ᴍᴜʟᴛɪғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ɪᴍᴀɢɪɴᴇ | ᴏʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴇᴡ ғɪᴄs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ɴᴏᴛᴇs

Arthur being a father to baby female reader would include:

As usual, I'm sorry if there are any wrong sentences or typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive me and again English is not my first language, so I try to improve my language and writing in this way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

•Despite his gruff voice and calloused hands, Arthur would hold you like you were made of glass.

•He'd mumble things like, "You're too small for this world, little one. I gotta make it softer for you."

•He's completely smitten the first time you grab his finger with your whole hand.

•Arthur would carry you in his satchel (gently padded with cloth), tucked safely while he rides across camp or heads off for short rides.

•The gang often catches him humming lullabies to you when he thinks no one's listening — especially old folk songs or tunes his mama used to sing.

•He panics the first time you sneeze.

•He reads random medical pamphlets or pesters Hosea and Susan with questions like: "Do babies sleep with their eyes open?" or "Is she supposed to hiccup that much?"

•He's a mess when you start teething. "Goddamn it, what do I do with a screamin' child and no teeth?"

•No one — no one — is allowed to raise their voice near you. Not even Dutch.

•He gives Micah a death glare every time he swears too loudly in front of you.

•He starts carrying a little handmade rattle in one of his gun holsters, just in case you cry while he's busy.

•He hand-carves toys and paints them with natural dyes.

•Makes you a tiny hat, complete with a feather. "So you can match your ol' man."

•Sketches drawings of you sleeping, laughing, drooling — his journal becomes part diary, part love letter to his daughter.

•You refuse to sleep unless it's on his chest, curled up and snoring softly while he rubs circles on your back.

•Sometimes he falls asleep with you like that under the stars, hat tilted over his face, your tiny head tucked into his neck.

•If someone tries to wake him, he mutters, "Let her sleep. She's dreamin' somethin' good."

•When you take your first steps toward him, Arthur nearly cries — then immediately pretends he didn't.

"Ain't nothin'... jus' got some dust in my eye," he says, voice thick.

•Points out stars to you at night: "That one's yours. That's your star."

•Takes you fishing even when you're too little to hold a pole. You just sit on his lap and he tells you stories in that low, warm drawl.

"Someday, you'll know how to ride a horse, shoot a gun, and draw somethin' real pretty. But right now, you just be little."