Jun 12
Is anyone going to write my favorite character x reader with my specific chronic illness or am I going to have to do it myself?
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Is anyone going to write my favorite character x reader with my specific chronic illness or am I going to have to do it myself?
Like… 👀
If I Gave You My Hand Would You Take It?
Sheriff Hunter x Pregnant!Reader, Western AU.
Chapter Five
read on ao3
Masterlist
Notes/Warnings: Pregnancy, Arranged marriage, slow burn (if I can be patient enough), female reader. Comment/DM to be tagged/untagged. Dividers by @stars-n-spice
Hunter brought you back to the house, unhitched the wagon, and rode back into town on Maudie while Crosshair took Havoc. Your husband’s brother hardly paid you any attention, except to shoulder past you with the saddle in hand. You’d been standing in his way, just watching how Hunter and his brother strapped the saddles to the horses. You’d never stopped to watch the stable boys and the driver hitch up the horses back home, but Crosshair and Hunter did it with such efficiency and tenderness for their horses all at the same time. Hunter didn’t say anything about Crosshair’s attitude, but he did shoot Crosshair a glare before he stepped in front of you.
“Phee said she’d show you the chores that need doing. If you can’t get them all done, Megan can help finish them when she gets home from school, but she knows her priority is to finish her schoolwork. Especially if she wants to win that essay competition.”
“Should I go fetch her from school?”
Hunter shrugged, “Sometimes one of us will go and pick her up, but you don’t need to worry about that, she can make it home on her own.”
If you were supposed to be a mother to this child, it certainly seemed that you needed to worry about making sure she came home safely. But you also needed to be a good wife to Hunter.
“Should I make dinner, then?”
“Wrecker usually makes dinner, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind any help.”
“Shall we pick up a prize goose on our way home?” Crosshair asked. His pinkies were extended as he held the reins.
Hunter smacked his horse’s rear. Havoc whinnied and reared up on his hind legs before taking off at a breakneck pace. Lucky for Crosshair, he didn’t fall.
“Ignore him,” Hunter told you, “You have as much right to be here as me or any of my siblings.”
He placed one foot in the stirrups, then paused. He turned back to you, his foot still in the stirrup, and took your hand in his. Your breath hitched as your hand made it halfway to Hunter’s lips, then froze.
For one beat of your heart, Hunter stared at your hands as if he didn’t remember why he grabbed you, and gave you one firm pump. The most awkward handshake you’d ever had.
“Have a good day,” He said quickly, throwing himself up on Maudie’s back and took off, one hand on his hat to hold it in place.
“Have a good day,” You murmured quietly. You held your shawl in a death grip as you stood there, watching Hunter canter down the road until his cloud of dust caught up with Crosshair’s.
You glanced around the yard, studying your new home to make sure it looked the way you did when you arrived last night. Even without the orangey tinge of sunset, it all looked very dry. Pale sagebrush clung to the reddened earth in scattered patches between the door and the fenceposts, trying to claim what little moisture the ground still held before anyone else could. The outhouse stood at the southernmost end of the yard, far enough that the smell wouldn’t bother the house while still being close enough that the coyotes wouldn’t investigate it. In contrast to the arid yard, the fields of corn and sugar beets surrounded the house, green and tall in the bright sun, only kept alive by the crystal clear water runoff.
Beyond all of that, the mountains rose, tall and still snow-capped towards the end of summer, valiantly nurturing all the crops of Pabu Creek. Keeping you sheltered and separated from the rest of the country.
You wondered what Edmon was doing right now. Time differences meant that it would be nearing midday meal in Washington D.C. If he was even in D.C. Was he still on the <em>Triumphant</em>? Did he think about you when he looked at his new wife the way you did when you looked at Hunter? Did he wonder about what your baby would look like?
A chicken squawked, pecking at the dirt by your feet. You took a step to the side, allowing her to inspect the ground you’d been standing on for any bugs or lizards.
“So, how was town?” Phee stood behind you in the door of the house. She had a basket of dried corn on her hip, scattering handfuls as the chickens flocked towards her in a storm of feathers. You stepped back, afraid to be pecked.
“Don’t show’em you’re scared,” Phee said gently, reaching for your hand. Half of the chickens followed her while the other half fought over what she’d already dropped.
“Just remember, you’re bigger than them. You can do a lot more to them than they can to you. And if you get pecked, well, you’re the one who decides which one we get to eat for dinner.”
That almost got a laugh out of you. Phee put a handful of corn in your palm, and you tried to scatter it a little at a time the way she was. The two of you walked around the yard, letting Henrietta and her flock search for their food without having to climb all over each other.
“How often do they lay eggs?”
“Every day. Henrietta’s our best layer, and she’s gotten up to seven eggs in one go.”
“How many of the eggs hatch?”
“Well, there’s about fifty chickens and only one rooster,” Phee nodded to the cock with the red frill strutting about the yard as he surveyed the hens, “He’s got his favorites, so we keep an eye on them and their clutches.”
You furrowed your brow, “So not every egg has a chick in it?”
Phee dumped the last of the corn on the ground and waved you over to the coop, visible from the kitchen window.
“One of Megan’s jobs is to candle the eggs when she collects them,” Phee took a small metal contraption from the shelf next to the door of the coop. It had a box at the bottom and a tube at the top. She opened a small window on the side of the box to show you a well-used candle, with wax melted all over the bottom, “You light the candle in here, and that forces the light up through here.” She pointed to the tube. She glanced around at the straw spilling everywhere, spotted a freshly-laid egg in an empty nest, and placed it at the top of the tube to illustrate, “The light shines through the egg shell, and you can tell if the egg has a chick in it, or if it’s only good to be eaten.”
“Oh,” You said softly.
Phee smiled kindly at you and put the candler back on its shelf, “It’s a good question. We have so many chickens, but we also eat a lot, so if a hen lays a fertile clutch we try to let it hatch. We don’t really have to worry about it until spring, though. That’s when we get the big baby boom.”
Spring. Your baby would be here by then.
Phee took your hand, “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone else.”
“Everyone Else” turned out to be cows, rather than people. That was a relief.
Lulabelle the cow ruled the barn when the horses were away. She and Nala, her daughter, provided all the milk that you drank. She had a half-grown calf, Gonky, who made the strangest mooing sound you’d ever heard. When he was old enough, he’d be sold to the Chuchi ranch where Echo worked, and Lulabelle and Nala would breed with a couple of their steers. And the cycle would continue.
Phee brought you to the older barn with a devilish smile, pressing her finger to her lips as if it were a secret. This barn, Hunter had told you, was the place of Tech’s inventions and experiments, but Tech was at his office in town, where people could find him. Phee was his wife, but you worried you were intruding on something private.
“Hunter said that you were supposed to show me the chores we had to get done-”
Phee blew air between her lips and waved off your worries, “How are you supposed to work the farm if you don’t know anything about it? Tech won’t mind a bit, he’ll only be mad that he didn’t get to show you himself.”
The door creaked open, and when you stepped in after Phee, you had the thought that the door was only improperly maintained because all the care and attention was given to the creations that covered every inch of the place. Metal all shiny and polished, not the least bit rusty, welded together and tied with leather straps to create something new. You could hardly tell what any of it was meant to be, but Phee smiled at it all fondly, running her fingers over the bolts and screws like you would your mother’s embroidery.
Charcoal sketches covered the walls and most of the windows, listing equations and measurements for making something else. Hanging from the ceiling was a framework imitating a bird’s wings, leather stretched over the wingspan, and straps in the middle, for attachment to a person. It looked remarkably similar to the sketches of Leonardo DaVinci that had been on display at the museum in New York.
“If Tech is creating all of this, why does he stay here? He could make a great deal of money in Chicago, or even Detroit.”
Phee shook her head, “He could never sell these to anyone who wouldn’t appreciate them the way he does. He’s the best doctor Pabu Creek has ever had.”
Phee stopped herself, “Well, alright. He’s the only doctor that Pabu Creek has ever had. But besides, we couldn’t leave our family. This is our home.”
You followed Phee through the maze of machines, being careful not to snag your dress on anything. You didn’t know why Phee wanted you to see all of this, least of all while Tech was away and unable to explain any of it.
Until at last, tucked into a corner at the back of the barn, metal gave way to wooden planks, sanded and stacked neatly in a square formation that walled off a desk with a shelf of woodworking tools from the rest of the barn. The sketches pinned to the wall on cheap yellow paper were more recognizable. The table in the house, and all the chairs. The geometric shapes of the headboard in the room you shared with Hunter. The barn you’d just been in.
The shavings on the floor matched the color of the chair Megan had boasted was meant for you.
This was where Hunter did his work too.
There was a half-finished project on the table, made of the same wood as your chair. The seat was quite small, perhaps for a doll, but there were several decorative spindles meant to be for the back of the chair, and one of them was still on the lathe. You ran your fingers across it, sanded smooth.
Phee stood at the entryway of Hunter’s workspace, you could feel her eyes on you.
“Well, that’s all the buildings. You want to see the fields?”
You drew your hand into your chest.
“That would be lovely.”
Phee held out her elbow to you, and you linked your arm through hers.
“Our usual chores keep us up by the house, but we’ve got less than a month until the harvest, and then it’s all hands on deck. You’ll need to know how to find your way through the corn and how to tell when the apples are ripe.”
“Apples?” You asked as she led you out of the barn.
Yup! We’ve got a whole orchard of apple trees too!” Phee sang, bringing you out into the sunlight.
You glanced back over your shoulder before she closed the door, looking at the alcove where Hunter worked.
Tags:
@clonethirstingisreal
@ireadwithmyears
@cw80831
@cosmoacrosscosmos
@vrycurious
@merkitty49
@discogrrl
@remotelyhauntedstatue
@batcherschewtoy
@fivesmybelovedclone
@fandomwriterguru
The Clone Who Loved Me (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)
Notes: No warnings. Starts out as a bit of a crack-fic, but gets really sincere towards the end. Established relationship, poking fun at pulp-fiction romance. Divider by @sinisterexaggerator
"What are you reading?" Hunter sounded aghast and slightly curious.
You looked at the cover of the cheap, flimsiback novella that had been shipped in with the supplies from one of the nearby islands. Living on the run didn't leave extra much extra cash or time to find a new book, but pulp fiction beach reads were one of your greatest weaknesses, and the fact that the Male Main Character of this one happened to be a Clone half-clad in shiny white armor, well, you couldn't help yourself.
"It's called, "The Clone Who Loved Me"," You told Hunter with a straight face.
Hunter blinked slowly, his jaw hanging open.
"Does he have a name?"
"Jesse," You glanced at your current page to be certain, "I'm pretty sure they just chose the most natborn-sounding name from the 501st."
Hunter shuddered, "What's it about?"
"A clone falls in love."
"Well yeah, but what's the plot?" Hunter asked, though his face didn't want to know the answer. He covered his mouth with one hand, the other crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall.
"It's a romance novel. That is the plot," You turned back to the book, hiding your face in the pages as you showed him the cover once more. The said clone love interest was depicted with a rather attractive-looking feminine twi'lek. She had sultry, inflated lips, which stood out from her blue skin. Her shimmering bright blue orbs were closed in the art, but the character herself had waxed poetic about them and how her culture made fun of her for her eyes at least three times in the first chapter alone. Her hips and ass were wide, to balance out the bountiful bosom that threatened to spill out of her dress.
Not nearly as much attention was given to the clone's face, you couldn't make out any minute deviance that would distinguish him from a million brothers. The artist had instead opted to spend more time contouring the abdominal muscles and biceps the caricature used to pin his lover against a wall bathed in neon lights, probably on Coruscant.
Hunter's foot began to tap, and you could hear the blood rushing in his ears. You settled into the navigators seat, thinking he would slink off to pout, your feet tucked beneath you with the book propped up on your knees.
Jesse was telling the main character (Youen? Whyyln? It was hard to remember her name because Jesse kept calling her Cyar'ika and Mesh'la. It was ridiculous, Hunter used pet names less often) that they couldn't be together because he was a monster and she would get hurt, and she was about to insist that she could change him and she didn't care about any of the things he'd done, war crimes he'd committed, people he'd killed, or that he wasn't a real man because her love could change him for the better.
Hunter's cheeks were flushed against his dark skin. He looked extremely uncomfortable, but he still wouldn't pull his eyes off of you or the book in your hands.
Then all at once, you realized what was wrong.
"Sergeant Hunter, are you jealous of a book?" you teased, glancing at him over the top of the page.
Hunter stumbled off-balance and spluttered, trying to find a legitimate excuse.
"You're reading a romance about one of my brothers!"
You burst into laughter, "A brother that doesn't even exist!" You were laughing so hard the book fell out of your hands and onto the floor, losing your place. You didn't care, you stood up and waltzed over to him, cornering him up against the doorframe.
"You know, they've got a whole series about it."
"They- they- who- what?" Hunter asked, and you heard him swallow.
"Apparently it was a controversially popular genre towards the end of the war. People complained that it glorified slavery and the Republic's Military Complex, but it was actually one of the few places that put the Clones of the GAR on equal footing with Natborns."
"Wait, really?"
"Yeah. Their characters are just as underdeveloped and poorly-written as everyone else."
Hunter didn't quite understand your joke. Echo was probably the only one of them who enjoyed reading for fun in his spare time, and even if he did, Literature wasn't a curriculum endorsed on Kamino.
"But you don't have to worry," You told him, wrapping your arms around his waist, pressing yourselves chest-to-chest, "I much prefer the real thing to a fictional romantic lead."
"The real..." Hunter's thick eyebrows furrowed adorably the way it did when he was thinking, and then shot up to his bandana. "Oh!" He murmured, finally landing on the realization of "That's me!"
You grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "You have nothing to worry about. It's all in good fun. Jesse the fake-clone is no match compared to you."
"Really?" Hunter asked, a smug tone creeping into his voice, "How so?"
You grinned as he turned to meet your eyes with one of his arms settling around your waist.
"Well," You rested your hand on his chest, "For one thing, you're much warmer than he is. And you're better at hugging."
"Uh-huh."
"You smell better than he does. This girl will not stop going on about her lover's "natural" musk, and I've never been so glad that you actually take time to shower and wash your hair whenever you get the chance."
Hunter flipped his hair over his shoulder to show off, "I definitely have better hair than he does."
"Definitely," You agreed.
You tapped your fingers against his chest, "You trust me to protect myself. You respect that I can handle things, but you also seem to know exactly when to step in and help me out."
"Does the main character not fight in the book?"
"No," You shook her head, "Jesse's only purpose is to protect the female lead from all the pervy guys who want her and to make love to her all night. It's a wonder he hasn't died from sleep deprivation on the battlefield yet."
Hunter threw back his head with a laugh, "That would make for a depressing story."
You tilted your head to the side as you tried to think of how to explain your last reason. It was more like five reasons all tangled together, but they all contributed to the same reason.
"You also talk to me like I'm a real person. You don't brush me off because I'm not a soldier like you are. You didn't try to push me away because being with you and living this life could be dangerous and you loved me too much to let me get hurt. You taught me how to defend myself when the galaxy took a turn for the worst, and together we decided that the dangers of a life together were inconsequential compared to how we feel when we are together."
Hunter stared at you, lips parted slightly. He didn't speak for a moment, letting your words permeate the air around you like a cocoon.
"Does...Jesse not want to be with the female lead?"
"Oh he does," You shrugged, "He just, 'has a raging darkness inside him' from being raised as a child soldier, and 'loves her too much to see her get hurt'."
"That sounds like a terrible relationship," Hunter winced like he tasted something foul.
"That's the trademark of a trashy novel. Terrible people making terrible choices in an even more terrible relationship."
"If it's trashy, why do you spend so much time reading it?"
The kicked tooka look in his eye let the "and ignoring me?" part go unspoken,
"That's the fun of it. It's so unrealistic, so I can get lost in someone else's world for a little bit and all my own problems don't feel as bad anymore."
"Like, being on the run as mercenaries?"
"Exactly."
Hunter chuckled, and pressed his forehead against yours, "If I didn't have you, I would be a much sadder person."
You bit your lip, "I think I would be too."
"I'm glad I have you, sweetheart."
You smiled softly, though Hunter's eyes were closed, "I'm glad I have you too, Hunter."
It was quiet for a moment, the two of you holding each other in the quiet of the ship. Hunter ran his thumb back and forth across your hip, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.
"Sweetheart?"
You hummed in response, loosening your embrace to allow Hunter to lift his head again.
He took a moment to reply, "Do you think you could...that is, if you're okay with starting over...could I read that book with you?"
You grinned, pulling him back towards the chair, "I thought you'd never ask."
Hunter sat in the chair, and you settled yourself on his lap. Hunter fetched the book from the floor, and you opened to chapter one and began to read out loud.
"Whylen woke from a deep sleep as she tumbled out of bed. Just another ordinary day on Coruscaunt...."
Tags: @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender @clonethirstingisreal
The Key to Survival
Chapter 2: Never judge nature too quickly; cuteness can be deadly
Masterlist
Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, not sure which batcher yet though. Tech? Wrecker?
Words: 3000 words
Warnings: None
A/N: It's been literal years since I've posted chapter 1... I wasn't sure I'd ever post chapter 2, but here we are. Chapter 3 is even half way done. I've fallen down their rabbit hole again, and found myself reminiscing on good ol' 2020 when the BB community was amazing and extra active. It was fun. For those of you still around, this is for you.
Taglist: @haloangel391
____________________
Only one hour in and you were ready to go home. You sighed, dejected. This was going to be a very long four days. The excitement that flowed through you when you first encountered the clone ship quickly died down as soon as one of them started insulting your closest companion. The novelty of meeting outsiders had been both thrilling and slightly nerve wracking, but you soon found out that you had given yourself ideas. Outsiders were disappointingly close minded and held themselves in high regards compared to others. At least, some of them did.
You had thought that you could forget about them as soon as you could drop them to Nix’s feet and laugh about your stupid expectations with Raek when you had been tasked with guiding them through the rainforest. For days. There were multiple reasons that this new task of yours made you unhappy, and you wished that the chatterbox behind you had been the bigger reason, but it truly wasn’t.
At your side, you noticed Raek’s head turning back for the fourth time in the last hour. He was worried, and so were you. The infernal trio guarding your charges was skilled and there was no doubt that they would care for and protect the young ones with all they had, but stepping away for days was something you never wanted to do again. Yet, here you were, and here Raek was, despite your offer for him to stay back with his hatchling. Your heart squeezed just imagining what he was thinking about. You needed a distraction before you turned around and ditched your expedition.
Thankfully, you did not need to search very far.
"So those crystals, why do you need them?" You slowed your step to fall in line with the chatterbox.
"These are no ordinary crystals.” He typed away on his datapad until he reached what he needed and showed the screen to you. The same crystals you found at the cave were shown, although free of any surrounding rockwall. “They are healing crystals of fire. As it stands, they are considered the most valuable treasure of the Jedi Order. How they came to grow here is an interesting question since their origins are rumored to be from the planet Aurea."
“Huh. If they’re so valuable, why are you the ones getting it and not the Jedis?” Realizing what you just said, you hurried to correct yourself. “Not that I think you’re-”
Hunter waved off your concerns. “The Generals are busy on the front lines.”
“That would only be part of the reason why.” Tech pointed out. “Command was highly doubtful that this claim was founded. Like I said, healing crystals of fire are said to be from Aurea which is located in the Core worlds, not on Halria in the Outer Rim.”
Suddenly you weren’t as regretful of your earlier mishap. “Because you thought we were lying?”
“Tech-”
“Because intel of this nature coming from primitive worlds tends to be incorrect.”
A scoff burst out of your chest. “You think I wanted you to come here? I just gave a description of the crystals I found, you guys decided to come here and investigate. Whatever intel you think we gave you, you interpreted it as you saw fit. So if you’re disappointed, that’s on you.” Was he for real?
The engineer’s backpack was grabbed from behind and the bigger guy took his place, looking around in awe, his helmet sitting atop his head like a hat. Wrecker talked about previous missions they were on and how they compared to your world, how the rainforest here was huge, almost like Kashyyk but not the same. You let him do the talking, half-listening and choosing instead to focus on your surroundings. He was chatting loud enough to catch the attention of anything within a kilometer radius, but Raek’s presence was enough to deter a majority of anything that would normally come looking for a snack.
A few hours passed where you only participated in Wrecker's endless stream of conversation with short hums and nods before Hunter called for a break. You grabbed your pack from the saddle and waved Raek away. He left, nose to the air in search of prey.
Sitting on the ground between tortuous roots as thick as your leg, you pulled your canteen from your backpack and took a swig while watching Wrecker approach you with his own. He sat on your right, copying your movements.
“You ever flown in a ship?”
“Can’t say I have, no.”
“You’re missing something! Being in hyperspace is just something else!” He looked up, a curtain of leaves greeting his eyes. “You can barely see the sky from down here.”
“You get used to it.” You chomped into a fruit. “If we miss the sky so badly, we can just fly up there. You been on a wyvern before?”
Huh. How was it that this man could make you talk more than others could? He managed to enrapture you first when you walked them from their ship to the village and then now. You had to give credits where credits were due, after hours of hearing the man talk, you found that his voice was rather nice to hear. He also was more polite, if anything.
“I- eh- I don’t like heights.” He reminded you.
“Ah. Yeah.” You scratched your neck in embarrassment for having forgotten his fear. “That’s not something we deal with, sorry.”
“It’s alright! I wish I could ride one actually. It looked fun.” He grinned.
“It’s the best thing.” You confirmed. “The force of the winds, the adrenaline, the trust you share with your partner, it's exhilarating.”
He hummed. “That sounds nice.”
“Wrecker, stop touching that.” Hunter’s voice was coated in disgust.
You leaned forward to look at what he was referring to. On Wrecker’s other side was a mass of mushrooms.
To your bewilderment, Wrecker’s glove was off and he was touching the closest mushroom. His fingers carefully combed through the superficial fuzz before his whole hand went through and he pulled it away to show a couple of sticky strings connecting his hand to the fungi. He beamed in half-disgust, half-amazement.
You blinked in shock.
"Look! Worse than the food in the mess!" You snorted while the men shared some amused scoffs. Even the sniper shook his head in what you perceived was amusement. The fact that Wrecker even thought of comparing their sustenance to the slime made you contemplate their living conditions. Perhaps that explained a lot. Did it make you sad? Maybe.
In any case, what was done was done.
"Good night mate." Your comment, followed by you lifting your water canteen in salute before taking another swig earned some questioning glances, mostly from the squad leader who perceived your hidden amusement.
As if on cue Wrecker’s eyes rolled and he leaned over, sprawling to the ground.
“Wrecker!” Echo came running to kneel by his brother’s side, reaching for a pulse.
“He won’t die from that, don’t worry.” You capped your canteen and put it away. “The toxin of a chimera cap will only make him sleep, nothing serious or life threatening.”
Hunter looked down at the mushroom then at you. You looked right back. If he planned on intimidating you, it wasn’t working. Not when you had a three-thousand kilos killing machine walking back into the clearing with his lunch still hot and bleeding between his teeth. “You knew about this?”
"Why didn't you stop him?" Crosshair sneered next to his brother.
You bristled. Again, asking for warnings. How old were they honestly? And how were you supposed to know he was touching a sleeping mushroom on his opposite side?
"I don’t babysit humans. You're all supposed to be grown-ups, right? Grown-ups keep their hands to themselves in an environment they don't know." You reminded him. Like hell you would become a human kindergarten overseer. You had enough with managing your own beastly squad at home. You rolled your eyes when he kept staring you down. “Here’s a small bit of advice then; if nature didn’t put any effort into hiding it, then it can and probably will kill you.”
“That’s actually good advice.” Tech approved. He helped Hunter pull their brother out of the roots and laid him on his back.
“How long is he going to be asleep?” Echo looked in your direction.
“If you wash his hand, I’d say a good hour? Maybe less.” That guy was huge after all.
“Right.” Hunter ran a hand down his face, his eyes glued to the unconscious clone. Echo carefully cleaned the Batcher’s hand with water and gauze. “How long until sun down?”
“Six hours.”
He looked between the trees, Wrecker and their borrowed weapons.
“If you want to progress while he sleeps it off, we can put him on Raek. He’ll carry him.” You stood up and pat Raek’s side who finished the last of his meal. Hunter shared a look with Echo. “We can also wait here.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll go forward.”
“Right. Let’s get him on you, ‘kay?” You pat the green scales again. Raek trotted forward before stopping next to Wrecker and laying down.
“How do you plan on lifting him on his back?”
“We don’t have to get him on his back, just his wing.” You pointed at a spot near the tip of the joint, where his metacarpal met his radius. “Wyvern wings aren’t that fragile. They still have to hold his weight in the air, so they’re pretty sturdy and Raek is strong enough to lift Wrecker up, and slide him on his back. Just be careful to not drag your feet.”
“Interesting.” Tech muttered, his own glove was off to touch the leathery wings while you helped drag Wrecker in the right position.
You glared at his lack of help while Raek slowly lifted his wing to slide the clone onto his back, right before your saddle. You mounted as he stood and ensured that Wrecker wouldn’t slide back down. Once he was secured, you gave a thumbs up to the sergeant.
“Good to go.”
He motioned before him. “Lead the way.”
_____________
It took less than an hour for Wrecker to stir and twitch. Ever careful, Raek slowed his pace. You reached over towards Wrecker’s shoulder, warning him that he was currently sprawled on Raek’s neck and to take it slow. On cue, his arms tightened around Raek to stabilize himself.
“Wh-what happened?” He grumbled.
“It appears that the fungi you touched had potent soporific properties.” Tech answered. Wrecker blinked down at the engineer in confusion, drowsiness still having a hold of him.
“It made you fall asleep.” You clarified.
“Huh.”
You gave him time to properly wake up and helped him sit more comfortably when he had enough control of himself to stay balanced. From behind him, all you could see was his backplate. This man sure was huge.
“Should I get down?”
You shrugged. “You can if you want, but we don’t mind. Although if you stay, it might be useful for us to trade places.” He looked back at you with a grin.
Wrecker turned and lent you a hand, Raek holding up his wing to create a platform for you to step on. He scooted back into the saddle while you plopped down before him.
“It’s not flying, but hey, you got to ride a wyvern.” Your lips pulled in a small smile under your helmet. “How is it? Living up to your expectations?”
“It’s great! Way better than a Blurrg.” In response, Raek straightened, his wings fluttering.
“He’ll take the compliment.”
A rumble shook your mount, showing his satisfaction. The soft sound soon morphed into a harsh growl, prompting you to grab your gunlance. In a practiced motion, you moved into a crouched position, using Wrecker for balance instead of your saddle.
A Night Bloom stared from the safety of a crevice, its claws digging into the ground. Its light pink snout betrayed its young age. The way the juvenile hound hesitated showed that it was apprehensive of Raek’s presence, but still wanted a bite out of the bipedal creatures accompanying him. It still lacked experience, but its confidence pushed it to dare the risk. Overconfident younglings were a problem, for themselves and for others. A problem that could be fixed, it was still time for it to learn to not ignore its instincts.
The soft brown fur of its underbelly progressively morphed into a vibrant reddish-purple color as it reached both sides of its spine where the buds of flowers started to open. It was truly a sight to behold. That one, you would have understood if Wrecker had wanted to pet it. Hells, you wanted to pet it. Their species had fascinated you for years. It was a shame that these leviathans were way too fierce and independent in nature to tame after their hatchling phase. Your soft spot for cuteness was annoyed.
You opened fire at its feet, scaring it into taking a few steps back. It snarled as you jumped down, hand outstretched towards the clones who had taken defensive positions. If they dared shoot a big baby before your eyes when you had everything under control, you’d be mad. Raek dutifully stayed put, having seen this scene unfold countless times before.
You approached, your steps assured and authoritative. You shot another burst at its feet when it took a step towards you. It recoiled again, getting frustrated. You came to a stop two-meters away, enough to allow you to enter close combat should it be needed, but also close enough to tower over the predator-to-be.
Its head reached your midsection, light green eyes staring up at you in a challenge. The colors of its back seemed to brighten under a few sunrays. What held your attention were the short vine-like spinal protrusions on its back rising up in aggression. Venom shot out of its mouth as soon as it jumped for your throat.
The venomous spit hit your front in a splatter before you swiftly side stepped the Night Bloom. You rotated to hit it back with the side of your lance, ensuring to put your whole body weight behind the blunt blow. It collided with the ground in a heap and rolled further away. You repositioned yourself in your previous stance, ready to repeat the process and beat a lesson into this kid.
Footsteps joined your side, their heavy weight telling you just who it was. With another bigger bipedal figure staring it down, the hound fled into the underbrush.
“What was that?” Wrecker asked, holding his axe on his shoulder, helmet covering his head as it should be.
“A Night Bloom. A lone wolf, so to speak.”
“Why not kill it?” Crosshair asked, his rifle still aimed towards the general area the Night Bloom retreated in.
You were glad you had lifted your hand to stop them from intervening. “Killing for no reason is wrong.” This was a principle you would never waver on. “I only kill for food or to defend my life or others'.”
“Wasn’t that defending yourself?” He challenged.
“We weren’t in any real danger. "It was just a baby. And it retreated as soon as it understood we were no prey.”
“Are you positive it was still a baby?” Tech approached, his visor down to his eyes. “My observations would suggest that this animal was closer to an adult stage than that of an infant.”
You chuckled. He had a point. “In my book, yeah. A big baby. They’re various stages of babies until they reach this size.” You lifted your hand six inches above your head. “Then they’re big loaves.” Crosshair scoffed.
“This is not factually acceptable.” He looked at you like you had just said the dumbest thing he ever heard. Maybe it was.
“In my world it is.” You shrugged, reaching into your bag still attached to your saddle and pulled an empty vial out of it.
“It won’t come back for us?” Hunter joined your side, his own Orixus sword in hand. You couldn’t help but notice how well the blade matched with his armor.
“No.” You assured him, busy scraping the brownish-green venom sticking to your chestplate into the vial with a knife. “It was still young enough to learn what is food and what isn’t.”
“Good enough for me.” He put away his weapon. “And what is that?”
“Venom.”
He paused. “And you’re collecting it because?” The wariness in his voice was amusing.
“For future use.” You ignored Tech who had approached to get a look at the substance. “It constricts the branching airways in your lungs-”
“Bronchioles.” You ignored that too.
“-and you have a hard time to breathe in under a couple minutes.”
“Dyspnea.”
You breathed deeply, carefully and softly closing the vial. “Until you can’t anymore.”
“Respiratory failure.” Your hand tightened around the vial. “Fascinating.”
“Used in smaller doses, it can help with chronic joint pain.”
He hummed. “Arthritis. The venom must have anti-inflammatory or analgesic properties. Perhaps even both.”
You heard your patience die a painful death. You looked at him, not certain if you were glad that your helmet hid the annoyance in your eyes. Or perhaps it was murderous intent, you weren’t too sure anymore. “And big doses can kill you.”
“You have already detailed as mu-” Echo pulled his brother away before you had half a mind of testing the power of the young Night Bloom’s venom.
“Is he a datapad on legs or what?” You mumbled under your breath.
“You have no idea.” Hunter’s hand fell on your shoulder in a light pat. Was it sympathising? It sure felt like it.
“Four days, huh.” You were already dreaming of being back home. With a sigh, you resumed walking towards your destination, way too many klicks away.
The Tree - Hunter
Summary: Hunter and you try to find the perfect tree for your Life Day celebrations.
Characters: Sergeant Hunter, Omega (mentioned), Crosshair (mentioned)
Pairings: Sergeant Hunter x Reader
Walking through the snow, you wrapped your scarf around you even more, breath fogging up in front of you. It was nearly Life Day, and you desperately wanted to pick a tree to decorate this year. So you had gone to a tree farm with your riddur, hoping to find the perfect one.
“Do you know which one you’re looking for?” Hunter inquired, hand linked in yours as you walked through the rows of trees.
“I’m not sure” you hummed, deliberating on a tree to your right. However it didn’t look right, too skinny for your liking. “I’ll know when I see it” you told him.
Hunter snorted, lips twitching into a smile as he glanced at you. “Mind giving the rest of us an idea, cyar’ika?” he teased, squeezing your hand and pulling you closer towards him. He wrapped his arm around your waist, continuing to look at the trees surrounding you.
Shooting him a playful scowl, you shrugged. Honestly, you had no idea yet, but you knew these ones weren’t it. “It needs to have a lot of branches, and to look full. So we can hang our decorations off it” you instructed, thinking about all the lights and decorations you could put up. “Omega will love it! I want to make it special for her, for both of you” you told him, excitement fluttering in your chest as you thought about the celebrations.
It would be the first time you were celebrating with Hunter and his brothers and sister, and you really wanted to show the young girl how special Life Day could be. She still believed in the magic and spirit of things and it was infectious. You wanted that to continue for as long as possible.
Hunter marvelled at the way you had taken to his siblings, including them in everything you did and thinking of what they needed. You were so selfless that you sometimes forgot to put yourself first. “I’m sure she’ll love it, no matter what the tree looks like, cyar’ika. She’s more excited to spend time with you” Hunter assured, squeezing your hip.
Ducking your head to hide your warm cheeks and smile, you couldn’t help but feel pleased at that. Omega was a bundle of energy and a true joy to be around. You’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not notice how much Hunter loved his little sister, and you couldn’t help but feel the same for the young clone. “Good, I’m looking forward to seeing her too. Think I might have to fight Cross to her” you grinned, leaning into him.
That had Hunter snorting, agreeing with you. Since Omega had returned with Crosshair, they had been inseparable. “You’d win” he remarked, poking at your side.
Giving an indignant squawk, you flinched away from him. “I would, don’t you forget it, Sergeant!” you reminded, tugging at the scarf around Hunter’s neck and pulling down his bandana. You set off running from him as he grunted in annoyance at his vision suddenly going dark, his long hair falling into his face. Your feet sunk into the snow, but you weren’t face enough as soon enough, strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you back into him.
“That wasn’t very nice, cyare” he growled into your ear, holding you tight so you couldn’t wriggle away from him. His hands slid under your shirt, making you yelp at the coldness sinking into your skin. “Come on, let’s get this tree and then…” he murmured, before he laid a kiss to the shell of your ear. “Then I’ll warm you up” he breathed, hands squeezing at you.
Heat shot through you, and you pressed yourself back into him, feeling his sharp inhale. It was so tempting to leave finding a tree for another day, but Life Day was fast approaching and you wanted to spend it with your new family.
“Come on, sooner we find one, sooner we can go home” Hunter encouraged, tapping your bum as he pulled away.
Huffing, you turned to glare at him before taking his hand, pulling him into the next row of trees. “You don’t play fair, you know that?” you grumbled, shaking your head as you felt the urgency to pick the tree now. Maybe it didn’t have to be perfect.
Hunter smirked, squeezing your hand, “I’ve heard that before.”
As you stopped in front of a tree, you smiled, taking in the height of the tree, the shape and how full it seemed of fresh pines and leaves. “What about this one then?” you suggested, turning to him and grinned. Hunter pondered, head tilting to the side. Not waiting for an answer, you went over to shake the tree to see how sturdy it was. In a house full of genetically altered clone troopers prone to trouble, a sturdy tree was a must have.
However, Hunter’s hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your shoulder. “There’s a critter in that one” he warned, just as something fell out of the tree and landed by your feet.
You screamed, jumping away and landing against Hunter as it scurried away from you. Hunter caught you, stopping you from slipping and falling in the snow. Okay, maybe you should let Hunter check out the trees from now on.
Eyes dancing with amusement, he set you right on your feet before going over to the tree, giving it a good shake and checking if he could hear or smell anything else that was hiding in the leaves. “Glad you weren’t too scared, cyar’ika” he teased, glancing back at you.
“See, this is why I brought you with me! To protect me from getting attacked by woodland critters!” you exclaimed, trying to calm your racing heart. Taking some deep breaths, you watched as Hunter marked the tree, tying the green ribbon around it that the farmer had given you at reception.
“Don’t worry cyar’ika, I’ll protect you” he promised, coming to wrap you in his arms and pull you into him. His warmth seeped through the layers you both had on and enveloped you, keeping you toasty even on such an ice cold day. “Even from scary chipmunks” he added, adoration in his eyes and tone as you cupped his face, fingers tracing along his tattoo.
“My hero!” you crooned, lips pulled into a smile even as you kissed him.
If I Gave You my Hand would You Take It?
Sheriff Hunter x Pregnant!Reader, Western AU.
Chapter Four
read on ao3
Masterlist
Notes/Warnings: Pregnancy, Arranged marriage, slow burn (if I can be patient enough), female reader. Comment/DM to be tagged/untagged. Dividers by @stars-n-spice
Hunter awoke when the rooster crowed. His back ached, but as he took in a deep breath he inhaled the smell of the clay-like dirt, the crisp mountain air, and a faint perfume of roses.
He looked over to see you, lying on the other side of his bed. Your bed. You were his wife now, what was his was yours. It was strange and new, to be sure, but you needed each other. You needed him for your baby, and he needed you to help him with Megan.
Hunter had always wanted to be a father, to give someone else the life he could never have for himself. He'd done alright with Megan so far, but a baby was something else entirely. The last time Hunter held a baby was when Crosshair was born. Hunter had been five then, too young to be a provider or learn anything about taking care of children, but that changed when their mother died seven years later. The only thing Hunter could think of was to take them to America, chasing the same fortune as their long-lost father. It wasn’t much of a childhood, jumping from job to job until they were all finally old enough to join the army, and now that they had Megan and the baby on the way, he was determined to do better by them.
He tried to climb out of bed without disturbing you, but it was futile.
“You can go back to sleep,” He urged.
“I’m fine,” You yawned, “Where’s the washroom?”
Hunter paused as he pulled on his shirt, trying to keep himself from chuckling, “You mean the outhouse?”
He escorted you to the outhouse before his brothers could climb out of bed and hog it for themselves, standing guard even though he wasn’t sure he needed to. His brothers knew better than to peep on a woman relieving herself, and the coyotes didn’t dare come up this close to the house. So why did he feel the need to watch out for you?
He told himself it was just because you were getting used to the place, and he never wanted you to feel like you couldn’t ask for help. This wasn’t a love match by any means, but he hoped you knew that he was willing to do anything for you.
He walked you back inside, and tried to take the outhouse for himself so that you could have privacy while you dressed, but Wrecker got there before him.
Once everyone had taken their turn, it was time for morning chores. Wrecker milked the cows, Megan gathered the eggs, Crosshair pumped the water, and Tech and Phee fed the animals. Everything felt so easy, so normal, he quickly forgot that there was someone new in the house.
“It smells delicious-”
Hunter jumped. He hadn’t even heard your door open. The pancakes went flying through the air as he jerked the pan. One landed on the table, one on his head, and the other smacked into your chest.
Nothing had ever snuck up on him before. Nothing. He would almost be impressed if he wasn’t absolutely mortified. Here he was trying to prove to you that he could be a good husband, and the first breakfast he’d made for you had gotten everywhere.
You lifted the flapjack off your chest. It had baked enough that it didn’t leave any batter on your dress, and Hunter felt some of the tightness in his chest relieved.
“‘M sorry about that,” He murmured, grabbing a towel anyway.
“It’s alright. Where are the plates? I can set the table.”
Hunter had half a mind to tell you to sit, but you’d already found the cupboard where they’d fetched the dishes last night, setting places for the eight of you. He turned back to the stove silently, hoping that his brothers would dismiss the heat on his face for the heat of the stove.
“Hunter! I got sixty eggs from the coop today!” Megan burst in the door with Batcher the dog,, both arms straining under the weight of the wire basket, “Well, it would’ve been sixty-two, but I dropped two when Henrietta pecked me.”
“Really? We should have her for dinner tonight,” Crosshair grinned devilishly as he lugged in the buckets of water. Hunter nudged the dog away from the stove.
“No!” Megan exclaimed indignantly, “She’s our best-laying hen!”
“Cross, start sorting the eggs for market, I’ll bring ‘em to Oleson’s when I take Megan to school,” Hunter derailed the argument. He stoked the flame, willing the flapjacks to cook faster before Wrecker could march in moaning about how hungry he was.
He stopped when he heard Megan gasp, “Ma, you look beautiful!”
Hunter turned to look at you. You smiled shyly at his girl, holding up the skirts for Omega to see. The soft blue made you look majestic, and the white and yellow flowers reminded him of the fluffy clouds in the spring sky. He couldn’t speak for a moment, but swallowed painfully to force the words out.
Megan was right, you did look beautiful.
“Fire,” Echo ran his chair into Hunter’s leg, trying to catch his attention. This batch of flapjacks had caught fire while he was distracted.
Hunter smothered the flames with a towel as Wrecker marched in with a bucket of milk, “what’s for breakfast? I’m starving!”
Hunter drove the wagon down the road with just Maudie pulling. The wheels click-clack-click-clacked along the dirt road, rocking back and forth like a babe in its cradle.
You thought about the baby cradle you’d seen in a storefront, back when the idea of having a family with Edmon was still realistic. You would have had a lavish wedding, with flowers decorating the cathedral from floor to ceiling. Your father would have walked you down the aisle, smiling proudly all the way, and Edmon would be waiting at the altar, tall and proud in his navy uniform.
But you were far from lavish living and cathedrals here. You were seated on the wagon with Hunter, Megan between you. First thing in the morning and she was bouncing full of energy, legs swinging back and forth as she told you about her friends. There was Ava, Jax, Lyana, Shaeehah, Jek, she had to be friends with every child in Pabu Creek.
“Ava won the Spelling Bee last week, and her parents got her a new dress! Hunter, if I win the essay competition next month, will you get me a new dress?”
Hunter chuckled, “We’ll see, kid.”
“Please?”
“Ava got a new dress because her Ma knows how to sew,” Hunter reminded her, ”I don’t.”
“Tech knows how to sew!”
“Tech knows how to repair a tear on his vest. Sewing a dress is a whole different thing.”
You knew how to sew, but you’d never done a dress before. Plus, you didn’t want to correct Hunter on parenting his sister, so you stayed silent as you rolled into town. A dozen or so buildings lined the one dusty street that ran through the town, leading up to the school. Most of the houses doubled as storefronts,like the blacksmith’s and the butcher’s. The tanner and the gristmill were on the edge of town, far from the townsfolk going about their day and the worker’s homes.
The schoolhouse was the tallest of all the buildings, mostly due to the steeple with the belltower. It served as the church, just like the chapel in Missouri, and was the only building in town big enough to hold everyone for town meetings. The schoolyard was filled with children, half of them who swarmed toward the wagon when Megan called out in greeting. Hunter woahed to Maudie, and helped Megan down from the bench.
“Is this her?”
“Didja really get married, Sheriff?”
Your cheeks flushed, you hadn’t thought that with all the talking Megan did, that she might have talked to all her friends about you, or what she knew about you before Hunter left for Missouri.
Megan climbed up on the wagon wheel that was just as tall as she was, holding on with one hand with her schoolbooks and lunch pail tucked under her arm, “Everyone, this is my new Ma!”
One boy placed his hands on his hips, “If she’s married to the sheriff, why hasn’t she got a ring?”
“Yeah,” Another girl said, “Everyone knows you gotta have a ring if you’re gonna be married.”
“Oh really?” Hunter asked them, “Where’s that written down?”
“It doesn’t have to be,” The boy protested, folding his arms defensively, “Everyone knows its a rule.”
“I see, if that’s a rule, then I guess I gotta arrest you, Jax.”
“Me? Why?” the boy squeaked, stumbling back a pace.
Hunter shrugged, “You don’t eat your vegetables.”
“That’s not a rule!”
“Yeah it is! Everyone knows that!” Megan grinned.
The bell rang, saving Jax from an awkward night in lockup, and Megan and her friends started towards the school.
“Knock ‘em dead, kid,” Hunter called after her.
“I will!” She paused mid-step, then turned and ran back to Hunter. He gave a small “oof!” as she knocked the wind from his lungs, but squeezed her tight before sending her running back towards the school.
“There you are, Sheriff!” someone screeched.
You turned, hand on the back of the wagon bench, to see a stout woman in a green dress marching up the road towards you, huffing and muttering as she went.
Hunter sighed, “What do you want, Cid?”
His tone took you by surprise. Hunter had been cordial to everyone he’d come across so far, while being exceptionally at ease around his family. You had half a mind that he was unable to be impolite until this “Cid” marched up and accosted him.
“My last shipment got robbed,” She said, folding her arms and tapping her foot impatiently as if that was enough for him to produce the culprits out of thin air.
“What got stolen?” Hunter asked. He stared at the school, refusing to meet her eyes.
“A couple crates of beer and some whiskey," Cid said slowly, teeth gritted.
“And when did this happen?”
“This morning. Weren’t with the delivery when I did inventory.”
Hunter shook his head, ”You run the saloon. You've got a hundred drunk patrons going in and out of your bar all day. Maybe you miscounted.”
“I don't miscount my whiskey!” Cid snapped, a boney finger jabbing at Hunter's face.
She caught sight of you, still sitting on the wagon bench, “Didn't realize you'd married such a peach, huh sweetheart?”
You flushed at the sudden attention. Hunter didn't turn to look at you, but you could see him looking out of the corner of his eye from beneath the brim of his hat. He was frowning.
You shouldn’t be surprised that people would instantly recognize the strange woman riding around with the sheriff as his wife that he’d taken two weeks to marry and bring back home, but it was unnerving that so many people acted like they knew you without ever meeting you before.
“Delivery driver still here?”
“Got ‘im locked up in one of my rooms.”
“Cid!” Hunter was looking at her now.
“He shorted me on my whiskey! I got every right to hold him accountable,” Cid’s grin seemed to suggest she preferred holding an innocent man accountable for the theft rather than truly finding justice.
“That’s unlawful imprisonment, and I should arrest you for that!” Hunter
Cid shrugged, “Are ya gonna come interrogate him or not?”
Hunter grit his teeth and reached into the wagon. He grabbed the basket of eggs and held his hand out to you, helping you down from the bench.
“Can you bring this to the General Store? Tell them it’s from the Fett farm, and they should give you our usual rate of six cents per egg. Make sure they give you cash and not store credit.” He placed the basket in your hands.
“I’m waiting, Sheriff!” Cid sang, tapping her foot impatiently.
Hunter rolled his eyes, “Take a look at whatever they’ve got there. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
His fingers squeezed your wrist once, then his touch vanished, tying Maudie to one of the fenceposts around the schoolyard.
You watched him marching after Cid, towards one of the bigger buildings in town with a sign that read “Cid’s Parlor” in bright red letters.
You looked around at all the buildings. He hadn’t mentioned which one was the General Store, but it shouldn’t be too hard, all the buildings were labeled just like the Parlor was.
You steeled your chest, tucked the basket on your arm, and headed off down the street.
The storefronts on either side of the street all had connected porches, providing a covered pathway up off the dusty streets. The street hadn't been very still when you rode down it the first time, but now even more people were out and about, milling on porch steps, walking with purpose.
They were friendly enough, waving a hello and nodding to you even without Hunter at your side to give them a sense of recognition. You nodded back, but kept to the street, hoping that you wouldn’t be swept up into any conversations against your will.
The building noted as the General Store was white with a blue roof and matching blue shutters, but reddish dust clung to the shingles, making it look rather dirty compared to the other buildings in their muted earthy tones. No one was on the porch, but a man in a pressed white shirt and a starched apron stepped out of the store, setting a bucket of apples next to a cart of fresh produce.
He looked up from his work and smiled at you, “Good morning! How can I help you today?”
You tried your hand at a smile in return, but your voice came out rather small, “Good morning, sir. I have the eggs from the Fett’s farm.”
His eyes lit up, “You must be the Sheriff’s wife! Welcome to Pabu Creek!” He grabbed your hand in both of his as soon as you got close enough, shaking it heartily, “I’m Mr. Oleson, but call me Harold. It’s such a pleasure to meet you, we’ve been hoping to see Sheriff Fett and his brothers all settled down for a while now, they’re all such fine young men. Come in, come in!”
You wondered if Hunter truly was as youthful as Mr. Oleson made him out to be, or if the lines on his face disqualified him from the moniker of “young”. Well, he was the Sheriff, and he had been at war, perhaps he simply looked older than his true years.
A bell rang as Mr. Oleson held the door open for you, ushering you into the store, “And where is that husband of yours?”
“The saloon, there was a robbery,” you said.
Mr. Oleson shook his head, “Oh bless his soul, Cid would have the whole town arrested if it were up to her.”
You didn’t doubt that.
The store was crowded, not with people, but with things. You had never seen so many objects clustered together in one store. A plowshare right next to the crookery, bags of flour next to bags of animal feed, a whole shelf of fabrics, and a rainbow of candy jars on the counter leading up to the register. Nearly everything would have a store dedicated solely to itself back east.
“Bring them up here,” Mr. Oleson waved you over to the register. As he counted out each egg, you kept looking around. The more you thought about it, the more convenient the notion seemed. It could cut your errands down to one trip, a timesaver that was a necessity this far west.
Thinking back to Megan and Hunter’s conversation this morning, you wandered over to the fabrics. It was mostly cotton, nothing as fine as what you’d worn back east, and it was all rather plain compared to even the dress you wore now.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, you had a lot to do if you were going to fit in with a town like Pabu creek.
“Forty-five eggs at six cents an egg leaves us with…” Mr. Oleson spoke mostly to himself as he entered the number in the register. It gave a sharp “ching!” with the answer, two dollars and seventy cents.
You checked the price of the red and white gingham checks you were looking at. Seventeen cents a yard. There was plenty of money for two yards. You started to pull it from the shelf when a shrill voice cracked the air.
“Harold! Did you hear? Mrs. Eenta said she saw the Sheriff riding into town with his new bride!” A woman in a high-necked dress with ruffles from top to bottom and hair pulled back in a bun tighter than your grandmother’s pushed through the curtain that separated the store from the owner’s abode.
“Harriet,” Mr. Oleson said patiently.
“She’s at least half his age. Wilma said that she overheard Megan telling the others she was from New York!”
You raised one eyebrow. Your father would have been flattered to have people think you were from New York rather than Philadelphia.
“Harriet,” Mr. Oleson repeated, silencing the woman who could only be his wife, “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Sheriff Fett.”
You nodded as the woman’s pursed lips dropped open, finally catching sight of you, “How do you do?”
“Oh-oh,” The woman patted her chest and hips as if she were searching for something, “Very well I’m sure,” She looked to Harold as if he could save her from her embarrassment, and when he did nothing but count your change, she looked you up and down.
“I saw that dress in Harper’s Bazaar. I was thinking of ordering one for myself.”
“It’s quite comfortable,” You said slowly, unsure of what she was getting at.
“Is it truly real silk?” Harriet asked.
You looked down at your dress, “The inner layer is silk, yes, but the outer layer is cotton. This is a day dress after all.”
Harriet's hands fluttered about her chest once more, but before she could say anything to embarrass herself further, the bell above the door rang out crisp and clear.
“Morning, Sheriff!” Harold said, “We were just getting to know your wife, here.”
You sighed in relief as Hunter caught sight of you. His shoulders were tense, probably from talking with Cid, but he nodded to you.
“Mornin’, Harold,” He set a handful of bills on the counter, “Did you count out the eggs, yet?”
“Two seventy-five,” Harold held out the change.
Hunter counted it out under his breath to double-check, “That should help pay for the new plow, and I have the rest of the money to pay off what’s left of the line of credit.”
Your face fell, and you quickly turned back to the row of fabrics, sliding the gingham back into place. You could hear the bills from your dowry rustling as Hunter counted out twenty dollars to pay back the credit the family owed the Olesons.
“Anything else we can help you with?” Harriet asked, sidling up to you so suddenly that you nearly jumped out of your shoes.
“No, thank you,” you said quietly.
“Actually, we need two bags of feed, and I need a couple boxes of bullets for Crosshair and myself,” Hunter said.
Harriet waved him off, “Well, do come again soon, it’s so hard to find refined company in a place like this.”
Her backhanded compliment rubbed you the wrong way, and you tried to shake it off as she left to acquire Hunter’s purchases.
You left with Hunter quickly after that, carrying the bullets so that he could put the feed bags in the wagon.
“I can take you home, but I’ve got to bring these bullets to the jailhouse first. Would you rather wait with the wagon, or…?” He grunted with the effort as he lifted the bags enough to get them into the wagon bed.
“I’ll go with you,” You said, “I’d like to see where you work.”
Hunter looked you up and down for a moment, then held out his arm. You knew exactly what to do.
His bicep was firm beneath your touch, and warm from the sun. He let you set the speed, but it was obvious that he was leading you through town.
Whispers followed you now, watching the two of you strolling along.
“Sorry about them,” Hunter said, so quickly you almost missed it, “People like to talk, and you’re new. I’m ‘fraid my former status as a perpetual bachelor doesn’t help that.” “I don’t mind,” You said. You’d passed gossip around your social circles just as often as you’d been the center of it.
He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I hope Mrs. Oleson didn’t do anything….” He glanced up and down the street, “...off-putting.”
You laughed softly, “She’s hardly the first woman I’ve met who eats her own words.”
Hunter’s nose wrinkled, “She fancies herself a bit of a leader, though I’ve never known anyone to actually follow the lead of a woman who runs about like a chicken with her head cut off.”
You snorted like a pig. You clapped your hand over your mouth as your face flushed. Your grandmother would be appalled if she heard you make that kind of noise in front of a man.
Hunter blinked in surprise, “Did…did you just snort?” He asked.
“I am so sorry-”
Hunter laughed, “What are you apologizin’ for? That was the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard!”
“Adorable?”
Hunter grinned at you, “Would you prefer cute?”
“Sheriff, I will have you know that I am a refined lady. I am not adorable or cute, I am elegant and graceful!”
“You heard Harriet, out here, ma’am, you may be refined and genteel, I, on the other hand, am anything but.”
“That’s not true,” You said, suddenly much more serious. Hunter tried to brush it off, but you stopped, grabbing his attention.
“You’ve been nothing but kind to me since we met. You may not have an upper-class education, but you…”
The words escaped you. Too many thoughts at once to be articulated. You briefly thought of Edmon, his letter still burning a hole in your pocket where he dismissed your cry for help by telling you he was already married. But despite his own betrayal, every second you spent with Hunter, walking with him, talking to him, laying in bed beside him, felt like a betrayal to your child. Could you bring them into this world just to live a lie?”
“I what?” Hunter pressed.
Your throat went dry, so you settled for something less than eloquent, “I think you’re a perfectly fine gentleman.”
He looked at you like he didn’t believe you. And why would he? All the other women on the street wore dresses in browns, reds, and other dark, earthly tones that were more easily cleaned. And here you stood, in a bright blue dress that was already collecting clay on the hem. You looked like you were taunting him, him and everyone else in Pabu Creek, simply by existing.
When he wouldn’t answer, you pressed forward, your hold on his arm a little looser, you didn’t want to be a ball and chain for him.
Hunter stopped, planting his feet in the dirt in front of one of the smaller buildings.
“This here's the jailhouse,” He said, unmoving as he stared up at the building.
He licked his chapped lips, “It's… It's not the most romantic place to show you.”
You passed romance a long time ago, “It's where you work. I'd like to see it, if nothing but to learn more about you.”
He nodded, and opened the door.
There wasn’t much, but then again the Sheriff and his deputy didn’t live here. There was a fireplace for the winter months, a filing cabinet, a desk and chair, and wanted posters smeared across the walls. A single lamp sat on the desk, unlit, but the windows were big enough to allow plenty of light for now. To your left, a single narrow cell took up the entire wall, big enough for a single cot and a chamberpot.
“I take it you didn’t have to arrest Cid’s delivery boy?” You asked.
Hunter chuckled and shook his head, “He about soiled his pants when I walked into the room. I searched his things, searched his cart, and he has the signed papers from when Cid received the delivery saying everything was there. However, I did find a couple of her usuals in the corner with the missing whiskey, too drunk to think about escapin’.”
“And she didn’t make you arrest them?”
“Ketch and Bolo make up half of Cid’s revenue,” Hunter placed his hand on the back of the chair. He turned it towards you, offering you the seat. And he said he wasn’t a gentleman.
“I pointed out that arresting the men who pay her bills wasn’t the smartest move, so they worked out the arrangement of cleaning her floors and countertops to pay for the booze they’d managed to drink.”
You shook your head, “I’ve never understood how people like that manage to make any money when they spend all day drinking.”
“Gambling,” Hunter chuckled, “They make just enough one day to make it to the next.”
Your tailbone began to ache from the wood of the seat, or perhaps it was the baby again. Maybe you could make a nice cushion for Hunter and Crosshair to sit on when they spend long hours alone at the jailhouse.
“How many people have you kept here?” You asked, glancing at the lonely cell.
“Not as many as a lot of other towns in the territories,” Hunter admitted, following your gaze. He sighed, long and deep.
“It’s not the finest place to raise a family, but I’ve worked hard to make it a safe place for Megan to grow up, and I’ll do the same for them,” He nodded to you, but it was obvious he meant the child you carried.
You rested your hand on your belly. If you were still for long enough, you swore you could feel them kicking, tossing and turning as they made room for themselves to grow.
“Would you…would you ever want another child?” You asked. The question had haunted you since that first night on the train when it occurred to you that married couples were expected to sleep together, and even if he promised to raise another man’s child in return for you helping with Megan, men preferred their own children to carry on their name.
But Hunter looked at you in surprise, “Do you want more children?”
His face was flushed, and you felt heat in your own cheeks, “I-I just meant, well I assumed that…”
Hunter’s hands fidgeted in his lap, looking like a scolded schoolboy rather than a Sheriff when he wouldn’t meet your eyes.
“Maybe it would be better to discuss after the baby is here,” You whispered quickly.
“Maybe,” He agreed. Before you could say anything he stood up, brushing nonexistent dust from his pants, “I’ll take you home, you and the baby need your rest.”
You nodded, clutching your skirts so that you wouldn’t be tempted to take his hand, “Thank you.”
You rode home in awkward silence.
Tags:
@clonethirstingisreal
@ireadwithmyears
@cw80831
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@vrycurious
@merkitty49
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@remotelyhauntedstatue
@batcherschewtoy
@fivesmybelovedclone
If I Gave You My Hand Would You Take It?
Sheriff Hunter x Pregnant Reader, Western AU
Chapter Three
read on ao3
Masterlist
Notes/Warnings: Pregnancy, Arranged marriage, slow burn (if I can be patient enough), female reader. Crosshair is a lil' instigator but that's why y'all love him.
Comment/DM to be tagged/untagged. Dividers by @stars-n-spice
The week on the train passed much the same way the first day had. While you didn’t feel exceptionally nauseous, the way the train rocked back and forth certainly didn’t help your stomach. It was just you and Hunter most of the time, unless Phee decided to stop by. She couldn’t stay for very long for risk of catching attention from the conductor, but she always had a new tale to regale you with, usually about her own adventures wandering the plains until she settled down in Pabu Creek. She helped native communities obtain heirlooms they’d left behind after being forced onto reservations, navigated for immigrant families migrating out west, and even spent some time in Mexico.
Each of her adventures was more exciting than the last. Hunter sat at the window through it all, rolling his eyes here and there as if he didn’t believe his sister in law. Mostly he kept his soulful eyes on the landscape, watching the trees get fewer and far between. Eventually, even the grass became more sparse.
“Hunter and his brothers built this rail, you know,” Phee boasted. You looked up from your sewing.
“Not the whole thing,” Hunter groaned. Phee winked at him mischievously.
“The whole reason Hunter and his brothers came to America was to find work. Their father came here when they were kids and never came back for them, so they set out to make their own way. They were all immediately drafted for the war, but afterward, they were hired by the Union Pacific to work on the railroad.”
“You were in the army?” You asked Hunter.
Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but Phee beat him to it, “Not just the army, he was a Sergeant. Went in with all his brothers, and got them all out too.”
“With a few…scrapes,” Hunter amended, though his tone made it sound like he was trying to make it sound better than it was.
“Oh Hunter, she’ll meet him soon enough,” Phee waved her hand at him, “Echo lost both legs and his hand to a cannon wound, got captured by the South, but Hunter and his men got him out alive.”
Hunter tried to hide his blush, but his long, dark hair was tied back so that he had to bury his face in his arms like a tired child.
“We take care of him. He does the records for the Chuchi’s ranch just over the hill from our farm. He’s good with numbers,” Hunter said, voice muffled.
“He’s not a bad shot either, even with one hand. Hunter and his men ran sixty-six successful attacks on the confederates,” Phee said, “They were a five-man army. Won the whole war on their own.”
“Phee…” Hunter groaned. Embellishing her own stories, he could handle. But when she illuminated his own feats, he was a flushing mess.”
You laughed softly, and though Hunter was desperate to avoid more attention, his eyes shot to yours, staring at you for a long time as Phee continued on. You blinked, and he was looking back out the window again.
On the seventh day, Hunter helped you pack your things neatly in your carpet bag. Phee and Tech met you outside your room as the train slowed to a stop. You hated the squealing of the breaks every time you stopped, but Hunter was always there to take your arm and hold you steady.
The smoke billowed around the train like the layers of a Southern Belle’s dress as you looked around. Those who weren’t boarding the train crowded around the pile of trunks and baggage being stacked outside the ticketmaster’s booth.
Hunter went to inquire about your trunk, but paused, his head tilted to the side.
"Hunter!" a young voice cried out from the end of the platform.
As Hunter turned to the sound of the voice, you saw a real smile for perhaps the first time since you'd met.
“Megan!” He knelt down on the sun-baked wood and held out his arms. A girl in a worn brown dress burst from the crowd with her bonnet hanging from her neck to show an unruly head of blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across her face. She launched herself into Hunter’s arms, throwing her arms around his neck. Scarcely had she done so when she turned to Tech to hug his legs just as enthusiastically. Tech barely had time to tenderly ruffle her hair when she hugged Phee. Phee scooped her up into her arms, pressing her cheek against the girl’s.
“Megan,” The girl was perhaps too big to be carried in the way Phee was holding her, but Phee didn’t seem to care, settling her to be able to face you, “Meet the new Mrs. Fett.”
You curtsied out of habit, and felt rather foolish. “Hello. It’s very nice to meet you, Megan.”
“Nice to meet you too!” She grinned, and you could see that she was missing a tooth. Without further ado, she practically fell out of Phee’s arms to hug you around your neck. It took you by surprise, but you caught her quickly. Phee laughed as you stumbled, but Megan let go and dropped to the ground as light as a feather.
“Megan,” Hunter said quickly, “Be gentle with her,” His voice was stern, but not unkind.
“Sorry,” Megan ducked her head shyly, holding her hands behind her back, but when she looked up at you she was still smiling.
“I-It’s alright,” You said, hand on your stomach out of instinct. You straightened your arms at your sides quickly, hoping no one could guess your state.
Two men had appeared out of the crowd, greeting Hunter and Tech with affectionate back-patting. Both were tall, but with completely opposite builds. One was skinny with frown lines, while the other had more muscles than the body-builder you’d seen at P.T. Barnum’s and a smile brighter than New York City.
"So, this is the famed debutante?" asked the wiry man with a piece of straw between his teeth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck, tugging at your bonnet to hide it.
“Easy Crosshair,” Hunter grunted. He placed a hand on your back, even warmer than the harsh desert sun.
“This is Crosshair. My deputy.”
“Is that all I am to you?” Crosshair feigned hurt with an aghast hand on his chest.
“He’s the youngest of our brothers,” Tech rolled his eyes. Phee linked her arms with her husband’s and with Crosshair’s, marching them down to the end of the platform.
“And I’m Wrecker!” The other man said. He gripped your hand with a solid handshake, leaving your arm vibrating.
Hunter gave you a quick once-over, but a nod assuaged him. He was awfully concerned over the woman who was carrying another man’s baby, even though that woman was his wife.
Wrecker didn’t notice, lifting your trunk in his arms without any assistance. You stood there, blinking at him for a moment.
“Wrecker’s strong!” Megan assured you. She took your hand with one of hers, and grabbed Hunter with the other, leading you after Phee and the others. She skipped along, her boots thumping against the wood with a satisfying sound. You had to admit, the three of you made a pretty picture. A husband, a wife, a daughter, and a baby on the way. It was all too good to be true.
Megan led you to a wagon hitched to two mis-matched horses. One was a painted horse, with darker splotches leading up its legs and nose to the lighter gray coat. The other was a blinding blond, with a shiny coat and even paler mane.
“Havoc,” Hunter pointed to the palomino, “And Maudie.”
“Hello,” You said softly, before remembering they were horses. Maudie nickered, while Havoc just huffed and turned away.
“Don’t take it personally, Havoc’s a little vain, like your husband there,” Crosshair grinned around the straw between his teeth.
“I am not vain!” Hunter was suddenly defensive, but his hand went to his hair as his brothers sniggered. Long hair certainly wasn’t the style for men, and you expected it made him hot on long sunny days like today, but you had noticed that his hair was brushed and smoother than plenty of women you knew. You wondered what it would be like to run your fingers through it.
“Sure you’re not,” Crosshair lowered the back of the wagon to allow Wrecker to slide your trunk into the bed of the wagon.
“Woah,” Megan’s eyes went wide, “Your trunk is so pretty!”
It was an old trunk, but it had been your mother’s hope chest. A dusty sky blue painted with tiny red roses.
“Thank you,” You said softly.
“Sure you don’t have anymore? I know you’re all particular back east,” Crosshair hummed.
Hunter fixed his brother with a look, and though his expression didn’t change, he didn’t say anything else.
The wagon had two benches. Tech and Phee sat in the front bench, Megan in between them, and the reins in Tech’s hands. Wrecker and Crosshair hopped in the wagon bed, leaving that second bench for Hunter and you. He helped you the way he had helped you on and off the train, and something felt almost intimate about it. Plenty of men who tried to court you back east had helped you in and out of coaches, and you’d never felt your throat swelling like this before. Maybe it was the whole being married thing. Or maybe it was the baby wreaking havoc on your body.
Havoc and Maudie, despite their differing temperaments, started off in-step with a clicking noise from Tech’s teeth. They pranced out of the trainyard and down the dirt road. Pabu Creek didn’t have its own train station, it was just through the canyon, on the other side of the mountains.
Phee and Tech's intention was to give you and Hunter a modicum of privacy, allowing you to get used to your surroundings before everyone barrage you with questions, but Megan had not been privy to such conversations. She turned in her seat to face you with her blinding grin and began firing off questions.
“Hunter says you're from Pennsylvania. Have you heard about the Liberty bell there?”
“Well-”
“Do you have any siblings back at home? I've got the four brothers, but I always wanted a sister. Like you and Phee!”
Megan continued to pester you with questions. Had you ever been to the beach? (she did, but only as a baby and she didn't remember it.) Where did you get your dress? Could you get one for her? She needed a new dress. Did you have flowers at your wedding? She wished she could have been at the wedding but Hunter told her that Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo needed her help with chores on the farm.
You didn't even need to answer. She talked more than Tech did.
Hunter leaned over to you as she talked about her friends at school, “Sorry about her.”
“What do you mean?”
He rubbed his hands together as you followed the curve of the mountain, “Well, I know she can be a lot before you get to know her-”
“Not at all,” You whispered. Was Megan overwhelming? Certainly, but in a sweet way. It reminded you of your own childhood, back before your father insisted you wouldn’t be a nurse or an artist, you had a reputation and a family to uphold. Not that his plans for your future got him anywhere.
Megan squealed, pointing to something on the face of a mountainside cliff. It was a waterfall, hissing down the cliffside from the very top of the mountain to the river alongside the road. Immediately next to the creek and the waterfall, bright green trees grew between all of the rocks.
It was beautiful.
“Hunter! Have you told her about the Bridal Veil falls yet? Tell her about the falls!”
Hunter chuckled softly, “You sure? It’s not a pretty story.”
“But it’s sweet!” Megan insisted. She had fully turned around now, gripping the back of her bench and resting on her knees. You noticed now that her stockings had holes in the knees.
Hunter sighed, and you could feel his arm resting along the back of the bench along your shoulders, “There are two native tribes that live in this area, and a long time ago they were at war. But a girl from one tribe, Norita, fell in love with a warrior from the other tribe. He was called Gray Eagle.
Hunter reached past you to point to the top of the falls, “It’s said that the two planned to meet at the top of the cliff to elope and run away together, but their plan was uncovered by the elders of both tribes. They found Norita at the top of the cliff and told her that they had killed Gray Eagle. In despair, Norita flung herself from the cliff, intending to join her lover in the afterlife, but Mother Nature took compassion on her daughter, turning her tresses and wedding robes into a beautiful waterfall.
“And she turned Gray Eagle into the mountainside, because he had big shoulders!” Wrecker cackled from the wagon bed, flexing his arms as an example. Crosshair rolled his eyes.
“More so to be able to shield and protect his beloved forever,” Hunter finished.
Tech cleared his throat as the waterfall faded behind you, “In actuality, there was most likely an avalanche, uncovering an underground stream that allowed the waterfall to form. In any case, it provides the drinking water for all of Pabu Creek.”
“Ah, c’mon, Brown Eyes, where’s your imagination?” Phee asked.
“I am merely inferring. The name ‘Gray Eagle’ resembles many names that frontiersmen stereotype as a common name of many natives, and we know the tribes of this area very well. It seems that they have been at peace for generations. “
“Well, maybe they formed peace because of the two of them,” You suggested innocently.
Tech hummed thoughtfully, but said nothing.
Havoc and Maudie followed the creek for a few more miles, and soon you could see a town in the distance, settled on a bed of reddish-orange sand. The creek carried the trees around the outskirts of town, separating it from a fenced-off section of land. There were rows and rows of corn and sugar beets, some yellowing in the sun, others saved by the grace of the water from the creek. Like Hunter had said, there were two barns, one with faded green paint, and one with fresh wood that had yet to be painted. And between them stood a small, two-story house, with smoke curling out of the chimney like a picturesque children’s book.
Phee grinned at you, “Welcome to Pabu Creek.”
The wagon pulled up the dirt road to the house just in time for dinner. You hadn’t expected the sun to be so low so quickly, but that was due to the mountains that surrounded Marauder Valley.
A dog barked as you approached, running alongside the wheels and yipping at poor, tired Maudie and Havoc. Megan jumped down from the wagon, running alongside the dog and laughing breathlessly up to the door. There you could see a man in a wheelchair, waving with one good arm. That must have been Echo. Hunter assured you that was the last of his brothers you needed to meet, but they had plenty of cousins in all the territories from here to California. Thankfully, you didn’t need to remember all their names.
Echo’s right hand was the one he’d lost in the war, leaving a stump behind. That stump pushed a pump that powered the right wheel of his chair at the same speed that his left arm could steer the left wheel. His legs were cut off at the knee, but he had a kind smile as Megan pulled you into the house.
“Pleased to meet you,” You tried not to stare and hoped he couldn’t tell.
“Ma’am,” He nodded and backed out of your way.
The first floor of the house was one big room, with two doors to your left. One was just before the staircase, made of logs jutting out of the wall, and the other door was just under the stairs. There was a fireplace, just hot enough to warm the pot that hung over the flame, with two rifles criss-crossed above the mantle. The centerpiece of the room was a wooden dining table, large enough to comfortably fit six chairs and Echo’s wheelchair. There was an seventh chair, noticeably newer, with a lighter finish than the other chairs.
“Hunter made that one just for you!” Megan said, holding out the chair for you.
“Well, she needed a place to sit with all of us,” Hunter said dismissively.
Wrecker dropped your chest at the bottom of the stairs and marched over to the stove. He lifted the lid from the pot, tasted its contents, and declared it finished. Phee and Omega grabbed the servingware from the kitchen cupboards and the utensils from the drawers. You wanted to help, but realized quickly that you had no idea where anything was as the siblings moved around each other like water around a rock in the middle of the creek, setting the table for dinner.
“Sorry we don’t have finer china,” Crosshair sneered as he plopped into the chair across the table from you. The servingware was all made from tin, no fine china in sight, but it was all clean, so the material was inconsequential. You straightened your back and tried not to flush. It was obvious that he was trying to get a rise out of you, trying to figure out if you were as delicate as most ‘debutauntes’ back east.
Hunter sat in the chair next to you, shoulders squared as he stared at his brother. Crosshair huffed, taking the piece of straw he’d been chewing the entire time and tossing it into a far corner of the room.
Echo said grace for the eight of you, but that ended the similarities between a dinner with the Fetts and a dinner with your father and grandmother. They weren’t obnoxiously loud, but they talked energetically. How was the farm while Hunter and Tech were gone, was the train as fast as the papers said, the plow needed to be replaced, Megan was certain that Lulabelle the cow was pregnant, but Echo said that was impossible.
Elbows on the table, a drop of soup spilled here and there, your grandmother would faint if she saw such a fight. You tried to make yourself as small as possible, listening intently while trying not to be noticed. Phee wouldn’t let you stay invisible, passing you slices of bread purchased from the bakery in town, Echo had placed it in the coals, warming it up so that it still tasted fresh, and telling everyone everything she’d learned about you on the train.
Well, not everything.
The soup was delicious and filling. If Wrecker was this good a cook, maybe you wouldn’t be needed to cook after all.
When dinner was over, the siblings dispersed. It was Tech and Phee’s turn to do dishes, Wrecker had to check on the horses, and Crosshair dragged a chair over to the fire, using the flames to light a match for his pipe. Megan had school in the morning, so she was sent to bed with a hug and a kiss from each brother. Echo disappeared into his room under the stairs, and Hunter helped you bring your trunk into your room, the door right before the stairs.
“Well, this is my- our room,” He said. It was more modest than the room on the train, with a homemade quilt laid across the straw mattress on a wooden bedframe. There were pillows, but no elaborate headboard. There was one nightstand, probably for Hunter’s side of the bed, so you set your travel bag on the other side of the bed. Hunter set your painted trunk next to one made of birch. It was old and worn, but it still perfumed the room gracefully.
“I know it’s nothing like what you had at home…” Hunter tried to say, laying an armful of blankets at the foot of the bed.
“It’s fine, Hunter,” You insisted. You got yourself into this mess, he didn’t have to bend over backwards to make his home more comfortable for you. It was comfortable enough for the seven of them so far, you would make it work for you too, and the baby.
Hunter nodded, rubbing his hands together uncertainly, “I’ve gotta talk to Cross on…on everything I missed while I was gone.” Two weeks away was quite a bit of time for a Sheriff to leave his post, even to get married. Hunter was lucky that he had his deputy.
“That’s alright. “
“I’ll, uh, be back in a minute, but, ah, good night,” He mumbled.
“Good night-” He barely gave you the chance to respond before he closed the door behind him.
Well, you didn't have to unpack much, if everything was to be kept in your trunk, so you might as well get ready for bed.
Your wardrobe for the Philadelphia Social Season would have taken up the entire room. Your grandmother had secured a few practical dresses in addition to your favorites that you’d managed to pack, but having seen Megan and Phee’s wardrobe, even those might stick out like a sore thumb to the residents of Pabu Creek. Was Crosshair right? Were you just some rich girl playing house?
Aside from the dresses and your whites, you had your sewing kit, a necessity out here, but the embroidery kit not so much. At least it would provide you with something to do in your free time, if you ever figured out how to do all the chores required of you.
In your travel bag, you had two books, taken from your mother’s personal library. She had specifically bequeathed it all to you before her death, along with all her jewelry. Your father refused to let you take all the books, and all he let you save from the jewelry that would be sold to make up your dowry was a cameo brooch of your mother’s profile.
Your throat swelled as you thought of her. She would have been disappointed in you, of course, just like everyone else, but you knew in your heart that she wouldn’t have sent you away just to save face. Even if your father pressed for it, she would be here with you, crowded into this small wood cabin with seven family members that were no more than strangers.
You missed her.
”I will always be with you, my child,” She promised on your darkest nights, when you cried over nightmares or a crush that kissed another girl behind the school.
You pinned the brooch to your nightdress and grabbed your shawl to keep your modesty. You needed a drink of water, and you wondered if they kept a store of it, or if you’d have to pump it for yourself outside. Perhaps Hunter would help you if he and Crosshair were done discussing practical matters. You opened the door a crack to see if you were interrupting and heard someone scoff.
“Why her?” Crosshair was asking. You froze. You didn’t need to be a genius to know he meant you, the newcomer.
“She was looking for a husband.”
“So? Echo’s all but shacking up with the Chuchi’s daughter. If we wanted a Ma for the girl she’s right next door.”
“Watch your language,” Hunter hissed, and there was a rattling of plates and cups as the table shifted from the force of someone standing up quickly.
You kept your breath shallow and quiet, praying they couldn’t hear you.
“Why not?” Crosshair demanded again.
“Echo’s lame and he’s missing an arm. You think the marshal’s gonna consider him to be a good father?”
“So it has to be you?” Crosshair hummed bitterly.
“I didn’t hear you volunteering. Tech and Phee are all over the place, they can’t give her a steady life. If we want to prove to the marshal that we can give Megan the life she deserves, we needed someone else. I wasn’t going to break Echo’s heart just to keep Megan here.”
“So you decided on a mail-order bride.”
“Don’t call her that,” Was Hunter’s immediate response. It was endearing, but only for a moment.
“You’ve got to face it, Hunt. Someone that rich, someone from the lap of luxury doesn’t just upend their entire life and move out into the middle of nowhere for no reason. So you have to ask yourself, ‘What does she want?’.”
Hunter was quiet. He knew what you wanted, why you needed this marriage. So did Phee, but you definitely didn’t want Crosshair to know. The way he spoke about you meant he didn’t trust you, and you knew if he found out about the baby he would probably hate you, using his brother and his family to hide your child.
You whispered a short prayer under your breath, just to beg the universe that Hunter wouldn’t reveal your secret. He hadn’t so far, but would the pressure from his brother break him?
“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Hunter said, his voice low and his tone sharp, “What matters is that she’s here now, and she’s my wife, so you will treat her with the respect that she deserves. In return, she’ll respect you, she’ll help us with Megan, and we can all go about our business without the marshals breathing down our throat.”
You bit your lip. Their conversation was dying down, but you weren’t thirsty anymore, so you creeped back to bed before either of the brothers could discover you.
Megan needed a mother. That part of your deal with Hunter was plain and simple, but what did the territory’s marshals have to do with that? You’d been raised by a single father, but the police hadn’t come around personally to ensure that your grandmother was being a maternal influence on your life. There were far more dangerous criminals acting out, according to Hunter, so why were the marshals concerning themselves with the family of the Sheriff in an inconsequential town?
You heard the creaking of the stairs as Crosshair went up to his room. By the time Hunter came to bed, you were reading one of your books by the light of a candle. He glanced at the dress that you laid out on the chair for the next day. It was a beautiful sky blue printed with white and yellow flowers, and trimmed with lace.
“Well, how was your day?” He asked lamely, though he’d been with you for most of it.
You shrugged. Your eyes didn’t move across the page as someone reading a book might, “It was fine.”
He nodded. His boots were left by the front door downstairs, but he took off his shirt and tossed them in a corner with his socks. He perched on the edge of the bed still wearing his pants and suspenders over his undershirt.
“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Your voice came out in a squeak.
He shook his head quickly, “I’m fine. Are the blankets warm enough?”
It was summer, but it was also the middle of the desert. What baked in the sunlight froze in the dark, but the blankets on Hunter’s bed were more than enough.
Before Hunter could figure out how to get under the blankets without touching you, there was a knock at the bedroom door.
“Megan,” Hunter said, his tone soft, but stern.
The door creaked open slowly. Megan’s head poked out of the darkness, smiling sheepishly.
“Sorry Hunter.”
“Did you have a bad dream?” He asked.
“No, I’m fine,” Megan shook her head, but her eyes landed on you, “I just wanted to ask if you would come with Hunter to drop me off at school tomorrow?”
It was like cupid pierced your heart with his arrow. Of course your answer was yes!
Hunter sighed, “Couldn’t this have waited until morning?” He stood, walking over to the door.
“I wanted to make sure!” Megan bounced up and down on the tips of her toes excitedly, “I want everyone to meet my new Ma!”
The world seemed to freeze around you.
“Ma.”
Growing up, you had always used “mother” or “mama”. You hadn’t even given birth yet, you had just barely married this girl’s brother, but here she was, grabbing you tight and not letting go.
You were a goner.
Hunter tried to usher his sister back up the stairs to her room, “Let the poor woman get some rest, she’s had a long trip-”
“I’d love to drop you off,” You said softly.
Hunter turned back to you, and Megan’s face split open with a smile.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
Megan turned to go to bed, satisfied with this answer. Then she turned heel, running at you. You braced yourself this time, dropping your book and holding out your arms to return her hug.
“I’m glad you’re here, Ma,” She rubbed her cheek against your shoulder for a brief moment, then darted back out the door.
“I’m going back to bed now!” She chirped, halfway up the stairs.
“Don’t wake the others!” Hunter hissed. He waited at the door for another moment, listening to be sure she was going back to bed, then he shut the door and trudged back to bed. He kept saying how tired you must be, but he seemed to be the one that needed the rest.
“She’s sweet,” You told him.
“Yeah,” He nodded in agreement as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed, “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
You tried not to let it get to you. You were in an arranged marriage, you were carrying a bastard child. Of course this wouldn’t be the love match you dreamed of.
Post-Script: The setting for this story is largely based off of Utah and Arizona, because I adore Southwest US. Though Bridal Veil falls is an actual location in Provo Canyon, the legend mentioned in the story comes from a "dubious origin", without even naming the peoples who lived there before it was colonized. However, it is posted at the park for visitors to see. That's mainly why I had Tech criticizing it, make sure you take it with a grain of salt.
Yes Maudie and Havoc are named after the Havoc Marauder. And so is the valley. It gave it a cool western-showdown-type vibe.
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Secret Kingdoms Masterlist
Moodboard by @meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender
Divider by @saradika-graphics
The kingdom plunges into war, and you despair of seeing your knight in shining armor anytime soon.
And when you and the princess are captured by enemy forces, you may never see him ever again.
Lady Luck (Prequel)
Book One:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Book Two:
Coming Soon...