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It was a warm day. The sun was shining at its full strength, and the streets of Valentine had been busy as usual. Nobody thought much of this small city, but it has become familiar to you and the Van Der Linde gang. You and Arthur had especially created a habit of visiting the local saloon for lunch. There was peace in this muddy town, and you liked it.
You and Arthur have been together for a few months now, half a year, to be more specific. Time flew by, and you could barely comprehend the amount of love you two shared. He was everything to you, and you could see the same sentiment reflected in his eyes. You barely had any dating experience, considering your insecurities. Fuller body type than average. Soft belly, big thighs, round face. You hated yourself quite a bit. Men were interested in you, and you knew that. It was that you didn’t believe them one bit. How could somebody love someone like you, after all?
Pants were your first choice of clothing. With a well-fitted shirt, because you know how to sow. You always fixed your shirts to fit you better and even created a leather corset for yourself to go along with it. It complimented your figure, but you got perplexed looks from all sorts of folk. Women weren’t supposed to be independent and, well… wearing pants. But you weren’t born to please anyone. You wanted to live true and free. Dutch gave you the opportunity when they found you at a local saloon in Blackwater. He liked the spark in your eye and offered you to join the gang. There was only one possible answer to that: Hell. Fucking. Yes.
Arthur liked you a lot. You could tell by how he decided to hang around you at all possible times. He sat next to you during dinners when there was a party and was consistently near you. You grew close pretty fast. His shy demeanor around you let you on to his true feelings, and one night, you rode out on your horses to clear your heads. There, by the spring, you confessed your true feelings. Ever since you two were always together. As much as you could.
This morning was just like any other, you two rode to Valentine to get groceries for the day. It was one of the slower days as everyone was still settling in. Especially, Kieran, that boy was more nervous than anything else, but he saved Arthur’s life, alright. You liked him. He was a sweet one. As you exited the store, you held Arthur’s hand, putting the provisions onto your horses. Then Arthur looked at you, his face worried and a little guilty. “I ugh… erm… darlin’, how do I say this?” he scratched his neck and looked away. Your face grew concerned as you gently took his hand in yours. Your small thumbs running over his abused knuckles. “What is it, sweetie?” your eyes were kind, inviting him to tell you whatever he wanted to. He looked at you, his blues shy and glistening in the morning light. “Mary Linton sent me a letter. She wants to see me if I can spare ‘er a minute. I know this ain’t a great idea… And I don’t want to make ya uncomfortable… but at the same time… I do want to know what happened to her,” Arthur squeezes your hand.
Your heart hammers in your chest as you feel your world spin. Mary Linton? Arthur’s old sweetheart? Sense of insecurity and fear wash over you, but you try to hide as much as possible. You clear your throat as you look away, letting go of Arthur’s hand. “Sure… I know what she meant to you, Arthur. I can take the provisions back to the camp,” you say as you start to mount your horse. A soft grip on your wrist stops you. You look at Arthur, utterly confused. “I… would like if you came with me. I don’t want to hide anythin’ from ya. But I understand if I am asking too much…” Arthur let go of your hand, letting you decide what you’d like to do.
The gears turn in your head, your short hair swaying in the warm breeze. “Okay… yeah. I will go with you,” you give Arthur a soft smile, and he returns an even warmer one. “Leave your horse here; it’s real close from here. We can take my horse there in case something happens,” you nod at Arthur as you accept his hand. You hop on the horse behind him, securely putting your hands around his midsection. Your head gently nuzzles into his back, and you sigh contently. You are still rather anxious, but trust Arthur Morgan with your life. “Atta girl!” his horse sets in motion, and in a few swift gallops, you arrive at a small-looking ranch behind Valentine. Nobody can be seen on the front porch. Arthur helps you get down from his horse as he hitches it nearby. “Let’s do this then…” he looks at you, visibly nervous. You chuckle nervously and grab onto his arm playfully. “You can do it, big boy,” he raises an eyebrow at you, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “You wait ‘till we get back. I might take you ridin’…” he smirks, and you grow red. He always knew how to get to you.
You make your way to the front door and slowly let go of Arthur’s hand. “I’ll wait here,” you announce as you lean against the railing. Your short hair falls onto your forehead. Sweat drips down your brow, and you look divine to Arthur. He stares at you for a while, then shakes his head and knocks on the door. A woman with a revolver opens and aims it at Arthur. You swiftly turn around to assess the situation, but Arthur waves at you dismissively with one hand. You nod and turn around again. “Is uh… Mrs. Linton inside?” the woman runs her eyes up and down Arthur and grimaces. “I’ll look.” Then she disappears. Shortly after, Mary Linton herself appears at the doorstep. “Oh Arthur…” Her eyes are sorrowful as if she is regretting something. Arthur is taken aback by seeing her again. Your dangerous eyes are glued to her. You cannot help but feel jealousy and protectiveness. Are you a fool for believing Arthur would want something to do with you? Your insecurities start to consume you faster than ever before.
They start bickering back and forth. Mary asks Arthur for help, and he is not very amused. His bitterness towards what happened between them still pains him. You can see it in his eyes. Mary looks at him somewhat… longingly, and you hated yourself so much then. Of course, he still loves her… look at her. She is gorgeous. Sophisticated woman. You are nothing but a brute. Your hands start trembling with anxiety. You can hardly swallow. “Who is this, Arthur?” Mary suddenly asks as she finally lays her eyes on you. You turn your head to her in confusion that she is addressing you. You have a terrible feeling of being assessed. Judged. “That’s my future wife, y/n. Took her with me, hope you don’t mind,” Arthur said, his eyes suddenly on you. He noticed how stiff you looked and gave you an apologetic look. “Should have figured you’d end up with one of them,” Mary mumbled to herself, and you raised your eyebrow. “Arthur, you can still do better, you know that, right? There are different ways of living than this… you are a good man; I know you are,” Mary suddenly pleaded as she grabbed Arthur’s arm. Arthur stiffened and gave Mary a confused look. You couldn’t bear this. It was too much. You felt your blood boiling, and your eyes had that angry spark. “I have no idea what you two had goin’ for each other since I wasn’t even there back then. But you have chosen your path, Mrs. Linton. Let Mr. Morgan choose his. You had your chance. But some women never get it, do they?” you spitted angrily as you exited the porch. “Excuse me,” you dismissed both with a wave of your hand as you felt hot tears stream down your face. This was hopeless. How could he ever choose you over her? Was this all an insane, deranged fantasy of yours? Was it even real? God, you don’t know anymore—fool y/n.
You heard Arthur call after you, his voice rather strained and guilty. You couldn’t hear his call; you refused to as your fast walk turned into a jog towards Valentine. Tears cloud your vision, and you get almost run over by a wagon. Finally, you mount your horse and ride towards camp without looking back. You have a full-on breakdown at this point. Was this it? You weren’t ready to let Arthur go. You loved him too much for that. Did you overreact? But you couldn’t handle it. The shame you felt towards yourself.
You ride past Charles, taking guard at the entrance. He calls after you, but you push on. Bill looks in your direction, motioning for Dutch to handle this. You jump off your horse and open the bag with provisions with a shaking hand. All the cans fall onto the ground, and you cry even harder. “Fuck!” you cry out, dropping to the ground, trying to pick everything up. “Woah, woah, y/n! Child, stop. What are you doing?” Dutch kneels next to you and puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I-I… Dutch, I’m sorry,” you look at him with teary eyes. They were the only family you ever knew. You just felt like a disappointment. “What in the hell are you sorry for? And where is Arthur? He is always with you on jobs like this,” Dutch raised an eyebrow, looking around. “H-he met Mary. As Mrs. Grimshaw said, she was in Valentine. I…” you can’t even finish your sentence. You what? You are nothing but a pathetic wrench. Deadweight, bringing everyone down. Even the people you care about the most. Dutch stands up and picks up the cans. “He will be back soon, you’ll see. Now, cheer up; there is no need to make such a fuss over spilled cans. We need all the strength we can get.”
Sun slowly moves through the clouds, and morning turns to late afternoon. Arthur finally returns to the camp, his forehead sweaty with a scowl plastered on his face. He looks tired. He hitches his horse on the nearby stand and heads immediately towards your shared tent. When he peeks inside, nobody is there. His heart drops, and he feels even weaker than before. His large hand runs down his face in frustration. “You can’t lose her too… idiot Morgan…” he says gruffly as he heads outside again. “Hey, John… have you seen y/n?” John gives him a confused look and nods. “Yeah, she’s decided to take a stroll. She can’t be far when she left her horse here,” John points to a horse you own amid the others. Arthur nods, “Thanks,” as he heads out of the camp, he hears John utter: “Be good to her now, Arthur. That girl sees everything in you,” his voice is soft and careful. “Like you’d know, Marston,” Arthur says bitterly.
You sit in a lovely spot near the spring. Here is where you and Arthur proclaimed your love to one another. It's not the best place to head to when you want to forget, but you cannot help but feel his warm presence here. If this is the only thing you’ll ever have, you gotta hold onto it. You hide your face in your knees, pressed closely to your chest. You are so distracted that you don’t even notice the soft thumping of boots in the grass.
“Hey, cowpoke…” Arthur says softly. His voice is way quieter than usual. You suddenly jolt, afraid that you are being robbed. Wide eyes meet his sad blues, and you relax immediately. He sits down next to you, your sides touching. “I am so sorry about today, darlin’. You mean everything to me… I uh… it was a bad idea to go and meet her…I suppose…” he starts playing with the grass nervously. “She asked me to save Jamie… her little brother. Poor bastard believed this… weird sort of religious group? Anyway… I brought him back home, and that was that…nothin’ more than that, baby…” he turned to look at your teary eyes and felt his heart shatter at the sight of you. His calloused hand gently cups your cheek. “Look at me… please… I never intended to hurt you, sweet girl…” your eyes finally meet his.
“S-she was right, you know? You can do much better than me. Just look at me; why be someone as… barbaric as I am? There are so many cute, tender women out there… they could love you in ways I never can…” you look at your knees again. Arthur shakes his head as he kneels in front of you. His thumb lifts your chin to make …you look up. “What is this nonsense? You know that ain’t true. What has gotten you to talk this silly,” he caresses your cheek lovingly, and you melt into his touch, slowly giving in. “What do you see in me, Arthur?” you ask, eyes half open, watching his every move. He looked so handsome in this light, with sunburned hair sticking from his hat and sun-kissed skin glowing. “What sort of question is that? I… have never been great at talkin’. But, y/n…. you make my heart flutter like no other. With you, I don’t feel like the miserable bastard that I am. You make me feel loved… beautiful, even. You bring out the good in me…” he suddenly smiles widely, “plus you look irresistible when you kill evil bastards. When you killed those O’Driscolls? My god, I could take you right there,” he moves closer and whispers in your ear. “I love everything about you. Every inch. Every little spot. My god, I am a starving man and will devour you whole. Nobody else would take that but you,” he presses your foreheads together.
“You understand? You’re my girl. My perfect girl, and I want to marry you. You drive me crazy in the best ways possible,” he says as he softly pushes you onto your back. You hit the soft grass, your body opening up to him. Your eyes were sparkling, looking into his. “Oh, Arthur…” you’re blushing as if this was your first time. The tall cowboy above you smiles and kisses your lips tenderly. You give in, putting your hands around his neck happily. You sigh into his mouth. “That’s my girl…” he purrs as he brushes stray strands of your hair from your eyes. He kisses your nose playfully as his hands trail down your soft, beautiful body. “Any man would go insane over you, trust me. I gotta scare them away so I can keep you to myself,” he squeezes your hips, and you look at him, eyes suddenly full of fire he is familiar with.
“What do you think about me, Arthur? Any woman would give up a fortune to have you in her bed. I am lucky… that you chose me,” you say as you lock your legs around his waist, bringing Arthur on top of you. “Woah, slowly, cowpoke. I might crush you,” he smiles as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent. “Me? Don’t be silly, I’m a strong girl,” you smile as you tangle your fingers in his soft hair. He sighs happily and closes his eyes. “Mmm…. I know you are,” he mumbles as the sun sets in the distance.
“I love you….” Arthur says as he suddenly props himself up on his elbows. His eyes are sincere, speaking more words than he ever could. “I love you more, Arthur Morgan,” you kiss him deeply this time.
He smiles at you like the happiest man alive. Well, he is; who are we kidding? “We should get back; I have a little surprise for you, future Mrs. Morgan,” he smirks playfully, and you know a night of passion is ahead of you.