Once again, I was daydreaming and thinking about what ifs, this time I bring you: Din Djarin x blind!reader.
She was born blind, can't see not even shadows and light. Din met her during a bounty, but she has no idea that he is a Mandalorian. For some reason he had an issue that made his helmet get off, she helped him to put it back on and he got totally smitten with the way her sweet hands felt his face features. Now he is in love with her and keeps breaking the creed to be next to her without the helmet on, even if she has no idea about it because to her he is just a regular traveller in her planet.
the best fanfiction you've ever read was written by a woman in her 40s before she made dinner for her kids. it was written by a teenager after school when they should've been studying for a history test. and a barista came up with the idea while they cleaned the espresso machine and busser fact-checked it on their break and the post-doc edited between writing grant proposals and the nurse apologized for typos in the notes after a long shift and behind every drabble and one-shot and multi-chapter fic there is a person with a wonderful and interesting and chaotic life and it is such a privilege that we get to be apart of it because they decided to do this thing we all share, for fun.
baby daddy!pope who does not play around when it comes to you getting some rest. at this point, you have two babies under two years old entirely his fault and your coveted naps are few and far between.
you’re in a state by the time he gets home. your sweats are low on your hips, your face is puffy from exhaustion as you bounce your youngest who’s babbling at you on your hip. your oldest is having a full blown tantrum. the screaming and crying doesn’t phase you anymore, you only turn your nose up at andrew when he comes inside still smelling like adrenaline and god knows what else after meeting with his brothers. he’s grabbing your pudgy baby out of your arms almost immediately— “go lay down, momma. i can handle ‘em.”
usually you insist that he cleans up first before handling your terrible yet adorable offspring, but you’re drained. as you walk towards the bedroom, you hear andrew approaching your almost two year old who’s still worked up into a screaming fit and throwing toys. his footsteps are light, his voice is gentle.
“what’s going on, kid? woke up and decided to put your momma through hell today? that’s not very nice— she does a lot for ya.”
you may be shattered but you still manage to allow a bashful smile to tug at your lips. he’ll for sure be getting something for being so sweet later… if you both can manage to find the time.
When I was your age, I'd get angry all the time… you know? Kids thought it was funny, so they'd steal my things and push me around. I was kind of small. So I'd get angry and… and hit somebody. Teachers would get mad. You know, they never saw what the other kids did. Everybody thought I was… terrible, even Smurf. I guess maybe I was pretty awful. The only person that was nice to me was my sister. Your dad was the second. And then your mom. I promised them I was gonna take care of you and I'm gonna do that, okay?
I write these words with a broken heart. To everyone who reads this and ignores it, you might skim this post quickly, but my child might not even have two seconds. His body is collapsing from malnutrition and a rash as you read these words.
My children, Qamar and Omar, are completely exhausted. A rash is ravaging their frail bodies, and malnutrition is stealing what little childhood they have left. All I want as a mother is safety for them; treatment to heal their wounds, and milk and food to sustain them. What we are asking for is not a luxury, but their most basic right to survive. Please don't let them wither away before my eyes; donate now.
WHATEVER YOU DO! DON'T LET JACK ABBOT KNOCK YOU UP! HE WILL BE WEIRD ABOUT IT! (afab!reader)
Catching your boyfriend staring at an abandoned baby girl through the window of pedes ends up being far more consequential than what you expected from this Forth of July.
It's a tender sight, him watching her with his hands clasped politely behind his back. You scan the surrounding area, making sure nobody is about to come interrupt him. When it looks clear, you swoop in.
"Cute, huh?" You offer softly.
Jack doesn't bother tearing his eyes away from the sleeping little girl, "Yeah."
"You like kids?"
A sigh.
"Love 'em."
He turns to you then, and you're struck by the well of emotions that is his eyes. You're struck with the reality of Jack's situation– an aging widower who missed his chance to have children with the woman he married. Living with him in his grief for a moment, you allow yourself to consider children.
Sure, you're only a resident. You have plenty of years ahead of you, your whole life practically, so there's no real rush to have kids. It's just that looking at Jack and seeing that unmistakable shine in his eyes has you thinking that maybe having a kid this soon might not be so bad.
So, you get less careful. Not risky, not reckless. But maybe you stop reminding Jack to wear a condom and panic slightly less when you forget to take your birth control.
It's July that you decide a baby wouldn't be too bad, but it's October when you wonder if that was the right decision to make. You noticed the nausea in the same week that the leaves began to turn. Now, two weeks later, the fancy pregnancy test you had Cassie nab for you on her break blinks Pregnant.
Jack is over the moon when you tell him that same night. He lays between your legs on the bed, face pressed into your belly.
"You're gonna be so loved, kid," he murmurs, lips tickling your bare skin with every word. "We already love you so much."
You hum, running your fingers through Jack's gray curls, heavy lids draping over your eyes. Being pregnant has proven itself to be quite tiring. "So much, kiddo."
"Mhm," Jack kisses your stomach, "We're gonna give you the world. Anything you want, you get it."
"Anything," you echo.
"We're gonna give you lots of siblings, too. Four or five. How does that sound?"
However tired pregnancy makes you is not enough to let that slip by. Your eyes pop open as you lift Jack from your belly by the hair, "You want six kids?"
His face lights up, "You want more?"
"No!" You bark, "Absolutely not, Jack. Two kids. Three maybe, and that's like, the biggest maybe ever."
Jack bites the inside of his cheek, squinting. When you purse your lips, raising your eyebrows at Jack in challenge, he sighs, nodding. Slowly, you let him down until his face is pressed right back into your belly.
Eventually, exhaustion returns, and you fall into slumber. It's peaceful and everything you need, but it also means that you don't hear your boyfriend whisper to your belly, "Don't worry, kid. Daddy can be quite persuasive."
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