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priniya · 4 months ago

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ᯓᡣ𐭩 PUPPY LOVER GIRL! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

summary. upon coming to the race with your little girl, oscar and you are facing a challenging situation as your daughter gets completely enamoured with every dog she sees.

notes. oscar piastri x leclerc!wife!reader. first osc fic!!! (the obsession is getting out of hand). also pls let me know if you’d like to read something else with dad!oscar. also got inspired by @eccentricwritingbaby’s series with dad!lando!!!! didn’t proofread (idc)

dressed in an orange shirt with her dad’s number on the back, little chloe was an absolute ray of sunshine, whenever you took her to the race, which, honestly, wasn’t such a common occurrence as some people expected. your little girl loved coming to the race, mostly because it was a chance for her to meet all her favorite uncles in one place, while watching the cars drive really fast, which always made her giggle a little, especially once she started to recognize oscar’s car amongst others. despite her obvious love for the event, she was still a toddler and dragging her every other week to the airport to go to another country was something you and oscar decided to push further in time.

nevertheless, you could deny your husband the happiness of his little girl’s presence at his home race. as much as you hated the thought of such a long flight with a toddler, because the nice to melbourne flight was never a short one without any layovers, and you really tried to stick to at least some of chloe’s day schedule. but in the end it was the pure happiness in your husband’s eyes, when you spent two weeks in his home country before a race.

with said mclaren shirt with piastri written on her back, chloe was happily skipping, holding oscar’s hand as she looked around her, until a small gasp slipped her lips, freezing in her tracks, causing you to stop as well, your forehead creasing with confusion until your eyes followed hers. a puppy — simba, to be precise.

at first you thought she was scared, when her eyes widened in shock and, as you wrongfully assumed, fear, but she was quick to reveal her true feelings. a shy smile crept onto her face as she looked at oscar, who crouched to be on the same level as her. “daddy. i pet puppy, please?” her baby voice often made you and oscar’s mom jokingly call her oscar whisperer, because if you weren’t there to keep him in check, baby piastri would get every single thing she looked at. “let’s ask auntie kika first, okay?” oscar’s face lit up with a warm smile as he gently fixed his daughter’s piggytails.

back in monaco, you had a few situations, where you could learn your daughter how to behave around animals and she was picking it up pretty quickly. as horribly as it sounds, leo, your brother’s dog, was… a bit of a guinea pig, but since chloe was a literal little angel, who was afraid of making anyone sad (hence you had to put a ban on buying plushies as gifts, because she wanted every single one to sleep with her to the point where there was no more room on the bed for her), so there were never any fur or tail pulling, screaming into poor dog’s ear or anything that could cause any harm to leo and in consequence, to chloe.

a happy grin was plastered on her face, when kika and pierre walked up to them first, the girl quickly started gushing about the adorableness of her favorite papaya girl. “i pet puppy, please? ‘tie kika?” the three years old asked, holding her hands behind her back. “i gentle.” she adds, pointing at herself as if kika wasn’t completely drowning in the cuteness of the situation.

“of course, pumpkin. simba really missed you.” she chuckles softly, the two of you watching as chloe starts petting the small dog with delicacy, babbling something slightly incoherent to simba, who tried licking her fingers as she giggled. “you should get her a dog.” your friend laughed softly, nudging you with her elbow.

“we’re thinking about it, but i don’t think it’s gonna happen in near future.” you replied, a small smile tugging on your lips as chloe was completely infatuated with simba. “she’s still a lot of work, and you know how it is during the season, it’d be even more exhausting than it is now.”

few minutes later, after a quick chat with kika as you were walking down the paddock, catching up with oscar, who had to take a quick call. before you know it, your daughter squeales happily as she lets go of your hand, starting to run away, before oscar scoops her up in his arms. “hey, you can’t do that, squish.” oscar said gently. “you almost gave us a heart attack. if you wanna go somewhere, you have to tell us, okay?”

“suis désolée, daddy.” chloe replied a bit sadly as she pulled out her bottom lip. “but…” she scrunched her nose, unable to form a proper sentence in one language. “c’est uncle charles.” i’m sorry/it is.

“you still gotta tell me or mommy first.” oscar reminded her firmly, her sad pout breaking his heart a little, so… to change that, he smothered her face in small, quick kisses, making the toddler squirm in his arms, giggling cutely. “okay, c’mon, let’s say hi to uncle charles.”

as soon as baby piastri’s feet touched the ground, she ran for her life towards charles, the red pins in her hair being a small symbol of support for one of her favorite uncles. she was about to take a leap and jump into the driver’s arms, when she abruptly stopped mid-way, her mouth forming into a big ‘O’, girl’s attention has shifted from one beloved uncle to another as the youngest leclerc brother appeared in the line of her vision.

“uncle a’tty!” chloe squeaked even louder than before, happiness overflowing her adorable expression. arthur chuckled, taking a few long strides towards the three years old, before picking her up and doing a small spin, his niece erupting into a fit of giggles.

“my uncle a’tty.” she beamed, her arms wrapped around his neck, nuzzling her cheek against his. you could tell that your older brother’s heart just melted upon hearing chloe’s words, while your other older brother felt like he got stabbed with a knife.

“not a hi to your other best uncle?” charles asked in almost a desperate tone to get some attention from his favorite (and only) niece. oscar, you and alex just rolled your eyes playfully at his antics. a flicker of hope spread on his face as your daughter perked up slightly and let out a gasp.

“uncle lan?”

“oh, c’mon, squish.” your brother sighed, running a hand through his hair. a silly smile appeared on chloe’s face as she made grabby hands towards charles, who got over his exasperation pretty quickly. “play with leo, please?” she asks with big eyes and before you knew it, chloe was happily babbling to the mini dachshund.

although, the biggest fun she always had was with roscoe. mostly, because whenever she was around him, he was the chillest dog on the planet earth. she loved leo and simba, but they were still puppies with lots of energy and as much it would seem like chloe would love that, but when it came to doggies, she loved to just sit next to them and pet them endlessly.

that’s what she loved, whenever oscar and you took her to a race, that sometimes, beside being a bubbly little girl, cheering for her favorite person in the world along her second favorite person in the world, she could spend the time cheering and spending time with her favorite animals, while also being blissfully unaware of the tormenting of her mom’s brother.

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allthemeniveloved · 4 days ago

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Cradle

Summary: Arthur Morgan cares for his newborn daughter, reflecting on his past mistakes and vowing to protect his family at all costs.

wc: 1,681

ao3 link

a/n: Literally cannot get enough of hot father Arthur Morgan/John Marston right now. I'm ovulating.

The storm rolled in fast, the low rumble of thunder following Arthur Morgan as he urged his horse forward, the reins tight in his hands. His heart was pounding—not from the gallop of the horse beneath him, but from the fear gnawing at his chest. He had been gone longer than he should’ve been, out scouting for supplies, and now he was racing the clock. Racing fate.

And racing to you.

The moment Charles had found him in camp, breathless and shouting about how you were in labor, Arthur felt the air rush out of his lungs. He hadn’t said a word, just mounted his horse and took off like a bullet, the world blurring around him. All he could think of was you—your face, your voice, and the child you were bringing into this wild, dangerous world.

The cabin came into view, nestled in a clearing just as the rain began to pour. Arthur pulled his horse to a stop, leaping from the saddle before the animal had fully stopped. His boots hit the muddy ground, splattering his pants, but he didn’t care. The soft glow of the lantern in the window was his beacon.

"Did I miss it?" he calls out to whomever could hear, fear laced in his voice.

“Arthur!” Abigail’s voice called from the doorway as she stepped outside, shielding her face from the rain. “You’re just in time!”

He pushed past her with a muttered “thanks,” his heart pounding as he crossed the threshold into the small cabin. It was warm inside, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something sharp, almost metallic. The midwife—a kind-faced older woman who had been passing through camp—was kneeling by the bed where you lay.

You. His heart nearly stopped when he saw you, your face pale and damp with sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead. You looked exhausted, your body trembling as you gripped the sheets beneath you, but your eyes snapped to him the moment he entered the room.

“Arthur,” you whispered, relief flooding your voice. “You made it.”

He crossed the room in a heartbeat, dropping to his knees beside you and taking your hand in his. His calloused fingers enveloped yours, rough but steady, grounding you as you held on for dear life.

“‘Course I made it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“You almost did,” you teased weakly, though your grip on his hand tightened as another contraction wracked your body. Your face twisted in pain, and Arthur’s heart ached in a way he’d never known before. He wished he could take it from you, bear it himself, but all he could do was be there.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I’m here. I got you.”

You nodded, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as you did as he said. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his thumb brushing over your skin in a gesture that spoke louder than words. He was here. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Time became a blur after that. The midwife gave instructions, Abigail hovered nearby with clean cloths, and Arthur stayed rooted by your side, his hand never leaving yours. He whispered words of encouragement, reassurances that you could do this, that you were the strongest person he’d ever known.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, a sharp cry filled the room.

You collapsed back against the pillows, tears streaming down your face as the midwife held up the squirming, wailing baby. Arthur stared, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the tiny, perfect life you had brought into the world.

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced, her voice warm with pride. Arthur let out a shaky laugh, his hand still gripping yours as he turned to you, his blue eyes shining. “A baby girl,” he repeated, as if the words were foreign to him. “We got ourselves a daughter."

Arthur Morgan had a daughter.

The midwife cleaned the baby quickly before wrapping her in a soft blanket and placing her in your arms. You looked down at the tiny face, your tears mingling with laughter as you marveled at the little life you had created.

Arthur leaned closer, his large hand hovering over the baby’s head as if he was afraid to touch her. But when he finally did, his fingers were impossibly gentle, tracing the curve of the baby’s tiny cheek, then her nose.

As the baby settled in your arms, Arthur stayed close, his presence a steady warmth at your side. The storm raged on outside, but in that little cabin, all was calm. The three of you were together, and for the first time in a long time, Arthur felt like he had something worth fighting for.

The morning sun crept through the cracks in the cabin walls, casting golden rays over the small room. The air smelled of wood smoke and fresh pine, mingling with the faint scent of baby powder. Arthur Morgan stood near the hearth, rocking the tiny bundle in his arms with a tenderness that seemed almost out of place for a man of his size and reputation.

He hadn’t slept much the night before—not that he minded. Every sound the baby made, every soft whimper or rustle, had him awake and alert, ready to jump to your side or pick up the little one himself. But now, with you finally getting some well-deserved rest in the small cot across the room, it was just him and his daughter.

“She’s got your nose,” Arthur murmured, his deep voice quiet, as if afraid to break the spell of the moment. He traced a finger gently over her tiny features, marveling at how small and delicate she was. She stirred slightly, her face scrunching up in a way that made his heart ache.

“Already got a temper, huh?” he said with a small chuckle. “Guess that’s from me.”

He settled into the old rocking chair by the fire, cradling her close to his chest. The rhythmic creak of the chair mixed with the soft crackle of the fire, and for a moment, the chaos of the world outside seemed far away. He hummed a low tune, the same one his ma used to sing when he was a boy, his voice rough but steady.

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he whispered to her. “Didn’t think a man like me deserved somethin’ this good.”

She let out a small sigh, her tiny fist curling against his chest. Arthur stilled, his breath catching. It was the smallest thing, but it felt like the world to him. He hadn’t known he could love anything this much again, not since Isaac and Eliza. But here she was, proving him wrong with every beat of her little heart.

He glanced over at you, still asleep and bundled in blankets. You’d been through so much bringing her into the world, and Arthur had been there every step of the way. He’d held your hand, whispered reassurances in your ear, and wiped the sweat from your brow when you thought you couldn’t do it. And now, watching you sleep peacefully, he felt a surge of gratitude that he couldn’t quite put into words.

“She’s got your strength, too,” Arthur said softly, glancing down at the baby again. “Hope she’s got more of you than me. World could use more like her ma.”

The baby let out a small cry, her face scrunching up again. Arthur’s eyes widened, and he quickly stood, bouncing her gently in his arms. “Alright, alright, easy now,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “What’s the matter, huh? You hungry?”

He walked over to the small table where a clean bottle sat waiting, quickly warming it by the fire. Once it was ready, he settled back into the chair and offered it to her. She latched on immediately, her tiny lips working with determination. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh softly, his eyes crinkling with affection.

“There you go,” he said. “Ain’t no need to cry when your pa’s gotcha, huh?”

As she drank, Arthur leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. His mind wandered, thinking of everything he’d done, every bad choice he’d made, every road that had led him here. He wasn’t a good man—not by a long shot—but holding her, he wanted to try. For you. For her.

When she finished, he placed the bottle aside and held her up against his shoulder, patting her back gently. “You’re gonna have a good life,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t care what I gotta do. I’m gonna make sure you and your ma are safe. Always.” Arthur couldn't make the same mistake twice.

The baby let out a soft burp, and Arthur chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, settling her back into the crook of his arm.

A soft rustle from the bed caught his attention, and he turned to see you stirring, your eyes fluttering open. You smiled sleepily when you saw him, your gaze drifting to the baby in his arms.

“How’s she doin’?” you asked, your voice still thick with sleep.

Arthur smiled, his expression soft. “She’s perfect. Just like her ma.”

You sat up, stretching before crossing the room to join him. Arthur shifted slightly, making room for you to sit on the arm of the chair. You leaned against him, your head resting on his shoulder as you both gazed down at your daughter.

“She’s gonna have your heart, you know,” you said teasingly, though there was warmth in your voice.

Arthur let out a quiet laugh. “Reckon she already does.”

For a long moment, the three of you sat there together, the fire casting a warm glow over the room. The outside world could wait. Right now, all that mattered was the love shared in that little cabin—Arthur, you, and the tiny miracle cradled in his arms.

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