? Check. Cockwarming? Also check!

Is it casual, now? | When undercover, you must pretend to not know the love of your life even exists. Knowing how hard this is, In-ho decides to give you a little surprise.

BITTERSWEET [ONGOING]

⤷ Before the frontman, before the games, before all the trauma—you meet detective In-ho, a tall, elegant man who is always impeccably dressed in his white button up shirts. Yet, what happens when he falls in love with you? When you fall ill?

Part One

WUTIWANT [DISCONTINUED]

⤷ After playing a game of Ddakji with a tall, mysterious man in a subway, you find yourself scared and alone—trapped in a series of deadly games with people who don’t speak your language.

Part One Part Two

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pezhead · 1 year ago

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✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨💕✨

Okay, I drew another pastel boys from Age Gap Au by @pezhead

#tmnt: age gap au #this is so cute 🥰#age gap art: not mine

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littleprinces · 4 months ago

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Day 12: Age Gap

Haerin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Day 12

She was sitting alone at a quaint coffee shop in Greenwich Village, her eyes scanning the crowd as she sipped her latte. She was new to the city and hadn't made many friends yet. As she looked up from her book, her gaze met mine. I was a 40-year-old man with a lean, muscular build, and I couldn't help but be drawn to her youthful charm.

"Excuse me," I said, leaning over her table. "I couldn't help but notice your book. Are you enjoying it?"

She looked up at me, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Yes, it's a classic. Have you read it?"

I nodded. "Many times. It's one of my favorites."

We spent the next hour talking about literature, art, and the city. Haerin was intelligent and witty, and I found myself increasingly drawn to her. As we left the coffee shop together, I suggested we continue our conversation over dinner. She agreed, and we walked to a nearby restaurant.

Over dinner, our conversation turned more personal. I learned about her dreams and aspirations, and she asked about my experiences in the city. The chemistry between us was palpable, and as the night wore on, I found myself wanting her more and more.

"You know," I said, leaning closer to her across the table, "I've really enjoyed our conversation tonight. But I have to admit, I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything but you."

She blushed slightly, her eyes flickering with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Is that so?"

I nodded. "Yes. In fact, I think I'd like to see you again. And not just for dinner."

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. "Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?"

I leaned in, my voice low and husky. "I think you know what I'm talking about, Haerin."

She held my gaze for a moment before her eyes flicked down to my lips. "I think I do," she whispered.

The following week, Haerin came over to my apartment. As soon as she walked in, I could see the desire in her eyes. I poured us some wine, and we sat on the couch, our bodies close but not yet touching.

"You're beautiful, Haerin," I said, my hand reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been thinking about you all day long."

She leaned into my touch, her eyes never leaving mine. "I've been thinking about you too," she admitted.

I leaned in and captured her lips in a soft, gentle kiss. She responded eagerly, her lips parting to allow my tongue to explore her mouth. Our kiss deepened, becoming more passionate and intense.

I broke away from her lips and trailed kisses down her neck, feeling her pulse quicken under my touch. She moaned softly, her head falling back to give me better access. I nipped at her earlobe, making her gasp.

"You taste so good," I murmured, my hand sliding up her thigh. "I want to taste more of you."

She shivered at my words, her breath coming in short gasps. I unbuttoned her blouse slowly, revealing her smooth, creamy skin. I leaned down and captured one of her nipples in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it before sucking gently.

"Oh, God," she moaned, her hands tangling in my hair. "That feels so good."

I switched to her other nipple, giving it the same attention. Haerin's body was on fire, her hips moving restlessly against mine. I could feel her heat through her jeans, and I knew she was ready for more.

I unbuttoned her jeans and slipped a hand inside, finding her wet and ready. I stroked her slowly, my fingers exploring her folds. She gasped and bucked against my hand, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"You're so wet," I murmured, my voice thick with desire. "I can't wait to taste you."

I slid my fingers out of her and brought them to my lips, sucking them clean. Her eyes widened at the sight, and I could see the desire in them. I pushed her back onto the couch and slid down her body, my hands gripping her hips.

I hooked my fingers into her jeans and panties and pulled them down, revealing her glistening pussy. I leaned in and ran my tongue along her slit, tasting her sweetness. She moaned and arched her hips, giving me better access.

I licked and sucked at her clit, my tongue swirling around it before flicking it lightly. Haerin's moans grew louder, her hands gripping the couch cushions. I slipped two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her G-spot.

"Oh, God, yes," she cried out, her hips moving in time with my fingers. "Right there, don't stop."

I kept up the pressure, my fingers moving in and out of her while my tongue worked her clit. Her breath came in short gasps, her body tensing as she neared the edge.

"I'm close," she panted. "So close."

I increased the pressure, my fingers moving faster and harder. Haerin cried out, her body convulsing as she came. I lapped up her juices, savoring her taste.

I stood up and undressed quickly, my cock rock hard and ready. Haerin watched me, her eyes filled with desire. I climbed on top of her, my cock poised at her entrance.

"Are you ready for me?" I asked, my voice gruff with desire.

She nodded, her eyes locking onto mine. "Yes," she whispered. "I'm ready."

I pushed into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to my size. She was tight and wet, her pussy gripping my cock like a velvet glove. I groaned at the sensation, my hips moving slowly at first before picking up speed.

"You feel so good," I grunted, my hips moving faster. "So tight and wet."

Haerin wrapped her legs around my waist, her hips moving in time with mine. "Faster," she begged. "Harder."

I obliged, my hips slamming into hers as I fucked her hard and fast. The sound of our bodies slapping together filled the room, our moans and cries echoing off the walls.

"Oh, God, yes," Haerin cried out. "Right there, don't stop."

I could feel my orgasm building, my cock throbbing inside her. I reached between us and rubbed her clit, my fingers moving in time with my hips. Haerin's eyes rolled back, her body tensing as she came again.

"I'm going to come," I groaned, my body tensing as I pushed into her one last time. "I'm going to fill you with my cum."

I came with a roar, my body shaking as I filled her with my seed. I collapsed on top of her, our bodies slick with sweat. I rolled off of her and pulled her into my arms, our bodies still joined.

"That was incredible," she whispered, her fingers tracing patterns on my chest.

I smiled, my eyes closed. "It was," I agreed. "And I'm not done with you yet."

We spent the rest of the night exploring each other's bodies, our passion and desire never waning. As the sun rose, we lay entwined in each other's arms, our bodies sated and satisfied.

#girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #newjeans smut #haerin smut

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candy69gurl · 1 year ago

Note

I love your Noncon stories so much... like DAMNNNN..... CAN you please do a teacher gojo (Gojo sensei) x student female reader noncon???? Where she trusts Gojo so much but at the end of the day she ends up being raped by Gojo..... pleaseeeeeeeeeee 💗💗💗💗

Are you.. not weak?

Teacher Gojo x student f!reader

Warnings- 18+, dark, non/con, mentions of violence blood (fight with curse), age gap (both are adults), public sex, misuse of trust, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, blow job, sex against wall, use of nicknames (baby, sweetheart), mutliple orgasm, raw sex (cumming inside), clit slapping, breeding kink

wc - 4.5k

ART NOT MINE !

The curse swirls and coils, spewing putrid venom at you. You dive out of the way, just evading the devastating strike. The curse screeches and lunges at you again, this time successfully scratching your arm with its sharp claws. You flinch as the venom sears like molten fire against your flesh. The curse charges at you again, its teeth and talons hungry for your flesh. You manage to dodge the assault at the last second, but your stamina is swiftly dwindling.

The curse's venom has burned and left your arm raw. The flesh around the cut is already growing septic, and the pain is excruciating.

The venom rushes through your veins like boiling liquid pain, impairing your judgement and equilibrium. You can hardly stand owing to the shock and anguish. You grab your arm, attempting to stop the flow of blood.

You see the curse about to harm you again.

A-am i going to die?

Gojo's eyes widen as he realises the curse is hitting you. He moves at incredible speeds, appearing beside you in an instant. He pulls you out of the path, accepting the curse himself. His six eyes sparkle brightly as he confronts the curse with strong focus and determination. The curse roars in rage, lashing out at Gojo with its claws and teeth. Gojo does not let the strike hit him due to his infinity blocking any attack attempt to hurt him.

Gojo got the news that you not in your dorm so, so he hurries out to find you, his six eyes narrowing as he tries to figure out where you could possibly be. His cursed energy rises as he explores his surroundings, looking for your scent or any indication of where you could be. He dashes from place to place, looking for any trace of you.

When he sensed you, he dashed to where you were, taking in the sight of you fighting a special grade curse.

He notices that you are damaged, with a burn mark on your arm and venom pouring through your veins. Without hesitation, he utilises his Purple Hollow to break the Special Grade curse. His cursed energy coalesces in his palm as he aims a massive blast at the curse. The Purple hollow hits its target with lethal precision, incinerating the curse instantly. The force of the blast sends the curse flying back and leaves a massive crater behind. Gojo lets out a heavy breath in relief as the curse is no more.

Gojo immediately rushes over to your side, his six eyes scanning you for any potential injuries. He sees that you are unconscious, your breaths slow and shallow. He can see that the venom is still coursing through your veins and the skin around the wound is beginning to scab over. He grimaces in concern as he sees the extent of your injuries.

He softly grabs your arms, lifts you, and carries you on his shoulder.

What was she even thinking.. he sighs, and in a second, Gojo transports you to Shoko using his teleportation power, your limp and unconscious body on his shoulders.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the scene around you became fuzzy and unclear as you tried to make sense of it all.

You're laying in bed with your arm bandaged and a dull aching from your wounds.

You sit up slowly, trying to recall what happened.

Your eyes survey the room, and then to Gojo sitting next to your bed.

"S-sensei?"

He gets up and moves closer to you.

"How do you feel?" he says quietly, his voice full of concerm.

"Mf'ne," you reply.

He gives you a slight smile, his eyes still full with anxiety

"The venom has been neutralised, so your condition is stable for now." He informs you. "You still need to rest. That was a high-level curse.I can't believe you were able to put them off that long."

"Why were you fighting a special grade curse alone.......Do you realise how dangerous that is?"

His tone implies dismay.

"I-", you try to make up something quickly.

He notices the guilt and embarrassment on your face. "You were trying to prove something, weren't you?"

He asks quietly.

You were up against Miwa, who was apparently a fan girl of Gojo. You failed miserably, failing to land a single hit on her throughout the entire match while she effortlessly evaded your attacks and countered you flawlessly. After the match, you overhear Gojo talking to Miwa.

Gojo: "You did well. Your technique is impressive, especially the way you used the environment to your advantage."

Miwa: "Thank you, sensei."

Gojo smiled at her.

Gojo: Keep this up and one day you will be able to the strongest sorcerer like me.

Miwa squealed and blushed, her face brightens.

You rolled your eyes and felt jealous and embarrassed. You felt determined to prove to GOJO that you're just as good, if not better than her so you decided to go and find a special grade curse to fight, alone.

You continue to roll your eyes as you recall what happened a few days earlier, still feeling envious and ashamed by your bad performance and how much Gojo complimented Miwa.

You snap back to reality and realise you're still in the infirmary bed. Your arm injuries continue to pain, and you feel fatigued and weak. Gojo is still sitting next to your bed, staring at you intently.

"I asked you something, Y/N," Gojo squints his eyes, and you can feel it through the blindfold.

"I-i, yes. I only wanted to prove myself that I am strong, and I failed."

Gojo sighs with disappointment.

"Trying to prove yourself by fighting a special grade curse alone.. that was reckless. It's just too dangerous." He looks at you with a mixture of concern and frustration in his eyes. "You're just lucky that I was able to find you in time before anything even worse happened."

"S-sorry.."

He shakes his head, still looking at you with concern.

"It's alright. Just... don't try to do something like this again, okay? If something happens to you, I can never forgive myself", his voice laced with a slight hint of amusement.

"h-huh?" He smiles slightly "I mean it. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if anything bad happened to you." He pauses, his voice softening "You're my... favorite student after all"

He notices the blush on your cheeks and his smile widens. "Don't go blushing on me now", he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

He stops and gives you a serious look.

"You do understand that I'm saying this because I care about you, right?"

You nod without looking at his face.

"Just know that I'm constantly looking out for you and I will not allow anything bad to happen to you."

He pauses again, his face becoming more serious.

"I will keep my eyes on you."

You notice that Gojo has indeed been keeping a close watch over you. You can feel his eyes on you at all times, watching your every move and making sure you stay safe. He is also keeping an eye on who you talk to and what you do, making sure that you don't do anything foolish again.

He's been very vigilant and keeping a close eye on you, which makes you feel both secure and a bit uneasy at the same time.

Despite feeling somewhat uneasy, you trust Gojo and feel secure that he will protect you and keep you safe. You know that he is only doing this to make sure that you don't do anything foolish again, and ultimately you feel reassured by his watchful eyes.

It's true, you know that Gojo will come rushing to your rescue at the slightest indication of injury or discomfort. He's always keeping an eye on you and ready to act at any moment. His vigilance makes you feel both safe and loved, and you realize how lucky you are to have him. You know that he would do anything to protect and heal you.

The other sorcerers started noticing the strange behavior of Gojo. They found it odd that he began keeping a close eye on you and always watching out for you. They were wondering why he was doing this, as usually he doesn't bother about such small matters.

Whenever they pointed this out to him, he would give some reasons like "You're weak" and "You don't know what you are doing" which would make you angrily pout and say "I am not weak!", and "I know what I'm doing".

You are training with Yuji when something unexpected happens, and you find yourself in a lewd position with Yuji on top of you. Yuji fumbles over his own feet and falls on top of you, catching you both off guard. Both of you are flustered.

Just then, Gojo appears from nowhere. He sees you and Yuji in a very provocative position. He grabs Yuji's hoodie and pulls him off you.

"What you two are doing?" He notices Yuji blushing and stuttering, and you're still shaken and flustered by the situation.

"W-we were just t-training ..." Yuji stutters.

"Really. T-training is..." You also stutter, and you both appear flustered and embarrassed.

Suddenly, something explodes inside Gojo. At first, he thought it was just his annoyance with Yuji, but there was more to it. Fear or an unknown emotion he is not sure of it. He wanted to be your first choice, not anyone else.

Yuji says, "Uh.. I.. I have an important work.. I have to leave now." Yuji walks away with an awkward smile.

You both stand awkwardly, Gojo's expression unreadable. You avoid looking at him because you can feel his intense stare on you.

"Uh, I need to go somewhere," you suddenly say.

As you're about to leave, he says "You are not going anywhere."

"W-why not?"

"Because I said so. You are not going anywhere", his voice demmanding and angry He says with some intensity in that, his eyes are pinning you to your place.

" I-i don't understand why not ", you argue

"You don't need to understand."

You can see tension building up in his body, his muscles stiffening . He's acting weird than usual..... you cannot put your finger to it, but something's definitely wrong.

"Well , YOU CANT JUST ORDER ME AROUND LIKE THAT" you suddenly snap.

He stares at you with a fiery look, his eyes like daggers "Do not give me that attitude." His voice is laced with anger, he's clearly not in a good mood. He seems to be losing his patience with you.

"S-stop making fool of me infront of everyone."

He continues to stare at you for a minute, his rage rising

"Is that what you think?" He askss angrily, leaning closer to you while speaking.

You move back, now your back is against the wall of the Jujutsu High building

He appears to notice you leaning back and steps back slightly to give you some personal space. He's still looking at you with fierce eyes, and his voice remains keen as he speaks.

"I'm not making a fool of you in front of everyone. I'm just trying to protect you."

"I.. I don't need your protection"

He grimaces at that statement, his temper boiling up inside him once again. "Hah! You don't remember do you?", his voice harsh as he slams his hands on the wall trapping you against it. His voice is laced with anger as he speaks, he looks down at you. "You do not need my protection, then why the hell were you dying that day?", he growls.

"I.. am really grateful to you for that but that does not m-", you protest He interrupts you, his voice harsh.

"Shut up!" He's livid now, he takes off his blindfold with one hand and you can see his crystal blue, like diamond sword as he glares at you. "If you are really grateful why don't you show that to me?"

Your face shows confusion.

He's so close to you that you can feel his hot breath on your neck. He seems to be enjoying making you squirm, his eyes still filled with an intense look. "Show me how grateful you are. Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

You try to push him away, but he holds his ground, not letting you go. You can feel his chest now against your body, heat radiating from him. He gives you a smirk as his hands move to hold your wrist, restraining you.

Your voice shake as you understand the situation you are in, "H-how am I gonna do that?"

"Hmmm..by giving me your virginity" he says with a hint of amusement in his voice .

Your eyes widen in fear and excitement, "Y-your joking."

His eyes are still intense and serious as he looks down on you. "Am I though?..."

"Sensei pls let me go", you plead, struggling.

"You wouldn’t wanna be on my bad side, sweetheart.” He grinned slyly, his grip tightening around her wrist. His breath ghosting across her cheek. He presses her against the wall more as his ears fill with her pondering heartbeats. “I will be gentle I promise..” His lips graze your earlobe gently, sending chills down your spine.

"N-no please", your voice begging to let go.

“Hmm Don't you trust me Y/N? ” Gojo purs into your ear, his free hand roaming along your body, “I never intend to hurt you."

He releases his grip on your arms letting them fall down, and they shift to grab his shoulders to push him away. His hands cups your cheeks, squeezing them gently, keeping you close to his body. He chuckles darkly, a sinister look dancing in his eyes. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to give you what you need.”

He does not wait for your response, his hands already travelling down to your legs going up to your thighs under your uniform skirt. You bite your lower lip closing eyes "Aww, you like that, baby? That’s good.” His voice dripped with seduction as he continues upward, lingering on your thighs. Gojo can't help but chuckle softly, his mouth hovering above yours.

“Guess you ain’t as resistant as you pretend to be.” He leans in, his lips brushing against yours, seizing the opportunity to capture your lips with his own. His tongue darts out to taste you, claiming ownership of your mouth. Gojo wants you, he needs you, and now he's taking you right here. His hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your lovely body. As the kiss intensified, he feels your submission within it. His hand moves up to cup your breast, kneading it gently through your clothes.

“Let me have you,” he growls his teeth gently grazing your bottom lip. His other hand slide down your side, cupping your ass and pulling you closer, the heat building up in your core is unmistakable.

"P-please not here, w-what if someone-"

"Then you better not make any noise." He whispers against your lips. His hands shift, beginning to tug at the buttons of your uniform shirt.

“We’ll do this right, ok?” He says reassuringly, yet demanding obedience. He can't resist the urge anymore, his body screams for you, his soul desires you. He needs to make this moment last, to imprint it onto both your minds forever. He starts unbuttoning your uniform, revealing delicate skin beneath.Your eyes follow his hand movements.

A gentle bite on your neck made you gasp softly; a rush of adrenaline filled the air. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll protect you from everything else.”

His voice was rough, almost animalistic in its hunger. He was determined to satisfy his primal urges. He unbottons all the bottons of your shirt.

You try to hide your exposed chest.

Gojo's smirk widened as he feels you hiding yourself from him. "Don't do it.” He orders hoarsely, playing with the strap of your bra. "Don't you trust me?"

You nod, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

He takes your hand which was hiding your breasts and kisses them gently. Pulling your bra up, he reveals your breasts, nipples hardening at his gaze. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, teasing them softly. His hands travel down your waist, lifting your thigh up. His thumb rubbing against your clad clit.

You flinch at his touch, his lips curl up to an evil smile as he finds your neck again, nipping and sucking, marking you as his own.

"Let me take care of you, baby." He pushes your undies aside, thrusting a finger inside you.

Your eyes shut close at his sudden thrust, "Aah, s-so sudden.." your one arm wrap itself around his neck and the other grabs his shoudler for balance.

"Your so wet yet you say you don't want this.. So Tight, ah" Gojo speaks, his voice low and husky. He adds another finger, stretching you wide. "You have no idea how much we both want this, Y/N. It's been killing me – waiting, watching you from a ar."

"nngh n-no more ssensei, c-cant stand"

Gojo's smirk grew bigger, his fingers moving inside you faster. “Can’t handle this, huh?” He chuckles darkly, thrusting his fingers deeper. "If you can't handle my fingers, how are you gonna handle my cock hm?"

"Pls I can't take anymore."

“You said you are not weak, why don't you try and prove it?” His voice was rough, his hips grinding against you. He hooks his finger on your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Hnghh-" you arch your body as his fingers move faster, hitting a spot that makes you whimper softly, your nails digging into his shoulder as you feel yourself reaching climax, he feels your walls tightening more. his other hand leaves your waist and grabs your breasts, squeezing them roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples slightly. His fingers curl inside you, and you cry out creaming with his fingers in you.

"Shh", he harshly covers your mouth, "you don't want people to see you like this do you?"

You shake your head frantically, as knees shake and you gradually collapse to the ground. He lets you collapse on ground as you breath after such an intense orgasm for the first time in your life.

“Easy, my little bird,” he coos, unbuckeling his belt pulling his erect shaft. “Open your mouth”

Your eyes shift to his member to his face "W-what?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, Y/N." He says, his voice thick with lust. "Open your mouth if you don't want to get hurt when I fuck you with it." He repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

"I-its so big"

"Don't worry I will guide you through it" You slowly open your mouth, your eyes never leaving his. He smiles, his eyes filled with lust and desire. He slowly thrusts his cock into your mouth, feeling your tongue swirl around him. He moans softly, his fingers tangling in your hair protecting the back of your head, as he pushes your head against the wall. He thrusts deeper, feeling your gag reflex kick in.

He pulls back slightly, giving you a chance to breathe. He thrusts back in, feeling your throat constrict around him. He moans louder, his hands pulling your head closer to him. He thrusts faster, feeling your nose press against his stomach.

Gojo grins, "That's right, take it all." He groans, his hips pistoning harder, forcing you to take his full length. He slams into you, thrusting in and out of your mouth, his movements becoming erratic. He's so close, his eyes roll back in pleasure. His fingernails dig into your scalp, his balls slapping against your chin.

"Almost there..." he pulls out his dick before he can cum. "Mhm..Nah.. Not gonna cum in your mouth..", drools drip down your chin. You inhale as much air as possible "Good girl." He praises, his breath ragged. He picks you up with his hands beneath your thighs , he presses your legs tightly against the wall as he rubs himself against your wetness.

"D-dont go any further..", you protest.

“I promise I'll pull out if it hurts.” He says, his breath hot against your ear. He positions himself at your entrance, his tip sliding in easily. "I can never hurt you", he gives you a small peck on your lips, as he pushes himself for inside you.

"P-please it hurts .. Ahh.. p-pull it out"

"If you struggle more its gonna hurt you, so relax" He growls, his voice thick with lust. He pushes himself in, inch by inch.

Your body shakes with each inch he pushing inside you. Tears roll down your cheek, toes curling at the pain yet pleasure.

"You crying?" He asks with a teasing look in his face, his pace slowing down. "it won't hurt forever" He thrusts fully in you.

You body arches back against the wall.

"Just relax." He breathes, his hips rocking against you. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He asks, his dick sliding in and out of you rhythmically. He pumps you slowly at first, letting you adjust to the feeling.

Your mind is blank, your just taking everything he is giving to you. He starts thrusting faster, his grip on your hips tightens.

"You're so fucking good, baby. So tight and wet...” He pants, his eyes locked on yours. He slams himself inside you, your walls gripping his size. He bites his lower lip, trying not to release too soon. He slams against your womb, feeling you tighten around him. He kisses your forehead . "I'll cherish you forever, I'll protect you, promise". He holds your face with one hand, forcing you to look into his eyes. He leans down, his lips capturing yours. "I love you." He says between kisses.

"S-sensei hnghh .. a-ah .. l-love you too.. a-ah" Gojo groans, his thrusts becoming harder and rougher, You wrap your legs around his waist to feel him deeper.

"Hah! I knew you felt it too.." He thrusts harder, deep thrusts making you moan loudly. He grips your ass, making sure every inch goes in. "Tell me again! Tell me how much you love me!" He roars, one of his hand squeezed your breasts while the other was placed on the wall maintaining balance. His grip on your ass tightens as he feels his climax approaching.

“Love you!” You scream, your nails digging into his shoulders. "

"Yes! That's it!” He roars, his hips bucking wildly. He sucks on your breasts alternatively and fiercely, his teeth grazing your nipple.

“Fuck! Yes!” He releases, your breast with a lewd sound turning you around, pushing you against the wall, by your neck as he slams into you from the back

"Gon' cum", you whimper.

His dick slides in and out of you at a frenzied pace. He spanks your ass, causing you to yelp. He thrusts deeply, your walls milking him.

"Cum for me, baby!" He groans, his pace increasing. "Do it!" His voice tingling your ears as his thrusts getting more and more forceful. His nails dig into your skin as he nears his peak.

"mhm y-yes.. ah", you cum, squeezing his dick so tightly that he can't help but moan His hips slowing down letting you relax before jerking and spilling inside you, filling your womb .

He collapses on top of you, catching his breath. "You're mine.. Now that I have take your virginity." He mutters, nuzzling your hair. "No one can take you away from me." He whispers, his heart racing.

He lifts away from you.. Your nails glide down the wall as your knees go weak and you collapse on the ground with your ass high up and his seed spilling out of you His cum dripping down your thighs "W-why did you cum inside?", your voice still shaken. He smirks, kneeling beside you, he cleans you up, his fingers running over your sensitive clit. "The way your walls were squeezing me. Seemed they didn't want to leave my dick alone mhm" He spreads your legs, admiring his work.

"Don't worry gon buy you emergency contraception" He laughs, shaking his head. "Though you would look good with my child" He slaps your cunt only to watch his seed drooling down and your walls clench around nothing.

"Let's go shall we? or you gon keep your ass high up in the air for me to invade you more"

You get up, glaring at him and try to walk but falls down but gojo holds before you fall. Gojo chuckles, holding your waist not letting you fall.

“You’re so cute when you try to be mad but fail, Y/N.” He says, smiling brightly. "Looks like you won't be able to walk for a few days huh" He says, helping you walk.

Yuji and Nobara notice you two approaching them, and Yuji's face lightens with amusement.

"Are you Okay Y/N?" Yuji smirks and raises his eyebrow.

Gojo shrugs. "Ahahahahahahaha.. She just fell down and I had to look out for her as I usually do"

Nobara rolls her eyes and whispers to Yuji, who giggles. "I wonder what happened here." She chuckles, crossing her arms.

Megumi looks at you with concern on his face.

Gojo snickers as he holds you tighter. "I told you she's fragile," he says, his arm draped around your shoulder.

You yell back at him "I AM NOT WEAKKK"

2K notes · View notes

ak319 · 3 months ago

Text

Lovesick Childhood friend x f!reader

Headcanon / Intro

Warnings: This story contains matriarchal themes, fem dom such as mpreg, fem dominated world, role reversal, and BXG pairing! Yes, it's a boy x girl, so don't interact if you are uncomfortable! Gonna have historical themes, little age gap (3 years) in terms of historical times, heavy angst, fluff, pining, and drama. The art is not mine, it's from Pinterest. Enjoy reading. ─ m.lists

"but you know what they say,

you can't help who you fall for

and you and I fell

like an early spring snow...."

─────────

1917

"Orsen, you’d better finish your food before you run off to play. Got it?"

"Yes, Papa!" Orsen nodded dutifully, but his gaze betrayed him, fixed on the window behind his father. His eight-year-old eyes sparkled with mischief as he struggled to suppress giggles. Out in the garden, you were pulling faces and breaking into an exaggerated, clumsy dance, clearly determined to make him laugh.

He had to finish his food quickly, before his father noticed anything. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of you getting a light smack on the back of your head from your mother, the estate gardener, who scolded you for goofing off. Orsen bit his lip to stifle a grin.

Without a second thought, he wolfed down the rest of his meal. His father’s disapproving gaze burned into him as he muttered something about unmanly behavior and lack of etiquette. But Orsen didn’t care, not one bit. Ignoring the reprimands, he dashed out of the room when his plate was empty, proving his father right in the process.

But none of that mattered. He’d kept you waiting long enough already.

"Finally! You eat too slow and... way too much for someone the size of a squirrel," you teased, crossing your arms with a smirk.

That earned you a swift smack on the chest from Orsen, who clearly had plenty of energy to spare. Ah, so that’s where it all goes, you thought with a grin.

"COME ON! LET'S START WITH A GAME OF CHASE, THEN HIDE-AND-SEEK!"

"You’re on!" you replied with mock seriousness, already taking off before Orsen could fully process the challenge.

And just like that, playtime began. You were eleven, three years older than him, and yeah, yeah, people might wonder why you spent your afternoons running around with the eight-year-old son of Lady Isolde. Because you were made to since he needed a playmate. You didn’t mind and if you were being honest, it was fun.

"You're too slow, Orsen!" you call out, weaving between the trees with practiced ease.

"I'm not slow! You're just taller!" Orsen huffs, his golden hair flying behind him like a ribbon as he tries to catch up. His laughter rings out, light and carefree, as he nearly trips over a tree root.

"Excuses, excuses," you tease, pausing just long enough for him to barrel into you, both of you tumbling to the ground in a heap.

"I got you!" Orsen declares, his soft hands gripping your arms triumphantly a stark comparison to yours , rough from helping your mother around the estate with tasks.

"You tackled me, not tagged me!" you laugh, sitting up and brushing dirt off your knees. "That’s against the rules."

"There are no rules in chase," he replies matter-of-factly, flicking his long blond hair over his shoulder like some princeling—and it makes you snort.

"Fine. No rules, huh? Then how about this?" Without warning, you spring to your feet and scoop him up by the waist, spinning him around while he squeals with laughter.

"Put me down, you IDIOT! I’ll get you back for this!"

"Sure you will," you grin, finally setting him down. His face is red from laughing so hard, but he immediately points to the swing hanging from the old oak tree nearby.

"Your turn to push me!"

"Your turn? When was it my turn?" you ask, feigning exasperation but already making your way to the swing.

Orsen is already climbing onto it. You steady the ropes for him, watching as he gets comfortable, his small hands gripping tightly. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

With a firm push, you send the swing into motion, the wood creaking softly under Orsen’s weight. He leans back, his laughter filling the air as the wind tousles his golden locks. "Higher!" he demands, his voice bright and full of life.

"Careful, you’ll go flying straight into the bushes," you joke, though you give him another push, watching as his laughter spills into the air like music.

"And you’d rescue me," he counters, turning his head to flash you a grin.

"Obviously," you reply, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself. Or else your mother would make soup out of my bones if you even got a scratch.

"See? I’m safe as long as you’re here," he says, his voice lighter, softer, as the swing slows with the waning light. The golden glow of the setting sun paints him in warm hues, his hair a tousled mess, his cheeks pink from play.

You ruffle his hair as he climbs off the swing, earning an indignant squeak. "We should do this every day," he murmurs, looking up at you with those wide, trusting eyes that seem to hold the whole world.

"Yeah," you say quietly, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "Every day, Orsen."

And in that moment, you mean it.

1922

"Brother Orsen?" Rowan called, tugging at his older brother’s sleeve. "She’s calling for you."

Orsen, now 13, was sitting in front of his vanity, carefully sorting through his collection of accessories. He didn’t bother looking up, too absorbed in his task.

The 5-year-old huffed, folding his arms. "She’s calling you to play, not to do a fashion show."

"SHUSH! Rowan, come here for a second!" Orsen snapped, his tone light but firm. Rowan grumbled under his breath but walked over, clearly itching to be anywhere but here.

"Okay, so listen," Orsen began, lowering his voice even further as he picked up a necklace from his collection. "Which one should I wear?"

"Necklace?" Rowan blinked, his frustration barely contained. "You’re gonna wear a necklace to play?"

Orsen rolled his eyes dramatically. "Look, we are not playing instead (Y/N) is taking me out to see a play! To a theatre!"

Rowan’s expression softened at the mention of (Y/N)'s name. "A play? Really?"

"Yes, really!" Orsen grinned, his tone proud but slightly embarrassed. "It’s a big deal. I want to look my best."

Rowan exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief before quickly quieting down. "B-but mama and papa aren’t home! They told us to stay inside the manor, and what about the stupid nanny? I’m so over him-"

"This is exactly what I’m telling you!" Orsen pleaded, his voice low but desperate. "Just cover up for me, please! And even if Elias finds out, he won’t get mad or tell anyone, I swear, but the other servants, they can’t know, got it?"

Rowan frowned, clearly conflicted. "Are you going on... what mama and papa go to? What’s it called... um... a date?"

Orsen’s ears turned bright red, and a warmth spread through him, making his heart race in an unfamiliar way. His hand paused mid-air, the necklace he was holding slipping slightly as his mind began to swirl. A date. Was it a date? His chest tightened, a fluttering sensation moving through him. He tried to push it down, telling himself it was ridiculous. It was just (Y/N). But still... the thought of being alone with her, of seeing her smile...of being beside her...sitting so close to her...

"Ugh, I-" Orsen’s voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, hoping Rowan wouldn’t notice the redness creeping up his neck. "It’s not a date, okay? Just... something like that."

Rowan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he sighed dramatically and crossed his arms. "Fine, fine, I’ll cover for you. But you owe me big time, Orsen."

Orsen smiled, his heart still racing. "Thanks, Rowan. You’re the best."

Rowan shot him a sly grin before walking out of the room. "Just don’t get caught, alright?"

Orsen watched him go, still feeling the heat of that unexpected moment, his thoughts full of the image of (Y/N) waiting for him. A date... He could only hope she saw it that way too.

The sunlight poured through the trees, casting long shadows on the garden path as you stood by the gate, tapping your foot impatiently. Orsen was late—again. You couldn’t help but smirk, leaning casually against the stone wall, arms crossed and eyes scanning the road ahead.

You had to admit, though, it was kind of cute how he always managed to show up just a little bit after you, acting like you weren’t already getting a head start on your impatience. He always had that timid, apologetic look on his face, but it was like he couldn't help it. It was endearing, even if it drove you crazy sometimes.

Finally, you spotted him.

When he saw you, his face broke into that shy smile, the one that always made your stomach flip, and you couldn’t stop yourself from teasing him.

“Took you long enough,” you called out with a cocky grin, straightening up as he came closer. “Did your vanity mirror take longer than usual?”

Orsen flushed, immediately looking down at the ground, his fingers nervously brushing at the edge of his shirt. He bit his lip, clearly flustered. “I-I wasn’t... I mean, I was just making sure I looked decent,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "And...was just convincing Rowan to cover up."

“It’s fine,” you assured him, though you couldn’t stop the teasing note that slipped into your voice. “But I almost thought you weren’t going to show.”

He looked genuinely apologetic, his blue eyes wide and full of that quiet sincerity that always made your heart twist a little. “I wouldn’t leave you waiting, (Y/N),” he murmured, his hand tugging nervously at the sleeve of his shirt. “I promise.”

You felt the warmth in his words more than anything else, and it made your smile falter for just a second. Orsen was the kind of person who always tried to do the right thing, even when it wasn’t easy. He wasn’t like the other boys in the town, so confident and sure of themselves. No, Orsen was gentle, and careful, always thinking about others before himself. You could see that quiet, understanding gaze under his straw cartwheel hat , in the way he looked at you now.

“Well, if you’re sure,” you said, your voice softening, “we should probably get going before someone else notices, huh?”

“Yeah,” Orsen agreed, his expression turning a little more serious as he looked over his shoulder. He glanced up and down the street, making sure no one was watching, before taking a step closer to you. “Are you sure about this? I know it’s... a little risky.”

You hesitated, feeling the weight of your decision in the pit of your stomach, but when you looked at Orsen’s face, you felt a little lighter. There was no teasing now, no jokes, just his quiet concern, and for once, it made you feel like maybe this was worth it. You nodded.

“I’m sure,” you whispered back, then added with a hint of a smile, “It’ll be fun.”

“You really are...” He shook his head, his lips curving into a smile despite himself. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a challenging look. “Make everything seem like it’s no big deal? Maybe because it’s not. And you’re going to learn that today.”

He hesitated for a moment, but when you stepped forward and grabbed his sleeve to pull him toward the playhouse, he followed without protest.

Orsen’s heart skipped a beat as your hand enveloped his, and the warmth of your touch sent a flutter of butterflies through him. His breath caught in his throat, and he couldn’t help but glance at you, his face turning a shade darker. He wasn’t sure why something as simple as you holding his hand made him feel so nervous, but it did. It wasn’t just the physical touch, it was the way you kept him close, guiding him gently, as if taking care of him.

You pulled him to the side of the sidewalk, positioning him on the inside to keep him safe from the traffic and the bustle of the crowd. He felt a sudden surge of warmth at how protective you were being, even if it was just a small gesture. His chest tightened in a way he couldn’t explain, and his steps faltered slightly as you kept him close to you, shielding him from the rest of the world.

His heart raced, faster than it should have, as his mind wandered to those quiet moments when you became reserved, especially during functions. When he told you he was going to one or whenever they were held at the estate, your demeanor always seemed to shift. He noticed the way your gaze would turn sharp and distant, your movements brisk and careful, as though you were trying to shrink away. He hated it.

He hated seeing you as just part of the crowd, working tirelessly around the estate, your hands busy with tasks instead of resting in his. Most of all, he hated the functions themselves. Because while you were stuck there, unspoken and unnoticed, he was dolled up, standing with the sons and daughters of elites, smiling politely in a world that felt hollow. And maybe… maybe you hated that too.

Maybe you hated seeing him like that, all pretty, polished, and mingling with other people, particularly the daughters of noble families, ones his parents made sure he was somewhat acquainted with. Maybe you thought he belonged in that world, with them, rather than here with you.

The thought made his steps falter. A pang of desperation hit him. If only you knew. If only you knew that no crowd, no daughter of any elite, could ever hold his attention like you did.

To him, it didn’t matter how the world saw you or him, what mattered was this. You, walking beside him. You, pulling him to the safer side of the sidewalk. You, shielding him, even when you didn’t know that he was already yours.

At the theatre gate, you hesitated briefly before pulling out the money, the ache in your chest barely masked by the small smile you gave. Each coin was hard-earned, saved from days of labor at the Elaris estate and neighboring homes. As you handed it over, Orsen stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against yours for just an instant. The gesture was fleeting but warm, like a silent promise that you were not alone.

“(Y/N)... I know it’s not much, but-” He started to say, then hesitated, biting his lip. “I really appreciate you doing this. For both of us.”

You smiled at him, a little softer this time. “You don’t have to thank me, Orsen,” you said gently. “I want to do this.”

His eyes softened, and he looked away briefly, cheeks flushing just a bit. “You always know how to make me feel... better,” he muttered under his breath. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard. “Well, that's my job as your friend.” you replied, quietly. “I won’t go anywhere.”

He gave you a shy smile, more timid than usual. "I know..."

The moment passed quickly, but the quiet understanding between you both lingered as you walked into the theatre together, the world outside fading away. Orsen risked a glance at you, his gaze catching on the way the dim evening light outlined your sharp features. You looked so effortlessly composed, so handsome that it made his breath hitch for a moment. He felt a rush of warmth spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, his fingers brushing nervously against the ribbon under his chin as if it could steady him.

It didn’t matter that you were different. It didn’t matter that you came from different worlds. Right now, all that mattered was that you were both here, together, sharing this moment in time.

And for Orsen, that was enough.

── .✦

Orsen sat in his room, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the wooden desk, his mind still occupied with the discomfort that had settled over him the past few days. He hadn’t expected his body to feel like this, unfamiliar, heavy, and strange. The flow had come, just as his father and tutor had warned, but it didn’t make the experience any less confusing or jarring. He had kept to himself mostly, trying to adjust, trying to make sense of what it all meant.

A soft knock on the door broke his thoughts. He looked up quickly, his nerves suddenly tightening. His father, Lucan, stepped in, his posture rigid as always, his dark eyes scanning the room before landing on Orsen.

“Orsen,” Lucan began, his voice steady but tinged with an unfamiliar seriousness. "Wanted to talk about something, love."

Lucan stepped further into the room, his voice lowering, as if the matter was too delicate to say aloud in front of anyone else. “I and your mother think it’s time for you to stop... associating with (Y/N) for now.”

Orsen’s stomach twisted painfully. The words felt like a sharp blow to his chest, though he knew this was coming. His world, for the last few years, had been shared with (Y/N), the carefree days, the laughter, the moments when they were just two children playing in the garden or sneaking out to see a play. It was always natural, always easy, until now.

“Why?” Orsen’s voice cracked slightly, and he immediately regretted it, his cheeks burning as he stared down at the floor. “What did I do wrong? Wh-at did she do??”

Lucan sighed, a heavy sound that made Orsen feel smaller, as if he were a child again, needing to be controlled. "It’s not about you, Orsen. Your mother believes you should start focusing more on your responsibilities. You are no longer a child. Your a man and she...she's a woman. It’s time for you to stop playing games, stop seeking out... distractions."

Orsen felt his breath catch in his throat. Distractions. That’s how his parents saw (Y/N) now? His heart ached at the thought of never being able to run off and play with you again. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.

"You need to start preparing for your future," Lucan continued, not looking at Orsen directly, but at some point beyond him. “Your mother has plans for you, and she expects you to focus on your studies, your family name. No more distractions, Orsen. You’re growing into something much more than that."

The last words lingered in the air, and Orsen felt a sickening knot twist in his stomach. He wanted to argue, wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. Why should everything change now? But the words didn’t come. Instead, he simply nodded, his eyes brimming with the weight of it all.

Lucan turned to leave, but before he did, he paused at the door. “It’s for the best, son,” he said, his tone almost sympathetic. “I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but your mother’s decision is final.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Orsen sat there, staring at the floor, his hands trembling. The world outside felt so far away now, like it was slipping through his fingers.

It was over. He couldn’t see (Y/N) anymore. He couldn’t run to her and find comfort in her presence. He couldn’t protect her or laugh with her. He was supposed to grow up. He was supposed to follow the path his family laid out for him, to grow into something else. To grow up for rather someone is more like it. To be a good man so that he can be a good husband...

But I’m not ready to let go, Orsen thought miserably. I can’t.

The evening had settled over the manor, but Orsen still hadn't left his room. He had feigned illness, citing exhaustion as the reason for his retreat, and, thankfully, his parents had bought it. His mother, as aloof as ever, didn’t press the matter too hard, but it was clear from the way she sent up his dinner that she wasn’t exactly pleased with him skipping meals. Nevertheless, they left him in solitude, and he barely touched the food. Just a few bites, enough to keep the appearance of complying with his parents' wishes.

You can't be with (Y/N) now...

The words circled in his mind like an endless loop, the cruel reminder of everything he’d just lost.

Society...

Family name...

And all that other bullshit...

Orsen couldn't suppress the bitter curses that slipped past his mental barriers, curses he'd only learned from you. Thanks to you, he had been exposed to the harsher truths of the world, the side that no one of his status was supposed to see, let alone understand. Without you, he would have remained ignorant, a sheltered boy in a world that seemed so far removed from the lives of people like you.

How could he just forget you? How could he ignore the way you made him feel so alive, so seen?

He wanted to lie to himself, to deny the truth, but it was becoming impossible. The feelings he had for you were not just those of a carefree childhood friendship. No, they had evolved into something far deeper, something he couldn’t bury beneath the expectations of his family and the rigid norms of society.

His mind swirled with the questions that had no answers. Had they told you? Did you know the news already? How would you have reacted?

Would you be heartbroken, too? Or would you simply move on, uncaring, as though he had never been a part of your life at all? After all, he was just the son of a lady of the manor, a wealthy, entitled boy. You, on the other hand, probably had your own circle, your own friends. Girls who shared your struggles, who truly understood your world in ways he never could.

The thought burned in his chest like a quiet, smoldering ache. Maybe there was even a boy among them, someone prettier, someone who fit into your life better than he ever could. Someone who could stand beside you without looking like a silly, awkward dreamer. The idea made his heart clench. He wanted to be everything you needed, but deep down, the fear whispered, what if you didn’t need him at all?

Orsen curled into himself, the loneliness settling over him like a suffocating weight. His heart ached with the thought of you, of how far apart he felt from you now. The girl who had been his closest friend, the one who had filled his life with laughter and mischief, now seemed like a distant memory, slipping through his fingers.

Would you even miss me? He couldn't stop the question from repeating itself.

But deep down, he knew the answer. You were strong, capable, too strong, too capable to be held back by someone like him. You had a life to live, a future that didn’t need him to make it complete. And he, a pampered boy who had always had everything handed to him, couldn’t keep up with that.

Still, his heart refused to listen to the logic of it all. It stubbornly clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a place for him in your life still.

But what if...

The thought was interrupted by a quiet sob he couldn’t suppress. His heart ached, and his tears fell unbidden, mixing with the confusion and sorrow that clouded his thoughts.

Just then, the soft patter of footsteps approached, and the door creaked open. Orsen barely registered the sound, too consumed by his own grief to notice at first. But when a small, tentative voice called out to him, it pierced through the fog of his sorrow.

“Orsen?” Rowan's voice was quiet, unsure.

Orsen didn't look up. He couldn't. Instead, he pulled his knees tighter to his chest, willing the tears to stop, though they kept coming. He didn’t want Rowan to see him like this. He was supposed to be the older brother, the one who protected him, the one who had all the answers. But now he felt like nothing more than a broken boy, helpless and alone.

Rowan, being much younger, didn't fully understand the weight of the situation, but he could sense the sadness in Orsen's hunched shoulders, in the way his older brother’s sobs shook his frame. Without hesitation, Rowan crossed the room and climbed onto the bed next to him, his small hands resting gently on Orsen’s arm.

"You’re not alone....You’ve still got me."

Orsen felt the warmth of Rowan’s hand, and it was enough to make him break down completely. The tears fell faster now, as if Rowan’s simple words had unlocked everything he had been holding in. He buried his face in his hands, trying to stifle the sobs, but it was useless. The pain was too much.

“I don’t know what to do, Rowan,” Orsen choked out between his sobs. “I... I don’t want to change. I don’t want to lose her. Why does everything have to be so... so different now?”

Rowan, though younger and not entirely understanding the complexities of the world they lived in, squeezed Orsen’s arm tighter. “Maybe it’s not forever,” he said quietly. “Maybe... maybe you can still be with (Y/N). You’re smart, Orsen. You’ll figure something out.”

Orsen let out a ragged breath, his body shaking as the tears slowly subsided. Rowan’s small voice, his unwavering support, gave him something to hold onto in that moment, something that felt like a lifeline.

“Thanks, Rowan,” Orsen whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "M-means a lot.."

Rowan smiled softly, his little hands patting Orsen’s arm as he snuggled closer. “You don’t have to. I’ll always be here, even when Mama and Papa tell you to stop playing with (Y/N). I'll always play with you!"

Orsen’s heart tightened. His little brother didn’t understand the full depth of what had just happened, but his words meant more than he could ever say. In this moment, Rowan was the one keeping him together, the one showing him that, even when everything seemed to fall apart, he wasn’t truly alone.

── .✦

He was perched at the balcony window, the cool breeze tousling his long, silky hair as he gazed out at the garden below. His fingers lightly gripped the edge of the windowsill as he watched you, working diligently on the grounds below.

You were cutting logs, a task far more physical than what Orsen was used to seeing you do. Your movements were strong, your muscles flexing with every swing of the axe, and it sent a strange flutter through his chest. His eyes followed the rhythm of your body, the way your arms tensed with the exertion. There was something undeniably powerful in the way you moved, a raw strength that both mesmerized and unsettled him.

Orsen swallowed hard, his heart skipping a beat as you wiped the sweat from your brow, revealing the determined glint in your eyes. His breath hitched in his throat as he couldn’t help but admire the way your body worked, every movement fluid and precise. The sight of you, the girl who had always been by his side, now growing into someone completely different, had his thoughts running wild.

Stop it, he told himself, gripping the windowsill a little tighter. This is wrong. She’s... His mind stumbled over the words, his heart desperately trying to calm the fluttering sensation that wouldn’t go away.

You didn’t seem to notice him at first, too focused on your task, but then, by some miracle, your eyes found his. For a moment, time seemed to stretch as your gaze locked onto his, and Orsen’s heart raced in his chest. There was something about the way you looked at him, a kind of unspoken acknowledgment as if you knew exactly what he was feeling without him saying a word.

He quickly forced himself to look away, his face flushing with heat, but not before giving a small, almost timid wave. His fingers, still gripping the windowsill, trembled slightly from the nervousness coursing through him.

You gave a quick wave back, then turned your attention back to the task at hand, but the simple exchange was enough to send a shiver of excitement through him. He leaned against the window frame, his chest tight with something he couldn’t quite name.

The quiet, pounding ache in his chest deepened. He was stuck, trapped behind this invisible barrier that kept him from stepping outside, from being close to you in the way he wanted. You, with your strength and duties, your hands working like they knew no other way of being. And him, trapped in this gilded cage, unable to touch you, talk to you.... to even get close.

His eyes followed your every movement, as if he could somehow close the gap between the two of you just by watching. The ache in his chest grew heavier, and the question hung in his mind like a dark cloud: Why am I feeling like this?

You didn’t even know, did you? Or maybe you did, but... what difference did it make? His hand tightened on the windowsill as he let out a quiet sigh. There was nothing he could do. Nothing he could say. Just... watch.

── .✦

The days passed slowly for Orsen after that encounter. Each morning, he would wake up with an uneasy knot in his stomach, knowing he couldn’t be near you. He could only watch you from his window, his heart aching with every glimpse of you working in the garden, your hands strong and graceful, yet out of his reach.

But then, one day, a small note arrived. It was discreet, slipped under the door to his room by Rowan, who seemed to have caught onto the secret in his own innocent way. Orsen unrolled the crumpled piece of paper, his heart pounding.

I see you watching me these days, Orsen. Are you going to keep staring, or are you finally going to talk to me? Don't be afraid...

Orsen stared at the words, a soft blush rising to his cheeks. You, you, had noticed. He carefully folded the note and tucked it into the pocket of his shirt before his parents could catch him with it. His heart raced, but there was a comfort in knowing you felt something too.

Over the next few weeks, the notes began to come more frequently. They were always passed through Rowan, always discreet, and always full of the teasing, playful energy that Orsen both craved and feared.

One evening, Orsen received another note. This one was a little longer than the others, the ink scrawled with hurried words.

I’m starting to think you’re too shy to talk to me in person, Orsen. It’s just a letter. Why don’t you send me one back? Are you really just going to end our friendship like this...? I am worried for you too...Please answer..

Orsen’s hands trembled slightly as he read the note. He had never written to anyone like this before. He had never had a reason to hide his words. But you, you made him feel things he couldn’t understand, things that burned and twisted inside him every time he thought about you. And now, you were asking for him to write.

The next afternoon, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Taking a deep breath, he took up his pen and began to write:

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to talk to you, not like this. But I think about you. All the time. I can’t stop. But they said to...not to...I want to though. Every day...

It was simple, just a few words, but it felt like the world was contained in that tiny letter. He sealed it carefully, not wanting anyone to find it. Rowan, ever the accomplice, delivered it the next morning.

The day passed in anticipation, and soon, he received your reply.

So you're shy, huh? That’s alright, Orsen. But if you want to see me, if you want to talk to me... I’ll be in the garden tomorrow at noon. I’ll wait. They won't catch us. I promise.

Right... No one would know. It would just be you and him. Just like you promised.

That night, he barely slept, the thought of seeing you in the garden swirling in his mind. And as soon as the clock struck noon the next day, he snuck out of his room and slipped through the hallways of the manor, his heart thundering in his chest.

There, in the garden, you waited. The sun was high, and the breeze was soft. You were working again, your back turned to him as you cleared some weeds. His footsteps were quiet as he approached, but you heard them.

You turned around, your eyes meeting his. The playful glint in them was gone, replaced with something softer, something warmer.

“You came,” you said, smiling slightly. “I thought you might be too scared.”

Orsen’s face flushed, but he nodded, his heart racing in his chest. “I wasn’t sure… but I wanted to see you. I didn’t know how to say it.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you. “Well,” you said with a sly smile, “you’ve said it now.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. But you didn’t give him time to think. You reached out and placed your hand on his arm, the touch sending a shock of warmth through him.

As he looked into your eyes, the teasing, playful energy that once defined their interactions was gone. Now, there was only a quiet understanding, a deep yearning that neither of them could ignore any longer.

Orsen’s breath caught in his throat. His body was still, heart racing, as you gently cupped his face, your thumb brushing the faint line of his jaw. His hands hovered at his sides, unsure what to do, but every part of him screamed to hold you.

"You’ve been so quiet, Orsen," you whispered, your voice softer than he’d ever heard it before. "What’s on your mind?"

The question hung in the air, but before Orsen could form a response, his gaze flickered to your lips. His heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he leaned in...you did too. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, standing in the middle of the garden.

And then, as if drawn together by some invisible force, your lips met.

The kiss was hesitant at first, tender and shy like two people testing the waters of something new and forbidden. But it didn’t take long for the hesitance to melt away. Orsen's hands found their way to your collar, pulling you closer as if he could feel you slipping away with each passing second. Your hands gripped his slender waist holding him firmly in place as you lost yourself in the feeling of his soft plump lips.

The kiss deepened, and Orsen felt the weight of everything he had been holding back, the feelings, the longing, the fear of losing you, all come crashing down in that single moment. He wanted to say so much, but all he could do was hold onto you as if his life depended on it.

Finally, when they broke apart, Orsen was breathless, his forehead resting against yours. He opened his eyes to find you gazing down at him, your face flushed and your chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

"I… I don’t know what to say," he murmured, his voice unsteady.

You smiled softly, running a finger across his jawline, as if reassuring him. "You don’t have to say anything."

But then, your expression shifted, and Orsen could see the uncertainty in your eyes. It was like a sudden weight had descended on you, something you couldn’t hold back any longer.

You pulled away slightly, looking away from him for the first time in their brief encounter.

"I have to tell you something," you said, your voice tinged with sadness. "I’ve been trying to avoid saying it, but you deserve to know."

Orsen’s heart clenched at the seriousness in your tone. "What is it? You’re scaring me."

You took a deep breath, your gaze returning to his. "I’m being...drafted into the army. I leave in two weeks for training."

Orsen's face drained of color. The words didn't fully sink in at first, but as they did, a chill ran through him. "What do you mean? You’re going away?"

"I have no choice," you said quietly, looking down at the ground. "I have to go. You know I always...wanted that and my mother wants it too. I passed the test. And will have to leave for...I don't know yet. Could be an...year."

The weight of her words hit him like a physical blow. He reached out instinctively, taking your hands in his, as if holding onto you could somehow change everything.

"But we just-" Orsen’s voice cracked. "We just… we just had a kiss. And now you’re leaving?"

You nodded, wiping the tear slipping down his cheek. "I never wanted this. I never wanted to hurt you. But I have no choice. This is what’s expected of me."

Orsen’s heart ached, but as he looked into your eyes, he knew there was nothing he could do to change it. The world was too big, too complicated, and he was just a rich boy who wasn’t allowed to have what he wanted.

He stepped back, releasing your hands, and turned his back to you. He couldn’t let you see the way his eyes were welling with tears.

He swallowed hard, struggling to keep his voice steady. "I didn’t even get to tell you, h-ow much I care about you. And now yo-u’re leaving."

You stepped closer again, gently touching his shoulder, your voice soft. "I care about you too, Orsen. But there’s nothing I can do. I’ll be back. I promise. It's not a big deal. Please...don't cry. I want to see you smile...before I leave...."

"But how long? What if we never-"

"We will," you whispered firmly. "When I come back, I’ll find you. We’ll figure this out, together."

Orsen turned to face you then, a smile weakly tugging at the corner of his lips despite the heaviness in his chest. "I’ll be waiting for you."

"I am doing this...for us. I---I have felt this way about you for very long...and I now know you did too. So... when I return," you said, your voice firm with conviction, "I’ll ask for your hand."

Orsen’s heart stopped for a second. The words you spoke were like a breath of fresh air in a world that had felt suffocating. But then, a cold, sinking feeling crept into his chest. He swallowed hard, his thoughts racing.

"I…" He shook his head, his voice faltering. "My mother… she’ll never allow it. I can’t-"

"Don’t worry about her," you cut him off gently. "When I return, we’ll figure it out. I’ll fight for us. I am not a coward. I won’t let anything stand in the way of what we have."

But Orsen’s mind was already racing, and despite the warmth your words brought, doubt gnawed at him. His mother, Isolde Elaris, a businesswoman, would never allow him to be with someone like you. She would never approve. And no matter how much he might want to be with you, he couldn’t ignore the reality of his world.

Still, as you gazed at him with such earnestness, he found himself nodding, almost against his will.

"I’ll be waiting for you, just like I said, promise. Be safe...for me...please (Y/N)...." Orsen whispered, his voice barely audible, but filled with all the hope he had left.

With that you pulled him into a warm embrace that seemed to melt all his worries, his hands gripping you like a lifeline.

1923

One year later...

You had returned.

A year of training had shaped you into someone different, not just physically, but in ways you couldn’t have imagined. At 17, you were a Junior Sergeant, a rank earned through sheer grit. You hadn’t just survived the grueling regimen; you had thrived in it. Yet, despite all that, none of it felt quite as important as the task ahead.

Convincing your mother had been no easy feat. It took more strength than any of your drills to get her to agree to accompany you today. But, in the end, she relented. She didn’t speak much as you both traveled, but the tension in the air was thick with her reservations.

You heard the standard protests from your parents.

"What if we get kicked out?!"

"There is no match between us and them."

"You’re saying she will marry her son only for him to live in the servant quarters of the manor?!"

"I just want to ask for his hand, not bring him here!" you snapped, your voice steady with the weight of your resolve. "Just an engagement, nothing more, until I’ve found my footing. My own house, where we can all live, where we’ll be happy."

Your words were filled with confidence that stemmed from the one thing that motivated you, the love you had for Orsen. It wasn’t about status, not about titles, or what others thought. It was about him. It was about making him happy, seeing him smile, and one day—maybe soon, building a family with him.

Your mother’s protests quieted as she looked at you, still skeptical but, perhaps, beginning to understand the depth of your determination.

"I will fight for him," you said softly, almost to yourself. "I’ll do whatever it takes."

Orsen’s breath hitched in his chest, his sweaty palm almost crushing his younger brother Rowan's. Both of them stood just outside the drawing room, where you and your mother were speaking with his parents. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of what you had just said, and Orsen’s anxiety surged with each passing second of silence. He could barely comprehend it, you had said it. You had confessed your love, asking for his hand.

The silence was broken by a furious, sharp voice that made Orsen's heart drop into his stomach.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT! Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Isolde shot up from her seat, her eyes blazing with fury as she pointed an accusatory finger in your direction.

“YOU THINK YOU CAN COME HERE AND ASK FOR MY SON’S HAND, THE ONE WHOSE SINGLE SHOE COSTS MORE THAN YOUR ENTIRE QUARTERS?!” Her voice rang with disgust, the insult heavy in the air.

Orsen felt his knees threaten to give way. He had known his mother would react this way, hell, he had feared it. But hearing her say those words about you, about what you meant to him... It hurt more than he could have imagined.

"Love... love is not something that you weigh, Ms. Elaris." Your mother gripped your arm tightly as a warning, her fingers pressing into your skin as she tried to pull you away, her voice full of urgency. She muttered apologies under her breath, but you remained rooted to the spot, staring straight ahead. Isolde’s presence loomed closer, her fury palpable in the thick tension of the room.

"Oh really?" Isolde sneered, stepping forward with venom in her voice. "Well, your pathetic and nasty feelings towards my son WON'T KEEP HIM FED! IT WILL ONLY RUIN EVERYTHING ASSOCIATED WITH HIM, WHICH IS MY FUCKING NAME THAT I BUILT!"

Her words sliced through the air like a blade, but you stood your ground, not backing down, your voice steady despite the knot of anger rising in your throat. "You think I would have come here for something as trivial as commitment just to let him starve? We both love each other-"

"DON'T FUCKING SAY HIS NAME, YOU-" Isolde's face contorted with rage. Before you could even react, she struck you across the face, the sharp sting of her palm sending shockwaves through your head.

The sound of the smack echoed in the room, and it was all Orsen needed to hear. He couldn’t take it anymore.

"NO! MAMA! Don't hurt her!" His voice broke through the tension, desperate and raw. He dashed into the room, his eyes wide with panic and pain, his feet carrying him faster than his mind could catch up. The sight of you, standing there with a reddened cheek and your heart in turmoil, pushed him past his breaking point.

"Don’t you dare!" he cried out, trying to rush toward you, as his father stopped him.

Isolde turned to her husband, rage still boiling in her voice. "YOU LET THEM PLAY WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO!" she screamed. "See?! This is what it fucking results in!"

Orsen ignored her, his focus entirely on you, on the hurt she had caused, and the way it shattered him to see you suffer. He reached for you, but his father blocked his path, forcefully holding him back.

"NO! STOP!" Orsen sobbed, the sight of you being dragged away tearing him apart. His chest tightened, his heart breaking into a million pieces. All he could do was watch as his dreams of being with you, of having a future together, crumbled before him.

"At least think what your son wants! I promise to keep him happy even if it means working myself to death, just give me a chance Ms. Isolde! I'll be forever loyal to-"

Isolde’s voice rang out again, cruel and final. "I WON’T GIVE YOU MY SON IN A MILLION YEARS!" she spat. "Now go home. Pack your bags. GET FUCKING LOST FROM MY PROPERTY!"

The words struck like daggers, and Orsen could only stand there, his body wracked with sobs. The pain, the injustice, the helplessness, it all became too much. You were being dragged away, your love for him still so clear, and yet, everything was falling apart.

And as he watched you being forced from the manor, Orsen’s world seemed to collapse in on itself. He could feel every part of him breaking, every dream he had of a future with you slipping through his fingers like sand.....

Please be a nightmare...please be a nightmare.

Isolde stormed back into the manor, her fury still crackling in the air. "Lucan! Get him inside his room, and I don’t want to hear a single word about that pathetic woman! Neither the sobbing! You hear me?" She didn’t wait for an answer. Without another glance at her sons, she turned on her heel, the sound of her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she made her way toward her study, her anger still seething.

Lucan stood there for a moment, staring at the door his wife had slammed shut, the weight of his own helplessness pulling at his chest. He sighed heavily, then turned to Orsen, whose body trembled with the weight of everything that had just unfolded.

"Orsen..." Lucan’s voice was softer now, but laced with concern. He approached his son, his hand resting on his trembling shoulder. "My dear... calm yourself," he murmured, trying to comfort him as best he could. But it was clear that his own frustrations and regrets were too much for him to contain. "You really thought your mama would let this be? Why did you let yourself fall for her?" His tone was more accusatory than he realized, but it was clear that his anger wasn’t directed at his son, it was just a manifestation of his own disappointment.

Rowan, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally stepped forward. His small hands reached out for his brother, and with the innocence only a child could have, he whispered through his tears, "Orsen, please don’t be sad. I... I don’t like seeing you cry."

Lucan finally helped his son to his feet, though Orsen could barely stand on his own. The weight of his heartbreak was too much to bear, and he leaned heavily on his father, the pain in his chest threatening to crush him with every breath. Rowan followed close behind, his small hands trembling as they touched Orsen’s arm, trying to support him.

"I don’t... I can’t live without her," Orsen whispered, his voice barely audible, a tremble in every word. "Please... I’ll die... I’ll kill myself..." His words hung in the air, heavy with despair. And then, in a moment of overwhelming emotion, Orsen’s world faded to black, his body collapsing in his father’s arms as everything around him went silent.

── .✦

After you left, Orsen felt as though half of his soul had been ripped away, leaving him hollow and incomplete. Lucan had tried to convey this to his wife countless times, but Isolde was deaf to his pleas. She dismissed his concerns about their son with cold indifference, refusing to acknowledge the truth of what Orsen had become, a lovelorn boy consumed by grief. He withdrew from the world entirely, locking himself away in his room. Socializing, already a challenge for him, became impossible. And so, he painted. Over and over again, he painted you.

Each canvas bore your face, your smile, your essence. Every brushstroke was a desperate attempt to capture what he had lost. The paintings multiplied, filling his room with hauntingly beautiful reminders of a love he could no longer hold.

“This is getting out of hand!” Isolde’s shrill voice echoed through the manor as she stormed into the parlor. “I swear to God, if I see one more portrait of that bastard in my house-”

“STOP!” Lucan’s voice thundered, cutting through her tirade. “For God’s sake, Isolde, just stop! Can’t you see what you’ve done? My son, our son, has lost himself because of you! If only... if only you’d handled this with an ounce of discretion, with empathy! They were young and in love for God’s sake! She was young, and she did it, she came here, to us, and asked for his hand. What was her crime? Loving him? That’s not a sin!”

“Oh, it most certainly is!” Isolde snapped, her face flushed with fury. “She did commit a sin because how dare she even think she’s at par with us? How dare she believe she’s fit to be my daughter-in-law? She’s a nobody! And you-” she pointed an accusatory finger at Lucan, her voice trembling with rage, “you need to stop wallowing in pity with him and do your job as his father. Go up there and fix your son instead of standing here arguing with me, your wife! You failed to raise him properly! I want the best for him too! Do you think I’m his enemy?”

Lucan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides, but before he could respond, Isolde pressed on, her tone sharp and resolute. “If you won’t act, then I will. I’ll find him a suitor. A proper one. Because clearly, you’re too busy sulking to see what’s best for him. There are plenty of well-established women, daughters of my partners--women who will treat him like the prince he is! Not like some charity case meant to be dragged down by a girl who doesn’t even belong in the same world as us.”

Lucan’s eyes burned with unshed tears, his voice breaking as he whispered, “And what do you think that will do to him, Isolde? You think parading someone else in front of him will make him forget her? You’ll break what little is left of him.”

But Isolde had already turned her back, dismissing his words with a wave of her hand as she walked toward the grand staircase. “You’ll see, Lucan. One day, he’ll thank me for saving him from her.”

However, Isolde’s plans always seemed to crumble before they even began. Every suitor she brought forward found her son either too meek, too detached, or, worse yet, eerily silent. He was almost ghost-like, his quietness mistaken for muteness by many. But it wasn’t silence, it was absence. Every fiber of Orsen’s being was consumed by you. His thin frame seemed weighed down by the memories he refused to let go of.

Because every part of his being was consumed by thoughts of you, his eyes replaying the memories, his hands yearning to be held by yours, his ears straining to hear your voice, his nose craving the faint trace of your scent, and his mind entirely consumed by you. His mind, utterly devoted to you, left no space for the present. How could he be anything but a shell of himself?

The embarrassment came soon enough. The rumors spread like wildfire after one particular incident---a disaster in Isolde’s eyes. Forced to interact with a suitor in private, Orsen, in his dazed and lovesick state, spoke only of you. Your name slipped from his lips like a prayer, every word dripping with longing and devotion. The suitor, bewildered and offended, left without a word. And that was it, Isolde’s perfect plan shattered yet again.

But the world outside was less forgiving.

A boy in love?

The son of Isolde Elaris in love?

And with a mere servant, no less? Tsk, tsk. So unruly...

No wonder he looks so wretched. Betrayed by a woman beneath him, perhaps?

Heard she’s in the army now. But poor as dirt, that explains why Isolde refused.

The whispers, the snide remarks, and the pitying glances reached Isolde’s ears, stoking her fury. But Orsen? He couldn’t care less about the rumors. Let them talk. Let them mock. None of it mattered to him.

His world had shrunk to the confines of his room, where his paintbrush brought you back to life in hues of longing and heartbreak. Your laughter echoed in the silent strokes of his art. Your touch lingered in every corner of his mind. Your memory was his solace and his torment.

He needed nothing else, just the faint traces of you that lingered in his heart. For him, they were enough.

"You destroyed your life for HER?! She isn’t coming back here, and neither am I ever going to accept her, so imprint that in your mind and fix yourself! Otherwise, we will be forced to move to another province."

SLAM!

The door rattled violently as Isolde stormed off, leaving the air thick with tension. All she ever did was talk, command, dictate, and talk some more. Orsen leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a dry, rueful chuckle. Her words barely scratched at the armor of his despair anymore.

"Does your mother always think she’s the empress of everything? Or does she just save that energy for me?"

He could still picture you folding your arms, feigning indignation while your eyes sparkled with mischief. Back then, you’d leaned closer, dropping your voice conspiratorially. "No offense, but I’m half-expecting her to declare a new tax just for looking at her wrong."

That teasing jab had made him laugh so hard he’d forgotten, for a moment, the weight of his world. He could still remember how your fingers used to drift into his hair without a thought, toying with the soft strands as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It always made his cheeks flush, though he never stopped you—he loved it, cherished every touch, every moment your attention lingered on him.

Now, his hands gripped the scissors, the metal glinting faintly under the dim light. His movements were sharp, almost desperate, as he cut through the alluring gold locks, yet there was an underlying tenderness to it, hesitant, like he was severing a connection to you. Gently, because you loved his hair. Aggressively, because he didn’t want anyone else to see it anymore. No suitors, no flattering remarks from his parents. No one deserved to notice him the way you had.

Even now, the memory of you was so vivid it felt like you were in the room with him. Almost. But not enough to fill the void you’d left behind. Nothing ever could.

Meanwhile, you, after being kicked out and shamed by Lady Elaris—were drowning in an unbearable mix of shame and guilt, especially in front of your parents, who were now homeless because of you and your foolish fantasy of being with her son. What were you thinking? Had you been so blind in your naive, reckless love that you lost sight of reality? Your parents should have been your first priority. Instead, you had risked their stability and comfort over a foolish dream.

Your heart broke the day your father had to sell his cherished marriage jewelry, pieces he had once treasured, because your single month’s salary, combined with your mother’s meager savings, wasn’t enough to afford even a modest one-room apartment. It was a moment that crushed you, made you see the depth of your mistakes, and yet, it also became the turning point.

At that moment, you made a promise. You vowed to repay them tenfold, no, a thousandfold, everything they had sacrificed because of you. That vow became your life’s focus, your unrelenting drive. There was no more room for silly infatuations, no place for childish fantasies. Only purpose.

1931

Over the years, countless letters were written by Orsen to you. Rowan, ever loyal, carried each one to the post office, just as he had done when they were boys. But you never wrote back. Not once. Each unanswered letter chipped away at Orsen's hope, leaving him to wrestle with the silence. In his heart, he could only fathom two reasons for your absence: either you had truly forgotten him, abandoned him, played with his heart, or you had simply given up on the dream.

Perhaps you kept the love a secret but he didn't. He kept it as an oath.

He thought it would be a love for the ages. But now, as the days turned into years, he realized he was the only one writing on…pages.

But why? No. No, you shouldn’t have. You promised to fight for him, didn’t you? You were the woman, you were supposed to fight for your love. He had fought for you, hadn’t he? So why didn’t you?

There were moments when resentment clawed at his heart, moments when he hated you for your silence. But his love always overcame it. A quiet voice within reminded him of the guilt and heartbreak he had seen in your eyes that last time, the moment you stood at the threshold of his home. No, he would tell himself, you didn’t betray me, did you?

And yet, the doubt lingered, cold and cruel. Was he really so...forgettable to you?

"BROTHER ORSEN! Orsen!" Rowan's voice trembled as he rushed inside his brother’s room, panic rising in his chest as he saw Orsen hunched over, lost in the sea of his own thoughts. He approached him gently, reaching out to steady him, but it was as if Orsen was made of glass, fragile and on the edge of shattering.

"I-... I did you hear the news...?" Rowan's voice quivered, unsure if he truly wanted to be the one to break this.

A slow, hesitant shake of Orsen's head was all Rowan received—what he had expected, but still, it hurt more than words could express.

"T-the... war is upon us... and..." Rowan’s voice faltered, breaking on the edge of that awful, cold truth. He didn’t need to say more. Orsen’s face went blank, his body slumping further, as if the weight of the world had just pressed him into the bed.

"War..." Orsen’s voice was barely a whisper. It wasn’t the war that had brought him to this point. It wasn’t the world outside that was destroying him. It was the war within, against the memories, the love, the haunting silence.

"Y-yes, brother. War, soldiers are being deployed to the western border... but don’t you worry, she’ll return, she’ll be fine-"

"But she won’t return to me..." Orsen’s words were choked, and Rowan felt his heart fracture as his brother's emerald eyes filled with unshed tears.

"No matter how many wars go by, Rowan..." Orsen’s voice quivered, his body shaking with the intensity of his pain, the weight of years of silence and waiting pressing down on him. "She won’t fight the war... for us. The one war that I was ready to die for."

Rowan’s heart ached, and he reached for Orsen immediately, his hand coming to rest gently over his brother’s lips as if to shield him from speaking the words that were tearing him apart. "Why do you always speak ill of yourself? It hurts me, Orsen. As much as I... support you and love you you need to stop destroying yourself over her."

Orsen’s hands trembled, and his voice broke as he whispered, almost desperately, "Rowan, my heart doesn’t stop! There’s always this voice... this voice that tells me she still feels something for me, that I still live in her heart, the same way mine beats for her. But it’s all I have left. The hope. The hope that she’ll come back... and maybe... maybe it will be enough."

Rowan's throat tightened, but he couldn’t speak, not with the agony in his brother’s voice. His own heart broke for him, but he couldn’t let Orsen sink deeper into the suffocating grief.

"Even if she returns..." Rowan’s voice faltered as he feared what the consequences would be. "Mother will-"

But Orsen cut him off, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear, "It won’t matter, Rowan. I’ve already lost her...I've lost...everything."

One year later...

After years of bloodshed and sacrifice, the town whispers of your return. At 25, you walk back into the place you once called home, no longer the wide-eyed girl who had left at 17, but a woman hardened by the brutal realities of war. Your uniform, now adorned with a sergeant's insignia, tells the story of your rise through the ranks, your resolve steeled by every battle fought and every friend lost. The air feels different, heavier, almost suffocating as you step through the town’s familiar streets, but your heart remains unyielding, barricaded from the past. Orsen’s letters are still tucked away, unopened, each one a reminder of a love you’ve forced yourself to forget. You’ve accepted it. You were never meant to be, and no amount of hope could change that now. The weight of those letters no longer tugs at you, not when you’ve fought and survived so much more.

Dear Orsen,

I know you’ve been waiting. I know you’ve sent me countless letters, filled with hope that I would somehow return to you, to the life we once dreamed of. But Orsen, I can’t. I’ve read every word you wrote, and yet I find myself unable to respond in the way you so desperately long for.

I wish things had been different. I wish I could turn back the clock and be the girl who ran away with you in her heart, the girl who believed love could conquer everything. But that girl no longer exists.

You were my first love, Orsen, and you will always hold a piece of my heart. But that piece is buried deep now, and I cannot let it resurface. You deserve more than the shadows of someone who cannot return your love. You deserve someone who can give you all the things I cannot.

Please, move on. I’ve had to. And though it breaks me to say this, I need you to as well. There are things we can’t undo, and I’ve learned that some battles are meant to be lost.

I wish you nothing but happiness, Orsen. Please find it, for both of us.

Yours,

(Y/N)

Orsen read the letter over and over again, the words blurring as his tears fell onto the paper. He could feel the weight of her words, the finality in them, but it didn’t matter. She was back. She had sent a response. That was all that mattered. He could still feel the flicker of hope inside him, despite the pain.

"See, Rowan?" Orsen's voice trembled, filled with a raw, desperate conviction. "She does care... she did come back! And she sent a response! After all these years, after everything..." His hands shook as he held the letter, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if the letter were some miraculous token of proof that his love had not been in vain.

Rowan stood still, watching his brother, his heart aching with the quiet sorrow that had always lived within Orsen. He had been there for all of it, the hopeless days, the constant painting, the letters, the belief that (Y/N) would return. But now, even with the letter in hand, he knew nothing would ever truly change for Orsen. The boy who loved her so deeply, so painfully, would never let go.

"Orsen-"

"I told you, Rowan!" Orsen interrupted, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent a chill down Rowan’s spine. He didn't even hear his brother’s voice, his focus solely on the canvas beneath him. He dashed to his desk, where he'd been working for hours, and pulled out the latest painting of her, his masterpiece.

He held the canvas in his arms like it was the most precious thing in the world. His hands, once trembling with uncertainty, now steadied as he placed a soft kiss onto the painting of her.

"I knew you would," he whispered into the stillness of the room, the words soft, almost a prayer. "I knew you would, (Y/N)... I knew you’d come back to me."

His lips brushed the painted figure as though it were real, as though he were holding her in his arms once more. He collapsed beside it, curling up against the canvas as though it were her embrace. The painting of (Y/N) became his only solace, his only love.

And though the letter told him to move on, to accept the impossible, Orsen couldn't. He wouldn't.

He would live in his world of painted memories, of moments stolen from time. If that was all he could have, then that was enough. His heart belonged to her, now and always.

Rowan sighed, a heavy, sorrowful breath, and sat beside his brother, not knowing how to save him from the pain that would never fade.

── .✦

The years had been kinder to you in some ways. You had finally earned the respect you'd dreamed of, built a stable life, and found a steady income. Your parents, once worried, once ashamed, were proud now. They had a bungalow, a car, and all the comforts that came with your hard work. Adrian was a good man, his steady smile and warm presence had become a source of quiet comfort. Your parents approved of him, and in public, he fit the role of what they had always envisioned for you.

You had met Adrian at one of the official functions after the war, an event meant to honor veterans and those who had served. He had approached you politely, a charming young man from a good family, well-educated, and well-spoken. It was easy to fall into a comfortable conversation with him. He was kind, and considerate, and seemed genuinely interested in your experiences, nothing too probing, nothing too personal, and a touch of flirty which you found attracted to. The connection had been easy, and effortless. Over time, he had become more of a presence in your life, someone to lean on, someone to rely on when the weight of the world felt too heavy.

But in the quiet moments, when you caught him smiling or when his gentle presence filled the room, you couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like if Orsen were here instead of him.

Had he listened to you? Had he chosen a different path? You had told him to move on, to find happiness elsewhere. But as you thought of him, still alone, still stubbornly clinging to something that had long since slipped away, you felt an overwhelming ache. You wondered if he was doing well if he had found peace, or if he was still trapped in the same loop of memories, the same quiet obsession that you had once shared.

The whispers that reached your ears spoke of his isolation. They called him a "spinster" in the most cruel terms, among their circle blaming him for wasting his life over a dream, for not letting go, and for refusing to welcome suitors. The town had forgotten the love he had once held for you, reduced it to mockery and judgment. And it stung more than you cared to admit. It wasn’t just the cruel words, they blamed him, not you. But you still felt the guilt gnaw at you. If only you could have done something differently. If only you hadn’t pushed him away if only you had stayed.

You wished things could have been different, so different. Sometimes, you would drive by the road that led to the Elaris estate, the place where it had all started, where it had all fallen apart. You grimaced each time, your mind filled with the memories of Isolde’s cold arrogance, her cruel insults hurled at your mother, the disdain that had torn everything apart. You would never forget the way she looked down on your family. Never forget the way her words had stung.

And yet, despite it all, the quiet moments still haunted you. Adrian was everything you had ever been told to want. He was good, stable, and kind. But whenever you saw that smile, whenever you felt his hand on yours, the image of Orsen would slip into your mind, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered, what if?

"Ready for the date, love?" you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you slid into the driver's seat of your sleek Packard coupe. Adrian hopped in beside you, his excitement palpable as he fastened his seatbelt. The polished chrome gleamed under the fading sunlight, reflecting your success.

"Ready as ever," Adrian grinned, leaning in for a quick peck before you revved the engine.

As you pulled out onto the road, Adrian’s eyes sparkled with energy. "Oh my God, baby! Look! An exhibition! We should totally go there!"

"But what about our reservation?"

"We can eat somewhere else," he said, his voice bubbling with excitement. "I'm in the mood to go there now! And it’s going to be fun!"

"As you say, doll," you laughed, making a sharp turn, and Adrian’s hand instinctively gripped your arm as the car glided smoothly along the streets.

The gallery was quiet when you both entered, the sound of hushed conversations echoing in the background. But as soon as you stepped through the door, you both stopped in your tracks.

Every single wall was covered in paintings. And what made your heart skip a beat, what made the air feel heavy, was that every single painting was of you. Each canvas captured a moment, an expression, an angle of you. The portraits were hauntingly familiar, your face, your eyes, your presence, all staring back at you in ways that felt too intimate, too familiar.

Adrian stood beside you, his mouth agape as his eyes darted between the paintings. "What the hell is this?" His voice trembled with confusion, but his gaze never left the artwork.

You didn’t respond, your heart pounding in your chest. The words caught in your throat as the reality of the situation sank in. How had this happened? Why had someone done this?

You felt the walls closing in, the weight of every portrait suffocating you. The paintings weren’t just of you, they were a testament to someone who had been watching, remembering, and never letting go. They were not just of your face, but in parts too but all those parts...made a story , the story you were all too familiar with.

The garden...

The swing...of you pushing a boy...you knew too well.

your eyes...

your lips nuzzling in golden hair...

you working in the garden but the painter drew it as they...were in some balcony...

Adrian looked at you, searching your face for an explanation. "Do you know who did this?"

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper.

"Is this… is this really me?" you whispered, feeling a tremor in your voice.

Adrian stood beside you, studying the painting. He gave you a gentle nudge. “Of course, it’s you. Look at that, love. It’s beautiful. Who could capture you like that? It's like they’ve seen the real you.”

Your mind was however not registering his words as you turned your eyes to the next painting. Another portrait of you. And another.

The entire gallery was filled with paintings of you. Each one more personal than the last.

Your breath hitched. The familiar, almost painful pull of longing twisted in your chest. The artist, who could it be? Why was this happening? You didn't want to think it, but you knew deep down. You knew this was Orsen’s doing.

Adrian sensed your shift in mood, his brow furrowing in concern. “What’s going on? This... this doesn’t seem like you to be so quiet.”

You turned to him, the weight of the paintings and your tangled emotions making your heart ache. "It’s… it’s him. Orsen."

Adrian’s face softened in understanding, his eyes scanning the gallery around you. "I thought you'd told me you had moved on from him. That you had buried that part of your life."

“I did,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I thought I had. But I didn’t expect this… to see him like this. To see him still... holding onto me."

Adrian studied you, his expression a mixture of concern and something softer, more understanding. He took your hand, gently guiding you towards the painting of you in the center of the room. “(Y/N), listen to me. This… this is what he’s been doing all this time. This is his heart, laid out on canvas. But you, you, need to follow yours now.”

Your heart raced as you turned to look at him. “I don’t know if I can,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “His mother… she ruined everything. I ruined everything.”

Adrian’s hand squeezed yours gently, and he looked you in the eyes, the sincerity in his expression unwavering. “But you’re not her, (Y/N). Don’t let her shadow stand in the way of what’s real. You feel it, don’t you? You feel that pull. The ache in your heart. You’ve never really let him go. He’s still there, inside you. Maybe it’s time to go to him. Maybe it’s time to follow your heart, before it’s too late. Be the woman you should be. For him."

You swallowed, the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. Adrian’s eyes softened as he added, "Go to him, (Y/N). You owe it to yourself."

For a moment, you stood there, torn between the past and the future. But deep down, you knew what you had to do. Adrian was right. You had buried the love you shared with Orsen for too long, hidden behind walls of fear and shame. You couldn’t pretend anymore. The paintings were his way of reaching out to you, of showing you that he never stopped loving you, even when you were too proud or too afraid to admit it to yourself.

With a shaky breath, you turned to Adrian and smiled softly. “Thank you. I don’t know how to repay you.”

He smiled back, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “No need for that, love. Just be happy.”

After a comforting and final farewell with Adrian and dropping him you drove towards the Elaris estate. Your heart thudded in your chest, each beat louder than the last. You knew what was waiting for you. You knew that, despite all the years of pain and regret, Orsen was still out there, still holding onto you, waiting for you.

You didn’t know how you would face him, but you knew one thing for sure, you had to try.

When you arrived at the grand estate, it felt like stepping into the past. The familiar sight of the towering gates, the ivy-covered walls, all of it reminded you of everything you had left behind. Your hands trembled on the steering wheel, but you didn’t hesitate. You got out of the car and walked up to the grand doors, your heart heavy with the fear of what you might find.

Orsen’s mother answered the door, her face cold and dismissive as ever. “You’ve come back for more, have you? He’s upstairs, but don’t think this will end well.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. She could fuck herself.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you arrived at his door. You hesitated for just a moment before knocking.

"Orsen?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope. “Orsen, it’s me.”

For a long moment, there was silence. But then, the door creaked open, and there he stood, your Orsen. His eyes widened in shock as he saw you, standing there on his doorstep after all these years.

“You came,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “I came, Orsen....I did..."

The years between you didn’t matter anymore. The world outside could’ve been falling apart, but in that moment, all that mattered was him. And you. Together, at last.

Orsen’s voice trembled as he spoke those words, his hands shaking as he reached for you, his face painted with disbelief. "I never stopped loving you. I never gave up on us."

You stood frozen for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest, and then, without another thought, you stepped forward. The distance that had kept you apart for so long seemed to vanish as he collapsed into your arms.

Orsen's breath hitched as you wrapped your arms tightly around you, You could feel his tears against your neck, the way his body trembled as he let out a sob, quiet at first, but then growing louder, more desperate.

"I thought you were lost to me forever," he whispered between gasps, his voice cracking with emotion. "I tho-ught--I thought you would never come back."

You ran your fingers through his hair, pressing your cheek against the top of his head as he cried. His sobs were broken, painful, as if years of longing and heartache were finally being released. It hurt to see him like this, but it also made you realize just how much you had missed him, how deeply he had always felt for you.

"I’m here," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible, but the words felt like a promise. "I’m here, Orsen. I never wanted to leave you. I was a coward--a fucking coward...a bastard. That's what I am."

Orsen pulled back just slightly to look at you, his tear-streaked face full of vulnerability. He reached up to touch your face, your jawline, his fingertips brushing gently over your cheeks as though he couldn't quite believe you were really there.

"You... you never stopped loving me?" His voice was raw, a mix of hope and doubt.

"I never did, never" you said, your own tears starting to slip free. "I just... I was afraid. Of everything."

He shook his head, a soft smile breaking through the tears, though it was a broken one. "Yo-u are not a coward....you are my everything...I-I feel as if I can breathe ag-ain (Y/N)...I love you..."

"Oh Orsen..." You pulled him to your arms again as you both now sat on the carpeted floor. " I love you too. Always. I am so sorry.."

You hugged him tighter, your body pressed against his as he continued to sob in your arms, his tears soaking into your clothes, but you didn’t care. You held him, the warmth of his embrace grounding you, making you realize that all the pain, all the time spent apart, didn’t matter anymore. You were here now, together.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself cry, the tears falling freely as the weight of everything you had been carrying finally lifted. His arms were around you, and he was holding you so tightly, as though he would never let go again.

And in that moment, it felt like the world had stopped turning. All that mattered was the two of you, your past, your fears, your love, all of it was there, unfolding in his arms. Orsen had always been your home, and now, finally, you were both back where you belonged.

It didn’t matter that the world outside remained uncertain, that Isolde still cast her shadow over Orsen’s name, or that the whispers of the past lingered like unwanted ghosts. When you finally stood together with Orsen, hand in hand, the rest of the world fell away. You had spent too long apart, too long in the agony of wondering “what if,” but now, there were no more questions. No more waiting.

As Orsen stood beside you, the man who had loved you for all these years, he seemed almost too perfect to be real. His emerald eyes, the same ones that had once searched for you in the distance, now held you in a steady, comforting gaze.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered to you as you exchanged vows, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was never going to feel your arms around me again, never hear you say my name.”

“You never lost me, Orsen,” you responded, your voice steady, but your heart thundering in your chest. "I was always here..."

And then, as if nothing else mattered, you sealed your promises to each other with a kiss that was as soft as the years you had spent apart, as fierce as the love you now shared.

The years of separation melted away in that one, perfect moment, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of your past was lighter. You had come back to each other, and that was all that truly mattered.

After the wedding, life settled into a quiet rhythm. You and Orsen moved into the bungalow. It wasn’t grand compared to where he came from, but it was nonetheless a heaven for him. Every room held a piece of you both, and slowly, you began to build a new life.

Orsen often found himself in the garden, his hands in the dirt, tending to the flowers that now bloomed as brightly as his heart. You would watch him from the kitchen window, leaning against the frame, a smile tugging at your lips as you admired the way he made everything seem so effortless. The way he painted in the garden. His laugh, when he caught sight of you watching, was soft and full of warmth.

At night, you would share simple dinners, just the two of you, with candles flickering in the dim light. Orsen would tell you stories of his of the times when he had been filled with hope and dreams, waiting for you to come back to him. You shared your own tales, of the war, of the triumphs and the losses, the people you met, and the battles you fought. And yes of course, talking about the memories of your childhood...the most cherished ones.

But the best moments, the ones you cherished the most, were the quiet ones. The evenings when Orsen would in your lap, his arm around your neck as he clung to you, as you both listened to the wind rustling through the trees, and the sound of crickets filling the air.

You never spoke of Isolde much. She remained a distant, bitter part of Orsen’s past. And while she still tried to cause trouble, trying to remind Orsen of what he “could have had,” you both knew that she no longer had a place in your life. She had lost him, and that was all that mattered. You had heard how she had suffered losses in her business and for Orsen and you, it seems like she was facing the consequences of her ego and stubbornness.

Sometimes, you would take walks through the town, just the two of you, your fingers intertwined, the sun setting in the distance. The people who had once whispered about your union now smiled, and you would catch the glint of admiration in their eyes. You had proven that love, even in the face of all odds, could survive.

One evening, as you both sat on the porch, the stars beginning to twinkle above, Orsen turned to you, his eyes soft and filled with a quiet happiness.

“Do you ever think about what could’ve been?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

You smiled and shook your head. “No. I think about now. I think about you and me. This. That’s enough for me.”

And Orsen, ever the poet, kissed you gently, his lips lingering on yours in a quiet promise that this love, this life, was all that mattered now.

The past was gone. The future was still unwritten, but you were both finally, truly together, and that was more than you had ever dared to dream.

In the warmth of each other’s arms, you knew, finally, that no matter what the world might throw your way, you had everything you needed. You had each other.

You did it. You fought for him...no, you both did, in fact you felt ashamed sometimes that it was Orsen who really did. He remained true to his word, his love.

Now none of the bitter past mattered. What mattered was that you two were now bound.

And that was enough.

── .✦

The sun had just begun to set, casting a warm golden glow over the bungalow, and the soft hum of evening filled the air. The days had stretched into years, and now, the soft patter of little feet echoed through the house.

The twins, Isla and Blair, were running around the garden, laughing as they chased each other between the rows of flowers that Orsen had lovingly tended. Isla’s bright curls bounced with each step, her fiery energy matching her mother’s, while Blair, a little more reserved, hid behind a bush before springing out with a playful shout. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched them, so full of life, so full of joy.

Orsen stood beside you, a proud smile on his face as he adjusted the collar of your shirt, though he couldn’t keep his eyes off the children for long.

"Think they'll ever slow down?" he asked, his voice warm, though laced with a hint of exhaustion.

You chuckled softly, resting your head on his shoulder. “Not as long as they have that energy. They're just like you at their age, honey."

"I was never that much trouble," Orsen said, feigning innocence, though his smile betrayed him.

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You want me to remind you about the treehouse incident?”

He laughed leaning back on your chest, the sound rich and full. "Alright, alright, maybe I was a bit much. But they’ve got your fire in them, that’s for sure. I see it every day. It’s like they’re part of both of us."

"You can say that again. Isla's already giving Rowan a run for his money with her mischief."

You then nuzzled the side of his soft and milky neck, feeling the warmth and peppered light kisses as he giggled. "And definitely got your streak of being a brat."

"Oh, shut up you..." His voice softened, looking up at you with a dreamy gaze. He cupped your jaw gently, his thumb brushing the line of your cheek as his eyes traced the lines of your face. "You know...this was my dream, and I would sacrifice everything a million times for this... for you."

You shook your head, smiling tenderly as you brought his soft hand to your lips. "You sacrificed enough. It's my time to do that." You kissed his forehead, feeling the heat of his skin and the quiet ache of love that swelled in your chest. He swore he melted right then and there, his heart swelling with emotion.

"I WANNA KISSHY TOO!" Isla’s voice broke the moment as she wobbled over, her little face scrunched with exaggerated impatience. You chuckled, easily scooping up your three-year-old daughter, her giggles filling the air as she flung her arms around your neck.

"Do you now?" You teased, smiling at her. "Then kisshies you get. And you too, little mister." With one swift motion, you scooped up Blair in your other arm, planting kisses all over both their little faces. Their giggles filled the space around you, a sweet symphony of innocence and love.

Orsen laughed softly, his eyes twinkling as he watched the scene unfold before him. The sight of you, his family, so full of life and laughter, was a dream he had never dared to speak aloud, one he was living every single day. He sighed in contentment, his heart swelling at the sight. It was everything he had hoped for and more.

All his art had come to life, and it was more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. Every brushstroke, every moment of uncertainty, had led to this, a home filled with love, with laughter, with a family bound by unspoken understanding, and, most importantly, by the love that had always been there.

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 1 month ago

Text

One was enough- Diary, Ring, Locket, Cup, and Diadem! Tom Riddle x Reader -Smutshot

Request from @sweatymusictree; Can I request of Tom riddle x reader? Where his horcruxes turn to human when reader did something to make them human. This could be a fluff, smut, chaotic.

A mix of smut, humor, and fluff…I guess. Enjoyyy, age gaps included, I guess starts in chamber of secrets, starts same age as diary Tom.

warning; threesomes, foursomes, and fivesoms(kinda), lotta smut, breeding kink, Tom Riddle X4

Edit; it turned into angst/an actual story…idk, guess I can’t write without plot.

How she discovered it she really didn’t know, but she got her hands on a diary in her 6th year, and upon opening it, discovered it was so much more than a diary. She learned it held the trapped soul of a boy named Tom Riddle from the 40’s, so she helped release him-only to learn he…partially lied to her, but he liked her, so he ‘kept’ her.

“Could you let me go? I have to go to breakfast,” (y/n) murmured from within Tom’s arms, which were tight around her as he forced her to sleep in with him, he had no obligations-though he made her bring extra work back to her room so he could study-only having memories to the end of his 6th year, meaning he knew nothing beyond that.

“No,” Tom muttered against her neck, laying kisses on her warm skin-the blankets heavy on both of them, a tempting feeling to stay in bed with her boyfriend. Yes. He was her boyfriend-she didn’t decide it he did.

“But I’m hungryyy,” (y/n) groaned, trying to roll out of his arms but he held her tightly, keeping her still as he pressed kisses down her neck and arm, fingers hooking into her shorts. “Tom-“ she huffed, kicking at him and he pinned her leg, sucking the skin of her thigh into his mouth.

“I’m hungry too,” he chuckled, pulling her shorts and underwear down, his tongue connecting with her cunt that was still a bit swollen from the last night. She groaned, letting her thighs fall open as he licked at her, his tongue soft and warm against her-smoothing over her clit.

He brought her to a slow-burning orgasm that left her breathless, panting quietly as he crawled back up her body, leaning over her with his elbows resting next to her head. She shoved him off and he landed on the floor. “ow.” He grumbled, looking right at her as she stepped over him-still half naked-and went to get dressed and brush her teeth.

He grabbed her ankle as she stepped over him again and she huffed, looking down at him as he smirked up at her, blanket curled around his waist-topless. “Can I go?” She drawled, and Tom hummed in fake thought, and then shook his head. (y/n) groaned, throwing her hands up and smacking them against her thighs. “I’ll grab you pumpkin pasties.”

Tom let her ankle go.

After graduating from Hogwarts, she found a ring in an old shack, Tom recognized, or well had, the magic that kept it protected, and he was able to grab it for her and uncurse it. She could feel the same magic in the ring that she felt in the diary so-she freed the soul within and was met with an older Tom Riddle, around 20 years old.

He raised his brow at her, and then blinked as he was met with the, now 17, year-old version of himself-from the dairy Horcrux. “What?” he muttered and Diary Tom pointed at (y/n).

“She knows how to release the souls and give us bodies, don’t ask me I have no clue-but she’s mine-no touch.” Diary Tom said, grabbing (y/n) to hold her close as she sighed after Ring Tom had given her several lookovers, clearly interested in the random girl who could reverse horcrux creations and give them bodies with ease.

Ring Tom smirked, tilting his head. “oh, I wouldn't be so sure, after all-we’re the same person, just in different stages of life…I’ll teach you extra dark arts if you share.”

“Deal.”

(y/n) face palmed.

Her face was hot and her body felt feverish as Ring lapped at her cunt, smooth tongue against her clit and Diary kissed her, smoothing his hand over her belly and fondling her breasts, pinching her breasts. “She’s fucking delicious,” Ring groaned, spreading her thighs further to better bury his face between them.

“I’m gonna-“ (y/n) croaked, feeling her 3rd orgasm burning low in her belly, her shaking thighs squeezing Ring’s head as she arched, Diary scraping his teeth on her neck as she felt it roll over her, draining her of all energy as Ring kept smoothing his tongue through her folds. “okay okay-enough-“ (y/n) groaned, rolling her body over, Ring’s hair getting all tussled as her thigh brushed over his head.

Ring hummed, resting his chin on the back of her thigh, him and Diary(which she had started to mentally refer them as such since she couldn’t both call them Tom, it would get way too confusing too quickly.), glancing at each other before Diary tugged her into his arms-the two having known each other the longest and being the same age.

(y/n) huffed, letting him cuddle her, her thighs being massaged by ring. “This is my life now isn’t it? Being hoarded by split souls of the same guy.” She muttered to herself and Ring chuckled, Diary smirking against her neck.

“You did this to yourself, my dear. I hardly had to talk you into giving me a body; though I’m quite grateful, I much rather be linked to you than drain your life force to gain mine.” (y/n) huffed at Diary's words, ring sitting up a bit.

“Oh, is that how she pulled us out?” Ring asked, tilting his head and (y/n) nodded. “I reversed horcruxed you both, so now both your soul fractures are linked to my life force, I’m now your horcrux-to put it basically.” (y/n) mumbled and Ring smirked, climbing on top of her to suck a hickey into the back of her neck, Diary grunting at the extra weight but not shoving him off.

“Ah, so that was the instant connection I felt, and here I thought you were just attractive.” Ring purred into her ear, and she elbowed his head-just hard enough to make him flinch. “oi.”

“Get off me.” She groaned, she had enough on her hands babysitting diary, and now she had TWO of Tom. At least one of them was older.

Older, in no way meant more mature. They’d gone to Diagon alley to get supplies, food, clothes, and the whole time the Tom’s spent it bickering, (y/n) face palming half the time as they ‘discussed’ the best things for them to get, apparently only four years difference made a huge gap in fashion sense and preferences.

“She’d look good in this.”

“Oh yes.”

They were agreeing on something now? (y/n) thought to herself, turning to look at them, only to see them looking at lingerie, green in color and leaving nothing to the imagination if worn.

“No.” (y/n) said, pointing hard at them and Ring grinned at her, Diary pouting slightly-using his more, baby face, against her. “No.”

Diary huffed, putting the lingerie back and walking after her, Ring glancing back at the fabric-sneaking it into his pocket with no one seeing.

“You did not! You stole it?!” (y/n) yelped when Ring gave it to her when they were back at her apartment, her eyes wide as she held the flimsy green lace.

“I knew you wouldn’t buy it, and we wanted to see you in it.” Ring said with a smug smirk, leaning over her as Diary’s gaze flicked between her and the lingerie, swallowing harshly. “don’t we diary?”

Diary nodded, standing up from the couch, putting his hands on her hips and chin on her shoulder. “yes. Absolutely, I think you’d look stunning darling,” Diary purred, squeezing her hips.

(y/n) let out a long sigh, knowing they wouldn’t drop it until she did what they wanted. “fine. No touching for 10 minutes, you’re both suffering.” She ordered, heading into her bedroom the change, Diary tried to follow but Ring grabbed the back of his shirt-keeping him in the lounge.

When (y/n) emerged, Diary nearly tipped over-his eyes locked onto the way the lingerie hugged her curves, and just barely covered her breasts. “ten. Minutes. No touch.” (y/n) said, sternly pointing at both of them, punishment for stealing the lingerie. Ring and Diary both groaned, eyes following her every move as she went into the kitchen to make a snack.

“Oh, my merlin-look at that ass.” Diary muttered and Ring couldn’t help but just nod in agreement. (y/n)’s cheeks flushed, glaring over her shoulder at him. “Keep comments to yourself!” she snapped, and Diary groaned again, leaning on the dining table and sinking to his knees.

Him and Ring stared at her for the full 10 minutes, Ring keeping count on his watch and when the ten minutes were up-he beelined to (y/n) and scooped her up, (y/n) yelping as she was tossed over a shoulder. “Tom!” she squawked, feeling his hands roughly grip her thighs as he turned on his heel-heading straight for the bedroom with Diary close behind.

She was thrown onto her bed, which wasn’t as comfortable as she would’ve liked-letting out a grunt as Ring climbed on top of her, Diary quickly joining with an eager grin. (y/n) felt her face grow hot as Ring fondled her lace-covered breasts, his tongue slowly trailing from her collarbone to her breasts, Diary reaching between her and Ring to rub her clothed clit, her hips jumping.

Diary chuckled into her ear, resting his head on her shoulder as Ring undid her bra, tossing the lace to the side to take a breast in his mouth, circling his tongue around her hardening nipple.

“Honestly-you two are obsessed.” (y/n) groaned, reaching up to grip the pillows behind her head as Diary’s fingers dipped beneath her panties to rub directly against her clit in small circles.

“You’re our link darling, of course we’re obsessed.” Ring purred, spit connecting his tongue to her breast before he latched back on, his other hand fondling her breast as Diary’s fingers slipped inside her, slowly thrusting and curling his fingers gently, making (y/n) groan and turn her head to the side.

“Now, who gets what end?” Ring purred, sitting up, unzipping his trousers and Diary smirked, laying a wet hot kiss on (y/n)’s neck. “you got the lingerie; you get first pick.” Diary murmured, (y/n) obediently lifting her hips as Ring pulled off her lace panties.

“I know exactly what I want.” Ring groaned, reaching for the bedside drawer to grab a condom, Diary unzipped his trousers as well, moving to rest (y/n)’s head between his legs as Ring wrapped her legs around his waist.

(y/n) let out a low groan, her eyes fluttering as Ring pushed inside her, his hips slotted against hers as the tip of Diary’s cock tapped her lips. She opened her mouth, taking Diary’s cock into her mouth and he let out a groan, his head tipping back as both of them began to thrust into her, Diary slower and gentler while Ring quickly picked up speed and roughness.

Ring roughly gripped her hips, leaning over her as his hips smacked against her butt, sweat beading at his brow while (y/n) writhed and let out muffled groans as Diary tipped her head further back, allowing him deeper into her mouth, and into her throat.

“She’s so fucking warm.” Diary moaned, holding the back of her neck for support as he rolled his hips towards her. Ring groaned in agreement. “and so tight.” Ring said, Diary beginning to pant as he felt himself get close. He was younger, (y/n)’s age, so he didn’t last as long as Ring did.

Diary let out a half-choked moan, spilling himself into (y/n)’s throat, she swallowed around him, and he pulled out of her mouth as he felt it become too much for him, panting heavily as he leaned back, adjusting (y/n)’s head to lay in his lap as Ring continued to pound into her.

(y/n) breathed heavily as she felt Ring fuck her hard and deep-just like he always did, the two were insatiable, especially Ring, who had higher stamina than Diary. She groaned as Ring’s finger swirled her clit, pressing just hard enough to make the pit in her gut grow hotter.

“I’m-!” she gasped out, hips jolting as Ring rolled his hips just right and hit that spot inside her, making her crash. She moaned as her orgasm rolled over her, clenching tight around Ring’s cock and he groaned in turn-releasing inside the condom, pulling out slowly after a minute.

“All ours,” Diary hummed from above her, leaning down to kiss her cheek as Ring massaged her bruising hips. Ring grinned in agreement, watching their girl come down from her high, her body twitching as Diary rubbed her neck and jaw.

Ring had gone out for a walk, Diary sulking at home while (y/n) was at work. Diary being the first made horcrux and the first resurrected-was especially attached to (y/n), since they were also the same age, so any time (y/n) ignored him or went somewhere Diary couldn’t follow-he sulked, much like the teenager/young adult he was.

Ring paused as he passed by a set of apartments, looking up at the solid building. He could sense another apartment inbetween two apartments, hidden by an intricate spell. He also sense something else, another soul fracture.

He held his hand up, summoning his soul fracture to him. It was resistant for a moment, and then came crashing through a spell border, a locket-Slytherin’s locket-landing in his palm, the chain icy cold against his fingers. It was covered in dust.

Why would one of his horcruxes-Slytherin’s locket of all things-be in an abandoned apartment? The apartment of the Black family no less. Ring didn’t dwell on it, pocketing the locket and heading straight back to (y/n)’s apartment, polishing the locket and setting it on the dining table for her to see when she got home.

“What is that?” Diary asked-watching Ring polish the locket. Ring smirked, holding it up in the fluorescent light. “Another horcrux, our mother's locket.” Ring murmured and Diary was up on his feet, gently grasping the locket and taking it from Ring’s hands.

“Slytherin’s locket.” Diary whispered, looking giddy. Ring takes it back and sets it on the table, the two waiting for (y/n) to return, when she does, she takes one look at them and sighs, loudly.

“What happened now?” she drawls, walking further into her apartment, resting her hands on the back of Ring’s chair, he picks up the locket and hands it to her. She can instantly feel the same magic that the Ring and Diary had, and she sighs, letting her head fall back in exasperation. “Another one?!”

Ring shrugged with a smirk, Diary huffing slightly as (y/n) went off to her room to grab what she needed to resurrect this soul fracture. After an hour, there's a new Tom standing in her living room-this one the oldest by far, probably in his mid to late 30’s. He’s…well he’s for sure handsome, age definitely does Tom well.

His red-tinted gaze locks onto her and makes a move to draw his wand(which of course he doesn’t have, Ring and Diary had been sharing a wand that (y/n) had gotten soon after graduating.) but is interrupted by Ring and Diary-Locket quickly shocked being faced by two younger versions of himself.

“Relax, yes, we’re horcruxes as well, I was the ring, he was the diary-you, of course, were the locket, this is (y/n). She somehow knows how to resurrect us and give us bodies by linking our soul fractures to her own. Yes, the connection you feel for her is something we feel too and we’re all sharing her. It’s been fun.” Ring explained as Locket stared at them, and then at (y/n), who was staring right back, her arms crossed.

“Sharing her?” Locket drawls and (y/n) really likes his matured tone, slow and calculated. Diary and Ring nodded, locket pushing past them to study (y/n) up close, his gaze intense. He soon smirked, tilting his head. “I think I can agree with that,” he hummed, Ring and Diary grinning like wolves as (y/n) swallowed harshly.

Three Toms. Dear. Merlin.

She’s on top of Ring, Diary in front of her, and Locket behind her. Ring’s cock was inside her cunt, Locket stretching out her other hole while Diary made out with her, his hands massaging her breasts while Ring thrust up into her with short rolls of his hips, enjoying the way she was extra tight with all the extra attention.

“Mmm, I think you’re ready now,” Locket murmurs, his chest against her back as he leans up against her, cock pressing to her asshole. She let out a croaking moan as his rough hand wrapped around her neck, pulling her away from Diary and towards himself so she’s fully pressed up against him. She can feel every inch of Ring’s cock inside her, and the head of Locket's cock against her backside.

She groans again, clutching Locket’s arms as he pushes inside her, getting past the tight ring and then he’s in, him and Ring inside her at the same time. She feels short for breath, her vision fuzzy as Diary grumbles, being separated from her once again by his older selves. “Give her back.” Diary demands and Locket chuckles, deep and dark and (y/n) shivers, letting out a broken moan as he and Ring begin to thrust into her, one going in as the other pulls out.

“You’ve had her the longest, I’ve just gotten her.” Locket purrs, licking up the shell of (y/n)’s flushed ear and she shivers, hips jolting down towards Ring, he chokes a moan, gripping her hips tightly as Locket has his arms wrapped tight around her-hand around her neck and the other around her ribs.

Diary huffs, watching as his older selves thoroughly make (y/n) putty in their hands, Locket slowly rolling his hips into her while Ring roughly thrusts up, his hands bruising her hips again as she chokes on her breath and moans, her eyes rolled back and shuddering with each double thrust from Locket and Ring.

Diary moves forward, slicking up his hand with saliva and reaching to rub her clit, grinning as (y/n) gasped his(their) name out, her face flushed as her body rocked towards the pleasure. “That’s it, cum for us.” Locket groaned into her ear, scraping his teeth on her neck as his and Ring’s cocks rocked into her, Diary mouthing her breasts and rubbing her clit in quick circles.

(y/n) groaned, cumming hard from the three points of pleasure, feeling it through her whole body, clenching tight around Ring and Locket to where they came with her, filling the condoms with their release. “good girl,” Locket groaned from behind her-her ears ringing harshly in her head.

She was picked up and laid down on her side, Diary quickly gathering her into his arms to cuddle her close-since he had the largest soul fracture-he was always the most affectionate with her. She breathed heavily, leaning back into him, holding his arm as it wrapped around her. “that-was a lot.” She panted out, Diary huffing against her hair while Locket and Ring smirked at her, Locket smoothing his hands over her thighs while Ring admired the marks on her hips and neck.

“I can say, I’d never been much interested in sex, but that was quite-invigorating.” Locket purred and (y/n) huffed, letting Diary tug her further into his arms, glowering at the other two. “I suppose the soul connection she’s done to resurrect us has something to do with that?”

“That’s my theory, as doing so bounds us to her and her to us, soulmates practically.” Ring said, getting up to grab some cloths to clean (y/n) up with as Diary huffs again, he didn’t even get a turn this time and he didn’t want to push (y/n) further, she was already past her limit.

Locket hummed at Ring’s words, smirking. “interesting.”

After Locket gets comfortable in (y/n)s, slowly getting cramped, apartment-he reveals he’s actually the 4th horcrux, as ‘he’ made one more before the locket. Hufflepuffs Cup.

(y/n) doesn’t really want to look for the cup, she already had her hands full with just Diary! Now they wanted her to add another to the mix?? Four Toms?!

“How are you even going to find it? If the locket was hidden away, in a place you never expected, how the hell would you know where the cup is?” (y/n) asked, making dinner with Locket as Ring and Diary sat in the living room, having finished their chores.

“She makes a good point,” Diary hummed, resting his head back on the couch. Ring sighed, Locket pursing his lips slightly. (y/n) did have a point. She’d been slipped the Diary by someone, probably Malfoy or something since all three Toms’ did claim to be close friends with their era of the family, their closest friends actually. Then Diary had found Ring since she’d actually lived in Little Hangleton with her family; so Diary had easily found the ring in the old Gaunt shack, and Locket had been found by Ring by complete accident!

“Maybe we just, don’t look for it, after all, Locket was found by accident, Ring was found by accident, and Diary was just kinda-given to me, I also think on accident.” (y/n) muttered, the Tom’s looking at her as she addressed them by item names, not by their actual names. “look it’s the only way I can keep track of you, one Tom’s enough.” (y/n) said after catching Lockets side-eye.

“So, just-don’t look for a Horcrux and we’ll find one, good, great idea.” Ring drawled, yelping as he was smacked in the face with a wet hand towel, Diary snickering from his safe spot across the couch.

…

Two weeks later, Locket found the bloody cup. He’d been going to Gringotts to see if his bank account was still open, and while traveling through the caverns, he felt the presence of another Horcrux, and he knew it had to be the cup. While the goblins were distracted, he subtly held the shared wand out, and soon the cup was in his hands, ringing in his ears as he pocketed it.

He returned to the apartment, holding up the cup for all to see. Ring’s eyes went wide as (y/n) face palmed, sinking to the floor as Diary snorted from in front of the TV.

“…EVERY TIME?!” Ring bellowed as Locket handed the cup to (y/n) who had half a thought to throw it across the room, but didn’t, groaning to herself and standing, heading to her room. “every time we DON’T look for one, we just-find it?! We did not hide these well at all the fuck?”

Locket only shrugged, when he’d split himself into the locket-he’d kept all the Horcruxes on him, except his diary, which he’d given to abraxas for safe keeping.

Hufflepuffs Cup soul fracture was, in age, between Locket and Ring, so he was around 24-25, and just like locket-tried to draw his wand at her(again, which he didn’t have) to attack-considering everything it wasn’t the most unlocgical act-but Locket and Ring quickly talked him down, telling him the situation.

And hour later, she was on her bed, legs tight around Cup’s head as Diary cradled her in his lap, Ring and Locket on either side of her. “every time-“ (y/n) groaned, her hips jumping as Cup’s tongue smoothed over her clit, swirling it and then thrusting his tongue into her cunt.

“must be some sort of bond-sealing thing,” Locket chuckled, pulling away from her breast, spit connecting his lips to her nipple. Ring hummed, nodding slightly. “that makes the most sense.” He murmured, rolling (y/n)’s nipple between his fingers as Cup continued to smooth his tongue over her clit, making her jump again.

(y/n) just groaned in response, her face flushed as she clung to Diary’s pants, her head pressed against his stomach. She hated how it felt so good, to be surrounded by the four Tom’s, one eating her out, two playing with her boobs, and the very first-Diary-always grounding her, holding her the gentlest.

“Why does she taste so good?” Cup asked, his face flushed and he almost seemed drunk as he went right back between her thighs, his teeth grazing against her clit-making her jump and whine.

“Must be the soul connection, makes everything about her, delectable.” Locket purred, leaning down to kiss her, tongue intertwining with hers as she groaned, legs trembling as she felt her orgasm approach, the warm pit in her gut tightening.

She moaned against Locket’s lips, hips jumping and her legs closed around Cup’s head as she felt it crash over her, body jolting as she came on Cup’s tongue. He groaned, licking up every drop of her arousal, clinging tight to her thighs. He breathed heavily as he came up, lips slick and flushed.

“I wanna fuck her,” he said breathlessly and a moment later her thighs were being spread open again and Cup was given a condom. He pushed inside her and (y/n) groaned, panting heavily as he began to thrust into her, hips smacking against her thighs as he hooked her legs over his shoulders, allowing him deeper.

Diary held her closer, kissing her as Locket and Ring continued to fondle her breasts, Ring circling her swollen clit with his fingers as Cup continued to rut into her, panting heavily.

“Fuck.” Cup groaned, clenching his jaw tightly as he climaxed, slumping back. (y/n) huffed, panting heavily, her brow furrowed. She didn’t get to cum. Diary could tell and quickly grabbed her-scooting her back into his lap before Locket or Ring could grab her. “Mine.” Diary hissed, aimed at Ring and Locket but nonetheless making (y/n) shiver.

“Sh-“ (y/n) moaned as his talented fingers found her clit, circling it in the exact way she liked, his other hand slipping down further to slip inside her, finding her g-spot and massaging it. “Tom,” she breathed out, resting her head back against his shoulder, he chuckled, kissing her jaw and neck as he thrust his fingers into her, circling her clit just the way she liked-making quick work of her. “oh~!”

She felt her orgasm roll over her again and she trembled, holding tight to Diary’s knees as he kept fingering her through it under she pulled away. “I’m done-no more-“ she panted, smacking Ring’s hands away when he went to grab at her. “I mean it, I’m done. Three of you was enough,” she muttered, wobbling to her feet and leaving her room to take a shower.

“Perhaps, if we find any more horcruxes, we keep them in there for a while before giving it to her.” Diary said, glancing at Locket and Ring, who were staring hard at the bathroom door.

“That might be the best course of action,” Locket murmured, looking at Diary and he sighed-getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom. “Just me,” Diary said as (y/n) made a sound of objection to her shower being interrupted. “you know, you don’t have to indulge our every whim dear, you can say no to us.”

Tom said softly, leaning against the sink as (y/n) sighed, moving to sit down on the bathtub floor. “It just feels like that’s all you guys want from me.” (y/n) murmured, resting her head on her arms. Tom frowned, pulling back the curtain slightly, his brow furrowing tighter when he saw her on the floor. He got in behind her, not caring about his clothes getting wet, wrapping his arms around her.

“I know it feels that way, but we all care about you, I…apologize we all have a tough time showing it, none of us are exactly right in the brain. But we’ll all back off for while. Promise, no touching you till you say you’re ready again.” Tom said gently and (y/n) let out a soft hum, resting back against him, closing her eyes.

“Thanks…why are you the only one who actually comforts me?” (y/n) muttered and Tom shrugged. “Possibly because I have the biggest soul fracture of all the Hocruxes, being the first so I have half a soul while the rest are smaller fractures, so I have more…capability to realize when you need comfort.” Tom offered and (y/n) shrugged, it made sense.

“Are you feeling comforted?” Tom asked and (y/n) laughed gently, nodding, resting her head on his arm.

“Yeah, thank you, Tom.”

“You’re welcome darling.”

Two and a half years passed, the four Toms got comfortable living with one another, it was still strange for them, being around themselves-at points of their lives where they split their soul, but they got along easily enough and helped around the house that Locket helped buy.

Yep. House, (y/n) bought and moved into a whole house with four Tom Riddle’s, the realter was a bit confused-but (y/n) explained they were all family, Diary was her boyfriend, Ring was his brother-and Locket and cup were their uncles.

Still an odd dynamic but easier to explain that ‘oh these are all my lovers who are all the same person just soul fractures, and they’re bound to me for eternity :D’

Yeah, weird family dynamic was easier.

Just before summer, at the end of spring, all four Tom’s felt something shift within their souls, all four felt as if they’d had some sort of heart attack, Diary tumbling to the floor from the stairs as Locket collapsed in the kitchen, Ring and Cup both blacked out on the couch; all from the sheer pain they felt.

It felt like they were being reborn, painfully and slowly, bones being broken and realigned, blood vessels being stitched together, muscles tightening and straining to hold up their weights.

Diary was the first to recover, gasping for breath on the floor, twitching in agony. “He’s resurrected himself,” he groaned, wobbling to get onto his feet, catching himself on the couch. The others knew who Diary was talking about. Voldemort, essentially the ‘core’ version of them, had gotten someone to resurrect him after so many years.

“We have to tell (y/n), and find the last Horcrux.” Locket groaned, getting up from the kitchen floor, woozy and unstable. “How did you know there's only one more?” Diary asked, flopping down on the couch between Ring and Cup.

“Because I’d planned to make one out of the four founders items, the cup, the locket, the diadem, and the sword; I have a feeling he never got the sword-only a Gryffindor can, but I had located the diadem by the time I made-well-myself. I believe i wanted to hide it in Hogwarts as well.” Locket groaned, sitting down in the love seat, the three living Hocruxes listening intently.

“So, we find it, then what? (y/n) bonds with that one too? Then what?” Cup asked with a groan, rubbing his face. What was the plan? Did they want to foil Voldemort’s plans? Why? After they were Voldemort, wasn’t what he wanted, what they wanted?

“I think our goals have changed, haven’t they?” Cup murmured, the others glancing at him, and then around the apartment.

Yeah. They have.

“I just don’t see why I have to sneak into Hogwarts! I mean-it’s suspicious!” (y/n) said as Diary helped her put her coat on. “what am I supposed to even say to Dumbledore? Oh, hi Professor! I’ve resurrected the younger versions of the most dangerous dark wizard and now they want me to do it again to prevent him from using another Horcrux? I doubt he even knows what a Horcrux is!” (y/n) said, crossing her arms as the four Toms’ winced, realizing she was right.

How was she supposed to get into the castle? Much less try to get to wherever the Horcrux was hidden.

“Perhaps this time it would be prudent to wait and listen, see when to strike.” Locket murmured and (y/n) sighed, grabbing her keys.

“You guys can brainstorm, I’m going to get food.” She muttered, Diary grabbing his coat and following her out of the door.

It’s two years later that she gets the excusable chance to go to Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been murdered, by death eaters, the funeral was held at the isle in the middle of the black lake. (y/n) had arrived dressed in all black, a bouquet of colorful flowers in hand.

She set the vibrant flowers on his grave, closing her eyes as she rested her hand on the cold stone. “Goodbye professor, thank you.” she whispered, stepping back and sitting with the crowd, quietly listening as the funeral went on.

As soon as everyone was up and about-blending into one big crowd, she slipped away into the castle, quickly going through the empty corridors that seemed colder than ever before.

Finally, she arrived at the room of requirement, passing it three times before the door appeared. She pushed inside, greeted by a very large room that held…so many things. She went further into the room, looking all over for the Horcrux. Locket said it would be the diadem, a small silver tiara with sapphires.

She passed by several mirrors and knickknacks, furniture and cloaks. She spent about an hour looking, even shifting through things. He wouldn’t hide it too much-so he could find it again if need be, that’s what locket said. She looked around again, finding a flat velvet box that had snake latch on it.

She snatched the velvet box, opening it carefully. There it was, Ravenclaws Diadem-and possibly the final Horcrux. She took it out of the box, putting the box back down, and then set the horcrux on the floor, grabbing what she needed from her bag.

She’d have to do it here, feeling it was risky to bring the diadem home.

She took out her wand, a soul connection potion(very risky to make, but she’d made it so many times now that it was as easy as breathing), and cut her hand. She smeared her blood onto the diadem, and swallowed half of the potion, the rest being poured onto the diadem.

The jewel at the crest cracked and (y/n) was pushed back by a wave of magic. She held her ground, she knew the routine. From a swirl of dark magic-green in color-came forth the oldest Tom she’d seen, maybe mid to late 40s. silver fox if you will.

Tom’s scarlet eyes locked onto hers, he was confused-just as all the others(except diary) were, he looked around, recognizing the room. “how did you do this?” he asked, his voice slightly rough, but even and mature.

(y/n) took a deep breath, rubbing her face. “Okay, so-In my 6th year, which was-four years ago now? I was accidentally given the diary horcrux” Tom tensed at that but (y/n) continued regardless. “by Lucius Malfoy, I grew connected with that horcrux, yes I know what you guys are-I’ll get that in a second-and so I resurrected him, connecting his life to mine so I became his Horcrux really. Anyway, later we found the ring, I also resurrected him-so then there were two of you, Diary and Ring, Ring found Locket-I also resurrected him, and then Locket found the cup, who I also resurrected. Anyway, a year ago Voldemort formally resurrected himself as the dark lord and the others all told me to come get you so Voldemort couldn’t use you guys.”

(y/n) went quiet, looking at Diadem Tom, who was staring at her as if she was insane, which-honestly, by now she probably was. “Any questions?”

“…You linked yourself to, not just one, but” he counted on his fingers. “five Horcruxes? Are you okay? As in mentally?” Diadem Tom asked, his eyes narrowed at her and (y/n) shrugged.

“I dunno, probably not by now considering I’ve lived with four other versions of you for four years now, my sanity went down the drain when I met Diary Tom, anyway we should go. Dumbledore's funeral just ended and I bet there will be people in the halls any moment now.” (y/n) said, grabbing his hand and Diadem Tom jolted, stumbling after her as she tugged him out of the room of requirement-quickly finding a working floo fireplace and heading straight back home.

Diadem Tom was-quite…shocked to see four other versions of himself at the house, the youngest, Diary-who was the same age as (y/n), then Ring the 2nd youngest, Cup, Locket, and then himself.

Diadem took the longest to do the, hem, bonding session between him and (y/n), he was the oldest by far and had far more control over his desires, hardly even recognizing the feeling until the others told him about what really ‘sealed the deal’ for the link between them and (y/n).

“Really? Sex? How barbarian.” Diadem drawled, sipping at some tea while the youngest, Cup and Ring, blushed a bit-they were the quickest of the four, now five, to seal things between themselves and (y/n), Diary hardly even waited for her to explain what she’d done to resurrect him, he’d just launched himself at her with feral need.

“yeah, we don’t know why it’s that way either, but each time she’s linked one of our fractures souls to her, we just feel…intense towards her, we supposed it made us soulmates to her.” Locket said, gaze drifting over to (y/n) who was busying herself doing her laundry,

“Soulmates.” Diadem murmured, circling the rim of his teacup with the pads of his fingers, gaze locked onto (y/n). she was about 20-25 years younger than him, since he was in his mid to late 40s, but she was already lovers with his younger selves.

He let a slow smirk grow on his face. Perhaps it was time to show the younger versions of him how it’s done?

Diary was fully pouting, glaring at Diadem as he slowly rolled his hips into (y/n), who was practically drooling into the sheets of her bed, her fists clenched tight to the fabric as she moaned weakly, body jolting with each thrust of Diadem’s hips. “Atta girl,” Diadem purred with a smirk, his grin growing feeling her clench tight around him.

He looked up at his younger selves, who had all been…not allowed to be a part of the bonding this time, Diary was the grumpiest, glaring at him while he fucked (y/n) slow and deep. “See how jealous they are darling?” Didem purred above her, one hand pinning her down by her neck as his other hand held her hips still, hearing her moan and whimper with each shallow roll of his hips. “jealous of how well I fuck you? make you feel better than any of them ever had?”

(y/n) groaned, peering at Diary who sat directly across from her, both jealous and protective of her, hating the way his older self was actually cucking him. Well, and the others, but Diary didn’t care about them, only himself and (y/n). she gasped as Diadem slammed into her to regain her attention and she slumped forward, letting out a croaking moan as he did it twice more.

She reached out with her free hand towards Diary and he was quick to latch onto her, kneeling in front of her and she wrapped her arms around him-keeping him close. Didem huffed a bit but didn’t do anything against it, having quickly learned that (y/n) was the one who called the shots, she was their tether, what she wanted was most important.

It went against their core values-that they were the most important, but soul linking did something to them, and he could already feel his values shifting, even after only knowing (y/n) for a day.

(y/n) turned her head towards Diary, pressing her lips to his and he groaned, turning it into a heated opened mouthed kiss as he pressed back into her, one of his hands grazing down her stomach till he reached her clit, smoothing over it gently with the pads of his fingers as (y/n) moaned into his mouth, her hands tangled in his hair.

Diadem moved both his hands to (y/n)’s hips, rutting harder into her as he felt his orgasm approach, groaning under his breath as (y/n) moaned into Diary’s mouth, gasping and panting as she felt her orgasm tighten in her gut. “ah-Tom!” she moaned, feeling it crash over her and all the Tom’s groaned as she moaned their name, Diadem thrusting twice more into her as he came.

He smoothed his hands over her hips as he pulled out and she slumped towards Diary, breathing heavily as Diary gathered her into his arms, pulling her closer, peppering kisses along her jaw and corners of her lips. “Close to her is he?” Diadem hummed, his scarlet gaze locked onto his youngest Horcrux and (y/n).

Ring, Cup, and Locket nodded. “He’s the first she resurrected, and they’re closest in age; plus he has the largest soul fracture,” Locket said, reaching out to smooth his hand over (y/n)’s thigh but Diary smacked it away, glaring at him. “Ah-“ Locket snickered, smirking at Diary as he held (y/n) closer. “clingy today?”

“Fuck off. I never get to have her to myself-Actually! I haven’t had her to myself since we found Ring.” Diary snarked, having picked up (y/n)’s habit of calling the other Toms by their Horcrux item. Ring balked at him, Diary sticking out his tongue childishly, holding (y/n) closer to him.

“No shouting please,” (y/n) grumbled from within his hold, Diary looking at her and apologizing quietly before glaring at the Horcruxes again. Ring rolled his eyes and Diadem chuckled, Cup sighing while Locket smirked.

“Clingy~” Locket said with a slight sing-song tone-yelping as he was smacked in the face with a pillow going at Mach speed.

Hardly a year later, (y/n) was racing through the corridors of a battle-blasted Hogwarts, panting heavily and limping-blood staining her clothes and skin. She’d been paying attention to the secret radio channel, Potter watch, and the hosts had called for action at Hogwarts-a final battle of sorts.

The war would end today, and either Voldemort would win, or Potter would.

(y/n) was fighting for Potter, dodging and weaving deadly spells sent at her by Death eaters. She hadn’t told her Tom’s that she’d gone to fight, they didn’t even know this was happening today-she never included them when listening to the Potter watch channel.

She slid through the corridor, ending up at the room of requirement’s corridor-just as Harry, Hermione, and Ron flew through the doors with fire right behind them. The castle's magic closed the doors of the enchanted room before the fire could reach them. Malfoy and one of his two goons had been with him and they ran for it as soon as they could.

“Why wasn’t it there!” Harry gasped as he got to his feet, dropping the broom from his grip, running his hands through his hair in a panic. “there was supposed to be one in there! We’ve found-none of them! No Horcruxes!”

(y/n) froze, swallowing hard. They were hunting Horcruxes, to take down Voldemort-since with them, his soul was tethered to the land of the living, unable to be claimed by the Grim Reaper.

She’d found all the Horcruxes, she’d resurrected all of them.

She’d accidentally fucked up the plan to kill the dark lord, starting with the diary.

She stepped forward, wanting to help but unsure how, Harry’s eyes instantly snapped to her-wincing and holding his head. Then a look of realization came to his face, eyes widening. “you’re linked to him, somehow.” He murmured, standing up and rushing over to her-getting in her face. “Why are you linked to him!?”

(y/n) knew she had to tell the truth, there was no time to lie, or excuse herself. “I got his first Horcrux in my sixth year, your 2nd, it was a diary. We…grew close, he…convinced me to link his soul to mine, to resurrect him. Then it spiraled from there. He made several, the diary, a ring, a cup, a locket, and the diadem-I got the diadem last year-at Dumbledore’s funeral. But…they’re all alive, so they’re not horcruxes anymore, I guess. I’m more their Horcrux than anything else.”

(y/n) said, trying to explain everything from the last four-five years without it sounding absolutely insane. Harry seemed both disgusted and shocked. “you…linked yourself to him? Willingly? Multiple times? You put multiple versions of him into the world?” Harry yelled at her, and she stepped back, unsure of how to defend herself.

“Yell at her like that again and I'll kill you myself.” A familiar voice snarled behind her, and she whirled around, seeing Diary Tom-by himself, shared wand in hand and he stalked towards her, looking quite battle-worn himself.

“Tom?” (y/n) asked quietly as he moved to stand beside her, glaring at Harry who glared right back-recognizing Tom from the memories he’d seen of the past.

“what in the hell are you doing here? Helping yourself win the war?” Harry snarled-his wand drawn to Tom’s neck-Hermione and Ron following his lead-not sure what was happening but trusting their friend.

“My goals have changed, I don’t care about what he wants, not for a long time.” Tom said, staring right back at Harry. “I’m Tom Riddle, not Voldemort.”

Tom saying that made both (y/n) and Harry look at him, almost…astonished. “Then…why are you here?” Harry asked, drawing his wand back a bit. Tom turned to (y/n) smiling weakly.

“To protect what's important to me.” He said softly and (y/n) let out a soft coo, feeling a little teary-eyed, glancing around for the others.

“Softie…where…where’s the others?” (y/n) asked and Tom sighed, swallowing thickly.

“We listened in on that challenge you listen you every day…we knew a battle with…us was going down. We know he has to fall so…we found a way to combine our soul fractures again, since I had the largest one…it’s just me again.” Tom said, (y/n) now noticing the ring on his hand, and the locket around his neck. The cup and Diadem left at home.

“They’re gone?” she whispered, and Tom nodded, swallowing thickly again.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, but you didn’t tell us you were coming here, so we didn’t get the chance to tell you what we decided to do.” Tom murmured and she couldn’t exactly tell him off for that, since he was right. She nodded shallowly and Harry huffed, not pocketing his wand but lowering it completely.

“Okay…what do we do to defeat Voldemort then?” Harry asked and Tom’s brows furrowed.

“I could possibly absorb his soul fracture, but he might have made more Horcruxes, I planned to make 7, the magic number. So, two more possibly…I’m unsure.” Tom muttered and Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair, showing his scar. Tom’s eyes locked onto it.

“How did you get that scar?” Tom asked, his eyes suddenly intense and Harry groaned.

“You would know! You caused it!”

“I. didn’t. How did you get that scar.” Tom demanded, getting in Harry’s face-grabbing him, causing pain for Harry and Tom quickly let go. “You. You’re a Horcrux.” Tom breathed out, his eyes going wide with quick realization. Harry glared at him, rubbing his forehead.

(y/n) moved to stand with Hermione and Ron, watching Tom and Harry argued with each other-Tom trying to convince Harry that yes, he’s indeed a Horcrux (Hermione whispered to her that she already figured that out, Harry had an odd connection with Voldemort since she met him), and Harry argued that he wasn’t, if only because he didn’t want to be.

A blast that rocked the castle cut the argument short and Tom thrust a golden glowing potion into Harry’s hand. “Drink that, I can absorb your soul fragment, one less Horcrux to kill.” Harry glared but drank the potion, coughing as Tom then put his hand to Harry’s scar and blood poured from the new wound, Harry screamed as Tom pulled out a small shard of Voldemort’s, Tom’s, soul-it was nearly black in color but turned whiteish green as Tom absorbed it.

“That bloody hurt!” Harry hissed and Hermione rushed to heal the new open wound with Dittany, Tom sighing and turning to (y/n).

“Let’s end this, and go back home.” He murmured and she nodded. They intertwined hands, working together to help fight against Voldemort’s death eaters, blasting spells and protecting each other fiercely.

Reports of Tom must’ve got back to Voldemort; because he soon made an appearance, Tom full-on paling at the sight of the snake-like dark lord in the Hogwarts courtyard.

“Oh, merlin is that what seven Horcruxes turned me into?” he croaked, hiding (y/n) behind him as Voldemort’s nostril’s flared in anger. “yeesh.”

Voldemort’s thin lips curled with anger, showing his fangs. “an imposter dares to insult me?” he snarled, more hissed, drawing the elder wand in his hands. Tom’s eyes flicked to it before focusing back on his older self.

“Not an imposter. I’m the diary.” Tom drawled, Voldemort froze, scarlet eyes widening. “the rest were resurrected too, and then combined. I’m the diary, the ring, the locket, the cup, and the diadem.” And the scar, but Voldemort didn’t know about that, so Tom didn’t say it. “and now, I need your fragment.”

Voldemort’s nostrils flared again, and he drew his wand-Tom pushed (y/n) back and drew his wand as well-magic met magic, blasts of spells and curses flying about the courtyard as Tom faced off with Voldemort. Both felt resistance, fighting one another-being the same soul.

In the background Harry went after the snake with Ron and Hermione, having figured out it was a horcrux due to Tom sensing the soul fragment within it.

Voldemort fought viciously, sending deadly curses and highly damaging spells, trying to wipe this-imposter-from the face of the earth. Tom fought just as hard, his teeth clenched tightly as he danced between the curses, sending them right back at the dark lord-determined to be the only ‘Tom Riddle’ in the world again.

Voldemort suddenly paused, pain clear on his face and Tom spared a glance to see that the snake had been beheaded by a chubby-faced boy with the sword of Gryffindor-with the distraction Tom launched himself forward, slamming his hands into Voldemort’s face-forcing the potion down his throat. “die.” Tom hissed in parseltongue, absorbing the very small soul fracture of Voldemort's soul into himself, the black piece turning grey as Tom took it.

Voldemort-without a soul-collapsed to the ground, eyes empty and lifeless.

Tom took a heaving breath, stumbling back from the body, turning to see the chaos of battle slowly settle, death eaters cowering after realizing their leader was dead, celebration from those who had fought against Voldemort.

And (y/n), still there, watching him, waiting for him. He smiled weakly, grabbing the elder wand from the dead man’s hand and walking over to her. “it’s over,” he murmured and (y/n) wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder and he held her just as tightly, sighing softly as he inhaled her scent.

He gave the elder wand to Harry, took (y/n)’s hand, and they went home.

The house felt empty without them, (y/n) realized. The house she’d bought with the help of Locket had been for six people, and now there were only two of them, her and Tom. “Is it strange I miss them?” she asked quietly while they made dinner one night, two months after Voldemort had been defeated.

Tom paused while cooking the rice, glancing over at her, before shaking his head. “it’s not, you were connected to all of us, not just by feeling but by your very soul, it’s…believable that it feels like somethings missing now.” Tom said softly, turning off the heat to comfort (y/n), who leaned into him. “they’re still here, just…it’s all me now.”

(y/n) sighed, tilting her head up to kiss his jaw and he smiled softly, turning his head to kiss her properly, cupping her jaw with his hand. “I did get all their memories, so I have different perspectives of the last five years, and the years before they were split into their items,” Tom murmured as they pulled away slightly, rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

“Wow…oh does that mean uh, you gained their…experience as well?” (y/n) asked shyly, blushing, and Tom grinned, leaning down and scooping her up, wrapping his arms around her thighs-turning off the stove before heading right to the bedroom.

(y/n) huffed as she was tossed onto her bed, looking up at Tom as he crawled over her, smirking like the devil. He leaned down-she met him halfway-their lips connecting in a soft slow kiss, his hand drawing down her body to undo her shirt as their tongues met.

“Still so delicious,” Tom hummed against her lips, moving to pepper his lips sideways to her ear, then down to her jaw, then her neck, licking and sucking at her skin, leaving small marks.

(y/n) moaned softly, her body arching to help him get her shirt off, then her bra, his warm hands smoothing over her breasts, his mouth joining them. She moaned again as his tongue swirled around her nipple, the other being tweaked by his fingers and then given the same attention with his tongue. “Is this okay?” Tom asked against just below her breasts, she heaved and nodded, her head falling back as his lips went lower, unbuttoning her pants and pulling them down with the help of her lifting her hips.

She let out a soft sigh as his hair brushed against her stomach as he kissed her lower stomach, fingers hooking under her panties and drawing them down, kissing the inside of her thighs before his tongue met her clit. “oh,” she whined, forcing her legs to stay apart as his hands held her hips, his tongue pressing hard to her clit, his fingers joining and pushing inside her, slowly thrusting into her and curling-making her heave for breath and gasp his name.

“I used to hate my name, but I love the way it sounds when you say it.” Tom murmured when he’d pulled away from her for a moment before diving back in like a man starved, moaning into her cunt as her arousal coated his tongue.

“Tom,” she moaned again, fingers curling into his hair as her knee hooked over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. He groaned and pressed his tongue harder on her clit, adding a third finger to give her more pleasure.

“I’m gonna-“ she groaned, she could very much tell all the horcrux's knowledge of her and how she worked had combined into one for Tom, because he was taking her apart so quickly it was almost frightening, but it felt so good. “Tom!”

He groaned, pressing his fingers into her sweet spots as he fluttered his tongue against her clit, smirking as she came, body trembling as she gasped his name, curling forward to clutch at his head. “fuck-Tom!”

He pulled away when she tugged his head away from her, “too much-“ she choked out, breathing heavily as he licked his lips and chin, and then sucked on his fingers, groaning at the taste of her. She was blushing furiously as he undid his shirt and pants, his boxers joining the rest of the clothes.

Tom reached to grab a condom from the drawer but (y/n)’s hand on his shoulder stopped, he glanced back at her, confused. She gave him a long, almost begging, look and he blinked. “do you not want to?” he asked, thinking she didn’t want to go full on today but she shook her head, closing the drawer with her foot, bringing him closer to her, her hand ghosting over his uncovered cock-that was hard and leaking.

He groaned at the touch, his brows furrowing as she stroked him. “I want…I don’t want the condom, I want to feel you.” she whispered, looking up at him. His jaw clenched and he kissed her hard, pushing her back down on the bed, one hand around her throat-like Diadem always did-keeping her pinned as her legs locked around his waist.

He thrust his hips to smooth his cock over her cunt, the tip rutting against her swollen clit. “Don’t tease,” she whined, and Tom chuckled, angling his hips and slowly pushing inside her, jaw dropping open at the pure heat he felt. “Oh fuck.” Tom groaned, his eyes closing as he felt her clench around him, wet, tight, and hot.

“Shit, don’t know how long I’ll last-fuck.” Tom cursed, she felt so damn good. He never wanted to use a condom again. “can-can I come inside you?” he asked, shallowly thrusting his hips and (y/n)’s eyes fluttered, nodding.

“yes-yes.” She moaned, leaning into him as he pressed against her completely, hand still around her throat as he began to fuck her, slow and deep at first-the two just blissfully enjoying the feeling of absolutely no barriers. They knew the dangers of unprotected sex but, perhaps it was time to start a new chapter for them.

And repopulate the house.

His hand pushed a little tighter on her throat and she moaned, their lips meeting as he began to thrust faster into her, rougher, his other hand gripping her inner thigh tightly as he rut into her, groaning and huffing as his hips snapped against her thighs.

“So fucking good, I can never get enough of you.” Tom groaned and (y/n) gasped into his mouth, breathing heavily as his cock kept hitting that good spot inside her, he angled his hips a bit and hit it even better-making her jolt and let out a whine, her hands clawing down his back.

“So-so good-ah!” (y/n) moaned, biting his shoulder to muffle her moans and he pushed his grip on her throat down-away from his shoulder. “No no. I wanna hear how good I make you feel.” Tom growled and (y/n) whined at the sound of it, her legs trembling as she felt her climax grow hotter and hotter in her gut, Tom rutting into her hard and fast, echoing in her ears.

She came first when his other hand that wasn’t holding her throat circled her clit-her body arched and she tensed up, silent as she felt the band snap within her. Tom followed close behind, groaning heavily as he thrust twice more, slotting his hips directly against her, as deep as he could be, cumming inside.

“Fuck,” Tom said, lightly laughing as he slumped on top of her, wrapping his arms around her as they both heaved for breath. “never using a condom again,” he grumbled and (y/n) couldn't argue, it felt too good to use it again, she’d just get birth control.

(y/n) carefully polished the golden Hufflepuff cup, setting it gently back onto the well-tended shelf. The Horcruxes sat up on a shelf, polished to shine beautifully and the shelf they sat on was decorated with small gifts, like shimmery rocks and dried flowers.

She grabbed the diadem next, cleaning it of dust and making sure the silver metal shone before putting it back on the shelf, feeling familiar arms wrap around her, a chin resting on her shoulder. “Evening Mrs. Riddle,” Tom murmured into her shoulder and her heart fluttered, spinning the Gaunt ring around her ring finger as she turned her head into him.

“Evening Mr. Riddle,” she said softly, smiling as he kissed her cheek. “is dinner ready?”

“Yes, your favorite,” Tom said, taking her hands and drawing her away from the shelf, (y/n) glancing back at the Cup, Diadem, and Locket for a moment before following Tom into the kitchen, the Ring warm between their intertwined hands.

-end-

This got out of my hands lol, the plot just-appeared-It was meant to be just like smut with very little plot with fluff and like-funny? But it turned into plot…sorry for ‘killing’ four of the five Tom’s off, but they’re not technically dead! Technically, they just don’t got separate souls anymore….yeah this just turned into a whole thing lol.

Uh, hope you enjoyed??

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #fluff fic #diary tom riddle #smut fic #diadem Tom Riddle #Ring Tom Riddle #Locket Tom Riddle #Cup Tom Riddle #horcrux Tom Riddle #angst #voldemort #horcrux

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