Cottagecore Fantasy の小説・ストーリー

“Surprise.” My heart soars at the sight of a large one-storey English style stone cottage. It has two sections of gable roofing at the front and side entrances, a massive stone chimney and ivy creeping all along the walls. With a large flower garden surrounding the cottage and cobble-stoned path, it's almost as if they plucked the place right out of a fairy tale! I turn to Dimitri with wide eyes. “What is this?” I ask incredulously, looking at him and then at the cottage. “Is this-”

When Rhys touches me in my fantasies, I feel his touch as though it were real, the scent of his skin when he embraces me so unadulterated that the lines between imagination and reality start to blur. My mind flits back to how he found my diary that night. What would have happened if he never found out what was written in it? Would we be exactly as we were in the past, lusting for each other from afar? Not every attraction should be acted on. The next time I fantasize about someone I shouldn’t, I will remember this. _____

Ronan, one of the warriors, turns to me, pointing at an end to the old highway, “What about here? Will we run from here in?” “Yes. Ms. Sage’s cottage is deep within the Deadmoon Forest—” “Deadmoon?” A tired voice questions, and we all turn to see Harper sitting up. She’d been invested in the book she’s reading on the couch in my office, so I didn’t think she would pay attention. I was wrong. “Deadmoon Forest is where the witch’s cottage is. It’s called Deadmoon because the trees create a thick canopy that blocks out the light,” I explain. Her face pales, so I smile to try and ease her worry.

“Like… actual land?? A home?? Near the sea??” “A cottage,” I admitted. “A whitewashed one, by the cliffs. With blue shutters. And a fig tree in the yard.” Cherry screamed, Monica screamed louder. Someone knocked on the office door because we were making restaurant-disturbing noises. “HE BOUGHT YOU A EUROPEAN COTTAGE?” Monica cried, waving her bracelet as if it could explain the insanity. “ARE YOU LIVING IN a romance novel???” Cherry was pacing now. “A cottage on Paros. A whole cottage. A cottage with a tree. Do you understand the level of softness?? The level of wealth behavior??”

The right mixture to match the level of the Lord of Universe. A weak cottage standing on the outskirts of one such ignored village held different chaos this morning. The structure was old. Mites were rejoicing in each pillar and planks of wood that supported a broken roof. Every part of the foundation screamed for repair, but the owners didn’t have enough coins to build or find a better place. They have accepted it. It was better to die someday under the fallen piles of their own home than being punished for silly reasons outside. The locals and neighbors eyed the cottage of the old woman and his crazy son suspiciously. They haven’t stepped out of their door for a week now. The burning lante

Knowing. “You must be Fiona,” Andre said, regaining his composure. “Correct,” she replied, eyes drifting toward me. “And you must be the flame-haired girl.” My heart jumped. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing in amusement as she examined my hair. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen fire like that. It usually skips a few generations.” “What… does that mean?” I asked. Fiona only chuckled. “Come inside, both of you.” The interior of the cottage was exactly how I imagined: warm, cluttered, and filled with the scent of dried herbs and something vaguely metallic. Shelves lined every wall, overflowing with jars of strange ingredients, animal bones, and handwritten notes. A fire crackled soft

Cassius sealed the heavy oak door behind us, plunging us into the cottage's dim, flickering heart. "Follow me," she commanded, her voice softening as her fingers, like questing roots, traced a path along the cool, damp stone. The cottage was a paradox of pristine cleanliness and the gentle erosion of time. Every surface was scrubbed, yet every piece of furniture bore the deep scars of use. A great, empty hearth, fronted by a thick bear-skin rug, promised a warmth that now lay dormant. She led us past a sagging, well-worn couch and into a cozy kitchen dominated by a small, round wooden table and four sturdy stools. I lifted a basket brimming with strange, vibrant fruits from one of the stools

Nor had she ever seen such an eclectic collection of oddities. She picked up a pair of boots, vinyl, with a huge, plastic zipper. A vague memory of a porn film she had accidentally flipped on one late night flashed through her mind. Dominatrix, she believed it was called. She dropped the boots and sank onto a little bench sitting against the wall across from the racks of costumes. Fantasies. She had never had a sexual fantasy. All her sexual thoughts had always centered on Steve and their quiet sex life. All she had ever wanted was his hands on her, his lips telling her the things she wanted to hear.

Because, as wives we were one in our love for him and the perceived joy and comfort that one of us received by him was shared by all of us because we were all loved by him. Looking back at the burning settlement created by a mad tyrant’s decree it was hard to say what the future would bring. Would outside forces keep coming to investigate in hopes of acquiring technology to better kill one another back in the modern world, it was likely, but today was not that day. Right now the focus was about life and living it with abundance. We had all seen enough of the past. Smiling Winastra came and reclaimed both of her babies. She led the way off of the stony outcrop.

Before males decided the biggest ego had to have a castle and call themselves king. Our coven is nestled in a little hideaway within acres of beige cornfields nearing harvest, populated by a series of small, meaningless little cabins. Out of sight, out of mind. Witches to the left, demonic entities to the right. Well, not demonic, just some weird druid-types who are way too into building bonfires. But whatever the other neighbours are up to, it’s an unspoken rule that we don’t interfere. Despite trying to remain frozen in time, change is coming.