#william buxton x reader

[smolvenger]

Our Society At Cranford (William Buxton x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As Miss Matty's companion, you struggle to gain the attention of the handsome young Mr. Buxton. It appears you need a little help from the ladies of Cranford...

A/N: Not my best or most edited work. No stakes (unless you count marriage for women in the 1840's as stakes which back then it was) and only vibes. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Technically none other than some angst and attempts at Victorian-era accuracy. But then nothing but fluff and vibes. If I miss anything, let me know!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were infatuated with him since the day his dog ran into the church and urinated on the altar.

That morning, you thought you heard the sound of tapping paws and opened your eyes to see a little dog in the church. Everyone was dipping their heads down in prayer. Oblivious to a little mischief. It was everything in you not to laugh at the little dog. 

But the little dog ran right in like he owned the place, running and excited to be about. The prayer droned on, repeating the same phrases everyone said every Sunday.

In your reticule was a plain biscuit you saved from Sunday school. Slipping it out, you knelt, waving the treat to the dog. Daring not to speak to alert anyone.

The dog trotted forward and ate it, then you scooped him up into your arms. You held onto him, even though he struggled. If he got out he could run into the wilderness where all sorts of nasty ends were waiting for him. Once Mrs. Forrester’s cow was found stuck in the mud for hours and nearly died! Now the bovine was kept to wearing, for lack of a better word, pajamas all hours of the day to keep warm.

As your family opened their eyes next to you, they gasped. People smelled the urine and heads turned towards you. Surprised to see the little thing in your arm. Heads did turn and Reverend Hutton had to wave everyone’s attention back to the service.

But the scruffy white and brown dog settled and calmed down after a while. If you stroked his front legs and chest gently, he would become calm and sleepy like a charm. 

As soon as it ended, you hurried outside. The dog began barking and wiggling. The widows and spinsters of Cranford you had befriended- Mrs. Forrester, Miss Pole, and your favorite, sweet Miss Matty all gathered around. They chatted about Reverend Hutton. Their chins up and talking as fast as clucking hens. All wondering about the dog’s urine and the shock.

“The altar cloth was made by Miss Matty’s mother! We shall have to find an apothecary or-”

“Napoleon! Where are you- I’m so sorry to interrupt ladies and reverend!”

All of you turned. The women kept silent. You were struck silent.

A young man entered as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale. Tall and lean. He had beautiful curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a rich baritone voice that halted your every thought. 

“Master William Buxton!” whispered Miss Pole.

“I think we ought not to call him master now…” Mrs. Forrester replied you noted the flirtatious shift in her tone. “He’s so much…broader than when we saw him last.”

You noted he had broad shoulders indeed, and he was well fit beneath his waistcoat. It made you feel even warmer beneath your sun and your bonnet.

You and the ladies dipped into a curtsy and he a bow.

“I believe that is my dog, he escaped the house an hour ago and we’ve been searching for him ever since!” he explained.

You walked forward.

“Oh, thank you, Miss?” he asked.

You gave him your name, though your voice felt half of itself. “I…I only wanted him to be safe and not get hurt if he ran out.”

“That is much kind of you, miss! Could I have him?”

Walking over, you handed the dog to him. As the weight shifted, you felt his arms and hands brush against yours and as silly as it was, it nearly knocked your breath away. Young men here were few and far between to where one considered Cranford a city of Amazons. But here he could be something of a Hercules in the flesh.

“Oh, I am sorry! He is a bad dog!” he apologized again.

“Here you go” you offered.

“William Buxton!” Miss Matty gasped as she went forward and shook his hands. He grinned at her, greeting his old friend.

“We are so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing, but we are glad you could be here!” she continued. 

“I am only here to open up the house, and attend to this bad dog,” he scolded, holding him up. Napoleon only smiled and panted in response.

“Well, we are glad you are here,” you replied.

After curtsies and bows, he scooped the dog up in his arms and continued back home. But you couldn’t help but stare at him, his curls like a halo around him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Cranford, though a small town, was filled with all sorts of likable people. If you were feeling lonely, you had to go about and soon would find a friend. And there was no better friend in town than Miss Matty. 

She was the unmarried daughter of the previous rector and lived a life of genteel poverty- acting like she was still a lady who did not need work or seek employment… despite not being anything more than middle class. She was lonely too. Her sister, her maid, and the love of her life all died within two years. In light of this, you offered to be her companion. Not accepting a penny for her for payment. You both were lonely souls needing company, even in the guise of her feeling like a true lady again.

You enjoyed sitting and drinking tea with her. The clock ticking as she chuckled that this was always the time one expected visitors. One had to take a walk about twice a day. Both of you enjoyed looking through the windows of the shops to see what new fashions were arriving- that was the most excitement one got around town when it wasn’t Christmas!

“What do you think of this French style?” you asked, pointing to one illustration of a gown.

“Very impractical, but very pretty!” Miss Matty replied.

“It’d be nice to wear it to one of our dances here…if we had them again…” you sighed.

“I’m sure if the time comes,” she replied. “They are quite fun- there is one around Christmas Eve and another around Easter.”

“Oh, you should go too! Do you still remember the dances!”

“All of them,” she said with a smile. 

Her sister would insist on sitting in the parlor for two hours every day from noon to two to receive any visitors. Sometimes you only sat in a chair doing nothing for two hours. 

But lately, you kept staring at the window. Staring at the door. Hoping, praying…that perhaps Mr. Buxton would arrive again.

You couldn’t help but admire him. He would always tip his hat at you and smile when you passed in the street.

Everything in you was bursting when you saw him. Freezing and burning at once. Part of you wanted to run up to him and blab about anything. The other part of you wanted to run, to hide, to faint, to make yourself away when he was near. It was both at once and it was unbearable.

There was one day, as you took your second walk of the day, that a familiar sight ran forth. A high feather- only one lady in town wore such a high feather in her bonnet.

“Miss Matty! Miss Matty!” cried Miss Pole.

Both of you curtsied.

“Why, what is it?” she asked.

Miss Pole held her chin up and began to speak in a soft, but piercing tone.

“I hear Mr. Buxton plans on keeping his son here for two months, but soon he will be sent to London. Just in time for the season.”

“Oh, the season!” you gasped.

Then…the season…that was for all the well to do…but it meant…

“He wants his son to attend every ball and dinner and gathering he can- he hopes to find a nice girl from a good family who came out! And I hear Mr. Buxton is already writing some letters!”

You nearly dropped the packages in your hands. Shaking, you kept quiet.

“Why then, that is something! I only wish William well- it is not what he wants at all. But he isn’t our little Master Buxton anymore, he is a man and should find those,” replied Miss Matty.

“I can just imagine it. Our Master Buxton! Dancing the polka with some lady in silks fluent in French!” Miss Pole added.

You were silent as you returned. Your head spinning. You took off your bonnet and outer coat to go inside, but you hardly heard your footfall. It was as if the world was entrenched in water and you were just barely rambling it.

Again, you sat down from noon for calls. Miss Matty got out her needlework and sat down. But you could not do anything. Not read. Not sew. Not eat, Not drink. Anything. Your heart hammering in your ears.

After a few minutes, it became clear that no one was going to immediately arrive. Miss Matty set her things down, her gentle eyes over your face.

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” she asked.

You looked down.

“Nothing, miss,” you replied.

“But look at you- you’re trembling. You seem a little faint even though you’re sitting…is something the matter?” she asked.

“It’s…it’s only something silly… I will get over it. I am resolved..” you said.

“I feel you wish to speak it,” she said. She stepped forward. “I may be just one 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I….I don’t…” you had to be careful. This was a small town and gossip got around like fire to dry wood. You fidgeted and rubbed your own hands to try to remain calm, looking down at your plaid skirt as you began.

“I only feel like…there are good men out there. And I..should like to someday…someday find a way to love, to be courted, to…to know what that is like…I only hope it should happen someday…”

Perhaps that was rude. Miss Matty wasn’t married. But she only smiled and continued with a soft, compassionate tone.

“That is normal…I remember back in my day how my heart would race when there were gentlemen callers. But there isn’t a rush…and besides, many a woman has been trapped in an unhappy marriage from rushing. And I will tell you…there are worse things in life than being a spinster!”

“Yes, indeed, I agree!” you replied. For it was truly the spinsters and widows who were the ones in charge of the town.

Though, you found yourself looking out the window. Your heart leaped at the sight of a familiar bowler hat and a mop of blonde curls. William Buxton passed by in his coat and gloves. He looked about the town. 

You felt a small gasp in your throat. Behind you, there was the creaking of the floor. The timing was just too perfect.

But he only smiled and tipped his hat and you bowed down in a curtsy in turn. Oh, his smile could make rosebuds bloom! 

Then his head turned towards his path and he continued.

You felt a soft, cold hand touch your shoulder and you flinched.

“Why, what was that!”

You felt yourself tear up. “Miss Matty! It’s nothing! It truly is not!”

“Why, my dear-I see the way you’ve been acting. And now this confirms my suspicions. Do you…love William?” she asked.

Words stammered out of you and a clamminess shook your hands, you could barely form a sentence.

“I…I…let me put the kettle on for some fresh tea!” you insisted.

You turned to leave. Putting the tea kettle onto the stovetop. You merely sat, watching and waiting until steam came out of the spout. But tears were going down your face. Miss Matty followed behind.

“Do you…have feelings for him, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked again.

Looking up, you felt more tears fall down your cheeks, growing hot and tight. Then you folded your hands, reaching one to touch the counter for support. Then putting one to your face you began to cry.

Miss Matty hurried up, giving you one of her handkerchiefs. She embraced you like a daughter and let you sob.

“It’s the talk with Miss Pole today that worried you, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes…yes it was…but Miss Matty…please! I need help! I don’t know who will introduce us or where to see him!”

“Don’t worry…it’s time we took another call onto the Buxtons…” she said.

The next day, your heart raced as you entered that fine house. As you got inside, servants took your bonnets and cloaks.

“Napoleon! Napoleon, come here!” cried a familiar voice.

Looking up, you saw William Buxton tumbling down. But he was undressed to a degree- he had his pants and suspenders and his white blouse open down. You could see his chest lying open. Your heart raced hard and he stopped, looking at you.

“Miss Matty! Miss…Miss Y/L/N! We weren’t expecting visitors!” he gasped.

“Well, we only hoped to surprise you! Miss Y/L/N is my companion and it seems fit we should see each other!” she said.

All of you bowed and curtsied. You tried to keep your eyes as much as you could on his face and not his chest.

“Why then- let me get dressed before Father scolds me. Then I’ll be back!” he said.

He bounded back up. And then you let yourself see more of him. You silently sent a thousand thank yous to Miss Matty.

Sitting down, you had tea and biscuits. And the promises of more meals. There was much talk of the new train station and the mobility it was going to provide for everyone. Of the great spring party that the great Lady of the town threw. Everyone got to see her manor house and be attended to by servants. There would be games and rowboats and every guest was going to be given ice cream- a rare treat. William was excited about that especially.

You paid calls almost every few days, even for at least fifteen minutes. And Miss Matty advised you to dress well. Not that you would ever dress poorly if you knew William would be around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Walking down the street the next week, you saw that familiar high feather in her bonnet scurrying down. No doubt it was Miss Pole, hopping about and running like a rabbit. Only she was heading toward you. It was later, Miss Pole scurried down the street.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N! There is such excitement! There is a Miss Ermina here and she is showing us how to order all the French styles! Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Well, I-”

You didn’t have time to answer. Miss Pole grabbed your arm.

“Oh, you must hurry! I insist you do!” 

She practically dragged you to her house. There in the kitchen sat a young woman with ivory pale skin and beautiful dark brown hair done up in curls. Her smart jacket and skirts were of fine material, but her eyes warmed as they looked up at you. She introduced herself with a smile as Ermina. Getting out a paper, she helped you and Miss Pole and Mrs. Forester all translate an order down onto paper. You looked through catalogs and showed what you could get and what to not get. Even if you weren’t spending money now, it was good to know!

Though Ermina’s eyes sparkled at you. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ran into each other, are you just moved in town?” you asked.

“I was just finishing school. And yes- with my father and brother here! Well, they aren’t family by blood but they are in my heart!”

“She is Mr. Buxton’s ward, you know!” Miss Pole interjected.

“A ward!” you cried.

She nodded. You felt the blood drain out of you. “Why, the Buxtons are neighbors and friends of ours, I am acquainted with them.”

“Miss Ermina was finishing her education in Brussels. She is also an accomplished piano player!” Mrs. Forester boasted.

Miss Pole leaned in, her eyes having a twinkle in them.

“But Miss Matty was telling us that it is important for ladies to be more varied in their education .”

“I agree!” Ermina said.

“Why, as do I!” you cut in.

Miss Pole continued, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“And as for our Miss Y’LN,- could you show her a little piano, perhaps? Help her in her accomplishments!”

You shook your head. Why, were they just stealthily insulting your piano skills? What was happening? Ermina only kept her sweet smile. 

“I fear I cannot afford lessons,” you said.

“Oh, not at all! I can show you a few simple cords and phrases! Come by, please!” Ermina replied.

Sure enough, you were having lessons at their house. Ermina herself became a dear friend to talk to. She was kind and not arrogant about her station. You found you both agreed on all sorts of matter regarding women, what they should have in their lives, and ways that things should be better, and different. She of course would tell you tips she noticed about fashion and the piano pieces she found moved her to tears. 

Her presence was enough. You felt guilty, having an agenda. But at least if you lost a potential lover, you had gained a friend.

If it meant more of a chance for William to be in your circle, you agreed. You could have sworn, there was something a little different in how he smiled at you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Then it came to the garden party with Lady Ludlow’s. It seemed all of the town was about there enjoying themselves as much as they could allow. Her whole yard could have made up half of the town! Her mansion towering above you like a giant about to squash you all. But the locals only chatted and laughed like normal. Some of them, Miss Pole, Mrs. Forrester, and one other were gathering to sit on chairs and rest their “weary” feet. Miss Matty was making her rounds of greetings, leaving you alone.

 Sure enough, there was the promised ice cream. William, to your astonishment, brought you a cup of the dessert.

“Oh, thank you!” you replied. You took the cup from his large, white hand.

“Here you go, what do you think?” he asked.

Out of the corner of your eye, the women emerged from their chairs. They hurried about like a pack of ducks looking for crumbs in the grass.

It was cold, creamy and sweet. Though it was melting in the sun and you were tempted to eat it all at once.

“I…I never had something so delightful!” you cried.

However as you walked about, you realized there were rowboats but they were far limited. One had the Reverend’s daughter, Sophy, and her new husband smiling at each other as if no one else existed. They were already far off.  Mrs. Forrester and Miss Pole claimed one another and fought as they kept rowing, chatting about this and that to echo off to everyone. \\

And there was only a third left. Miss Matty appeared, her own ice cream cup in hand.

“Why- it’s a bright day. And there is nothing as wonderful as a rowboat! Why don’t you two enjoy it- William, do be a gentleman and row for her!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” you shook your head. 

“Come on, it will be fun!” cried William.

He opened his hands and you accepted. You followed him. Stepping into the rowboat, you realize how close you are. 

And you were alone. Nothing but the still, navy blue river twisting around like a ribbon and the rich green trees that rippled their leaves with the breeze.

 You tried not to notice the build of his thighs, his sleeves rolled up, and his smile and cheeks glowing with the exercise. The boat moved and he grinned at you. Handsome as always, if not more.

“You’re not worried you’ll get splashed! Or fall into the water and have to swim!”

“Oh, not at all!”

You smiled at him and he at you.

“I still recall that day you caught Napoleon still. I should call you My Little Catcher.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all a bit!”

“What’s been occupying your mind?” you asked him quietly.

“The…the…the trains,” he answered.

“Trains?”

“Yes, we are about to open our railway station. I was thinking, all of my life, I never had to work hard. To earn anything. I sat by and others did it. And I was content, but I’m no better than my own dog,” he replied.

You let out a small laugh, smiling at him.

“I would…like to try to make something of myself. Isn’t that silly for a gentleman?”

“Not at all, it’s noble. And one shouldn’t be ashamed of work.”

“I should go to the captain, and ask him for a position as we’re developing it. Then…I should think of myself as lucky, as earning something, and not letting this guilt consume me.”

“You have done nothing wrong. And there is nothing wrong with purpose. It will be a change, it will be hard…but nothing worth having is easy…” you said.

He smiled at you.

“You’re right, my little catcher,” he replied.

You grinned, then looked down for modesty's sake, as well as for your racing heart. Hope glimmering within you.

It seemed too soon when he turned around and asked if it was time to row home. You agreed.

Though he held out your hand, allowing you off. His bare hand bracing your skin- the warmth, the softness. How large they were yet so protective. Something forbidden inside you was tingling as his bare skin brushed your bare skin.

You had to let go, you were glad to let go and be on the grass. It lasted so shortly, yet you felt the world spin. You wanted him, and it both scared and thrilled you.

Soon enough, another woman hurried by. The honorable Mrs. Jamieson approached you two, with her fine dress and holding her Bischon Freise dog who was also donned up in a little blue waistcoat for today. Stifling a laugh, you greeted her. William bowed his head in goodbye and left.

“Why, I must tell you. The assembly hall will be open for spring. And there shall be a dance, will you go? We are all insisting it happens!” She announced.

Blinking fast, you caught your breath.

“Oh…that is fantastic!”

“It will need work…it’s a rather patched up dreary old place…” she clucked. The dog in her arms barked as if he agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Though, then there was a dance. Just in time for Easter, as promised. You arrived in your new dress, bought with Ermina’s advice in your head. You took a deep breath- Miss Matty being your chaperone. 

“I must tell you we spent weeks all organizing and helping it. I haven’t danced one step and we haven’t danced one step!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, it’s all paid off! It’s lovely!”

Occupying them, and trading dance cards. But Miss Matty immediately insisted William have the first with you. And he agreed.

Your heart raced. It was a more intimate dance, almost like an embrace. He looked right in your eyes. And you had to look at his. It felt warm. You felt yourself tremble a little in his arms, feeling the warmth of his breath and his eyes, bluer than the sea, the sky on you. How could you dance with anyone else after this? How could you come down to earth?

The chords of the violins finished the phrase- and the song was done. You were still looking at him and he at you.

Glancing down, he saw that his arms were still around you in the position. Hesitantly, he let go and you both bowed, your hand still in his.

But his hand remained there, And his eyes were still on you.  Leaning down, he gave it a kiss that nearly made you gasp. 

“May I have you for the next waltz then, Y/N?” he asked.

Part of you froze and you saw he did too.

He didn’t call you Miss. Not even “Little Catcher.” He called you by your first name.

Handing your card, you smiled at him.

“You may,” you answered.

You turned around to see the ladies of Cranford- Pole, Matty, Forrester, Mrs. Jamieson, and the others, smiling and nodding their heads.

This could not be coincidental. But you could never complain. 

 There would be time to thank them, but for now in a Cranford Ballroom where everyone was easily overheard, you gave them a smile in thanks.

It was next spring there was another happy event.

In the shadow of a church, you looked at William right before the Front door and he at you. He was in as nice a waistcoat as he could now afford for today as an apprentice for a railway. He lowered his hat to look at you and hold his hands in yours. Your own gown was now of white muslin with tiny pink flowers decorated on the blouse, the skirts so light and airy you felt they were made of angel wings. You had worn a bonnet, but one with a long lace veil.

The ceremony was done, and it was time to face the crowd. William cupped your face and kissed you, tasting a little of the sacramental wine and fresh cologne.

From the brightness of his eyes, from his presence- you both had the strength to face anything. 

 is lifting your veil outside the church doors of your bonnet and smiling. He squeezed your hand, and as you walked out, the bells rang over you.

Everyone tossed petals and waved their handkerchiefs, cheering and clapping in celebration, in your shared happiness. Your heart full, you handed your bouquet of roses to Miss Matty and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled at you and then handed you to William. He wrapped an arm around you and all began to gather. There would be a celebration with cake, a little ice cream, dances, games, and joy until it was time for the short honeymoon his job allowed him, and then a return to the beautiful little town of Cranford and the new phase of your life together as a man and wife. 

[sunsetchicane]

cowboy like me [LN4]

lando x fem!reader

word count: 8.2k

summary: The one where you work on a ranch and it’s everything you know. There’s nothing that can come between you and your love for your home. Not even a handsome stranger who seems to pull the best out of you.

warnings: slight angst, some fluff, horses!, brief sexual innuendo, a singular swear word, and one [sad] kiss.

author’s note: hey! hi! hello! this is my first fic on here (omgggg 🤭) so please, please, please let me know your thoughts/comments/questions! might write a second part to this…thoughts??[xoxo elle]

~~~

Buxton Ranch has been in the Buxton family before Montana even became an official Union state in 1889. Land wasn’t simply a commodity or property back then; it was life or death. William T. Buxton and his wife, Mary Anne, put their boots down on this land along with their four children and they’ve never left. They fought their way over the mountains, survived the unbearable, and have reaped the benefits of their resilience for over a century and a half.

Willamina T. Buxton I, my boss, is the great-something granddaughter of William T. Buxton I. Her father, William T. Buxton VII handed over the ranch to her on her 30th birthday a few years back. The controversy caused ripples through the entire community because even though Willamina is Mr. Buxton’s first born, the ranch has always been handed down to the eldest son. Willa is the first woman to ever have ownership of the ranch.

My family hasn’t been in Montana nearly as long as the Buxtons. My mom and I moved out here in the spring the year I was born. My father skipped out before my mom could even hold herself upright in her hospital bed after laboring with me. She tells me that we came here to Montana for a fresh start, and what better place to go than where the sky is bigger and the air is pure. The mountains became our safe haven, our buffer from the rest of the world and, more importantly, our history. It’s easy to forget up here, to allow your mind to rest. I’ve never been at a loss for why the Buxtons came and never left. Sometimes, in the dark of my room, I pretend that I really am a Buxton, that I truly belong.

However, when the sun breaks across the mountain peaks and the world comes alive once again, I’m forced to realize that I don’t belong to the Buxton dynasty. I simply work for them.

My alarm blares to my right, causing me to shoot upright. With fumbling fingers, I seek for the power button of my alarm clock. When I finally find it and shut off the hellish noise, I fling my legs over the side of my bed. With the heels of my hands, I rub the sleep from my eyes. The world around me is painted in a deep blue, still fast asleep and undisturbed by my alarm. I envy it as I rise from my bed and get ready for the day.

Silently, I pull on my bootcut Wranglers and a light green long sleeved button down. My belt and beat up old boots complete the ensemble for the moment being. My next stop is the bathroom where I brush my teeth and comb my hair. Tying my hair off into a low braid so it’ll sit right under my hat takes only a couple minutes. I’ve been wearing my hair the same way to work every day for the past seven years.

Once I’m done in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen where a pot of coffee is automatically brewing on schedule. I toss a few eggs into a pan as well as two pieces of bread into the toaster. The breakfast of champions and me every single day. After crushing a cup of coffee and my plain breakfast, it’s time to head out. Instead of living on-site with the rest of the ranch hands, I still live with my mom. I’ve been wanting to move out to the ranch for over a year now since I finished college, but the possibility of breaking my mom’s heart stops me from even mentioning it to her.

Glancing at the clock, I know I have plenty of time to spare, but I start to pack up and head out the door anyway. I enjoy being early to the ranch. It’s peaceful and serene before it wakes and rises. Grabbing my work jacket because the winter’s just turning over to spring, my chaps, and my lunch sack, I head out the door. My mom and I share an old, sunburnt orange Chevy truck that just barely runs. I toss my things into the bed of the pickup before sliding into the worn out driver’s seat. As I slide the key into the ignition, I send up a quick prayer that she turns over. When I press the key forward, the engine roars to life. Prayers have been answered this morning and I hope it’s a good omen for the rest of the day.

The drive to Buxton Ranch is short and sweet, all dirt roads and drifting grassy fields. The radio sounds quietly and the engine hums loudly, but everything else is completely still. A distant light orange is just starting to brush the very edges of the horizon in the east. Nature is starting to reach out and stretch its sleepy limbs.

As I pull up to the place where I always park near a stretch of fence, I see a figure dressed in shadows leaning over the wood a few yards away. Once I’ve tossed the pickup into park and yanked out the keys, I jump down from my seat so I can walk over to her. She’s always out here before everyone. Sometimes I see her, most times I don’t. When I do, it feels like fate, like there’s something about today that’s meant to happen this way. Or maybe it’s just Willamina Buxton.

“Good morning, y/n,” she rasps without glancing over at me. Crossing my arms, I lean over the log fence and take in the view. I don’t think there’s a better view in all of Montana than that from Buxton Ranch.

“Good morning, Willa,” I answer quietly. Her brother, Wyatt, was my best friend growing up. She’s only 12 years older than the two of us, but somehow she seems infinitely older and wiser. She’s been a role model for me. We grew closer after Wyatt left for college a few years back. Of course he came back in the summers to visit, but he never stayed long. He wasn’t born for this life. Instead of horses, he dealt with horse power. He always wanted to become an engineer for Formula One. When the opportunity came to go overseas to study in England and intern at McLaren, he hadn’t even thought twice. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.

I struggled with feeling abandoned for a while, but I came to terms with it quickly. I realized that dreams were meant to be chased and he was incredibly fortunate to get this opportunity. I was also chasing my dream, I just had to go down the street instead of across an ocean. We keep in touch, calling frequently and texting nearly every day, but it’s not the same. I miss him.

“Heard from Wyatt recently?” Willa says quietly then takes a sip from her mug of iron black coffee.

“Not in a couple of days. Seems busy,” I mumble. Wyatt’s leaving is a bit of a sore spot for Willa. She wanted him to stay on the ranch and in the family business. Her asking about him is a bit of an anomaly.

She hums, then pauses, then sighs. “Lots to do today. We better get going.”

And just like that the work day starts.

I tend to the horses right away, leading them out into the corral so I can wash out their stalls from over the weekend. I give each of them fresh hay and fill up large troughs of water for the more temperamental ones. Then I lead them one at a time back into their stalls and give them a thorough once over to check how they’re doing.

The last one I have to put away is the youngest of the group. He came to us only last year, unbroke and wild as the river. He’s a black Morgan stallion, sleek and athletic. He’s larger than your typical Morgan, with rippling muscle, and a proud face. He’s beautiful. We call him Jupe.

“Jupe,” I coo kindly to the untamed stallion. “Come on, Jupe.”

He casts a look over his back at me telling me everything I need to know. Sighing, I toss myself over the fence and into the corral. With my palms raised up and in front of me, I show him the leather lead in my hand as I walk over to him slowly.

“Come on, Jupe, we gotta go back inside. I cleaned up real nice for you, boy. Fresh hay, new water, you’re living the five star life, buddy,” I say while creeping up on him. He doesn’t move, but simply tracks my movements with his black eyes. Nerves claw at my stomach as I approach him. Reaching out slowly, I praise him and repeat his name over and over. Finally, I slide the clip of the lead around a loop in his bridle. But there’s no relief yet. I still have to get him into the stables without incident.

“Good boy, Jupe,” I say, reaching out gently to stroke his nose. He pushes at my hand playfully. A surge of pride washes over me. Maybe the two of us are finally making progress. Jupe lets me lead him out of the corral and back to his stall with ease. Today really is my day.

“Thank you,” I whisper to the stallion as I slide the lock shut on his door. Jupe’s head hangs over the short door, his head coming down to level with mine. Patting him gently, I pull a couple sugar cubes from my pack. I hold them up to him on my flat palm and he slurps them up gratefully. A smile that I can do nothing to stop breaks across my face. I’m gonna saddle him up one day. And maybe that day is sooner than I’d anticipated.

“Only you would give that stubborn Morgan a treat,” I hear a familiar voice say. I whip around in disbelief as the tone and inflexion registers in my mind.

“Then again, maybe the two of you have bonded over your mutual stubbornness.” Wyatt hardly gets the words out before I’m taking his arm in mine and wrapping him up in a hug with the other. We laugh as we sway side to side. My hat careens to the side of my head as I hug him and I know I must be getting him all sweaty and dirty, but I can’t find it in myself to care about vanity at the moment. Wyatt’s back.

“Surprise!” He says when I finally let go of him. He’s wearing a bright smile as I pull back. Wyatt reaches up and straightens out my hat for me.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming!” I say while smacking the back of my hand against his shoulder. “I would’ve gotten off work and…”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” he laughs as I slide past him to finish up sweeping this side of the stables.

“You’re right,” I laugh along with him while I sweep. He knows that I love my job too much to step away from it. I hate missing a day and he knows that.

Wyatt takes a seat on a stack of unused hay bales that I’ll have to load back up. He chats with me about school and England and McLaren. I don’t know much about Formula One, just what I picked up on from Wyatt constantly chatting my ear off about it. Most of the stuff that Wyatt has told me, however, goes way over my head. What I do know is that this boy is an engineering genius and McLaren is lucky to have him now as a full-time employee. They offered him a job straight out of university. He’ll be living full time in the UK. My stomach twists at the thought.

“So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day?” Wyatt asks after I’ve finished sweeping. I place my hands on top of the broom and lean my chin over my fingers.

“Riley and I were going to take down that rickety south fence and…” I start to say while mentally checking my to-do list.

“Sandy’s helping Riley with that,” Wyatt says matter-of-factly. I cast him a questioning look to which he simply blinks at.

“Alright. Then I have to go to the cattle and check on all of the pregnant…”

“Louise has that covered,” Wyatt informs me while picking at his nails. What is he getting at?

“Why…well, then I have to…” I begin, trying to move away from things that he could possibly know of.

“Go riding with me and my friends!” Wyatt exclaims while hopping off the hay bales and clapping his hands together. “Wonderful idea.”

My jaw drops. There’s no way that he’s trying to make me skip the rest of the day to go riding. Not after we just had a conversation over the fact that I would never do that. That I could never do that. I have an obligation to be here, to get things done.

“Wy, you know I’d love to, but I’ve got work to do,” I say firmly while walking over to hang up my broom. Jupe huffs and brays at Wyatt as he walks briskly over to me.

“No you don’t. I made sure of it,” Wyatt says while grabbing my hands so I have no choice but to stand in front of him. “Willa’s told me to inform you that if you’re found working this afternoon, there’ll be severe consequences.”

At that, I know I have to oblige with Wyatt’s request. If Willa gave the all clear, there’s no reason for me to try and argue. One thing about the Buxtons is they’re nearly as strong-willed as the horses they hold. Not to mention it would be incredibly rude of me to not accept Willa’s generosity. This doesn’t stop me from letting Wyatt know exactly how I feel about him pulling me away from my work. I do so in colorful language the entire walk over to the house.

“You don’t even want to go riding with me, you just want me to be your guide,” I feign an accusation as we approach a small crowd of people on the large front deck of the Buxtons glorious ranch home. I see a few ranch hands and two other men that I don’t know, who must be Wyatt’s friends.

“You are the best guide out here.” His backhanded compliment earns him an eye roll. As we approach the house, he tells me to wait for a second while he calls over his friends. Their heads turn quickly to the two of us when Wyatt calls to them. They say hasty goodbyes to the staff they were chatting with before walking over to Wyatt and I. One is tall and pale, with pale eyes, and pale hair. His cheeks are flushed a slight pink from the chill that still hangs in the spring air. He looks lively and excited, his eyes bouncing around from one thing to another at lightning speed.

The other man is shorter with cropped, dark, curly hair. His hazel eyes are sharp and brilliant against his tanned skin. As he draws nearer, I can tell that he’s very physically fit. He’s wearing a tight long sleeve shirt that hugs his arms, brand new boot cut jeans, and a shiny pair of boots that have obviously never been worn. His eyes, unlike his friend, don’t wander while he walks over to us; they stay trained on me. A small smile falls across his pretty pink lips as he finds me watching him swagger his way over. He’s attractive.

“Never seen a British boy in cowboy boots before,” I say when they stop in front of us, glancing down at the brunette's footwear. When my eyes flick up to his, he still hasn’t stopped looking at me. Clearing my throat, I extend a hand to the blonde.

“Hi, y/n,” I introduce myself while shaking his hand.

“Mitchel,” he says, his accent is sharp and acutely German, which takes me by surprise. I nod, casting him a warm smile. I watch as Mitchel’s eyes flick to Wyatt over my shoulder. Following suit, I catch Wy smiling like a fool and a slight blush that I don’t think has anything to do with the weather coating his cheeks. When he sees me looking at him, he quickly crosses his arms and looks away. My smile widens. Mitchel drops my hand and then stuffs his back into his pockets.

“Y/n,” I say to Wyatt’s other friend who has a bit of a staring problem. He takes my hand in his slowly.

“Lando Norris,” He says crisply, his accent confirming my previous assessment. “Nice to finally meet you, y/n.”

His name catches in my mind, as if I’ve heard it before but I can’t place it. Wyatt must have mentioned him at some point, but for the life of me I can’t remember what about. A moment passes and our hands stay held together in the space between us as I try to place him. My eyes scan over his face and catalog his freckles and scars and the way his eyes sparkle when he smiles. When it dawns on me that I’m now the one with a staring problem, I swiftly pull my hand from his. Briefly, his jaw clenches.

“Finally, huh?” I take his previous statement and run with it. Turning my back to Lando, I glance over at Wyatt. “Just what have you been saying about me?”

“All good things, all good things,” Wy assures me while coming up to clasp me on the shoulder. He leans into me with a big smile that makes my stomach churn at the thought of what he’s actually told his friends. What does Lando think of me? Why does it matter what Lando thinks of me?

“Well,” I say quickly, trying to shake the thought of Lando from my head. “I suppose we should get going if we want to be back by sundown.”

The three boys nod their heads in agreement. The four of us walk over to the stables. Wyatt and Mitchel walk slowly behind me as they chit chat and laugh. Casting a glance over my shoulder at them, I watch as their shoulders bump together and their fingers brush intentionally. I bite my lip to keep myself from smiling. Wyatt’s alway had a hard time with romance and partnership just because of where we grew up and the hate he received for simply being himself. Seeing him this way, happy and smitten, makes me feel proud. It affirms that his leaving was necessary in so many ways.

“How long have you been working here?” Lando’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. My attention slides over to him. He’s come up to my left, his hands folded behind his back. His eyes are wide and curious as he looks at me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being analyzed.

“Seven years. But I’ve been on the ranch all my life. I took riding lessons from Willa and then became fast friends with Wyatt,” I tell him while pulling my eyes from his. Returning his gaze seems difficult, so I keep my eyes trained on the stable. He hums in acknowledgement of my response. I can feel his eyes on me still.

“Do you work at McLaren with Wyatt?” I ask my new acquaintance. He chuckles to himself a little, his pretty eyes squinting from his large smile.

“Yeah, you could say that,” he says, making me feel like I’m missing something. I scoff at his vague response, but don’t press the issue. If he wanted to explain himself, he would. His aura is interesting. He seems so sure of himself, completely at ease with who he is. It’s captivating.

We make it to the entrance of the stable and I instruct Lando and Mitchel to take a seat while Wyatt and I saddle up the horses. It takes us a while to get everyone ready for the trail ride, but with every passing minute, the more excited I get. Wyatt and I used to go out on the trails all the time. During the summer as teenagers, we would stuff our packs full of camping supplies and go for days at a time. Those memories are my most cherished possessions, things that I will never forget. Now whenever I take others up there, I feel as though I’m bearing a part of my soul to them.

Once we’re done getting everything ready, Wyatt leads his and Mitchel’s horses, Rudy and Molly, outside with Mitchel in tow. This leaves me alone with Lando. My stomach twists nervously when I feel his presence looming to my right.

“Ever ridden before?” I ask while petting Luna, a beautiful sorrel tovero paint. She’s older, but strong and steady, a good horse for a beginner.

“Yeah, loads,” Lando says while joining me in stroking Luna. I cast him a critical glance. If he sees it, he ignores me. Rolling my eyes, I really can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. It’s important to know what you’re doing while working with large animals. I make the mental note to keep him in my line of sight at all times while riding.

“Oh, good. Then you’ll be good to lead Ms. Luna out? She’s yours for the day,” I tell him while handing over the reins. I watch his adam's apple bob and his eyebrows lift slightly before nodding and accepting the reins from my hand. When his fingers brush over mine, goosebumps run across my arm. Quickly, I pull my hand away and turn towards Beau, my stallion for today. Fiddling aimlessly with his bridle, I wait until the steps of Luna and Lando have disappeared before releasing a breath. Leaning my forehead against Beau’s neck, I sigh at my stupid behavior. Am I really so touch starved that I get goosebumps at my finger brushing against his? That’s sad.

I take Beau’s reins in my hand and start leading him out to the waiting pack of boys. Just as I’m about to exit the stables, I look over at Jupe. He’s looking at me like he knows exactly what’s going on in my mind.

“Don’t give me attitude,” I tell him.

He just blinks at me.

Beau and I join everyone. Wyatt’s running Mitchel through the basics while Lando watches on. He’s pretending to not be listening by petting Luna and quietly talking to her, but I still catch the way he glances over when Wy demonstrates something. I walk around and do a quick double check on everyone’s gear before returning to Beau’s side. With the ease of muscle memory that I don’t think I’ll ever lose, I toss myself up and onto the saddle. Wyatt assists Mitchel into his saddle before climbing into his own. Lando glances over at me before sliding his foot into the stirrup and attempting to pull himself up. He looks out of his depth and slightly awkward as he hauls himself onto the saddle seat. Biting back a laugh, I click my tongue and squeeze my legs a little to get Beau to move for me. The two of us saunter up next to Lando. His easy continence is long gone, replaced by nerves and uncertainty. His hands shake as he grabs onto the reins incorrectly.

“Here, like this,” I correct while reaching out to his hands. My fingers pry his anxious fists open and fix where he’s holding the leather cord. I’m surprised to find calluses littering his palms, a mirror of my own. I maneuver his palm to rest in the right way so he doesn’t agitate Luna. I can feel Lando watching me as I touch and hold his hands. I’ve done this a hundred times when teaching lessons, but this is the first time that I feel an uncomfortable blush creeping onto my cheeks. Lando’s presence has me off axis, spinning out of my routine. I’ve known him for maybe an hour and he’s already getting under my skin.

“Just trust Luna, she knows the way,” I say quietly as I pull away from him. He bites at his lip but nods along with my words. Smiling as warmly as I can, I leave his side to ride up to Wyatt. However, I can’t help but glance back over my shoulder at him. He’s not looking at me, thankfully. Instead, his eyes are trained on his hands as he flexes them on the reins the way I showed him. His focus is endearing, almost cute.

But when his eyes rise to find mine, I snap my head forward in hopes that he didn’t catch me staring at him. The last thing I need is to develop some sort of childish crush on a stranger that I’ll never see again after a few days. I just have to keep my head down and my thoughts off of him.

“Time’s wasting!” Wyatt calls to me, letting me know that everyone is ready to go. Nodding, I take the lead while Wyatt falls to the back. We keep Mitchel and Lando between us so they don’t get caught straying off the path.

Going out for a ride is one of my favorite things. I love going into the mountains, walking along the thin paths, and enjoying the earth. As we go, I hear Mitchel and Wyatt quietly chatting at the back of the pack. However, once we get to the treeline, their voices fall away from my earshot. My senses are overcome by our surroundings. The budding trees are gorgeous as they filter the sunlight into sultry beams that fall onto the new grass along the sides of the gravel path.

“Beautiful,” I hear Lando speak for the first time since we left. I’ve been distracted thankfully, leaving me free from his effect on me. Now, though, I find myself turning to the side to look at him as he comes up next to me. I’m surprised to find him staring at me instead of the lively forest that hems us in. A thought that he might be making a comment about me instead of the scenery flashes through my mind. Quickly, I shove the absurd thought away and chalk it up to wishful thinking.

“It is,” I agree, giving him a small smile. He chuckles a little before turning to look around him. Suddenly, I’m acutely aware of him. Somehow he adds to the already perfect scene around me. His hair is being ruffled by the slight, cool breeze, which also lends his skin a gorgeous pink flush. Bright hazel eyes track the swishing branches and fluttering wildlife. His muscles are on display as he engages them to ride Luna. He looks less stiff than he did earlier, as if he’s finding himself at ease here. The idea makes me giddy. I find myself agreeing with Lando’s previous assessment. Beautiful.

“See something you like, cowgirl?” Lando laughs when he catches me staring at him yet again. My eyes go wide and my mouth parts as I scramble for a proper response, a defense, anything. There’s just something about him that makes it nearly impossible to look away. I think I’d like to be able to see him a lot more.

“Cowgirl?” Is all I can come up with. It’s not an inaccurate title, but the way he said it made it sound different. It was tacked onto his question almost like an endearment, or a tease. I laugh a little at his choice of words and the way it sounds in his accent.

“I see a lot of things I like, cowboy. You’ll have to be more specific,” I challenge. This successfully pulls a proper laugh from him. It’s the type of laugh that sends birds flying frantically from their perches and the creatures hidden in the grass scurrying away. It’s impossible to not laugh along with him. My heart flutters and I have to hold on tighter to my reins so I don’t fall off the saddle.

“I may be a lot of things, but I am no cowboy,” he corrects. I nod while continuing to laugh.

“I could have told you that,” I confirm while adjusting my hat.

“Oh really?” Lando says, urging me to explain myself. He tilts his head to the side while his mouth pulls into a closed lipped smile.

“If the brand new jeans and boots didn’t give you away, then you’re riding definitely does. You ride stiff as a board,” I inform him while glancing down at his boots and jeans. His denim clad thighs are tight around Luna’s middle, tense muscles visible through the fabric.

“Alright, teach me then,” he says, his free hand coming to rest on his hip. “Cowgirl.”

I roll my eyes at his words once again, but am resolved to help him nonetheless. There’s nothing like going out and being able to ride properly. I want to ask him why he lied to me about his experience with riding, but I don’t want to bruise his ego any further. Trying something new is challenging enough, and if he’s willing to learn, then I don’t want to jeopardize that.

“Keep sitting up straight, but relax your body. Your hips should shift back and forth in the seat a little. Don’t fight what feels natural. Just watch me,” I tell him. His eyes slide slowly from my face down to my hips. I watch as his eyes track my hips back and forth just slightly with Beau’s steps. Lando’s breathing goes uneven and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He’s staring at me like there’s nothing else he’d ever want to look at. It makes my heart race and nerves flutter in my stomach. I hadn’t really thought about the more sensual implications of having him watch my hips, but it seems rather obvious now. However, I don’t really mind the way he’s looking at me, or the way his focus is completely attuned to me. Selfishly, I really wish he wouldn’t look at anything else ever again. But that can’t happen.

“Eyes up, cowboy,” I tell him after a few more seconds of letting him watch. “Go ahead.”

Clearing his throat, he shifts a little in the saddle before settling in to do what I asked. I don’t miss the way he avoids looking me in the eye, as if he’s embarrassed. Have I flustered him? The thought makes me just a tiny bit proud. He doesn’t seem like the type to be flustered easily. He sits up straight and attempts to relax his body. His lower half starts to shift the right way, looking more natural and less jerky than before. Indulging myself, I watch for a few more seconds. I bite the inside of my cheek as he rocks back and forth in the saddle. My mind goes wandering to places that I shouldn’t be thinking about with a man I’ve only known for a day. Less than a day. And yet, I can’t stop myself.

“Maybe we’ll make a real cowboy out of you yet, Lando Norris,” I tell him after I’ve noticed improvements. His focus fractures and he looks over to me.

“I think I’d like that,” He shoots back, a sly smile accompanying his words. The look twists my stomach into nervous knots. There’s something about him, something intangible, that draws you in. Maybe it’s charm or charisma, or maybe it’s just the way he was made. Whatever the circumstances or reasons are, it’s not fair. I feel as though I have hardly a fighting chance to ward off any sort of desire that’s bubbling to the surface. I want to keep getting to know him; I want to teach him anything he asks; I want to never let go of the way he makes me feel.

The walk back to the ranch grounds is much faster than I would have liked. Lando chats with me the entire way back about this and that. He’s smart and funny and my chances of not having a crush on him grow slimmer with every passing minute I spend with him. When we get back to the stables, I find myself taking much longer than I normally would to put everything away. Mitchel and Wyatt decided that a fire would be the best way to end the night, so they ran out to get it started while Lando and I finished up with the horses. He tried his best to help, but kept getting distracted by visiting all of the stalls.

“Who’s this?” Lando says as I finish putting away the last saddle. I say a quick goodbye to Beau before heading down to the last stall near the open barn doors. Lando is standing in front of Jupe’s stall, his arms crossed over his chest. I stop next to him, leaving an appropriate amount of space between us, even though I want to come up right next to him and press my shoulder to his.

“This is Jupe. He’s our newest. Bit ornery, but a good boy,” I say while reaching my hand out to pat Jupe’s head. He brays at my touch, but doesn’t pull away. I give him a quick kiss on the nose and coddle him a little. Positive reinforcement does wonders.

“My turn,” Lando says from behind me. Astounded, I turn my face toward him. He’s insinuating that he wants me to kiss him. My brain short circuits at the thought. He’s just standing there with his arms still crossed over his chest and a stupid smile playing across his handsome face. I scoff at his joke, trying not to let on how much it affected me.

“Careful what you wish for, you might end up with a stall of your own,” I jab back. However, keeping him here doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.

“Being praised, kissed, and ridden by you? Sounds like these guys are living the dream,” Lando says. My jaw hangs loose as his words hit me like a freight train. Shock courses through me, leaving me beyond speechless. Is he being serious? Who says things like that? I blink at him, unsure of how to continue. I can’t lie and say that the images that popped into my head when he spoke were entirely unpleasant. If he’s being serious, there’s a lot to consider here. I could deny my feelings and spare myself the heartache. Or the alternative, which is letting my emotions get the better of me. This would mean that in a few days after spending time together, I would have to deal with heartbreak and come to terms with the fact that I’ll maybe never see him again. Or maybe I could, if there’s something really here. Maybe I have to give into hope for once. There’s never really been anyone who I’ve put ahead of my goals or dreams. I’ve never been tempted to stray from my path by anyone. Sure, I’ve gone out with guys, had a boyfriend for a while. But if something didn’t line up, I made cuts so my life would fit together how I needed it to. Suddenly now, as I stand here in this stable with a man I met only hours ago, I’m finding myself bending my rules for the first time. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my whole life.

“Alright, cowboy,” I say while taking a tentative step toward him, I’m ready to play this little game of his. His hands have fallen to his side, so I gently slide my fingers into his. Shining eyes lock onto mine. His tan skin is set aglow by the dying sunrise, highlighting the ridges and curves of his face. I want to memorize every freckle, every line, every corner of him. I’m lost in the way his hand feels around mine and in the way he’s looking at me, and I don’t ever want to find my way out. One of his fingers comes to the front of my hat and pushes the brim up. He draws closer now, his face mere inches from mine. His jaw flexes and his large neck muscles twitch with tension as he dips his head down just enough for his lips to hover over mine.

“We have a fire to get to,” I finish my earlier thought in a whisper. With hooded eyes, I look into his wide ones. Smiling smally, I step away from him. Adjusting my hat back to its original place, I begin walking out the door. Lando is hauled after me with my hand still grasped in his. Giddiness takes me over as I walk hand in hand with him towards the fire pit near the house. My small smile breaks into a much larger one as I pick up my pace, breaking into a jog. Lando’s hand clasps around mine tighter as he adjusts to the new pace. A laugh bubbles from my chest as I bring my free hand to hold onto my hat as I run harder. A sense of carefreeness has corrupted my usual serious disposition. Rarely do I feel as free as I do now. Lando’s lightness has infected me, and I can’t help but fall in love with how it’s buoyed my spirits. It feels like the first hit of a drug; it’s the type of high I’ll be chasing for the rest of my life.

As we approach the house, I can hear Wyatt’s laugh ring out from around the corner to the back. Just as we’re about to turn that last corner, Lando’s arms reach around my waist, stopping me from moving another inch. His chest hits my back with no small amount of force, tossing my hat from my head. I’m bent over in his arms as both of our laughs pull the last threads of air from our tired lungs. He hauls us both upright and my head falls back against his shoulder. I suck in a deep breath of the cool, dusk air. It cools me from the inside out. A feeling stirs deep in my stomach as I stare up into the sky while basking in the feeling of Lando’s arms wrapped around me.

Belonging.

It’s something I’ve been chasing my whole life; a sense of knowing where I belong and who I am. And now I feel as though I’ve finally found it: a home; a place to belong; a knowledge of exactly who I am.

Once we’ve regulated our breathing, I break out of his arms. Leaving them isn’t what I want, and as I pull away, I immediately feel much colder. However, we have to accompany Wyatt and Mitchel before they grow suspicious. Carefully, I pick up my hat, but don’t place it back on my head.

“Are you coming?” I ask quickly, tossing a glance to Lando over my shoulder. He shakes his head with a smile, but follows me around the corner without a word. Wyatt’s eyes find us over the roaring fire he’s built. Mitchel is seated right next to him on a log, a thick blanket spread over their laps. Between the warmth of the fire, the blanket, and the present company, I know that the nighttime chill won’t be able to touch me. As I approach Wyatt, he reaches to the side to pick up another blanket with a couple beers and s’mores supplies stacked on top. I accept it with a quick thank you before plopping down on the log next to them. Lando saunters after me, slowly taking a seat to my right.

“Hold this?” I ask while placing the blanket onto his lap. Gently, I set my hat down behind me, then reach over my shoulder to grab the end of my braid. I pull the elastic from the end and go about undoing the braid.

“So, Lando, how was the ride for you?” Wy asks as he brings his beer to his lips. My eyes are on the fire as he speaks, my mind slipping out of focus for a brief moment while I concentrate on my hair. But I’m aware of the fact that Lando doesn’t answer. When I turn to look at him, I find his eyes already on me, following my fingers as they finish pulling out my braid. I run my fingers through my roots to shake out the nasty hat hair that I undoubtedly have.

“Lando?” Wyatt laughs.

“What?” Lando says as he snaps out of his dazed state. His eyes go wide as they shift over to Wyatt who’s chuckling to himself. A goofy smile breaks across Lando’s face as Wyatt restates his question.

“I think I might have to switch professions,” Lando says, his eyes flicking down to me. The fire is lighting his skin with a warm glow. The flames flash lazily in his glossy eyes.

“I think it would be best for you to stick with McLaren,” I joke while cracking both of our cold beers. With a small smile, I hand over one of the bottles to a slightly offended Lando. Laughing to myself, I nudge his shoulder and click the neck of my beer to his. The liquid is cold and fresh against my lips, sending the perfect chill cascading down into my neck and chest.

“Yeah, mate, I think it’s best if you stay in the cockpit rather than the saddle,” Mitchel adds. “Play to your strengths and all that.”

The cockpit? As in the cockpit of a Formula One car? The realization hits me with all the grace of a drunk elephant. Lando Norris; I recognized his name earlier because Wyatt works as an engineer for a driver named Lando Norris. A Formula One driver named Lando Norris. With wide eyes, I stare forward into the fire. Every possibility that I’ve just dreamt up has suddenly become nothing but a fantasy. My body tenses as it physically revolts against my idiocy and naivety. Reality settles into my bones and I have to chide myself for being so stupid to ignore it for as long as I have. Not only did I ignore it, but I created a work of fiction where maybe we could end up together.

“Shit,” I hear Lando breathe next to me. His face is one I don’t recognize, one of seriousness. For the few hours that I’ve known him, which feel more like years, I haven’t seen him lose that little spark that makes him so him. Now it’s nowhere to be seen. He didn’t want me to know that he was a professional driver, one of the most elite in the whole world. It stings because I don’t understand exactly what his intentions were and it allowed me the space to concoct some seriously messed up notions. There’s no way that anything could happen between us now. It’s hard enough to maintain a friendship of years over an ocean with an engineer; imagine trying to hold together a relationship with a driver across continents and seas that constantly change. However, I can’t justify being angry with him. It is his life to be in the public eye constantly. If he came out here to not be recognized for a while and to be treated like just a normal guy, then who am I to deny him that. I just wish he would have given me the opportunity to do that with knowing who he really is. Now I’m stuck with feelings that I know won’t go away in a hurry and thorough embarrassment.

The rest of the night passes monotonously. Wyatt and Mitchel are wrapped up into their own little world, so they hardly notice the ever eroding gap that suddenly formed between Lando and I. We chat a little, but it’s not the same anymore. Roasting marshmallows has suddenly become my new favorite thing because it gives me an excuse to not look at him. I know that if I do, I’ll start to adore his curly hair and the scar over the bridge of his nose and the way that he looks right into your soul with his pretty eyes. I know that if I dare to look at him, I’ll start to believe in fiction once again. That’s not something I can allow; I won’t be the person who falls in love with the idea of something they can never have.

I won’t be the person that falls for someone they can never have.

Wyatt and Mitchel bid us goodnight before walking hand in hand into the house. Envy flares in my chest, jealousy turning my heart an ugly shade of green. The crackling of the dying fire and the rustling of wind through the grass and trees are the only things that greet my ears. Usually, I would be incredibly fond of this quietness. But now, it simply feels like a life sentence of silence. And once again, as the world turns to night, I feel the loneliness creep in at the edges. The night chill has crept into my fingers and toes, slowly creeping inward.

“I’m sorry,” Lando’s voice is gravelly from lack of use. “I should have…”

“You should have,” I agree. My voice isn’t harsh or condescending, it’s soft, softer than I’ve ever heard it. “I understand, though. I just wish I had known before…”

My voice trails off and gets blown away with the smoke that floats lazily into the atmosphere. Clouds have collected across the sky, cutting the stars from our view. With a melancholy heart, I can’t help but admit how fitting that is. I suppose we really weren’t written in the stars. We are the opposite of destined.

Lando’s hand wraps around my cold fingers, but instead of warming me, it burns. The kiss he leaves on my knuckles feels as though my hand was dipped into the embers of a fire. Blinking back the prick in my eyes from impending tears, I watch his face fall into a frown. I hate the way his eyebrows are creased in the middle and the concern that’s painfully evident in his stubborn eyes. It’s not the look I wanted from him tonight. It’s not the face that’s become my brand new favorite. It’s not Lando.

“How long are you staying for?” I find myself asking. I have to know how long I’ll have to endure his presence. But what’s worse: having him here and knowing I can’t have him, or watching him leave and knowing that I’ll never have him?

“We leave on Monday,” he says. Just for the weekend then. I’ll only have to see him on Monday and then I’ll be free of him. I know he’ll torment me in my sleep, when I see someone walking down the street who looks a little like him, when I look at Luna. I’ll never truly escape him.

“Alright,” I mumble. A beat passes without any more conversation. Then Lando’s hand is slipping under my hair and around the side of my neck. My head turns toward him, his touch unprompted and sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

“I’m sorry, but I have to know. Just once and then we can put it away forever. Alright?” He’s closing that gap between us, both physically and emotionally. His face slows as it hovers in front of mine. My breathing has ceased and fear has seized my heart. Is this the right thing to do? Or will it make it worse?

“Alright,” I find myself agreeing without thinking. Maybe I have to know, too, if this is everything I think it is; if this really is everything that I’m losing.

His kiss is light at first, lips just barely brushing mine. It’s soft and gentle as he uses his hand to bring my face closer to his. When his lips are fully on mine, my mind bursts into stars and streams of color. He kisses me with quiet passion, slow and strong. That belonging that I felt when he had his arms around me flares back to life in my chest. His fingers flex under my jaw, holding onto me tighter like he’s scared I’ll slip out of his grip. Which I am. When we break away from our first and last kiss, I feel as we filter through each other’s fingertips. We’re lost now, never to be found.

A crack in my chest sends me to my feet. Tears suddenly blur my vision.

“Goodbye, Lando,” I find myself saying, my words taking every bit of strength I have left. As I turn away from him for the last time, I find myself wishing I'd have said no to his kiss. As I walk away from him for the last time, I know now that I’m losing the one real thing I’ve ever known.

The truth is he isn’t a cowboy like me.

[what-a-flammable-heart]

I’LL LOVE YOU IN EVERY LIFE WE LIVE—CHAPTER I

Chapter I: Creation Myth

(CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS, ADAM, PRINCE HAL/KING HENRY V, WILLIAM BUXTON, JAMES NICHOLLS, JAMES CONRAD, JONATHAN PINE & LOKI X READER)

Soulmates who meet in every life they live, they know without really knowing, that they belong together. Whether in the heat of battle or kneeling before the king; separated by time and death and other people, they always find one another. Love is the one thing they know for certain, even if they cannot be together, even if they are only together for the briefest moment. There will always be another life in which they will meet.

This Chapter: Religious context and background.

18+ READERS ONLY

WARNINGS: angst, smut (vaginal sex, fingering, oral—male & female receiving), character death (implied & described), violence, language

Playlist

In the Christian religion, it is said that God created Adam from the clay of the Earth, so that man would always have a connection to it. He took a rib from Adam’s own chest to create Eve—the love of his life. They lived in peace together, until the fall of man. They remained together for the rest of their hundred year lives, bearing children that would populate a desolate planet. According to the Bible, Adam and Eve made this place our home.

In our religion, Adam and Eve were created similarly from the dust of the Earth and Adam’s own breastbone, but instead of residing together in Eden, our god put the lovers on opposite ends of the Earth, so that they might find one another, and grow in that journey. While we have a deep connection to the Earth that we were formed from, our souls return to a place of pure light, to rejoin our soulmate before we are born again. Over the millenia, a couple may be reborn hundreds of times, connecting in life for many years or a brief moment. We may take more from the journey itself than our relationship with that person, but we are sure to meet them at least once—to touch hands and know, if only for a moment, that soulmates exist.

Read more…

[joyzhong1]

Louise V. Rossiter of Buxton, Feb. 11

Louise V. Rossiter, 88, of Buxton, NC died on Sunday, February 11, 2018, surrounded by her family. She was born on September 20, 1929, to the late Riley J. Massey and Sarah E. Massey. She was preceded in death by her beloved husband William X. Rossiter.

She is survived by her daughters, Bonnie R. Ballantyne of Branford, CT and Anne M. Rossiter (Kirk Brining) of Buxton, NC; her “third” daughter, Donna Strachan-Ledbetter of Lewes, DE; three grandchildren, Amy Louise Baum (Nick), Katherine Margaret Sarkozy (Steve), and Fred James Ballantyne III (Sarah); and four great-grandchildren, Claire Baum, Jack Baum, Kirsten Sarkozy, and Natalie Sarkozy.

Louise was the valedictorian of her high school class and received an associate’s degree from Goldey Beacom College. She was the registrar at Quinnipiac College until retiring to care for her grandchildren.

She moved to Buxton in 1984 and became a pillar of the community there. She served on the Fessenden Board of Directors, volunteered at Hotline, started the Prayer Shawl Ministry, and served as the treasurer of the Buxton UMC for over 25 years. She was an avid reader, a beachcomber, but most often you would find her knitting and crocheting gifts for the extended island family she so loved.

Mom, Gram, Weezie, Miss Louise — your presence lit up a room, your quick wit and humor kept everyone on their toes, and your kindness and generosity were unmatched. To know you was to love you.

A celebration of life will be held Saturday, February 17, 2018, at 11:00 am at Buxton United Methodist Church with the Rev. Toni Wood officiating. A reception will follow the service in the fellowship hall. In lieu of flowers, donations can be made to the Buxton UMC Building Fund, PO Box 672, Buxton, NC 27920.

Twiford Funeral Home, Manteo is assisting the family with arrangements. Condolences may be expressed at www.TwifordFH.com.

Source Article

Read full post at: http://www.joyzhong.com/louise-v-rossiter-of-buxton-feb-11/

[smolvenger]

Heheheheeh guess who I'm currently writing a rough draft for now at last-

The Wiliam Buxton/Reader fic is on the way!

It may not have any actual stakes besides some mutual pining and I don't think a lot will happen- but we're just here for the vibes, y'all.

[smolvenger]

Hi guys- life has been stressful and anxiety inducing so to distract myself...I am opening requests for the week of 9/10-9/17!!!!!

Be aware requests take time for me and I will likely be slow and I might get distracted, so you can always remind me. Think of it like cooking in the oven- it will take more time but be extra yummy. But you can ask for headcanons, drabbles, or smaller one-shots.

I will write for x reader with a lot of characters I've written for in the past, including...

Tom Hiddlestons' characters including...

Loki Laufeyson

Prince Hal/Henry V (The Hollow Crown: Henry IV and V)

Jonathan Pine (The Night Manager)

Thomas Sharpe (Crimson Peak)

Dr. Robert Laing (High-Rise)

Cpn. James Nicholls (War Horse)

William Buxton (Return to Cranford)

Caius Martius Coriolanus (Coriolanus)

James Conrad (Kong: Skull Island)

Jaguar Villain! Tom

I'll include Prof! Hiddleston as a character, bc why not.

I can also try writing Bucky (like I did in the past) or Steve Rogers!

I do accept Smut requests, just assure me you are over 18. If you are ever unsure about something, don't be afraid to ask.

Some things I will not write:

I will not write the cheating trope if they cheat on each other or with each other. Just, no. I have literal panic attacks over media with cheating in it.

I will not write non-con. Dub-con I can still do, but non-con, no way.

I will not write three ways or multiple partners. I don't know how to do it write and I don't find it as compelling or sexy as others do.

I will not write anything regarding Stepfather! Character x Reader. Please nothing like that.

I hate The Essex Serpent and find it triggering so please do not ask me to write Will Ransome x Reader unless it's a fic where he gets beaten up for cheating on Stella and my poor little meow meow Stella lives happily ever after, I know plenty of other people here who would be perfectly happy to write for him and who take requests, you can always ask me.

No incest requests, please.

Other than that, for this week, go wild! I will close requests 9/17 11:59 pm EST!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

[what-a-flammable-heart]

MASTER LIST

My fics are strictly 18+ reading, and are all housed on AO3. Not all fics contain smut, but for the safety of everyone, please be aware.

Fics with smut in 1 or more chapters will be marked with a (*).

If you’re interested in being tagged on any/all fics, please send me a message and let me know!

I typically write for Tom Hiddleston and characters he’s played, as well as Chris Evan, Seb Stan and associated characters. I dabble in Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington things as well. 

If you send in requests I might just write them, but please give me time to do them justice.

💜

TOM HIDDLESTON

The Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To Is When I’m Alone With You*—Updates Sundays

(TOM HIDDLESTON X READER) Father Thomas Hiddleston is a good priest, satisfied with the life he'd chosen more than ten years ago. His faith wavers but there's little else in his life to keep him from God's work. Until his childhood sweetheart walks back into his church after more than ten years of staying away. You're engaged to be married, unaware that Tom is now a priest at the church you intend to be married in. When you realize, it's a struggle to keep all of your long held feelings for him at bay. Will you go through with your plans to marry your fiancé, or will you give in to the longing you've felt for Tom all these years? And in doing so, will you pull Tom down into sin with you? Chapters: (Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) ) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) Playlist & Moodboard

Drunk & In Love*—One Shot

(TOM HIDDLESTON X READER) Your friends convince you to stay for one drink after work, and when you see actor Tom Hiddleston looking uncomfortable with another woman, you think saving him will be the perfect exit strategy. Instead, you end up helping him escape a blind date.

B R E A T H E—One Shot

(TOM HIDDLESTON X READER)

Tom hates the dentist, so when he breaks a tooth and needs to visit the oral surgeon, it's terrifying. But as his nurse, you attend to him surprisingly gently.

LOKI

Careful Creatures

(LOKI X MATT MURDOCK) A confused Loki seeks out his friend Matt for some comfortable silence. He gets slightly more than he bargained for.

Technicolor Dreams

(LOKI X READER) The reader invades Loki's dreams literally and figuratively.

Cities to Ash*—One Shot

(LOKI X PREGNANT READER)

You’re in the last few months of your pregnancy, and doubt fills your mind—how could Loki want someone so big, who’s constantly worn out just from living? Canceled dinner plans spur a conversation about these feelings, where Loki makes it clear that nothing could ever make him stop wanting you.

Your Heart Is Like Glass*—Coming Soon

(LOKI X READER) You are a whore, bound to the Shining Pearl since the time of your birth. But a year ago a strangely handsome man with money to spare started seeking your attentions. You cannot seem to shake your affections for him, though you know his presence is always temporary.  It's temporary because he’s a prince, and when he marries he’ll no longer be able to dabble with his favorite whore. But his favorite whore has become more than that to him, and Loki desperately seeks a solution to both of your supposed prisons. Chapters: Playlist & Moodboard

ADAM (OLLA)

What You Could Have Meant To Me*—Coming Soon

(ADAM X READER) 500 years and life has not lost its light, though it dims from time to time. Vampires as a touchy breed and you avoid them for the most part, save for your old friend Adam. You meet from time to time in foreign cities, but when an exhibit at the Met reveals old letters written but never sent, you’re both drawn together again. You’ve kept your feelings for him secret for a long time. Will he be able to draw them out, or will you spend the rest of your lives never knowing the truth? Chapters: Playlist & Moodboard

Your House, My House*—In Progress Series

(ADAM X READER) It’s been six months since you and your boyfriend Adam broke up, but you’ve moved into his house after your roommates decided to move home. It’s an awkward situation, at least that's what everyone on the outside sees. But despite being broken up, Adam is still your best friend and the one person who knows you well enough to push you when you need it most. Can you two cohabitate as friends, or will the pressure of being so close change things forever?

Parts: (1)

Playlist & Moodboard

TOM HIDDLESTON CROSSOVERS

I’ll Love You In Every Life We Live*—In Progress

(CAIUS MARTIUS CORIOLANUS, ADAM, PRINCE HAL/KING HENRY V, WILLIAM BUXTON, JAMES NICHOLLS, JAMES CONRAD, JONATHAN PINE & LOKI X READER) Soulmates who meet in every life they live, they know without really knowing, that they belong together. Whether in the heat of battle or kneeling before the king; separated by time and death and other people, they always find one another. Love is the one thing they know for certain, even if they cannot be together, even if they are only together for the briefest moment. There will always be another life in which they will meet. Chapters: (Ch. 1) Playlist & Moodboard

BILLY HARGROVE

‘Cause In The Dark There Are No Strangers*—In Progress

(BILLY HARGROVE X STEVE HARRINGTON) Steve and Billy like to fight—they hate each other, except they don't, not really. A chance encounter one rainy night could change everything, but that doesn't mean they're not still the same people. Love can lift you up, but it can also tear you apart. Chapters: (Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5) (Ch. 6) Playlist & Moodboard

There’s Something Inside You; It’s Hard To Explain*—In Progress

(BILLY HARGROVE X READER) Billy is a broken boy, all sharp edges and bloody knuckles. You are a quiet girl, too soft for your own good. You hate each other. (They don't hate each other.) He's so soft for her, has been since high school and after a slightly drunken night reveals some secrets neither one of them ever thought would see the light of day, they have to deal with what comes next. Chapters: (Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) Playlist & Moodboard

STEVE ROGERS

& At Once I Knew, I Was Not Magnificent*—Coming Soon

(STEVE ROGERS X JAMES BUCHANAN (BUCKY) BARNES) Gurnsey is a German occupied British isle, one that hides a dark secret. After crashing his plane and losing his copilot, James Barnes is captured and forced into labor; the same can be said for Steve Rogers, a lost British naval lieutenant. They find themselves in dire straights, the only thing holding them together—each other. Can they survive, escape even? Or will they die at the hands of their enemies? Chapters: Playlist & Moodboard

[just-the-hiddles]

Weekend Reading | February 19, 2021 | XL Edition

I am back!�� Last week was rough and thank you all for understanding.  I do have a larger than normal Weekend Reading this week.  Let’s dive in!

Untited Steve Drabble  by @capsnacklepop​  Nomad!Steve x Reader-  Nothing like filthy sex with a darker Steve to start these off.  This was so hot.  And smutty.  SOOO smutty!  LOVE!

Making Out in the Library with Librarian!Steve by @bonkywobble​​  Steve x Reader - This was such a sweet and hot headcanon.  Where has Librarian!Steve been all my life?!?  Why wasn’t I told?  I will definitely read any other fics with him.  

The Bachelorette by @mostly-marvel-musings​ Loki x Steve Strange x Reader-  Uhhh.... a threesome with this two, where is that signup sheet?  So hot... and it isn’t even done yet?  Can’t wait for Part 2!

Bound in Time  by @syntheticavenger​ Stephen Strange x Reader-  Dark!Strange is hot.  I hate to say it, but that guy abusing his powers to get what he wants.  Definitely will be on the lookout for more Dark!Strange.  

Pedro Pascal NSFW Alphabet by @prettyboyskywalker​ Pedro Pascal- This was hot.  I think Pedro is adorable.  So well written and thought out.  A great fun read!

The Project(s)  by @nildespirandum​ Tom Hiddleston- This was a fun and hilarious fic by one of my favorite writers.  The point where I cracked up was the thought of Tom doing theoretical physics.  This a brilliant fic!

Tom Hardy Headcanon | Good Girl Girlfriend  by @buckyownsmylife​ Tom Hardy x Reader- I am not a Tom Hardy fan (I don’t dislike him, just not my favorite Tom H.).  But I see the words “good girl” I have to read.  DID NOT DISAPPOINT!  Hot and sweet and I love this idea.  Another yes please!

Movie Date- Part 2 by @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes- Sorry, threesomes is my thing right now.  And semi-public/public sex.  I have no regrets.  This is an awesome headcanon/fic hybrid.  So deliciously smutty.  Nothing like best friends sharing.  And if anyone can link me Part 1 with just Steve and Reader, I would be eternally grateful!

Team Building by @whisperlullaby​ Bucky x Reader x Sam- I told you threesome are my current jam.  This one was another hot, smutty story.  These two fighting about everything, except how much they want you.  And then the smut.  Delicious and glorious.  YUM!

NSFWish Aftercare by @boop-le-snoot​ Stephen Strange x Reader- I am a hoe for great depictions of aftercare.  Because aftercare matters!  This was a great little headcanon/fic hybrid.  It is a soft Stephen and I am here for it.  Adorable!

The Purrrfect Valentine  by @drabblewithfrannybarnes​ Bucky Barnes x Sam Wilson x Alpine- Okay so Bucky is adorable and his love for Alpine is #goals.  This is super short but perfection.  Check it out!

Desperate Straits  by @myoxisbroken​ William Buxton x OFC- Another genius fic from myox!   Lady Olivia Marten is an unhappy wife looking for a lover to kill her husband.  And apparently William Buxton fits the bill.  Two chapters so far, and I am already hooked.  GIVE ME MORE!!

Until next week, toodles!

[just-the-hiddles]

The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy Masterlist

Adam (Only Lovers Left Alive)

The Reluctants Series Masterlist by @just-the-hiddles x OFC (Charlie Bock)-  Charlie can’t believe her luck when she lands an apartment all to herself in Quincy, Massachusetts in a decaying triple decker.  But life gets more complicated when someone moves into the basement.  Specifically her landlord, Adam, who also happens to be a vampire.  As life collapses around Charlie, these two forge an uneasy and unlikely relationship. But is their relationship as doomed as the building they live in?

Ties That Bind by @hopelessromanticspoonie x OFC (Lily)-  Lily had thought herself shit out of luck when she couldn't make the rent for her half of the duplex she shared with her odd, reclusive landlord, Adam. Jobs weren't exactly easy to come by in the middle of a global pandemic. When Adam offered her an intriguing exchange that allowed her to keep her mostly intact roof over her head, how could she say no?

Bucky Barnes

*Smidge of Red by @simsadventures x Reader-   When you figure out your landlord is a vampire, and a hot one at that, your Twilight fantasy might come true. And so you create a little ruse to achieve what you want. Funny, because your landlord wants exactly the same thing.

Bonded  by @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy x Reader-  After 4 years, Bucky has found you again. But will you invite him in, or rather, do you even have to?

Bucky Barnes & Loki

 A Mere Mortal by @mostly-marvel-musings x Reader-  (Y/N) (Y/LN) is an established writer who has just moved to a little town of Dewsbury. She scores a great deal on a secluded house. Her landlord is a strikingly good-looking man. James Buchanan Barnes has a mysterious demeanor and a secret he hides from everyone. One snowy night, (Y/N)’s life takes a turn for the worst when she discovers his secret. Masterlist linked!

Loki

Rapacity by @nildespirandum x OFC-  A woman is forced to find a new way to pay her rent. LINKED TO AO3 

Multiple Characters

With Brooding Wings by @myoxisbroken John Plumptre, William Buxton, Thomas Sharpe, James Nichols, and James Conrad x OFC-   John Plumptre is beginning his employment as a law clerk, his expected first step to his planned career as a barrister and the respectable life of an English gentleman. His plans go awry when he rents rooms at Mrs. Lena Chester’s boarding house, and he is transformed in ways he would not have believed possible.  Masterlist Linked!

Steve Rogers

It’ll Be Good For You by @caffiend-queen  x OFC-  In which writer Aura Ellory follows her agent's advice and rents an isolated cabin high up in the Northern Oregon Coast Range. She's trying to work up her courage to write again while hiding from a determined stalker. But in the middle of the isolation, there's a menacing presence that's growing, along with her terror.  AO3 Linked!!

[just-the-hiddles]

Weekend Reading | August 14, 2020

Hello, happy peppy people!  Another weekend reading!  I am so far ahead on writing that I am trying my best to use some of this breathing room to read more fic!  So here we go!

Urges  by @villainousshakespeare​  Jack Linden x OFC- This is so HOT!!  And rough and wanton and delicious.  This is the kind of smut that causes panties to burst into flames.  A must read!!!

Elixir by @yespolkadotkitty​ Javier Pena x Reader- So this has popped up on my blog for a bit but I need to rec it here.  I am apparently a hoe for sex pollen.  This was amazing!  And I am not a Pedro fan.  Get ye away, Pedro sirens!  But seriously read the fic.  

Beside Us When Beauty Brightens by @myoxisbroken​  William Buxton x OFC-  Ah William, one of the lesser known but no less adorable.  This story is what I am hoping will be the happy ending and satisfying love life William deserves.  This is the first chapter.  Can’t wait for more!

A Certain Type by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​  Dark! Steve x Reader-  So non-con but so hot.  Read the warnings and don’t at me if you don’t.  This was smutty and delicious.  If you like dark, highly recommend.  

All Reason Flown by @grufflepuff-writes-stuff​   Loki x Reader- So much fluff!  I love a protective (not possessive) Loki.  My heart went all marshmallowy.  So sweet!!  LOVE!

Imprint by @awstark​   Geralt & Jaskier-  This little fluffy and funny drabble is everything.  Cute and funny and LOVE IT!!  I think I may have a things for ducks in fics.  Read it and giggle.  

Until next week!!

[holdmytesseract]

Aweeeee, bestie, that was SO cute! 🥹💖

A young man entered as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale. Tall and lean. He had beautiful curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a rich baritone voice that halted your every thought. 

Ooo, tehehe... 🫠

Looking up, you saw William Buxton tumbling down. But he was undressed to a degree- he had his pants and suspenders and his white blouse open down. You could see his chest lying open. Your heart raced hard and he stopped, looking at you.

Omg... Like, I remember that scene and fucking HELL! 🫠

And you were alone. Nothing but the still, navy blue river twisting around like a ribbon and the rich green trees that rippled their leaves with the breeze.

That's fucking beautiful.

The ceremony was done, and it was time to face the crowd. William cupped your face and kissed you, tasting a little of the sacramental wine and fresh cologne.

Aweeee, yes, YES, Y.E.S! 😍

Wonderful story, bestie! 😁

Our Society At Cranford (William Buxton x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As Miss Matty's companion, you struggle to gain the attention of the handsome young Mr. Buxton. It appears you need a little help from the ladies of Cranford...

A/N: Not my best or most edited work. No stakes (unless you count marriage for women in the 1840's as stakes which back then it was) and only vibes. But I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Technically none other than some angst and attempts at Victorian-era accuracy. But then nothing but fluff and vibes. If I miss anything, let me know!

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

You were infatuated with him since the day his dog ran into the church and urinated on the altar.

That morning, you thought you heard the sound of tapping paws and opened your eyes to see a little dog in the church. Everyone was dipping their heads down in prayer. Oblivious to a little mischief. It was everything in you not to laugh at the little dog. 

But the little dog ran right in like he owned the place, running and excited to be about. The prayer droned on, repeating the same phrases everyone said every Sunday.

In your reticule was a plain biscuit you saved from Sunday school. Slipping it out, you knelt, waving the treat to the dog. Daring not to speak to alert anyone.

The dog trotted forward and ate it, then you scooped him up into your arms. You held onto him, even though he struggled. If he got out he could run into the wilderness where all sorts of nasty ends were waiting for him. Once Mrs. Forrester’s cow was found stuck in the mud for hours and nearly died! Now the bovine was kept to wearing, for lack of a better word, pajamas all hours of the day to keep warm.

As your family opened their eyes next to you, they gasped. People smelled the urine and heads turned towards you. Surprised to see the little thing in your arm. Heads did turn and Reverend Hutton had to wave everyone’s attention back to the service.

But the scruffy white and brown dog settled and calmed down after a while. If you stroked his front legs and chest gently, he would become calm and sleepy like a charm. 

As soon as it ended, you hurried outside. The dog began barking and wiggling. The widows and spinsters of Cranford you had befriended- Mrs. Forrester, Miss Pole, and your favorite, sweet Miss Matty all gathered around. They chatted about Reverend Hutton. Their chins up and talking as fast as clucking hens. All wondering about the dog’s urine and the shock.

“The altar cloth was made by Miss Matty’s mother! We shall have to find an apothecary or-”

“Napoleon! Where are you- I’m so sorry to interrupt ladies and reverend!”

All of you turned. The women kept silent. You were struck silent.

A young man entered as handsome as a prince in a fairy tale. Tall and lean. He had beautiful curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a rich baritone voice that halted your every thought. 

“Master William Buxton!” whispered Miss Pole.

“I think we ought not to call him master now…” Mrs. Forrester replied you noted the flirtatious shift in her tone. “He’s so much…broader than when we saw him last.”

You noted he had broad shoulders indeed, and he was well fit beneath his waistcoat. It made you feel even warmer beneath your sun and your bonnet.

You and the ladies dipped into a curtsy and he a bow.

“I believe that is my dog, he escaped the house an hour ago and we’ve been searching for him ever since!” he explained.

You walked forward.

“Oh, thank you, Miss?” he asked.

You gave him your name, though your voice felt half of itself. “I…I only wanted him to be safe and not get hurt if he ran out.”

“That is much kind of you, miss! Could I have him?”

Walking over, you handed the dog to him. As the weight shifted, you felt his arms and hands brush against yours and as silly as it was, it nearly knocked your breath away. Young men here were few and far between to where one considered Cranford a city of Amazons. But here he could be something of a Hercules in the flesh.

“Oh, I am sorry! He is a bad dog!” he apologized again.

“Here you go” you offered.

“William Buxton!” Miss Matty gasped as she went forward and shook his hands. He grinned at her, greeting his old friend.

“We are so sorry to hear of your mother’s passing, but we are glad you could be here!” she continued. 

“I am only here to open up the house, and attend to this bad dog,” he scolded, holding him up. Napoleon only smiled and panted in response.

“Well, we are glad you are here,” you replied.

After curtsies and bows, he scooped the dog up in his arms and continued back home. But you couldn’t help but stare at him, his curls like a halo around him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Cranford, though a small town, was filled with all sorts of likable people. If you were feeling lonely, you had to go about and soon would find a friend. And there was no better friend in town than Miss Matty. 

She was the unmarried daughter of the previous rector and lived a life of genteel poverty- acting like she was still a lady who did not need work or seek employment… despite not being anything more than middle class. She was lonely too. Her sister, her maid, and the love of her life all died within two years. In light of this, you offered to be her companion. Not accepting a penny for her for payment. You both were lonely souls needing company, even in the guise of her feeling like a true lady again.

You enjoyed sitting and drinking tea with her. The clock ticking as she chuckled that this was always the time one expected visitors. One had to take a walk about twice a day. Both of you enjoyed looking through the windows of the shops to see what new fashions were arriving- that was the most excitement one got around town when it wasn’t Christmas!

“What do you think of this French style?” you asked, pointing to one illustration of a gown.

“Very impractical, but very pretty!” Miss Matty replied.

“It’d be nice to wear it to one of our dances here…if we had them again…” you sighed.

“I’m sure if the time comes,” she replied. “They are quite fun- there is one around Christmas Eve and another around Easter.”

“Oh, you should go too! Do you still remember the dances!”

“All of them,” she said with a smile. 

Her sister would insist on sitting in the parlor for two hours every day from noon to two to receive any visitors. Sometimes you only sat in a chair doing nothing for two hours. 

But lately, you kept staring at the window. Staring at the door. Hoping, praying…that perhaps Mr. Buxton would arrive again.

You couldn’t help but admire him. He would always tip his hat at you and smile when you passed in the street.

Everything in you was bursting when you saw him. Freezing and burning at once. Part of you wanted to run up to him and blab about anything. The other part of you wanted to run, to hide, to faint, to make yourself away when he was near. It was both at once and it was unbearable.

There was one day, as you took your second walk of the day, that a familiar sight ran forth. A high feather- only one lady in town wore such a high feather in her bonnet.

“Miss Matty! Miss Matty!” cried Miss Pole.

Both of you curtsied.

“Why, what is it?” she asked.

Miss Pole held her chin up and began to speak in a soft, but piercing tone.

“I hear Mr. Buxton plans on keeping his son here for two months, but soon he will be sent to London. Just in time for the season.”

“Oh, the season!” you gasped.

Then…the season…that was for all the well to do…but it meant…

“He wants his son to attend every ball and dinner and gathering he can- he hopes to find a nice girl from a good family who came out! And I hear Mr. Buxton is already writing some letters!”

You nearly dropped the packages in your hands. Shaking, you kept quiet.

“Why then, that is something! I only wish William well- it is not what he wants at all. But he isn’t our little Master Buxton anymore, he is a man and should find those,” replied Miss Matty.

“I can just imagine it. Our Master Buxton! Dancing the polka with some lady in silks fluent in French!” Miss Pole added.

You were silent as you returned. Your head spinning. You took off your bonnet and outer coat to go inside, but you hardly heard your footfall. It was as if the world was entrenched in water and you were just barely rambling it.

Again, you sat down from noon for calls. Miss Matty got out her needlework and sat down. But you could not do anything. Not read. Not sew. Not eat, Not drink. Anything. Your heart hammering in your ears.

After a few minutes, it became clear that no one was going to immediately arrive. Miss Matty set her things down, her gentle eyes over your face.

“Why, what is the matter, my dear?” she asked.

You looked down.

“Nothing, miss,” you replied.

“But look at you- you’re trembling. You seem a little faint even though you’re sitting…is something the matter?” she asked.

“It’s…it’s only something silly… I will get over it. I am resolved..” you said.

“I feel you wish to speak it,” she said. She stepped forward. “I may be just one 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I….I don’t…” you had to be careful. This was a small town and gossip got around like fire to dry wood. You fidgeted and rubbed your own hands to try to remain calm, looking down at your plaid skirt as you began.

“I only feel like…there are good men out there. And I..should like to someday…someday find a way to love, to be courted, to…to know what that is like…I only hope it should happen someday…”

Perhaps that was rude. Miss Matty wasn’t married. But she only smiled and continued with a soft, compassionate tone.

“That is normal…I remember back in my day how my heart would race when there were gentlemen callers. But there isn’t a rush…and besides, many a woman has been trapped in an unhappy marriage from rushing. And I will tell you…there are worse things in life than being a spinster!”

“Yes, indeed, I agree!” you replied. For it was truly the spinsters and widows who were the ones in charge of the town.

Though, you found yourself looking out the window. Your heart leaped at the sight of a familiar bowler hat and a mop of blonde curls. William Buxton passed by in his coat and gloves. He looked about the town. 

You felt a small gasp in your throat. Behind you, there was the creaking of the floor. The timing was just too perfect.

But he only smiled and tipped his hat and you bowed down in a curtsy in turn. Oh, his smile could make rosebuds bloom! 

Then his head turned towards his path and he continued.

You felt a soft, cold hand touch your shoulder and you flinched.

“Why, what was that!”

You felt yourself tear up. “Miss Matty! It’s nothing! It truly is not!”

“Why, my dear-I see the way you’ve been acting. And now this confirms my suspicions. Do you…love William?” she asked.

Words stammered out of you and a clamminess shook your hands, you could barely form a sentence.

“I…I…let me put the kettle on for some fresh tea!” you insisted.

You turned to leave. Putting the tea kettle onto the stovetop. You merely sat, watching and waiting until steam came out of the spout. But tears were going down your face. Miss Matty followed behind.

“Do you…have feelings for him, Miss Y/L/N?” she asked again.

Looking up, you felt more tears fall down your cheeks, growing hot and tight. Then you folded your hands, reaching one to touch the counter for support. Then putting one to your face you began to cry.

Miss Matty hurried up, giving you one of her handkerchiefs. She embraced you like a daughter and let you sob.

“It’s the talk with Miss Pole today that worried you, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes…yes it was…but Miss Matty…please! I need help! I don’t know who will introduce us or where to see him!”

“Don’t worry…it’s time we took another call onto the Buxtons…” she said.

The next day, your heart raced as you entered that fine house. As you got inside, servants took your bonnets and cloaks.

“Napoleon! Napoleon, come here!” cried a familiar voice.

Looking up, you saw William Buxton tumbling down. But he was undressed to a degree- he had his pants and suspenders and his white blouse open down. You could see his chest lying open. Your heart raced hard and he stopped, looking at you.

“Miss Matty! Miss…Miss Y/L/N! We weren’t expecting visitors!” he gasped.

“Well, we only hoped to surprise you! Miss Y/L/N is my companion and it seems fit we should see each other!” she said.

All of you bowed and curtsied. You tried to keep your eyes as much as you could on his face and not his chest.

“Why then- let me get dressed before Father scolds me. Then I’ll be back!” he said.

He bounded back up. And then you let yourself see more of him. You silently sent a thousand thank yous to Miss Matty.

Sitting down, you had tea and biscuits. And the promises of more meals. There was much talk of the new train station and the mobility it was going to provide for everyone. Of the great spring party that the great Lady of the town threw. Everyone got to see her manor house and be attended to by servants. There would be games and rowboats and every guest was going to be given ice cream- a rare treat. William was excited about that especially.

You paid calls almost every few days, even for at least fifteen minutes. And Miss Matty advised you to dress well. Not that you would ever dress poorly if you knew William would be around.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Walking down the street the next week, you saw that familiar high feather in her bonnet scurrying down. No doubt it was Miss Pole, hopping about and running like a rabbit. Only she was heading toward you. It was later, Miss Pole scurried down the street.

“Oh, Miss Y/L/N! Miss Y/L/N! There is such excitement! There is a Miss Ermina here and she is showing us how to order all the French styles! Wouldn’t you like that?”

“Well, I-”

You didn’t have time to answer. Miss Pole grabbed your arm.

“Oh, you must hurry! I insist you do!” 

She practically dragged you to her house. There in the kitchen sat a young woman with ivory pale skin and beautiful dark brown hair done up in curls. Her smart jacket and skirts were of fine material, but her eyes warmed as they looked up at you. She introduced herself with a smile as Ermina. Getting out a paper, she helped you and Miss Pole and Mrs. Forester all translate an order down onto paper. You looked through catalogs and showed what you could get and what to not get. Even if you weren’t spending money now, it was good to know!

Though Ermina’s eyes sparkled at you. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ran into each other, are you just moved in town?” you asked.

“I was just finishing school. And yes- with my father and brother here! Well, they aren’t family by blood but they are in my heart!”

“She is Mr. Buxton’s ward, you know!” Miss Pole interjected.

“A ward!” you cried.

She nodded. You felt the blood drain out of you. “Why, the Buxtons are neighbors and friends of ours, I am acquainted with them.”

“Miss Ermina was finishing her education in Brussels. She is also an accomplished piano player!” Mrs. Forester boasted.

Miss Pole leaned in, her eyes having a twinkle in them.

“But Miss Matty was telling us that it is important for ladies to be more varied in their education .”

“I agree!” Ermina said.

“Why, as do I!” you cut in.

Miss Pole continued, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“And as for our Miss Y’LN,- could you show her a little piano, perhaps? Help her in her accomplishments!”

You shook your head. Why, were they just stealthily insulting your piano skills? What was happening? Ermina only kept her sweet smile. 

“I fear I cannot afford lessons,” you said.

“Oh, not at all! I can show you a few simple cords and phrases! Come by, please!” Ermina replied.

Sure enough, you were having lessons at their house. Ermina herself became a dear friend to talk to. She was kind and not arrogant about her station. You found you both agreed on all sorts of matter regarding women, what they should have in their lives, and ways that things should be better, and different. She of course would tell you tips she noticed about fashion and the piano pieces she found moved her to tears. 

Her presence was enough. You felt guilty, having an agenda. But at least if you lost a potential lover, you had gained a friend.

If it meant more of a chance for William to be in your circle, you agreed. You could have sworn, there was something a little different in how he smiled at you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Then it came to the garden party with Lady Ludlow’s. It seemed all of the town was about there enjoying themselves as much as they could allow. Her whole yard could have made up half of the town! Her mansion towering above you like a giant about to squash you all. But the locals only chatted and laughed like normal. Some of them, Miss Pole, Mrs. Forrester, and one other were gathering to sit on chairs and rest their “weary” feet. Miss Matty was making her rounds of greetings, leaving you alone.

 Sure enough, there was the promised ice cream. William, to your astonishment, brought you a cup of the dessert.

“Oh, thank you!” you replied. You took the cup from his large, white hand.

“Here you go, what do you think?” he asked.

Out of the corner of your eye, the women emerged from their chairs. They hurried about like a pack of ducks looking for crumbs in the grass.

It was cold, creamy and sweet. Though it was melting in the sun and you were tempted to eat it all at once.

“I…I never had something so delightful!” you cried.

However as you walked about, you realized there were rowboats but they were far limited. One had the Reverend’s daughter, Sophy, and her new husband smiling at each other as if no one else existed. They were already far off.  Mrs. Forrester and Miss Pole claimed one another and fought as they kept rowing, chatting about this and that to echo off to everyone. \\

And there was only a third left. Miss Matty appeared, her own ice cream cup in hand.

“Why- it’s a bright day. And there is nothing as wonderful as a rowboat! Why don’t you two enjoy it- William, do be a gentleman and row for her!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, I couldn’t!” you shook your head. 

“Come on, it will be fun!” cried William.

He opened his hands and you accepted. You followed him. Stepping into the rowboat, you realize how close you are. 

And you were alone. Nothing but the still, navy blue river twisting around like a ribbon and the rich green trees that rippled their leaves with the breeze.

 You tried not to notice the build of his thighs, his sleeves rolled up, and his smile and cheeks glowing with the exercise. The boat moved and he grinned at you. Handsome as always, if not more.

“You’re not worried you’ll get splashed! Or fall into the water and have to swim!”

“Oh, not at all!”

You smiled at him and he at you.

“I still recall that day you caught Napoleon still. I should call you My Little Catcher.”

“I wouldn’t mind that at all a bit!”

“What’s been occupying your mind?” you asked him quietly.

“The…the…the trains,” he answered.

“Trains?”

“Yes, we are about to open our railway station. I was thinking, all of my life, I never had to work hard. To earn anything. I sat by and others did it. And I was content, but I’m no better than my own dog,” he replied.

You let out a small laugh, smiling at him.

“I would…like to try to make something of myself. Isn’t that silly for a gentleman?”

“Not at all, it’s noble. And one shouldn’t be ashamed of work.”

“I should go to the captain, and ask him for a position as we’re developing it. Then…I should think of myself as lucky, as earning something, and not letting this guilt consume me.”

“You have done nothing wrong. And there is nothing wrong with purpose. It will be a change, it will be hard…but nothing worth having is easy…” you said.

He smiled at you.

“You’re right, my little catcher,” he replied.

You grinned, then looked down for modesty's sake, as well as for your racing heart. Hope glimmering within you.

It seemed too soon when he turned around and asked if it was time to row home. You agreed.

Though he held out your hand, allowing you off. His bare hand bracing your skin- the warmth, the softness. How large they were yet so protective. Something forbidden inside you was tingling as his bare skin brushed your bare skin.

You had to let go, you were glad to let go and be on the grass. It lasted so shortly, yet you felt the world spin. You wanted him, and it both scared and thrilled you.

Soon enough, another woman hurried by. The honorable Mrs. Jamieson approached you two, with her fine dress and holding her Bischon Freise dog who was also donned up in a little blue waistcoat for today. Stifling a laugh, you greeted her. William bowed his head in goodbye and left.

“Why, I must tell you. The assembly hall will be open for spring. And there shall be a dance, will you go? We are all insisting it happens!” She announced.

Blinking fast, you caught your breath.

“Oh…that is fantastic!”

“It will need work…it’s a rather patched up dreary old place…” she clucked. The dog in her arms barked as if he agreed.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Though, then there was a dance. Just in time for Easter, as promised. You arrived in your new dress, bought with Ermina’s advice in your head. You took a deep breath- Miss Matty being your chaperone. 

“I must tell you we spent weeks all organizing and helping it. I haven’t danced one step and we haven’t danced one step!” Miss Matty said.

“Oh, it’s all paid off! It’s lovely!”

Occupying them, and trading dance cards. But Miss Matty immediately insisted William have the first with you. And he agreed.

Your heart raced. It was a more intimate dance, almost like an embrace. He looked right in your eyes. And you had to look at his. It felt warm. You felt yourself tremble a little in his arms, feeling the warmth of his breath and his eyes, bluer than the sea, the sky on you. How could you dance with anyone else after this? How could you come down to earth?

The chords of the violins finished the phrase- and the song was done. You were still looking at him and he at you.

Glancing down, he saw that his arms were still around you in the position. Hesitantly, he let go and you both bowed, your hand still in his.

But his hand remained there, And his eyes were still on you.  Leaning down, he gave it a kiss that nearly made you gasp. 

“May I have you for the next waltz then, Y/N?” he asked.

Part of you froze and you saw he did too.

He didn’t call you Miss. Not even “Little Catcher.” He called you by your first name.

Handing your card, you smiled at him.

“You may,” you answered.

You turned around to see the ladies of Cranford- Pole, Matty, Forrester, Mrs. Jamieson, and the others, smiling and nodding their heads.

This could not be coincidental. But you could never complain. 

 There would be time to thank them, but for now in a Cranford Ballroom where everyone was easily overheard, you gave them a smile in thanks.

It was next spring there was another happy event.

In the shadow of a church, you looked at William right before the Front door and he at you. He was in as nice a waistcoat as he could now afford for today as an apprentice for a railway. He lowered his hat to look at you and hold his hands in yours. Your own gown was now of white muslin with tiny pink flowers decorated on the blouse, the skirts so light and airy you felt they were made of angel wings. You had worn a bonnet, but one with a long lace veil.

The ceremony was done, and it was time to face the crowd. William cupped your face and kissed you, tasting a little of the sacramental wine and fresh cologne.

From the brightness of his eyes, from his presence- you both had the strength to face anything. 

 is lifting your veil outside the church doors of your bonnet and smiling. He squeezed your hand, and as you walked out, the bells rang over you.

Everyone tossed petals and waved their handkerchiefs, cheering and clapping in celebration, in your shared happiness. Your heart full, you handed your bouquet of roses to Miss Matty and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

She smiled at you and then handed you to William. He wrapped an arm around you and all began to gather. There would be a celebration with cake, a little ice cream, dances, games, and joy until it was time for the short honeymoon his job allowed him, and then a return to the beautiful little town of Cranford and the new phase of your life together as a man and wife.