#cw: babies

[a-million-usernames]

And Then You

Warnings: Babies, Hospitals, Newborn Children Word Count: 741 As always, you can find this over on AO3.

Bright fluorescent bulbs overhead shine down to cast a near unbearable white glow, the electricity that runs through their wires a god awful sound that only seems to get worse by the second. Aren’t these lights too bright? Isn’t that sound too loud? These are just some of the many thoughts that are floating through Sackler’s head as he looks out through the clear glass panel that separates him from his newborn son.

A hand lifts to suppress a frustrated growl that bubbles up to the surface as his head shakes from side to side briefly. God, he feels so restless , like he can’t just stand still no matter how hard he tries. He supposes that things could be worse. Since standing here at the exterior of the nursery peering past the glass to where his son lies among a row of others who have just been born as well, he’s heard stories of others who have not experienced the good fortune that he has. Or you, for that matter and…

That’s why the baby is here, after all, he knows: so you can get some much needed rest after a lengthy nineteen hours of labor. And, god, what an exhausting nineteen hours it’s been. He’s read all of the books, watched as many of the videos as he can—hell, he’d even asked Caroline what Sample’s birth had been like all in an attempt to be ready for the big day, but none of the anecdotal information could have possibly prepared him for what he’d bore witness to. There were tears of frustration and anger, plenty of ones born out of happiness too; screams to be had both by you and your son and, Sackler thinks, he can still feel the impact of your hand squeezing his in a vice-like grip.

He turns momentarily, casting a glance over his shoulder down the long, brightly lit hallway leading to where you are. He hopes that, much like his son, you too are sleeping peacefully now that the hardest part is over.

“First time?”

Sackler turns his head to look over at the man who stands at an equal height beside him. Adam’s brows crease briefly, wondering to himself if he’d really been looking away for so long that he hadn’t noticed the stranger’s presence from the moment he’d walked up beside him. Finally, Sackler nods in affirmation. The man besides him smiles and nods once as if signaling to himself that he’d known all along.

“Can always tell a first time dad by the look of fear in their eyes,” he jokes with a chuckle.

Sackler laughs, albeit a bit uneasily, in response. “Guess it’s safe to say that it’s not yours then.”

“You’d be guessing right.” Adam watches as the man folds his arms across his chest and redirects his gaze back through the glass pane. “Everyone always says it gets easier after your first and I guess that’s true to some extent, but…” The stranger huffs out a dry laugh to accompany the brief shake of his head. “This is my third and I still don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Like to think I’m doing my best though.”

Sackler hums in acknowledgement of the man’s words but finds that he’s coming up short with just what to say to him at the moment. What does he know anyway? It’s like he said, this is his first and if anyone here falls into the ‘ don’t know what the fuck I’m doing ’ category, it’s him.

“I’m Charlie, by the way.” The abrupt shift in conversation pulls Sackler from his thoughts only to find that the man has turned back to face him once again, a hand extended outward in a proper greeting.

After a quick pause, Sackler reaches forward and takes the man’s hand in his own, giving it a swift but firm shake. “Adam.”

“That’s all you can really do, Adam: your best.”

Sackler gives Charlie a single nod of understanding, the unease that had long since settled into the pit of his stomach the moment you’d given birth to your son waning just enough now that he feels like he can finally breathe. Maybe this won’t be so terrible after all , he decides as he looks back into the nursery to where his son lies, resting peacefully. He has you, after all, and with you at his side he knows that he’s capable of just about anything.

[doccywhomst]

[lazylittledragon]

if i had a nickel for every au spawned from twitter that i SWORE i was going to be normal about

[rustic-space-fiddle]

Forgive me.

[diminuel]

Tiny baby.

He's not even that tiny, Crocodile...!

Just another silly doodle, pondering this again. (Here's the previous doodle I did about Crocodile stressing out over his tiny child *lol*)

[glassygaze]

i think they would be friends :)

[dunmeshistash]

Ryoko Kui - Griffin sketches

[mothsshoes]

i said on twitter if i got one like i’d draw them making out/fighting so here we are

SUGGESTIVE CONTENT UNDER CUT

i went overboard.. the toxic yaoi took me over

[bl00dfroma-fairy]

[starrodent]

some guy

[i-am-confused-always]

what I say: “it is what it is”

what I mean: “I have cried about this for hours and have probably self harmed and contemplated suicide over this.

[bluegiragi]

human.

early access + nsfw on patreon

more backstory that i wrote up for patreon heh:

Simon and Tommy had a complicated relationship as brothers. 

At a young age, Simon basically wrote himself off as a lost cause, and did the best he could to make sure at least Tommy had a chance to be a functioning human being. After all, Tommy was the gentler brother, the dreamer, the one who looked like their mother (who'd walked out on them years ago to escape their father). But Tommy got bitter, got sick of the one always being protected, being babied. He lost respect for Simon, for the way he wouldn't fight back, and in a twisted way, grew closer to his father as a way to learn how to be powerful, strong. It backfired, and Tommy got wrapped up in some bad business.

Simon's kid brother died while he was deployed. He got the news in the letter, and it broke him in a big way. In the story timeline, it was years and years ago but it still hurts like hell whenever Simon thinks about him. 

[marf244]

Finally played and finished Red Dead 2, my heart is now broken so I drew some lads

[seiwas]

papa nanami and how he can't decide which fleece jacket he should buy for his little girl—

they’re tiny, the length of the fabric spanning his two palms and a half. he’s thinking hard on this one—tan or pink? tan or pink… tan or pink.

the store is closing soon; the only free time he had was after work, now, half an hour before dinner. he should hurry so he can go home already—to his little girl and you.

he sighs, holding the jackets up again. tan or pink...

hm.

he makes his choice.

.

when he arrives home, crouching low as his little girl comes crashing into him—the shopping bag falls to his side, hands holding her close. you peek from the kitchen, smile warm and in love.

kento always makes it in time for dinner, no matter what.

after tickles and giggles and a big munching on her cheek, your little girl pulls her papa by his pinky, dragging him over to you.

you always give him a kiss on the cheek.

“welcome home, my love.” you whisper by his ear, setting the last bowl of food down on the dining table.

you spot the shopping bag by the foyer, sneaking him a look, “did some early gift shopping?”

he follows your eyes, picking up your little girl as he sets her down on her seat.

“bought some fleece jackets for her, before it gets too cold.”

your lips curl up, knowing you chose the right man; his foresight, the way he looks after you both—it makes your heart swell as you walk to pick up the shopping bag.

when you pry it open, you’re met with fuzzy bundles of tan and pink. you snort, “couldn’t pick?”

he flushes, cheeks turning the same shade as the fabric in front of you—he points to his suit, “she said she wanted to match with me.”

your mouth forms an ‘ah’, still smiling, “and the pink?”

“i thought it’d look cute on her.”

he turns to your little girl, grip tight on her silicon utensils as she stabs around her food. she’s almost on her way to full sentences now and it shouldn’t make him this sentimental, but it does.

he wants her to stay this tiny forever.

his little girl.

“what do you think, baby?” you hold up the pink jacket beside you, speaking to your daughter.

she giggles, silicon fork in hand as her bib bounces; her eyes, the same brown as her papa’s but shaped like yours, sparkles, “pwitty! pwitty on!”

“papa always has good taste doesn’t he?” you look at your husband fondly.

your little girl babbles, giggling.

and nanami doesn’t know what he did to deserve this—your little family, but if he has to buy every fleece jacket in the world to keep you both warm and toasty, he will.

he’ll even make you all matchy.

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

@kentoangel @em1e @augustinewrites @crysugu @soumies @itadorey @mididoodles thought about u all while writing this 🥹

[paintedcrows]

they make me feel unwell

(continued: Stan & Young Ford)

[diminuel]

There's a limit to the Monkey sibling love.

@owo-bisexy suggested "Luffy and baby 2 fighting over meat"