the-fiction-witch

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Nypmh P2

Media - EPIC The Musical Saga Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca Couple - Telemachus X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n Rating - 15 Word Count - 1151 Requested - rurured4 - I’m gonna need a second part of this one too 🤍

Telemachus strode purposefully through the sprawling palace, the polished marble floors reflecting the flickering light of ornate paintings above. He kept his head held high, a surge of confidence swelling within him, largely inspired by the enchantment of his beloved nymph. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened slightly. He took a moment to adjust his robes, ensuring they concealed the lingering evidence of his erection, before stepping into the grand hall.

As he entered, the sheer scale of the hall enveloped him. Towering columns reached toward the richly painted ceiling. Expansive arches framed breathtaking views of the glistening sea beyond, where the sunlight danced upon the waves like scattered jewels. At the far end of the hall sat the king on his ornate throne, an imposing figure carved from dark mahogany, adorned with gilded accents that gleamed with authority. The king's expression was one of impatience, his brow furrowed, as if he had been anticipating Telemachus’s arrival and was growing weary of waiting.

Telemachus walked across the throne room, stopping at a respectable distance to bow. “King Cesmen,”

“Prince Telemachus,” He scoffed, “Long time.”

“Indeed it has,” Telemachus agreed. “If we may be frank with one another, why have you summoned me for this meeting?”

“I like to think of us… as good neighbours, would you agree?”

“Yes, I would,”

“But you see… I fear for Ithaca.” He said, “To be put simply, I do not have confidence your father will return.”

“My fath-”

“I do, however. Have every faith in your mother.”

“You do?”

“I do, I was begged for your mother’s hand. I still have the scar.” he laughed, “I have every confidence she will hold strong until your father returns, and either way you will be king weather your father returns or not.”

Telemachus hated to hear it, but he knew it was true. “Yes… I… I suppose so.”

“And I want to ensure that comes to pass. It is beneficial for us to have Ithaca a trusted neighbour not ruled by some unknown new master.” He nodded. “So… I offer you a deal.”

“A deal, your grace?”

“Our friendship shall continue as it has, trade, politics and such like shall remain. And we will send a legion of our best men back to Ithaca with you, and put them to the purpose of your queen’s protection and yours.”

“You- Thank you. Thank you your kindness-” Telemachus began trying to hide his joy,

“And in exchange…”

Telemachus froze up. “Yes?”

“I offer you an opportunity to ensure our islands will forever be close neighbours.” He chuckled, “I offer you the hand of my daughter.”

“You- Your daughter.” he choked,

“Yes, I have four. You may choose one whichever you desire. She can return to Ithaca with you and one day be queen by your side.”

Telemachus stood frozen for a moment, struggling to find the right words. He had always understood that a political marriage could be a reality he would have to confront one day. The notion lingered in the back of his mind, his heart heavy with the weight of inevitability. He recognized that he might not enjoy the same romantic freedom his parents had experienced, a privilege granted by love rather than duty. Yet, the realization stung nonetheless, like a bitter reminder of the sacrifices expected of him.

His thoughts drifted to the sweet little nymph waiting in his room, a vision of innocence and enchantment. In that fleeting moment, he entertained the fantastical idea of whisking her away to a life far removed from the burdens of politics and expectation. The image of her laughter echoed in his mind, tempting him with the allure of passion and freedom. But he quickly dismissed the thought, knowing it would be reckless to jeopardize a crucial alliance for the fleeting desires evoked by a girl who had climbed onto his balcony.

He sighed, “May I have time to consider this matter?”

“I have many other matters to attend to…”

“…Fine.” He sighed, “I will wed one of your daughters.”

“Good.” The king chuckled, “Girls!”

A door to the side of the grand throne room creaked open, revealing a trio of strikingly beautiful girls who stepped forward gracefully, each capturing the attention of those present.

The first girl was tall and statuesque, her elegant posture accentuated by a sleek updo that twisted her dark hair into an intricate bun, with a few tendrils artfully framing her delicate face. She wore a stunning red dress that flowed like liquid silk, the fabric shimmering under the soft golden light, hinting at a figure both confident and refined.

Next stood a slightly shorter girl, her vibrant green dress draping softly around her figure, evoking the freshness of spring. Her long braids hung down her back, woven with delicate flowers that added a touch of whimsy to her appearance. Her bright, expressive eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she glanced at her companions.

The third girl, the most striking of them all, let her long, wavy hair cascade freely down her shoulders, framing her features beautifully. She wore a sky-blue dress that seemed to mirror the clear afternoon sky, its soft fabric dancing around her as she moved. There was a serene confidence about her, as if she carried a secret only she knew.

Together, the three stood in a line before the throne, their presence both enchanting and commanding. They bowed in unison,

Telemachus returned their bows, a slight nod of acknowledgment as he studied each girl carefully. Despite their undeniable beauty, he felt no spark of attraction for any of them, a sensation both unsettling and regrettable. But then, as he looked deeper into their eyes, a sudden realization clicked into place. “I- I thought you said you had four daughters?”

“I do.” he nodded, “Oh for- Where’s your little sister!” He complained to the eldest,

She shrugged,

“Ughh… Where is-” but before the king could say another word, the doors that Telemachus had come in through opened wide.

And in she stepped,

Y/n, in her lilac dress and bubble braid, walked in with her head held high.

Telemachus turned and was taken back, about to tell her to go back to the room and wait there like he told her, but-

She walked right past him and bowed to the king,

“Ahh there you are, Y/n.” the king smiled,

She smiled and stood in line with her sisters,

Telemachus’ jaw dropped, his eyes wide as everything fell into place in his mind. SHE WAS THE PRINCESS! He had… he’d… they… his heart racing, thinking of all he had done, all he was… going to do to her. But he couldn’t help being happy, he’d wanted to whisk her away with him, but had been forced to marry for politics, only to find she was a princess he could choose. It certainly made his decision easier.

“So? I don’t have all day.” The king laughed,

“I- If I may your grace, I would be honoured to take the hand of your daughter y/n.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Silver Sands P2

Media - American Housewife Character - Oliver Otto (Bisexual Oliver) Couple - Oliver X ROC Reader - (Requested OC) Junie May Rating - 16 / 17 Word Count - 1366

Oliver followed Junie into the quaint cottage, its exterior covered in a weathered gray clapboard. As he stepped inside, he was greeted by the familiar atmosphere. The small living space was adorned with soft blue walls, while nautical artwork, striking paintings of sailboats, and framed antique maps hung elegantly. Scattered around the room were various trinkets, like seashells and handwoven baskets filled with colorful blankets and cushions, all very typical of a coastal rental.

Oliver and Junie made their way upstairs, their footsteps creaking softly on the wooden stairs, which had been polished smooth from years of use. They headed to the familiar room they always shared.

The room was charmingly compact, adorned with soft blue walls accentuated by textured seashells. A single small window, perfectly positioned opposite the door, framed a picturesque view of the lighthouse. Beneath the window, a petite bedside table held a whimsical starfish-shaped lamp and it housed the lone outlet.

The two single beds, snugly fitted with barely an inch of space between the table, the beds, and the wall, featured plush, fresh pillows that promised comfort after a long day. Each bed was draped with matching sets of quilted pale blue sheets, adorned with charming prints of seahorses, coral formations, and other marine-inspired motifs, all rendered in a slightly deeper blue that added depth to the bedding.

At the foot of the left bed stood a slender wardrobe, its smooth wooden surface reflecting the soft light, while the foot of the right bed was occupied by a chest of drawers topped with a mirror. Above this, a single light fixture hung in the center of the room.

“I always forget how incredibly… nautical everything is in this house.” Oliver scoffed,

“I think it’s cute,” Junie smiled as she tossed her bag on the right side of the bed,

“I suppose it had a charm,” he nodded, tossing his own bag and sat down, pulling his feet up as there was only really space for one person to walk at a time. “So… uhhh…”

“So?” she laughed, tossed her plaid shirt on the bed and started to unpack,

Which didn’t exactly help Oliver in finding any words, as his eyes just kept flicking between, her ass in the shorts and her boobs in the top. “Ugghh yeah-” he forced himself to shake out of his dirty thoughts, “So, uhhh how have things been with you? I haven’t seen you in forever… and we don’t text that much anymore.”

“Yeah, I guess life kinda gets in the way.” She shrugged, “I suppose things have been pretty simple, nothing to report.”

“Really?” he asked, “Nothing at all? Nothing you think might be a good idea to tell me?” he asked, looking her up and down,

She laughed, “I guess, something’s changed.” She turned to face him, resting her hand on her hip,

“Yeah, a couple of things.” he chuckled, “I uhh I think you had a bit of a… change.” he nodded, “Either that or you’ve been replaced by some kind of siren.”

“A siren?” she chuckled, putting her clothes away,

“Yeah, maybe you're secretly a sexy little siren pretending to be Junie.” He smirked. “And when I finally snap and give you a cuddle, you’ll smash the window and drag me into the sea.”

“Sexy?” She laughed, “You sure about that?”

“I know what I said.”

“Don’t you think if I was a siren, Oliver?” she asked, “I would have dragged you into the sea when you climbed out of the car?” she asked, smirking, leaning her hands on this bed between his legs.

He gulped, looking up at her, “Yeah… I, uhh, I guess so.”

“I suppose I just kinda… I don’t know, to figure stuff out. Stopped using the same three-in-one shampoo my brothers do, got some cooler frames, and actually bothered to buy clothes somewhere other then K mart.”

He laughed,

“Ohh, come on, like you're the same?” She raised an eyebrow,

“I have always been a well-dressed, well-groomed young man.”

“Yeah, which is why you looked like you could invest in Apple when you were twelve.”

“And I wish I had, I’d be very rich.”

“But even so, come on? No changes?”

“I… matured.” He nodded. “I… I think we both did, We got better with age.”

“Like fine wines,” she cooed. “So? What have you been up to?” She asked, going back to her unpacking.

“Not much.”

“Oh? No fun, Ballet?” she laughed,

“No… I stopped.”

“Why?” she whined,

He cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders a little, “Ohh uhh, you know the usual stuff, more time for preparing applications.”

“Ooohhh, for Harvard?”

“Yeah, that’s the aim.” he nodded. “Or a fellow Ivy.”

“You’ve always said that,” she smiled, “You’ve been saying that since you were tiny.”

He scoffed, “I know, it’s not as easy now as it was when we were little.”

“The world has changed,” she nodded,

“What about you?”

She shrugged. “Just the normal stuff.”

“Come on, nothing cool?”

“Nope, work and prep.” She nodded. “Building the portfolio with everything they want.”

“You have any plans for where yet or just-”

“Wherever will take me, I guess,” she laughed,

“You’ll get in somewhere amazing! I know it. You’re drawings are amazing,” he smiled, “Always have been.”

“Oh, even my old stick figures you used to collect?”

“I have a bunch of signed and dated Junie originals. When you are a big and famous artist, I will be sitting on a small fortune.”

“In stick figures? And awful perspective trees?”

“They are signed and dated. They will be worth millions.” he nodded. “Besides, I’m gonna have loads of your pieces, I have to make sure I have at least one of each of your collections.”

She laughed tossing her bag under the bed, “I know, I know. Our crayon contract is still legally binding.”

“Exactly! You get a high-value sale, which will drive up all your art’s value, and I get to keep my millions in assets rather than cash to avoid tax.”

“Yeah, every April, I’ll get a call, Hey Junie, I need to write off six million on my taxes this year; send me over some art, and I’ll get it appraised at that to donate to a museum.”

“And we all win,” he smirked,

“But no work this week.”

“No? Not even some cute seaside pictures?”

“Nope. Just fun!” She smiled, jumping to sit in Oliver’s lap for a hug. “Just fun this week … with you.”

Oliver’s eyes went wide, his body freezing up, blood rushing south immediately! He grabbed her hips out of pure panicked reaction. His eyes fluttered a couple of times in shock at being so close to her and having her chest pressed against his own. Like yeah! Junie used to sit on Oliver’s lap all the time when they were kids! He coughed and shook himself out of his dirty imagination and smiled at her, “Yeah, just fun. With you,” he agreed, his eyes absentmindedly flicking down to her lips, his smile growing so wide and his face flushing a deep crimson, “I- I really have missed you, Junie.”

“I did too,” she cooed, rubbing her nose on his like they used to when they were kids,

A strange silence enveloped them, hanging in the air like a soft blanket. It was a little awkward, the kind of stillness that often leaves one searching for words, yet it was also infused with an unexpected warmth that made them both feel at ease. The subtle crashing of the waves outside punctuated the quiet, while the gentle scent of their similar cologne and perfume lingered between them.

“So? You wanna unpack?” Junie asked, breaking their silence,

“Ohh ughhh yeah, I’ll I uhh I’ll unpack now.” Oliver stuttered,

She nodded, climbing off his lap and sitting cross-legged on her bed,

Oliver stood and unzipped his bag to start unpacking.

“And maybe this year, can you not steal all the hot water in the shower?”

“I did not! Taylor did! It was cold when I got in there!” He protested, “Ohh! And this year, no matter how much you beg, you’re cold. You are not climbing into my bed to use me for warmth.”

“We’ll see.” she nodded,

He playfully glared at her, even if he… maybe did kinda want her sneaking into his bed for a cuddle this year.

[the-fiction-witch]

Scholarly Hands

Media - Rings Of Power Character - Elrond Couple - Elrond X Reader Reader - Y/n (Círdan’s daughters) Rating - 12+ Word Count - 1108

Elrond stood in the dimly lit workshop as the sun sank lower in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the sea, its gentle waves lapping against the shore. His robes, tattered and frayed from the fall he had taken days ago, hung loosely on his frame. In his grip was a sanding block, its worn surface rough from countless hours of labour, as he focused intently on smoothing one of the hull beams for a new ship being constructed. The scent of wood shavings filled the air. Fortunately, the late hour meant he was alone, able to delve into his task without interruption.

Suddenly, a sharp sting jolted him as another splinter lodged itself in his finger. He hissed softly, cursing under his breath as he dropped the sanding block, the sound of it thudding against the wooden floor echoing in the stillness. He examined his finger closely, trying to coax the stubborn slither from his flesh with his other hand.

Just as he was about to give in to frustration, a light giggle floated through the open wall, breaking the silence and catching him off guard. Elrond looked up, his brow furrowing in curiosity as he spotted one of Círdan’s daughters, Y/n, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in fitted leather trousers that hugged her legs, sturdy boots laced up to her calves, and a striking blue surcote adorned with intricate laces down the front. Her hair was expertly styled in a tight braided updo, a. As she leaned against the threshold, a playful smile danced on her lips, offering a stark contrast to the solitary ambience of the workshop. “Struggling Herald Elrond?”

“Somewhat.” He sighed,

She joyfully climbed up and excitedly came over. “Let me see,”

“It’s nothing,” he said dismissively,

“Please, let me see.”

He gingerly laid his weathered hand in hers, his fingers trembling slightly as he chewed on the inside of his cheek, attempting to suppress the discomfort that gnawed at him from within.

She offered him a soft smile, her eyes warm and inviting as she examined his hand closely. “Four or five, not too many for your first day’s work,” she remarked in a soothing tone, her fingers deftly pulling out the numerous tiny splinters that dotted his palm. Each careful extraction was accompanied by a gentle touch,

“How many is average for a first day?”

“Ummm… well, usually one or two.” She said quietly,

“So much worse,”

“The elves my father brings into his workshops, have been sanding, hammering and planning for… a hundred years before he lets them make a mark on one of his beloved ships.” she explained, “You are a great help,”

“I wanted to do something, feel as though I have invaded your life here.”

“You have not,”

“But I still feel I have.” he said, “I ran from our king, now I invade your father’s work.”

“With good reason.” she said, “You were right to be fearful, there is no sign yet that what you believed will not come to pass.”

“Your father wears one of the three.”

“I know.”

“You fear for him.”

“I fear for all those in Middle Earth.” she nodded before she tapped his hand arm softly and changed the subject, “You are too rough.”

“With the wood?”

“Something like that,” She smiled, reaching down to take the sanding block from the floor and setting it back beside his hand, “Hummm you have those soft scholarly hands,”

He chuckled,

“You haven’t the calluses, that’s all.”She cooed softly, her voice warm and inviting, as she leaned closer to him. A playful smile danced on her lips before she began to run her delicate fingers across the lines of his palm, tracing the gentle curves and creases with a tender touch. Each glide of her fingertips sent a shiver of electricity through him, a touch both soothing and tantalizing, awakening a sense of intimacy between them. “You feel, too strong not even a sword can break this.”

He smiled as he felt the rough callous skin of her fingers, weathered by years of hard work and sun exposure, each bump and groove telling a story of strength. The warmth of her hand contrasted with the cool twilight air, and as he traced the faint lines etched into her palm, he found comfort in the history they showed. “I am very confident I could take the strongest dwarven battle axe to your hand without a single break in your skin.”

“I have had all my life, working at my father’s side to build them.” She explained,

“A training and time I lack.”

“Yes, but… I can barely read in Quenya. I cannot even write out more than a few notes before my writing becomes a mess of scribbled ink like someone allowed a frog to hop across the page.”

He laughed again,

“A training, and time that I lack. On such a skill.” She said, as she softly took his hand, “Some of us, have spent our lives thus far, sanding, hammering and building to earn the callus skin and angled movements to avoid splinters. And some of us have spent our lives thus far creating tapestries of literary magic, details and words to form the most perfect of speeches.”

“You want me to return,” he sighed,

“Some of us have builders' hands, and some of us scholar’s hands.” she smiled, “We should not trade what we have. As the ones around us, so desperate need the ones we have. Don’t you agree, Elrond?”

“I do,” he nodded, “Thank you Y/n,”

“You’re welcome,” she smiled, “Here.” she giggled softly, leaning down to press gentle, tender kisses along the delicate skin where she had carefully removed the splinters. Each kiss was light and soothing, a sweet balm for his discomfort.

Elrond felt his cheeks flush a deep crimson as he watched her, a mix of embarrassment and affection swirling within him. His pulse quickened, and he gulped slightly, acutely aware of the warmth radiating from her soft lips against his skin. The sensation lingered, leaving his hand feeling wonderfully tingly,

“That should help them heal.”

“I ughh ummm thank you…”

“You’re very welcome,” She smiled softly, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as she turned on her heels, her footsteps light and purposeful as she made her way toward the worn wooden doors of the workshop.

Elrond watched her retreating figure, the sunlight catching the strands of her hair, illuminating her silhouette. Lost in thought, he mulled over her words, their weight settling heavily in his mind. Deep down, he knew she was right—her insight cut through his doubts like a blade, leaving him with a renewed sense of clarity. He knew what he must do, even if he was hesitant to do it.

[the-fiction-witch]

Chess Story

Media - The Queens Gambit Character - Benny Watts Couple - Benny X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 17 Word Count - 1100

Benny laid on his side as he struggled to catch his breath. He was beyond exhausted after the hour and a half of intense exercise. His arm was draped over Y/n’s waist, his bare chest was against her back and his chin against her shoulder. He did his best not to grip her too tightly, as much as he wanted to bundle her up and squeeze her till she squealed. He held back, knowing not everyone always likes a cuddle, his mind flooding with memories of elbows to the stomach and grumbling to ‘get off’ when he incorrectly guested his partners wanted a cuddle. But he couldn’t help it, to him, their intimacy was special, and he wanted to show how it extended beyond the sexual and just keep her in his arms a little while longer, make her feel loved and appreciated, given words were… not going to be coming out his mouth for a decent while. He wanted to kiss her shoulder but held back just slowing his breathing as he enjoyed their closeness and her comforting scent.

The sheets felt silkier than usual, draped just so as to keep them warm and a little concealed but not enough to smother their sweaty bodies with heat. The dark apartment was broken only by the orange lamp on Benny’s bedside table and the occasional flash from lightning through the basement’s windows. The pattering of rain became a melody against the little windows, casting shadows across the living room floor and through the bedroom window onto their bodies. Their breaths slowed back to normality gradually, with the only other sound the soft hiss of the record player in the living room. The record long since finished, the needle returning to its place automatically once it found the centre, and stopping the spin. Leaving now only a small hum of the machine waiting for a new record, or to be turned off.

Benny wanted to speak up; he had a hundred things he wanted to ask her… mostly what this all meant. They obviously liked one another, or at least he hoped she liked him considering what they had just done, so at the very least, she must… like something about him. Or at least she is not repulsed by him. But he felt strange about it, unsure where to go now. Was she his girlfriend? Were they romantically involved? Are they just fucking? Was this a one-time thing or… He had no idea what to say to her, so his mind simply did as it always does. Reverts to what he knows.

“You should play defensive with Marco.”

“Hummm?” She mumbled,

“Nothing.” He bailed on what he was going to say, “Don’t worry about it…”

“You sure? What was it?”

“I uhh just saying how you should play defensive next time you go with Marco.”

“Umm… it would be a good idea,” she answered before she shifted and wiggled.

Benny immediately felt a little rejected, knowing he’d messed up by opening his mouth to talk about chess, and was about to lose his comfy cuddle.

But Y/n shifted and rolled over to face him, her little hands slipped around his waist, and her nose burrowed into his sternum rubbing her face against his bare chest, “Humm, tell me a chess game, Benny,”

He was, rightly shocked, And a little confused. He’d tried talking chess in bed to literal grand masters and kicked out of bed for it! He slowly tightened his arms around her and rubbed his stubbly chin on her head. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “A chess game story,”

“You want me, to lay here with you and tell you a chess story?” he asked in utter disbelief,

“Do you not want to?”

“No! No… I… I would love to tell you a chess story. I just.. Wanna be sure you want me to start what may be a like an hour story?”

“I’m sure,”

“And you’re not just saying that to placate me?”

“No,” she answered, “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I’ll-”

“Sorry, I uhh just- not expecting that.” he laughed a little, “You want to lay here, with me? Cuddling. And telling chess stories? That is what you want?”

She simply pulled the covers over her shoulder and held him a little tighter, “You may begin,”

He blinked a few times and shook himself out of his stupid brain, tightening his arms around her and kissing the top of her head, “Okay.” he smiled wider than he had for months, his heart felt so warm and he’d never felt cosier with anyone before.

He began a story, about a recent tournament as usual going into an insane level of detail about things, running off on long tangents as he told it. But Y/n didn’t care, she happily cuddled close to Benny’s chest listening to him talk. Every so often she’d comment or ask little questions which always made him feel even happier knowing she was engaged in what he was saying not just ignoring his rambles. Every so often he would press a little kiss to her hair or forehead, secretly checking she hadn’t fallen asleep always expecting that she had or that she’d move away but she was always awake and always accepting of his little kisses. After a while, she took one hand away but only because how they were lying was making it go numb, so he took her hand in his allowing them both to play with each other’s fingers above the sheets.

Benny’s rambling lasted long into the early morning the sunrise peaking in through the windows, making them laugh and decide it was actually time to sleep. They both got settled in a comfortable position to sleep still bundled in each other’s arms happily.

His smile was so wide and he felt so warm, cosy and happy he couldn’t help but whisper softly to her, “Y/n?”

“Yes Benny?” she yawned,

“… I really like you,” He said,

“Umm I like you too,” she giggled,

“And you know when I say I-”

She laughed, “Romanticly. I know.” she nodded, “I like you too,”

“…Okay.” He smiled fixing some hair behind her ear and pressing a kiss to her nose, “Do… do you wanna be my girlfriend? Like actually, properly, My girlfriend?”

“I’d like that very much,” she cooed, “So long as you're my boyfriend,”

“There is nothing I can imagine wanting more,” He cooed,

“Ummm, goodnight Benny,”

“Goodnight Y/n,”

Y/n soon fell into her sleep, beginning her soft little wheezes.

Benny couldn’t help but smile down at her, giving her one more kiss before he snuggled up tight and drifted off to sleep.

[the-fiction-witch]

Who Should Move Out Into Their Own Book?

The Additional Character book is starting to grow a little too large as there has been an influx of newer characters. I have made a little poll for you all to cast your votes. And put the current Fic number next to them too, (Some of which have not yet been posted).

[the-fiction-witch]

The Shop Opens Once More

[the-fiction-witch]

Cooking

Media - Lockwood & Co. Character - Anthony Lockwood (Age up) Couple - Anthony X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 18 + (hj/ kissing) Word Count - 783

The early morning light filtered gently through the kitchen window, casting a soft glow on the tile floor as Anthony stirred from a deep sleep. It was peculiar for him to wake up at such an hour, his body usually craved those extra hours of slumber. Yet, a mighty craving pulled him from bed.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he shuffled to the refrigerator. The cool air hit his face as he opened the door, revealing shelves filled with potential. He decided to indulge in a classic fry-up, a hearty breakfast he had been dreaming about.

He began to gather his ingredients, a pack of sizzling bacon, a dozen eggs, some golden-brown sausages, and a carton of mushrooms. The clock on the wall glared at him, its hands pointing to four AM, but that didn’t deter his appetite.

With practiced ease, he set about preparing his feast. He ensured the smoke alarm’s battery was removed, a precaution he’d learned after a few too many early morning misadventures in the kitchen. Now, with a pan heating on the stove, the enticing smell of frying bacon began to waft through the air, making his stomach rumble in response.

Anthony found himself looming over the skillet, the sight of the bacon sizzling and curling at the edges nearly overwhelming him with desire. He could almost smell the rich, smoky aroma enveloping him like a warm blanket, and he felt a distinct urge to lick his lips in anticipation.

A soft creaking sound broke the quiet of the room, drawing his attention. He turned his gaze just in time to see Y/n making her way down the staircase, her movements slightly sluggish as she navigated the steps. She wore a long, cozy grey t-shirt that nearly reached her knees, Her hair was thrown up into a messy bun, stray strands falling gently around her face,

A warm smile spread across his lips as he took in the sight of her, comforting and familiar in the early morning light.

“Hey sleepy,” he laughed, “What are you doing up so-” He began,

But Y/n silently wrapped her arms around his torso, laying her head against his back,

“-Oh… Y/n…uhhh…” He was taken aback, so surprised by her actions, “Good morning sleepy girl.” he smiled, “Would you like some toast?”

She shook her head,

“No? Some bacon?”

She shook her head again,

“Alright, an egg then?”

She shook her head again moving closer and pressing her whole body against his back,

“-Oh… Hello.” He chuckled, “If you’re so sleepy go back to bed, sugar.”

She shook her head one final time before she rubbed her cheek on his back and feel asleep,

“Alright, stay there then.” he shook his head and continued his focus on the food,

After a while, he noticed Y/n’s hands… wondering, but he didn’t think much of it merely assuming it was just her moving them absentmindedly in her sleep, nothing to stress over. Her hands rubbed up and down his cotton shirt as if learning all his curves and crevices.

Anthony scoffed and continued with his cooking barely paying much attention to her, other than doing his best to use his hands whenever the pan spat oil to ensure she didn’t burn her fingers.

But he soon noticed her hands trailing… downward. Slipping down his stomach rubbing his rumbling belly before stroking across his boxer shorts.

“Oh-” he gasped, “Y/n?” he tested trying to see if she was awake,

No response came,

He moved her hands up to his stomach again, “Up here while I’m cooking sugar.” he tapped her hand softly before returning focus to his food,

She whined a little and kept sliding her hands down no matter how many times Anthony pushed them up again,

Anthony focused for a moment working with the knife to perfectly separate the mushrooms from their steams, when he felt her hands slip down his chest and actually into his boxers. He gasped, “Y/n… Y/n…” He muttered, “I uhh…”

Y/n took a soft grip of his half-hard cock and began to softly stroke, “Ummmmm…”

“Y/n… I’m cooking…” he gasped, as his cock began to harden into her grip,

“Mhm,” she nodded, getting faster

“Fuck-” he cursed before he set his stuff down, he pulled out her hand and turned to face her, “At least let me finish with using knives and hot oil, I don’t want you to get your little hands hurt.” He cooed lifting her waist and walking her back to sit her on the kitchen table. “Okay?”

“Okay…” she yawned, nuzzling into his neck.

“Good, I won’t be long I promise.” He cooed kissing her forehead and going back to his cooking,

“Then snuggles?”

“I promise Y/n, all the snuggles you want as soon as I’m done cooking.”

[the-fiction-witch]

Little Dragon

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Daemon Targaryen Couple - Daemon X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n Targaryen (Neice) Rating - 17 / 18 Word Count - 756

Y/n hummed a gentle melody as she sat at her ornate vanity, the soft fabric of her robe draping elegantly around her shoulders. The forenoon light filtered through the delicate lace curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. As she carefully brushed her long hair, the strands glimmered like spun silver, cascading down her back.

Just then, the heavy wooden door of the bedchamber creaked open and then closed softly behind Daemon, allowing his presence to fill the space. Y/n’s gaze flicked toward him in the mirror, her heart fluttering as a smile graced her lips. She admired the way his tousled hair fell effortlessly across his forehead, and the confident way he carried himself as he stepped further into the room.

“Good Evening, Uncle”

“Evening,” he chuckled, “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, little dragon.” He leaned down, a tender smile playing on his lips as he gently kissed her hair, inhaling the faint scent of flowers and warmth that clung to her. As he straightened up, his fingers swept beneath the folds of fabric behind him, producing a breathtaking gown.

The gown was a masterpiece, flowing seamlessly to the ground in a rich, deep blood red that shimmered softly in the light. Its intricate design featured gently scaled textures that mirrored dragon scales, The fabric was adorned with soft, luxurious black velvet. Long, puffed Juliette sleeves embellished the gown, their delicate cutouts revealing the smooth black velvet beneath, creating an enchanting play of light and shadow. Glinting accents of Valyrian steel adorned the gown; chains, buttons, and other ornate hardware provided a touch of regality, making it clear that this was no ordinary dress but a garment fit for a queen. The ensemble was an exquisite blend of strength and softness, a true reflection of the essence she carried within.

Y/n gasped, “Huuuu! For me?”

“Yes for you.” he nodded, “Come on. I’ll help you.”

She let out a soft giggle, excitement bubbling within her as she sprang up from her seat. With a quick flick of her wrist, she brushed her hair back into place, trying to gather her composure as she stood infront of him.

Daemon, a mischievous glint in his eyes, didn’t hesitate. He reached out and effortlessly pulled the robe from her shoulders, watching it cascade to the floor like a whisper, leaving her feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated under his gaze.

A slight shiver ran down her spine, not just from the cool air around her, but from the intensity of his eyes as they roamed over her figure, taking in every curve. Heat flooded her cheeks, painting her skin with a rosy hue as she felt his gaze lingering on her.

His fingers, warm and gentle, glided over her body, tracing paths along her tender skin. The sensation sent tingles across her, a mixture of anticipation and sweetness sweeping over her. As he began to help her into the dress, each delicate movement felt intimate. He took hold of the flowing gown, its fabric shimmering softly in the light, and gently guided it into place over her slender shoulders. With meticulous care, he began to lace the delicate ties at the back, ensuring each pull was even and precise. As he worked, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her bare neck, leaving warm, tender kisses that sent shivers down her spine. The intimate moment deepened as he finally finished lacing the gown. Wrapping his strong arms around her waist, he pulled her close, enveloping her in a warm embrace that spoke of both comfort and affection, squeezing gently.

“There we are, now you look the part of a Targaryen Princess.”

“You think so?”

“I see a very beautiful little dragon in front of me.” He cooed, kissing her cheek, “Now, let’s allow those lowly lords a single look at such beauty, remind them just how far they must reach to even kiss our boots.”

“Are- are you sure I’m ready uncle?” she asked turning to face him,

“You are a Targaryen Princess. You were born for this.” he cooed, caressing her cheek and pulling her in for an intense kiss, “Come along, little dragon.” he smirked, taking her by the hand to lead her down to the throne room.

[the-fiction-witch]

Bellamy Burne Of Brownhollow

Media - House Of The Dragon AU Character - Gwayne Hightower Couple - Gwayne X Reader (OC) Reader - Bellamy Burne Rating - 15 Word Count - 842

Gwayne felt unsure about all this, but he stood by and watched. As Cristen Cole marched lord after lord before the block, demanding allegiance or death beside the destroyed castle.

Many did bend the knee to Aegon, young boys too scared to fight a war and afraid to die.

The men who didn’t were old, had seen battle before and were ready to die for their stubborn ways.

The last lord was forced to the block by Cole’s men, forced down to his knees with a clatter of his oversized armour marked with the brown muddy print of a bear.

“You have lost? You see the men you fought beside have sworn to their rightful king. Swear now. And keep your head.” Cristen barked,

No reply came,

“Speak!”

No reply came,

“The hand of the king is addressing you, give your answer boy will you swear your alliance to King Aegon?” Gwayne asked,

The lord sat up proudly and removed his helm.

Revealing smooth and soft skin pattered with blood, cracked broken lips, large, intense eyes that stared them down with unwavering confidence, and long brown curls cascading down.

“No.” was the answer,

“State your name,” Gwayne asked rather confused at the sight before him,

“Bellamay… Bellamy Burne of Brownhollow,” she answered,

“A girl?” Cole spat, “A woman was foolish enough to march into battle against us?”

“A girl. Is the one who knocked you ass first off your horse.” She snapped,

Gwayne couldn’t help but let a smile crack in the corner of his face,

“I am the lady of my house. And I would not dream to send my men away to fight my wars, without being stood beside them every step of the way.” She explained, “Which is more than I can say for your usurper.”

“You will be silent, girl.” Cole slapped her across her cheek, “You are speaking to the hand of the king.”

She didn’t fall, didn’t flinch. She narrowed her eyes and spat the blood from her mouth into his face. Getting a cheer from her men, “The king shits. And the hand wipes. Best hand him a tissue, Ser.”

Gwayne scoffed a little unable to hold back his smile,

“Ser Gwayne. I would appreciate you not encouraging her.” Cole snapped to him as he wiped the blood away,

“Of course,” he nodded,

“I will ask you again girl. Will you be smart and swear to the Rightful King.”

“I fight only for the grace of Queen Rhaynera.” she snapped,

“If you do not swear you will die!”

“You think my life is some grand gift to me? I was ready for my death a long time ago, I have witnessed it far more than you will ever comprehend. I made my peace with the stranger and I will take his hand as an old friend.” She explained, “I live to fight by the grace of my queen! I live as the lady of my house! And should I fall, my Nephewes will follow until House Brune is nothing but ashes and BrownHollow is a relic.”

Cole scoffed, “Perhaps your Nephew’s will be smarter.” He took her by the arm and forced her to the block coated already with the blood of so many others.

“Cole.” Gwayne snapped, “You cannot execute her.”

“Why not?”

“She is a lady.”

“She took up arms against our king,”

“I know that. But you will make an enemy of all of the Crownlands if you execute the last lady of a knightly family. Perhaps all of Westeros. You cannot kill her.”

“Whatever she is. Whoever she is. She dawned armour and took up arms against our king. Our terms simple, not my fault she is too foolish to understand.” he spat, “I give you one final grace, Lady of Brune.” he sighed, “Bend the knee and swear yourself, your house and your men to King Aegon. And take up arms with us against the whore of dragon stone. And you’re life will be spared.”

She scoffed and met his eyes, “The whore of Dragon stone shall raise herself an army of Bastards, Whores, the downtrodden of this world.” she said, “And The Whore of Brownhollow will follow her into the flames, in this life. And the next.”

“So be it.” Cole nodded,

“My lord hand.” Gwayne snapped, “You cannot do this.”

“Will you stop me Ser Gwayne?”

“If I must.” he warned, “You cannot do this. You will make her a marta, her men will rally, The crownlands will rise against you, and Westeros with them. She is better a prisoner.”

Cole spat, “Fine. But her life is tied with yours. She is your responsibility. On your head be it.” Before he marched to his horse,

“Arise Lady Brune.” Gwayne offered her his hand,

She sighed and took his hand to lift herself to her feet, but grabbed his arm tightly and pulled his face to hers, “Call me Lady Again I’ll break your nose.”

“Understood.” he snapped forcing his arm from her grip, “what then? Whore of Brownhollow?”

“Bellamay.”

“Bellamay it is.” He nodded, “Then Gwayne I insist.”

She nodded and followed his lead into the camp.

[the-fiction-witch]

By Your Side

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 12 Word Count - 714

Y/n perched on a small, worn seat just outside the heavy door, her fingers nervously picking at her chipped nails, a habit she had developed over the long hours of waiting. With every tick of time, she meticulously counted each person who entered and exited the room, noting their expressions and footsteps, gauging whether they carried good or bad news.

As the hours stretched on, an overwhelming sense of urgency compelled her to glance around, ensuring that the hallway was empty and silent. When she felt the coast was clear, adrenaline surged through her veins, propelling her to her feet in a swift motion. She pushed the door open, her heart pounding in her chest, and slipped inside, desperate to remain unseen. The moment Y/n crossed the threshold, her breath caught in her throat, a gasp escaping her lips as the sight unfolded before her. It was everything she had longed for, and yet it shattered her heart simultaneously. As she stepped closer, her heart ached with a mix of hope and dread.

Aegon lay in a bed meticulously arranged with fresh linens and neatly organized supplies—bandages and ointments positioned close at hand. Delicate silk curtains draped low around the bed, casting soft shadows that shielded him from the harsh light of the room. Aegon's body was marked by the cruel gift of dragon fire; his skin was marred with burns and painful lesions that glistened under the soft light. Each bandage hugged his form tightly, a stark reminder of his suffering, while the blankets were drawn up snugly around him, a feeble attempt to bring comfort against the chill that hung in the air.

Y/n fought back tears as she took in the sight, her emotions a tumultuous storm within her, torn between wanting to rush to his side and the fear of overwhelming him in his fragile state. "Ohh... Aegon," she sighed before she slowly made her way over to his bedside. She pulled a chair to his side and took a seat gently looming closer too afraid to touch his hand,

"Wh-why are you here?" Aegon gasped between his painful breaths,

"I wanted to see you," She answered,

"...You shouldn't have come,"

"I know... but I did."

"If my mother or my brother finds you here."

"I do not care." she answered, "I want to be by your side Aegon."

"You truly do?" he asked, 

"Of course," 

"I have no gold to give you, no wine, I don't even have a cock to you to bounce on,"

She smiled, "Regardless, I want to be by your side. You are hurt and if I can be any comfort then I will be here until you no longer need me." she explained, "Do you want me to go?"

"...No, please."

"Then I will stay," 

A smile broke softly across his lips, "Thank you, Y/n." he slowly moved his weak hand, his burnt fingers trembling as he held it out,

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you..."

"I will take the pain," he said, "if it means I can hold you."

She beamed with joy, her eyes sparkling as she reached out to gently grasp his hand. Her touch was tender as if she were handling something precious, and she made sure to wrap her fingers around his with care, ensuring he felt comforted and at ease. As she held his hand, a warm sense of connection enveloped them, deepening the moment between them.

"Will you stay with me?" he begged,

"By your side." she nodded, "As long as you need me,"

"And if... I will forever need you?"

"Then I will forever be by your side." She smiled as she pressed a soft kiss to his hand, 

"My sweet angel... if I am to die... I want it to be in your arms." he weakly pleaded, 

"You will not die, Aegon," she cooed, "I will make sure of it."

"You cannot stop the stranger." 

"I will fight him off myself if I must. To let you stay with me a moment longer."

"I adore you, sweet angel."

"As do I, my King." she cooed, "Now, get some rest I promise I will be here by your side as long as I can." 

"You can stay if anyone comes and tries to remove them. Wake me. I want you here with me." 

"You're sure?"

"I am certain my angel." 

[the-fiction-witch]

Scream

Media - EPIC The Musical Saga Character - Prince Telemachus Of Ithaca Couple - Telemachus X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n (Betrothal) Rating - 18+ (Princess / Masturbation/ fingering/ lap sitting/ nudity) Word Count - 1621

Telemachus Art - Gigi

Telemachus wandered through the grand halls of the palace, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors as he sought to evade the boisterous suitors who had taken over his home. The golden rays of the setting sun spilt through the ornate windows, casting a warm, amber glow that bathed the rooms in a tranquil twilight. Shadows danced along the walls, creating an almost ethereal aura. Suddenly, he paused, his senses heightened as a sound broke the serenity, drawing his attention and igniting his curiosity.

“Telemachus!”

At first, he feared his mother needed his help because of the suitors, but he knew that wasn’t her voice. He knew that voice. That was the voice of the princess Y/n! Telemachus’ own betrothal. So of course, when he heard her voice shout for him he dropped any hesitation and began to run toward her chambers.

He reached the door, his heart pounding in his chest, and instead of knocking, he flung it open with a swift motion. In one fluid gesture, he drew his sword, as his gaze swiftly scanned the room for any signs of danger.

Y/n was sitting against the headboard of her bed, her wide eyes shimmering with fear. The clutter of her bags and trunks lay strewn across the room, remnants of her hasty arrival, untouched and waiting to be unpacked. The heavy curtains were drawn shut, casting shadows. She had curled her legs tightly against her chest, trying to shield herself, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

Seeing her like this panicked Telemachus even more and he made a quick dash to the windows to check the printer. But then he turned to her, his face showing how worried he truly was for her safety, "Y/n! What happened? Are you hurt?"

"no… No ughh it ughh it's nothing…" She blushed,

His eyes softened, as he set his sword away and came to her bedside, "It wasn’t a nightmare, was it?"

"No. I - I promise it was nothing Telemachus … You - you didn't need to come and-"

Telemachus shook his head quickly, "Of course I came! I heard you scream and-"

"no! No I- I didn't… I didn't think you'd hear me." She nervously admitted,

Telemachus gave a long sigh, equal parts relief and frustration, and rubbed his hand across his brow before looking at her again, "Why did you scream then…?"

"…ughhh …." She blushed hard unsure if she should admit it,

A small smirk spread across Telemachus’ face. He scooted further onto the bed and moved so that he was sitting right next to her, “Come on. Just tell me.”

Y/n tried to put some space between them bundling her sheets around her waist tightly,

Telemachus noticed and leaned over, a playful smile on his face, "Don't tell me you're embarrassed. All you did was call out my name.”

Y/n met his eyes and her cheeks red. Her gaze gave more than words ever could.

His gaze pierced right through her. "Were you…saying my name…in pleasure?"

Y/n scoffed, "What? No no no of course i-" She tried to lie but his gaze meant he knew and she couldn't hide it anymore. "…yes."

Hearing her admit it, Telemachus leaned in even closer, "And what were you doing while you said my name, my Princess?"

"… I feel I don't need to answer that." She sighed,

Telemachus laughed softly and pulled her onto his lap.

She squealed at the sudden lift. Her face went red. She settled her hands onto his shoulders looking into his eyes,

He wrapped one arm around her waist and tilted her chin up with his free hand, "You're right. I do know what you were doing…" He leaned in, his lips just a whisper away from her ear "You were…imagining it was me touching you…" Telemachus’ hands ran up and down her body, as he held her tight. "You couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to have my hands all over your body, could you…?"

She gulped and nodded,

Telemachus chuckled softly, a wicked gleam in his eye, "You imagined that it was me making you feel all sorts of things, didn't you…?"

She nodded again her face bright red,

Telemachus leaned in even closer, his lips brushing the side of her neck, his hands still roaming across her body, "And those little noises you were making…you were imagining me making you moan…"

“Yes…”

Telemachus hummed in satisfaction. She looked so sweet, sitting there in his lap in just her dress, face red and blushing. Telemachus’ hand moved to her thigh, sliding up under the fabric to her bare skin. "You were just having your fun by yourself, but you want it to be my hands on your body, don't you?"

"Yes …" Y/n blushed,

He traced circles on her inner thigh, inching higher and higher, "If you'd just told me, I could've been the one to make you feel good." He nipped her neck gently, "Instead of imagining it was me, you could've just taken the real thing."

"We- we shouldn't…" She said holding his wrist still before he went any higher, "We- we aren't wed yet…"

Telemachus chuckled, "Is that all? You let me inside your bedchambers, you let me onto your bed, you let me pull you into my lap…and suddenly you're concerned with what is proper?" He gripped her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin.

She gasped her eyes widening as she felt Telemachus move his hand higher regardless of her grip on his wrist. And begin to touch as she had. Almost immediately Y/n melted Into his arms her body slumping so perfectly into his,

Telemachus laughed in satisfaction as he felt her give herself to him. His hand moved ever higher under her dress and began to tease her in all the most sensitive places, stroking her lips and clit, "See, that’s a good girl…" He bit her shoulder, his other hand moving to push aside the fabric of her dress

She hummed and laid her head on his shoulder biting and sucking on his neck to muffle her moans,

His grip on her tightened and Telemachus let out a moan of his own. Her teeth on his neck, the feeling of her body in his arms, the sound of his name on her lips…it all felt so right to him. His hand moved even higher, rubbing hard on her clit continuing to pleasure her. He shifted, lifting her up with him so that she was fully straddling his lap, "You need to be quiet now. We wouldn't want any of those suitors to come and investigate all that noise coming from these chambers, do we, princess?"

She shook her head nervously,

"Good girl." His free hand went to the laces of her dress, tugging at them to loosen the fabric and expose more of her body to him,

She whined softly as quietly as she could trying not to make too much noise,

Telemachus smirked and continued to loosen her dress until it fell apart, leaving her naked. He took a moment to admire the sight before him, his hand pausing until he was satisfied, "You're so beautiful…I've wanted to see you like this for so so long…" He pushed her down onto the bed, straddling her. His hands pinned her wrists above her head as he leaned over her, his body pressing down onto hers. "You need to be quiet, remember? All these suitors around and you'd let them hear the sounds you make for me?"

She whined softly squirming in her bed kicking her feet a little as she danced on the very edge of pleasure,

His gaze was hungry as he looked down at her. The sounds she was making, the way she squirmed, it was doing all sorts of things to him. His face was so close to hers, that he could feel her heavy breathing on his skin. He leaned down and bit her neck, wanting to hear more as he increased his ministrations with his hand, "Hush now princess…you don't want the suitors outside wondering why you're making those noises, do you?"

She whined, her eyes rolling back as she whispered his name, "Telemachus…"

His name on her lips was like heaven to him. He nipped her neck again, his teeth just barely biting into her skin, "Good girl…say my name again princess…"

"Telemachus…" She whined a little louder,

His hand moved a little bit faster as if to reward her. He pressed his body down against hers to keep her quiet. "Shhh…not so loud princess…if the suitors hear you they'll know how good I make you feel…how much you're enjoying this…"

Before she could say another word it happened. She grabbed Telemachus by the hair and pulled his lips to hers, kissing him hard to muffle her moans as she came. Y/n then pulled back and collapsed down on the bed, her body falling on the sheets concealing nothing of her body. Her skin flushed, her breaths jagged and a dark wet spot on the sheets below her.

Telemachus groaned, He knelt, staring down at her with clear desire in his gaze. A sly smirk appeared on his face, his voice teasing, "Careful princess, now the sheets are all wet."

"I- I- I'm… sorry…"

Telemachus chuckled, "Don't apologize princess. You gave me a wonderful show. You're so beautiful, all laid out on your bed for me…" He traced his hand along her bare flesh, his touch trailing from her waist, up her stomach, to her chest. His gaze wandered, admiring the way the candlelight danced across the curves of her body, the way her skin looked flawless in the light. He leaned down and planted kisses along her neck.

She blushed and giggled a little, "Could you stay? For a little while my prince?"

Telemachus hummed in satisfaction at her words "Of course princess, I'm not done with you yet anyway." he growled before pulling her into an intense kiss,

[the-fiction-witch]

Cold?

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Cregan Stark Couple - Cregan X Reader Reader - Y/n (Southern Wife) Rating - 17 (Nudity) Word Count - 1004

As I slowly stirred beneath the weighty furs. I rubbed the sleep from my heavy-lidded eyes and, with a gentle but firm movement, pushed Cregan's warm hand away from my waist. The chill of the morning air prickled against my skin as I slipped out from beneath the covers. I wrapped my fur robe tightly around my naked body, its softness a small solace against the biting cold.

With a quick, cautious motion, I lifted my feet from the woven rug, making a light leap onto the unforgiving stone floor. The chill of the stones sent a shiver racing up my spine, prompting me to hunch over the flickering flames of the hearth. I rubbed my arms briskly, seeking warmth as I felt the cool air swirl around me.

As I settled before the crackling fire, my gaze drifted to the window, where delicate snowflakes danced through the air, their gentle descent a mesmerizing sight. Each flake was a delicate crystal, glistening in the early light, making the outside world into a serene winter wonderland.

Taking a deep breath to gather my courage, I steeled myself for the chill beyond the warmth of the hearth. With resolve, I made my way to the wardrobe.

I began by taking out a cosy pair of grey woollen stockings, their surface soft and slightly textured. Carefully, I pulled them up my legs until they reached mid-thigh, the fabric hugging my skin snugly. I repeated this ritual two more times, wrapping my legs in layers of warmth. Next, I chose a tunic-style shirt, its long, fitted sleeves tapering neatly at my wrists. I tossed it over my head, ensuring it lay smoothly against my torso, the fabric draping elegantly.

Following that, I reached for a sturdy pair of thick hide britches, remnants of a time when they belonged to Cregan. With a few snips and adjustments, I had tailored them to fit my frame, accommodating the additional layers of stockings underneath. I tucked the hem of my tunic into the waistband before lacing the britches tight, securing everything in place and creating a comfortable, yet form-fitting silhouette.

But still, my body shivered, my toes felt numb, my nipples poking from my clothes.

I let out a weary sigh as I reached for my knee-high, fur-lined boots, their soft, plush interiors promising warmth in the cold air. Carefully, I pulled them on, feeling the snug fit envelop my legs. With practised fingers, I laced them tightly, ensuring there was no gap for the icy snow to slip in between the boots and my thick woollen britches.

Next, I turned to my usual thick grey slip, its heavy fabric providing a comforting weight as I draped it over my body. The slip fluttered gently to my ankles, enveloping me in its warmth and protection against the frigid air. Searching through my collection of garments, I chose a tunic shirt made of sturdy material, one that boasted a high neckline reaching all the way to my throat. It was designed to shield every inch of bare skin, creating a barrier against the chilling elements outside. As I gathered the fabric around me, I felt a sense of preparedness for whatever the day might bring.

But my teeth still chattered and my body shivered,

I carefully slipped into my corset, tightening the laces with a firm tug. The structure of it cinched my waist, moulding my torso into an hourglass shape. Next, I reached for my thickest, most voluminous petticoats. One by one, I layered six floor-length skirts around my waist, each petticoat adding a cascading fullness to my silhouette. The layers rustled softly as they settled, creating an elegant sway with my every movement.

Finally, I adorned myself with my large deep grey dress, the fabric rich and textured. It was lined with luxurious fur at every hem. As I pulled the dress over my petticoats, it enveloped me, fitting snugly around my figure and enveloping my hands in its wide, flowing sleeves.

I exhaled slowly, the tension easing from my shoulders as I finally felt at ease enough to gather my hair into a traditional northern-style braid. The soft strands slipped through my fingers with a comforting familiarity, but just as I began to focus on the intricate weaving, a voice cut through the quiet of the morning.

Cregan had awakened during the time I spent preparing myself. He propped himself up against the pillows, the furs draped loosely around his waist. As he ran a hand through his tousled hair, I could see the familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. It was clear he had been observing me all along, and when he spoke, his tone held a teasing laughter that sent a playful shiver down my spine. “Cold?”

I scoffed, “V-very funny.”

He laughed as he climbed from the bed, leaving the furs and sheets to pool on the mattress, his naked body completely exposed without so much as a shiver, as he confidently walked across the bed chamber and took my face in his hands. “My sweet southern girl,” he leant down and softly kissed my lips,

I smiled into the kiss resting my cold hands against his warm bare chest until he pulled back,

“You will grow used to the northern winters. In time.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” he reassured kissing my forehead, as he went to dress himself.

“And if I don’t?” I asked with fear,

He scoffed, “Then I will have warmer clothes made for you.”

“You are too kind to me Cregan.” I blushed trying to hide my red cheeks,

But he took my chin in hand and turned it to him only dressed into his britches, “I must, to repay my wife for being so perfect to me.” He cooed but sighed.

“What is it?”

“So many layers… I hardly can gather the strength to remove them all and take you back to bed.” He sighed,

“A shame.” I laughed,

“I said, Hardly. I still can.” He smirked, grabbed my waist, swiftly lifted me from the floor, and tossed my body on the bed.

[the-fiction-witch]

Unfortunate Circumstance

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Princess Y/n Targaryen Rating - 12 Word Count - 875

Y/n reclined comfortably in her bed, the soft fabric of her nightie gently embracing her rounded baby bump. The room was adorned with delicate hues of red, casting a warm and inviting glow. Her long hair tumbled down her shoulders in gentle waves, framing her face as she focused on the intricate task at hand.

With a steady hand, she threaded her needle, the vibrant embroidery thread slipping between her fingers with ease. She was working on a small, soft blanket for her impending arrival, each stitch a labour of love filled with her hopes and dreams for the little one. The rhythmic motion of her needle dancing through the fabric was both calming and fulfilling, as she envisioned the joy the blanket would bring their baby.

Her tranquillity was suddenly interrupted when she heard the creaking of the door to her chamber. A spark of excitement coursed through her, only to be replaced by a jolt of surprise when the door slammed shut behind whoever had entered. The sharp sound echoed in the otherwise serene space, and she looked up, her heart racing, curious about who had arrived so unexpectedly.

Jacaerys marched inside the chamber, he pulled his belt off and tossed his sword onto the table. And began to pace the rug.

She blinked three or four times before she sheepishly spoke up. “Is everything alright, my darling?”

“Those Lowlives!” He yelled, “Walking our halls! Eating our food! Thinking they are equals with us!”

She nodded slowly as she realised his stress, “You are their prince, they know they are not equal to you Jacaerys.” she reassured,

“They are an affront to us!” He yelled, “They ride our family dragons, they sleep in our ancient castle, she plans to dress them in fine clothes and fly our house banner!” He yelled, “What… what is there left for us? What do we have to separate us… from the rabble?” his voice broke and tears welled up in his eyes,

Y/n paused in her work, as she turned her attention to Jacaerys. With a warm smile, she opened her arms wide, inviting him to come closer.

Jacaerys, still sniffling softly, slowly crawled onto the bed, his little movements deliberate as he nestled himself between her legs. He rested his head against her belly, seeking the comfort and warmth only his wife could provide.

Y/n's heart swelled with affection at the sight. She wrapped her arms around him, enveloping him in a cocoon of safety and love. Her fingers found their way into his hair, gently combing through the soft strands as she stroked his head in a soothing rhythm. Each gentle caress was a silent promise of protection and warmth, a moment of solace in their shared world. “You are far more than your dragon, more than your castle, more than your clothes, and far more than whatever banner you fly my darling. You are a wonderful man, you are kind, sweet, caring, gentle, smart… handsome.” She told him,

Which made him laugh, “Thank you… But- but if these bastards can do all this… what separates me from them?”

“You are a Targaryen prince,”

“You know what I am…” he muttered,

“Regardless, your mother is Queen. You are her prince, regardless of your father.”

“I am a basard… I am no better then them.”

“You were raised here, in this life. Trained always to be the prince, to be king someday. And you will be.” she cooed, “You are no bastard, you are you’re mother’s first born and nothing will ever take that from you.”

“... Do you not feel fury? At the Dragon seeds?”

“...I am not happy.” She answered, “But… if a lowborn from Hull riding a dragon is what puts your mother on the throne she is owed. It is a pill I will swallow, for the greater good.”

“Can we trust them?”

“I suppose we must.” she nodded,

“How does it not repulse you? To know… you carry a bastard’s child?”

She scoffed, “I carry your child, my darling,” she cooed, “The child of a handsome dragon prince, that I adore so much.”

“I adore you too.” he whispered, “And I adore you, my sweet,” he cooed, kissing her bump,

“Humm, they adore you too.” she chuckled, “Can you say hello to your daddy?”

Both of them remained perfectly still, their hearts racing with anticipation as they held their breath, waiting for a sign. The room was filled with an almost palpable silence, broken only by the soft sounds of their breathing. Then, at last, a delightful flutter from within broke the tension—the little baby kicked. They exchanged glances, eyes wide with awe, feeling the tiny movement as a gentle reminder of the life growing inside.

“Awwww!” she cooed,

“Humm, hello my sweet.” he smiled as he rubbed his nose on her bump,

“I know you are unhappy with this Jacaerys, but… it is just an unfortunate circumstance.”

“I know…” he sighed, “Thank you Y/n. You are more help than you know.” he cooed,

“Thank you,”

“I promise, I will try to… complain less.” he sighed, “But if this is what must be done, to make you my queen, and this little one prince or princess of the realm… then I shall accept it.” he smiled as he leant up and pressed a tender kiss to her lips. 

[the-fiction-witch]

Monthly Ranking Full Listings

In honour of March being the 10 Year Fiction Witch Anniversary! I decided that as I had all the information for the character view rankings, I would put together the full, complete character ranking by total views. I did my best to get everyone in. I am pretty confident I missed a couple. I think I missed Harry Beltik and Gregory Cromwell, but I did my best. Plus, of course, characters like Kemen, who have yet to have their fics released, are not included cause they have no views yet. This is done of the total view numbers on the Wattpad books (Just cause they are the easiest to track vs. Tumblr or Archive), This is my current Wattpad, so the numbers aren't accounting the old shut down accounts cause, of course, I do not have access to such information. But I did my best. It is amazingly interesting to me to see who is where in this ranking. The HOTD characters have all done so well, even though I've been writing them for a short time. And, of course, the newest characters are mostly near the bottom. But... you know, when Oliver and Tyler have one fic each vs Benny's 200... it kinda makes sense why they are so separated. I would love for you guys to comment the number of your fave character on the ranking! If you have the time!

[the-fiction-witch]

Lord Of The Tides

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Lucerys Velaryon Couple - Lucerys X Reader Reader - Y/n Targaryen Rating - 12 Word Count - 1569

Lucerys stood before the ornate mirror, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness as he examined his reflection. His well-polished black boots, crafted from fine leather, hugged his calves tightly, reaching up to his knees. The silver leather britches, form-fitting and shiny, emphasised the contours of his form, every detail outlined with precision.

He wore a silver tunic that shimmered under the light; it was intricately embroidered with delicate motifs of gently fluttering fins. Over this, a dark teal doublet cascaded almost to his knees, with its voluminous puffed sleeves. The doublet was superbly crafted, adorned with crossed silver threads that formed a triangular grid pattern. At the centre of each triangle sat a lustrous pearl. Around his neck, a silver chain glimmered softly against his skin, featuring a pendant in the shape of the Velaryon Seahorse.

His dark hair, deep as the night sky, had been meticulously washed and brushed, falling perfectly into place. Each strand seemed to have been arranged with care, framing his face. In this moment, Lucerys felt a mix of pride and vulnerability, aware of how much this attire symbolized, yet somewhat uneasy with the level of attention it might attract. He kept turning, adjusting everything, trying to get comfortable, but he supposed he wasn’t really supposed to be comfortable.

As much as he felt ridiculous, he just wanted to make his grandser happy.

The door opened, catching his attention. He quickly turned on his heels and immediately he blushed. “M-my princess.”

Princess Y/n stood gracefully in the grand doorway of Lucery’s bedchamber, the soft, luminous white stone walls encasing her like a protective embrace. Attired in an exquisite long teal dress that flowed elegantly around her, the fabric shimmered like the surface of a tranquil lake under moonlight. Intricate patterns of silver thread wove through the material, catching the light with every subtle movement. Delicate silver chains cascaded down the bodice, each link gleaming as if kissed by starlight, while the dress was artfully laced tightly down her back, accentuating her silhouette. The puffed florence sleeves, like clouds suspended in the sky, billowed dramatically to the floor. Around her neck, a choker of pearls sat snugly, each pearl a perfect sphere. Her hair was braided into a stunning, intricate updo intertwined with silver chains and luminous pearls.

She smiled and slightly chuckled, “Look at you,” she cooed as she held her hands out to him,

Lucerys smiled and stepped over, he settled his hands in her own and softly squeezed them, “Yeah, look at me,” He turned his face from her,

Y/n turned his chin so he faced her once more, “My Handsome prince,” she reassured him,

“You think so?”

“Of course,” she nodded, “Prince Lucerys Velaryon, Master of Driftmark, Lord of The Tides,”

He laughed,

“You look perfect,”

“Thank you,” He smiled, “And you- you… You look like a goddess of the sea.”

She scoffed,

“I mean it,” He told her, “Princess Y/n, Mistress of Driftmark, Lady of the Tides.”

“They are your titles Lucerys, not mine.”

“You are my wife, we shall share them.”

She smiled and tapped his nose, “Are you ready?”

“I think so,” he nodded,

“Alright,” she nodded, “I would lean down and give you a lucky kiss, but I’m laced too tight in this dress.”

He chuckled a little and stood on his tip-toes to kiss her.

Lucerys and Y/n stepped cautiously through the stone corridors of High Tide castle, their footsteps echoing softly against the cool, rough-hewn walls. The air was thick with the scent of salt from the nearby sea, mingling with the lingering aroma of damp stone. They made their way toward the grand Hall of Nine, their hearts quickening with each step as the anticipation of the gathered nobles loomed ahead.

As they reached the heavy wooden doors, Lucerys took a deep breath. With a loud creak, the doors swung open to reveal the vast expanse of the Great Hall. The flickering flames of several roaring hearths cast a warm glow across the room, casting dancing shadows on the stone walls. The hall was filled with the low murmur of conversation, that suddenly silenced the air electrified with excitement and the weight of power, as lords and ladies of Westeros mingled amid the flickering firelight. An aisle of torches lined the path, illuminating the way to the elegant Driftwood Throne, where Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen stood.

Lucerys felt a tremor of fear clawing at his insides, anxiety welling up like a storm, but he stole a glance at Y/n. Her warm smile and the gentle squeeze of her hand fortified him, grounding him in the moment. He returned her smile, a small spark of reassurance igniting within him as he held onto her hand tightly, their fingers intertwined. As they slowly traversed the length of the hall, their eyes forward, the sea of unfamiliar faces blurred around them—noble gazes filled with curiosity, intrigue, and perhaps a hint of judgment.

When they finally reached the imposing throne, Lucerys felt the weight of his lineage rested heavily upon him. He and Y/n bowed deeply, their heads lowering in reverence to their esteemed grandparents.

Corlys’s eyes twinkled with pride as he returned their greeting, a firm yet warm smile spreading across his weathered face.

In a graceful motion, Lucerys guided Y/n to her knees, ensuring her gown flowed elegantly as she knelt. He followed suit, also kneeling beside her, careful to avoid the delicate fabric of her dress. The silence of the hall enveloped them, and at that moment, Lucerys steeled himself, channelling his nervous energy into a resolve to prove himself worthy of this.

“Our house is ancient, is proud, is the strength of old Valryia. What are our words?”

“The Old, the True, the Brave” Lucerys nodded,

“The throne, you kneel before.” He began, “The Driftwood throne, the very hull of the first Velaryon ship to take the sea. Carved and returned back in a packed of peace with the merling king. An understanding, that those of House Velaryon are welcome on the sea, but we do not rule it, we do not own it, only that we show it the respect it deserves and that respect is welcomed them to those of us to take to it.” he explained, “The salt of the sea flows in our blood. Does this salt flow in you?”

“Yes, My lord.”

“You carry our name, You carry our blood, will you carry it as long as you live and have your children carry it forth after you are gone?”

Lucerys briefly looked at Y/n and she smiled softly giving him a small nod,

“Yes, My lord,” Lucerys answered,

“Lucerys, My grandson. Do you take this lordship, do you take this throne?”

“...I do.”

Coryls took off the cloak of house Verlayon, the old withered blue fabric shimmering softly with silver thread, he laid it over Lucery’s shoulders and patted them softly.

“Then now, Arise.” Coryls told him, “Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon! Lord of the Tides! Master of Driftmark! Lord of High Tide!”

Cheers erupted throughout the grand hall, a cacophony of jubilant voices echoing off the stone walls.

Lucerys felt paralyzed, every muscle in his body gripped by the weight of anticipation and responsibility that the heavy cloak draped across his shoulders seemed to embody. It was not just a garment; it felt like a mantle of expectation, pressing down on him and settling deep within his bones.

At his side, Y/n sensed his tension. Noting the slight tremor in his hand, she instinctively grasped it tighter, turning his face gently to meet her gaze. Her touch was warm and grounding as she rested her palm against his cheek, her eyes filled with encouragement and understanding.

A small smile broke through Lucerys's apprehension as he placed his hand over hers, revelling in the comfort of her presence. He fought against the swell of emotions threatening to overtake him, longing to let tears of joy spill forth, aware that she was his steadfast ally on this momentous occasion. He tenderly brought her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her skin. As he slowly rose to his feet, he pulled her up alongside him, their fingers intertwined.

Together, they turned to face the assembly of cheering nobles, who filled the hall with a sea of smiling faces and applause, their excitement palpable. Lucerys's heart raced as he absorbed the sight, offering only gentle smiles in return, trying to quell his internal storm.

As he glanced backwards, seeking the reassurance of his grandsire, uncertainty clouded his expression. But upon meeting Corlys's gaze, the weight of doubt melted away, replaced by an unwavering look of pride that shone in the older man's eyes.

With a poised demeanour, Corlys stepped back, gracefully surrendering his position. He moved to embrace his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.

Lucerys swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of the moment settle even deeper in his chest. With a deep breath, he squeezed Y/n's hand for reassurance before stepping forward. His legs trembled beneath him as he ascended the steps toward the throne, each stride significant yet challenging. Finally, he reached the seat, hesitating for just a moment before settling into its embrace. As he gripped the cool, wooden arms of the throne, he looked out across the vast hall, a mix of determination and vulnerability washing over him as he faced the gathered lords and ladies.

“The new Lord Of the Tides!” Corlys cheered,

“Lord of the Tides!” Was cheered by all in the hall, including Y/n. 

[the-fiction-witch]

You Angel!

Media - House of Anubis Character - Jerome Clarke (Age Up, Post Uni) Couple - Jerome X Reader Reader - Y/n Rating - 12 Word Count - 948

Jerome tapped his fingers on the wheel of his car along with his music, every so often he glanced at his phone to make sure he was following the directions. He drove a little slower than usual, given he had everything he cared for filling the car to bursting point.

He pulled up to the tall apartment building, followed signs for the car park and found himself a spot.

Once parked up he took a moment to run his hand through his blonde hair and let out a long breath.

Jerome grabbed his phone and quickly called her up,

“Hey, Y/n? I uhh I just pulled into the car park, how do uhh how do I come out?”

“Ooooooohhh! One second!” she squealed excitedly before she hung up,

“Uhh? Okay,” He laughed, grabbing his messenger bag from the passenger seat as he climbed out of the car,

Jerome looked up at the imposing apartment building, and tried to figure out where the entrance was, given the bottom was a laundromat and a convenience store,

But as he got closer, the door to the convenience store slid open, and Y/n emerged.

Y/n wore her little boots, a pair of laddered grey tights, some denim shorts with the hem fraying, a grey tank top with a pink crop top over it, her hair in a long braid pinned up in a bun, and a bright blue slushie in her hand.

Jerome couldn’t hold back his wide smile, just seeing her again made him giddy and excited.

“Eeeeeeeeee!” She squealed,

And the two almost ran to one another and threw their arms around each other in a cradled embrace.

“I missed you!” she cooed,

“I’ve missed you too,” He smiled, “Feels like forever since I saw you in the flesh.” he laughed giving her a little bit of a squeeze, he didn’t care they’d just been hugging on the street for this long, the last time he got to feel her in his arms was when they had a tearful hug goodbye when they packed up from the Anubis dorm after graduation.

“I know, it’s been way too long.” she agreed slowly pulling back to see his face, “Video calls aren’t a substitute for actually being with your stupid blonde butt.”

He laughed, “Yeah, it doesn’t compare, and you look amazing! It’s nice to actually see you comfortable after all this time.” He smiled looking at her outfit,

“You like it?” she smiled,

“Yeah, way cuter than your old uniform.”

She laughed, “Awww, thank you, you do too.”

“I really have missed you though Y/n.”

“I have too,” she cooed nuzzling her head into his chest,

Immediately Jerome felt nostalgic for their time at Anubis, but so happy he had her in his arms again.

She pulled back and offered the straw of her slush, “Blue Berry Blaster.”

“Ooohhh! You angel,” he cooed, having a long sip, “They sell this in there?”

“Yep, Red Berry Rocket too, and fried chicken strips, hot dogs and breakfast muffins.”

“Ooohh we’re gonna get fat.”

“City,” she shrugged, “We’re gonna have to walk like everywhere,”

“Good point.” He nodded, “So? How do we… get in?”

“Door’s around the corner.” She smiled as she led the way to the apartment doors and into the apartment building,

“Thanks again for this Y/n,”

“You don’t have to thank me, Jerome,” she laughed, “My roommate was leaving anyway, and it’s so close to your internship it just makes sense.”

“It does, but still thank you,”

She unlocked the apartment door and led Jerome inside,

The place was small, a two-bed, one-bath apartment with a small living space and kitchen. The place already had a few items set up, a couch, a TV, and some mugs in the kitchen. Y/n’s room, of course, is completely set up.

“And this is it!” she smiled, setting her slush on the kitchen counter,

“It’s amazing.” he nodded,

“And here is your cosy room,” She showed him his own bedroom,

A fairly little strangely shaped room, given the many apartments, shoved into the building, with a wardrobe, chest of drawers and a double bed.

“I already made the bed up for you with some nice new sheets,”

“You are so sweet, thank you!” He dumped his bag and immediately lay on the bed, “Ughhh… big bed.”

“Comfy?” She laughed,

“Mhm,” he nodded, “My Uni dorm had the most uncomfortable bed known to humanity,” He told her, “Even my mum’s just has a bunk bed… this is amazing,”

She laughed sitting on the bed with him, “A bunk?”

“Well not technically, you know one of those ladder beds where you would like… customize. Bunk if you have more kids, swing seats if you have a social kid, Pc if you have a nerd.”

“And you had?”

“PC.” he grumbled, “But seriously, thank you, my back will be thanking you for the next twenty years.”

“You’re welcome,” she laughed,

Jerome slowly sat up and smiled taking Y/n’s hand, “Seriously, I really mean it, Y/n. Thank you so much for this. And… I’m really looking forward to living with you, Again.”

“Me too,” she smiled once more falling into his chest,

He smiled and happily coiled his arms around her tightly and rubbed his cheek against her hair,

“So? Do you want any help bringing your boxes up?”

“Yeah if you don’t mind?”

“No trouble,” she nodded, hopping off the bed, “We’ll get you settled in, and then go on a grocery run, I have intentionally just let everything diminish so we could do a big shop together. Seriously, I have two slices of bread and a single egg in the kitchen.”

He laughed, “Of course you do. That's perfect, though I just left like toiletries and stuff at my mum’s, so I need… everything.”

“We better get started then.” she nodded as they went into the apartment, “Ohh! And Stop for takeout on the way home?”

“Oh god, yes!" Jerome agreed from his bed, “Absolutely, you angel!” he said as he got to his feet to start unpacking.

[the-fiction-witch]

Silver Sands

Media - American Housewife Character - Oliver Otto (Bisexual Oliver) Couple - Oliver X ROC Reader - (Requested OC) Junie May Rating - 16 Word Count - 1575

The amusing thing about suburbia is its remarkable ability to breed, well… suburban people. Rows of pastel-colored houses line the streets, each adorned with perfectly manicured lawns, two-car garages, and open-plan kitchens. These long, sprawling neighborhoods often flourish with families that are strikingly similar, your quintessential nuclear familes with only slight variations in dynamics and hobbies. Is it the families that create suburbia, or is suburbia that attracts these families? Perhaps only time will reveal the answer.

Yet, amidst the uniformity, you'll often discover households that share an extraordinary bond, as unbreakable as steel. No one can pinpoint exactly how these connections form, but they frequently sprout from neighborly chats over the fence or the camaraderie fostered by homeowner’s associations. It’s a shared experience that intertwines lives in ways that are deeply meaningful.

For the Ottos, that family was the Mays.

The Mays and the Ottos had been neighbors for years, their lives intertwined over a sturdy wooden fence that symbolized both boundary and friendship. Both mothers, Katie and Lillian, experienced the wild ride of pregnancy with their youngest children at nearly the same time, navigating the delightful chaos of motherhood together. Both were spirited and chatty, often found in animated conversation in each other’s kitchens, sharing advice, laughter, and the occasional complaint about the trials of parenting.

On the other side of the households, the fathers, Greg and Stephen, were hardworking men with a deep reverence for family life. Both adored their children and found joy in planning outings and events, though they struggled to follow through on their ambitious ideas. More often than not, life got in the way, and plans would dissolve into casual hangouts on the porch with a cold drink in hand.

Their eldest children, Taylor and Samuel, underwent significant transformations in their early teens, emerging as the social butterflies of their respective schools. Their newfound popularity was a source of both pride and gentle teasing among the adults, who fondly recalled when their biggest concern was sharing toys.

The middle children, Oliver and Junie, embodied the classic traits of middle siblings, each wonderfully eccentric in their obsessions.

Then there were the youngest, Anna Kat and Tobie, who brought glorious chaos wherever they went. Their antics, full of mischief and spirited energy, kept both families on their toes and served as a constant source of entertainment.

Through the years, the Ottos and the Mays became each other’s best friends, a bond solidified by years of shared experiences. Even as life prompted changes and distances grew, regular texts, phone calls, and planned gatherings ensured that their connection endured.

One such event that they looked forward to every few years was the much-anticipated double family vacation. It was no secret that the Ottos weren’t the wealthiest family in Westport, and neither were the Mays, but they shared a practical understanding of budgeting. So, when their children were young, the two families made the resourceful decision to rent a sizable holiday cottage together. This cottage, quaint and cozy, was nestled further up the coast, near a historic lighthouse and equipped with only one full bathroom. It was far from the bustling tourist spots, especially since they strategically planned their trips away from the peak season. As such, they found a vacation spot that fit both their budgets and their need for adventure.

For years, this cottage became a cherished location filled with laughter and cherished memories, as both families would road-trip together and spend two idyllic weeks of summer bliss. However, as the children matured and life became increasingly busy, their vacations scaled back from yearly to every two years, then eventually to a more sporadic “whenever we can fit it in” approach.

Now, as fate would have it, a clear two-week window opened up in their calendars, seemingly the last real opportunity for the families to escape together before life took their children in different directions. Recognizing the rare chance, they eagerly booked the cottage once again, ready to weave new memories into the fabric of their long-standing tradition one last time.

Oliver found himself wedged uncomfortably in the trunk of the family SUV, mildly crushed between the plush backseats and an avalanche of travel bags, coolers, and other such items that seemed to be taking up way too much space. He regretted his decision to choose the trunk as his makeshift seat just three miles into their journey, but there was no turning back now. The rhythmic thump of the wheels against the pavement kept him company as he tried to zone out, keeping his headphones securely in place. The soothing voice of his audiobook filled his ears, a welcome distraction, while he occasionally glanced at his stock app on his phone, checking for any updates that could affect his investments.

In the back seat, his sisters were squished together, a jumble of giggles and whispers spilling out over a fortress of suitcases and snacks. Their voices blended with the sounds of the radio from the front, where his parents were engaged in lighthearted banter, navigating the winding country roads. The sun streamed through the windows, casting warm beams of light that contrasted the cramped and stuffy conditions in the trunk, making Oliver long for a bit more space. But he knew that this was all part of the adventure, even if he felt a bit like a sardine in a can.

“Okay! Listen up!” Katie yelled, “These two weeks may be the last time things get to be magical in this family until you’re all married and come home for drunk adult family Christmas. So… Phones down, make memories, and Mommy’s gonna be drinking, so don’t bother me.”

“If I put my phone down, how will I document the memories?” Taylor asked,

“See. That is exactly that kinda smart-mouth behaviour we want to avoid.”

Oliver rolled his eyes and refocused on his phone, the glow of the screen a welcome distraction as the car rumbled along the winding road

After what felt like an eternity of driving, they finally approached the cottage, a charming little retreat. The place seemed untouched by time, reminiscent of their last visit like a cherished memory frozen in reality. The lighthouse perched at the edge of the property still wore its faded paint, the white and red stripes peeling in some places, while others held on stubbornly. The rustic charm of the house remained intact, its wooden beams weathered but sturdy, exuding a sense of nostalgia. It stood proudly against the backdrop of rolling hills, as if waiting to welcome them back.

As they pulled into the gravel driveway, a familiar car sat parked beside the cottage, the sight instantly evoking a wave of warmth and familiarity. The worn-out bumper stickers told stories of past adventures, and the vibrant flowers in the window boxes seemed to sway gently in greeting, a soft reminder that some things remained constant even in a world of change.

As the car doors swung open, everyone tumbled out, eager to stretch their cramped limbs. They were immediately greeted by the welcoming May family, who stood with beaming smiles.

Katie and Lillian quickly wrapped each other in warm embraces, their laughter echoing as they dove straight into animated discussions about dinner plans.

Meanwhile, Greg and Stephen leaned against the car, sharing inside jokes that erupted in hearty laughter, their banter making the air light and jovial.

Taylor and Stephen, always fashion-conscious, were already deep in conversation about outfit choices for the weekend, tossing ideas back and forth with a sense of excitement as they plotted their style statements.

Anna, Kat, and Tobie darted inside the house, their playful shrieks echoing as they dashed to lay claim to their beloved bedroom, the one adorned with fairy lights and memories of past summers.

At the back, Oliver struggled a bit as he extracted himself from the trunk. He looked around, scanning the familiar landscape in search of the one person he had often thought about.

The last time he had seen Junie, they were almost eye-to-eye, her cherubic face framed by a wild ponytail while thick glasses perched on her nose. Though a few years had passed, he couldn’t shake the expectation of finding her just as he remembered, even if he certainly wasn’t the same as then.

Then, through the throng, he caught sight of her. Time seemed to slow down as she came into view, the soundtrack from his headphones weaving a cinematic score for the moment.

Her entrance was striking, starting from her rugged, knock-off Timberland boots that kicked up a tiny cloud of sandy dirt as she walked. The boots led up to a pair of ripped black tights that clung tightly to her curvaceous thighs. Denim shorts, slightly tattered at the edges, hugged her hips. Her sleeveless black crop top stretched over her double D’s, while a loose brown plaid shirt hung gracefully to her knees. The long braids that framed her face bounced slightly as she moved, and her cheeks were dusted with freckles. Thick black glasses sat atop her nose,

Oliver’s jaw dropped, his eyes bulged, and his breath caught in his chest. “Fu-”

She caught sight of him and immediately bolted and throwing her arms around him, “Oliver!”

The shock of it shook him out of his mind, and he quickly wrapped his own arms around her, resting his hands on her back, making sure to turn his hips out of their hug. “I uhh Hi Junie…” He blushed a little,

“I missed you,” She cooed,

He found himself unable to hide his smile, “I missed you too Junie.” he cooed, laying his head on her’s.