for the one shot requests, maybe elams (eliza/Laurens/alex) and she tells them she's pregnant? maybe a modern au?? idk just a happy pregnancy announcement fluffy stuff c: ty in advance!!! <3
SORRY THESE ARE LATE I JUST GOT HOME FROM GEORGIA! DOUBLE TIME ON UPDATES!
Also this prompt is so cute omfg
Eliza was a calm, and collective person. She was usually the one who kept her head in certain situations. Whenever Alex overworks himself and goes into his shell again she’s usually the one to comfort him back to reality. When John tries to show off for the two of them she’s the one who calms him when he breaks a limb.
Now, she was not in a calm situation.
John was home - humming to himself in the kitchen, making dinner, and Alex was due home from work any minute. She was sit in the living room, fingers clenching around each other, the TV on, becoming more of a white noise for her.
The door opened, causing her to look up, seeing a soaked and shivering Alex enter, hair stringy, stuck to his face. Looking outside the window she noticed, now, it was storming heavily. Rain thundering down, wind blowing nearly a hundred miles an hour.
John came out of the kitchen, kissing Alex softly. “Hey baby,” He had the concerned look on his face, taking Alex’s jacket off of him, leading him upstairs - probably to get him changed.
She jumped as her phone buzzed against her thigh.
AndPeggy: DID YOU TELL THEM YET
Rolling her eyes she responded, Elizaaa: No, Alex /just/ got home and he’s soaked so John’s taking him to get changed
AndPeggy: OKAY WELL WHEN THEY COME DOWN TELL THEM
AndPeggy: HOW ARE YOU TELLING THEM AGAIN
Elizaaa: Bye Peggy, love you xx
Alex and John were coming down the stairs, Alex wearing sweats and one of John’s shirts, carrying a hair brush in his hands. He sat at Eliza’s feet as John went to finish dinner, and she began softly detangling his hair.
Her mind was going lightspeed, thinking faster and more than Alex spoke. Which was saying something.
Or maybe she wasn’t thinking.
It was probably the later. In comes John, balancing three plates of chicken alfredo as Alex’s eyes are half shut, leaning heavily against her hands when she just blurted it out.
Alex sat rigged, John’s eyes widening before he dropped the three bowls, the china smashing and food splatting around his feet. He paid no mind, Alex turning to look at her, eyes wide.
“Um…” She stopped moving, brush still in her hand, biting her bottom lip, wishing she had stuck to the plan Peggy had made for her.
“You’re…you’re pregnant?” John echoed, stepping over the broken china towards her and Alex.
“Yes.” She nodded slowly.
“Like…a baby?” Alex’s voice was small, eyes wider than she’d seen in a long time.
“Yes, with a baby.” She smiled faintly, placing a hand over his stomach softly.
Their eyes followed. “How long have you known?” John all but whispered, sitting on the couch next to her.
“Um, a month or so?”
“Eliza!” Alex sat up on his knees, “You should have told us!”
She smiled, running a hand through his hair. “I made a plan a month ago…”
“Who all knows?”
“Everyone except you two.” Alex’s eyes widened and John gasped lightly, “No.”
“I begged them not to tell you…”
“You should have told us.” John repeated what Alex had said.
She looked over at the broken plates and couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not sorry.”
“Oh my God…” Alex’s face lit up, practically bouncing at this point, “We’re going to have a baby! A real baby!”
She laughed, kissing him softly. “A real baby, Alexander…”
“They’re going to be so cute! Oh I can see it!” She smiled as he rambled, “John’s freckles - maybe curly hair! With your looks if it’s a girl - oh man I’m going to have to fight everyone off…I - “
“How do you have any idea what they’ll look like? And why me?” John asked, though anyone could tell he was as excited as Alex.
Said boy sent John a blank face. “Well she’s pregnant, and since we all went to public school we were taught how babies were made. And I don’t need to go into detail but you have a part I don’t that makes a baby. So.”
John blushed, “Right right…” He began smiling, looking back to Eliza. “We’re having a baby!”
She grinned, kissing her two boys. “So what do - “
Alex yelped, jumping to his feet and running into the kitchen. He ran back out, broom, dust pan and wipes in his hand as he began to clean the mess John made.
John kissed Eliza before standing up, “I’ll make reservations at your favorite place.”
~ ~ ~
Seven and a half months later, John, Eliza and Alex were blessed.
Eleven thirty pm on December 24th, Eliza gave birth to Angelica Margarita Hamilton-Laurens, seven pounds, nine ounces.
Twelve o’one am December 25th, her twin, Phillip George Hamilton-Laurens was born, seven ounces, six ounces.
Angelica had her mom’s hair, but her dad’s beautiful eyes, no crying as she stared around at her parents. Phillip cried and wailed, having his father’s curls and freckles, but the bright, loving eyes of his mother.
Alex held the two babies as they slept, Eliza watching tiredly as John was getting her food. His eyes were filled with tears, as he stared down at his children.
“Angelica and Phillip…oh my two babies,” Eliza’s heart warmed at Alex’s voice, “You two outshine the morning sun…I promise I’ll always be around, my father never was, but I swear on everything I’ll be there for you two…”
~ ~ ~
Alex was rushing like a headless chicken, carrying a mountain of gifts into the living room, trying not to trip over the dolls and trucks on the floor.
Eliza was baking a cake, John was buying last minute decorations. As Alex got the gifts down, in came a blur of brown hair. Phillip chasing after his sister as she held a doll high over her head.
“Angel’ca give me back Penny!” Phillip cried out, stomping his foot as he pouted in the doorway.
“Angie, give your brother Penny back.” Alex gave his daughter a pointed look.
She pouted, sulking over and handing Penny back to her brother. He smiled, hugging Alex’s legs, “Thank you Papa!”
“What are we thanking Papa for?” John asked, holding balloons as the twins rushed over to him.
“Angie took my doll ‘n’ Papa made her give her back!”
John picked the two up, placing them on his hips, kissing their heads. “Angie, can’t you be nice to your brother on your birthday?”
“S not even my birthday or his Daddy! My birthday is December 24th and Phillip’s is December 25th! It’s uh, December 19th!”
He laughed, “I know baby, but to make sure people can come and celebrate with us we do it before!”
She nodded. “I guess I can be nice Daddy…”
“Good.” He smiled, putting them down as they ran upstairs.
John headed over, kissing Alex’s head, and Alex yelped, swatting John’s hands away from his bum. “Hi to you too.”
Eliza entered, batter in her hair as she kissed John hello. “When should everyone be getting here?”
“Well Laf and Herc will be here in about an hour, and your sisters should be here a bit after that.” John pulled her to his chest, kissing her cheeks repeatedly.
She giggled, leaning into his embrace happily. “Cake should be done within an hour!”
Alex was sat on the table, legs swinging as he munched on one of the carrots from the veggie tray that was sat out.
A loud crash echoed from upstairs, Phillip crying out loudly. The three sighed.
Imagine finding John Winchester asleep on the recliner in front of the television with your infant daughter cuddled up on his chest.
——— Request for anon ———
It hadn’t been long since you’d brought her home from the hospital. A matter of days, really, and while you never wanted to miss a moment of her incredibly new life, you had to take a shower. Naturally, you’d entrusted John to watch the fussy baby and hopefully get her to go to sleep in the timespan it took for you to take the quickest shower of your life.
By the time you walked out of the shower, rubbing a towel through your damp hair, you noticed he had succeeded in that task. A smile comes to your lips at the adorable sight before you as you take him in on the recliner, your daughter looking immensely small as she laid on his chest, his hand gently securing her as they both slept.
You almost didn’t want to wake him up, but you knew what that recliner would do to his back if you let him sleep there until morning, so you went to his side and gently placed your lips to his forehead, murmuring, “John, let’s put the baby down and you can come to bed.”
Summary: Crowley delivers some shocking news, you try to adjust to your new life in hell
Pairing: Dean x Reader
Word Count: 2,200
Warnings: grieving, alcohol abuse (not the way to handle things, kiddos), language, vomiting, pretty angsty
A/N: I cannot believe it took this long, but it’s finally here! I’m sorry for the wait, this story just hasn’t been speaking much to me lately! This part is a lot of Crowley (can you tell I’m upset about S12?), mostly his and the reader’s (platonic) relationship. It’s pretty angsty still - Enjoy!
Thank you (per usual) to @deanssweetheart23 who helped me hash out where this story was going and read things over. Twin, you basically just get a permanent beta credit for everything now…
Summery: Reader is pregnant, and struggles to tell Sherlock the big news.
Convincing Sherlock Holmes to marry her was hard enough. Y/N really didn’t want to convince him to have kids, because if there was one man on this earth who could reason, it was Sherlock Holmes.
Of course, as she stared down at the pregnancy test in her hand, she realized she wouldn’t have much choice but to at least try. And now, he couldn’t even truly argue against it.
Y/N let out a long sigh, not looking forward to the trial to come. She knew that when he got home, she wouldn’t stand a chance at hiding the secret. Hell, she wouldn’t be surprised if he already knew. But either way, she knew she had to tell him.
So, gathering her courage, Y/N left the bathroom after throwing the test away, making no attempt to hide it. Her husband would find out soon enough. She went to the living room and sat in Sherlock’s chair, trying her very best not to freak out. Tapping her feet, she impatiently waited for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, she heard the door open downstairs, and familiar footsteps as he arrived. “Oh, god…” she muttered.
As he opened the door, she gave him her best smile, eyes drawn to the dark curls that were even more disorderly than normal. “Hello, love,” he said nonchalantly.
“How was the case?” she asked, avoiding the upcoming conversation.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he strode over to her. “It was… Good. What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing. Just a long day.”
Sherlock sighed. “No, something is wrong. What is it? You can tell me.”
And suddenly, all conscious and reasonable thought left Y/N’s mind as her mouth suddenly formed and uttered the words, “I’m pregnant.”
The affect was immediate. Sherlock’s eyes widened and his lips parted slightly as a look of shock and confusion swept over his features. And stuck.
His face stayed unmoving, eyes not even blinking as Y/N stared up at him. “Sherl…?” She looked at him with concern before waving a hand in front of his face. “Oh, god. Oh god, oh my god!”
Scrambling, she dialed her phone to the only number she could think of that would help. She waited anxiously as it rang.
John’s voice filled the line. “Hello?”
“I broke him,” Y/N said desperately.
“Y/N? Is that–what? Who, Sherlock?”
“Yes, Sherlock! He stopped moving, he’s just staring, John! I broke him!” She began to pace.
“What did you do?”
“I told him I’m pregnant!”
There was a pause. “Are you?”
She frowned. “No, John, I told him for the hell of it. Yes, I’m pregnant!”
“OH MY GOD JUST TELL ME HOW TO FIX HIM!”
There was a sigh on from John’s end. “Just slap him, that should do the trick.”
“Slap him. A nice good one, that’ll snap him out of it.”
She stopped pacing. “You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Now slap your husband.”
She sighed and hung up, turning back to Sherlock, who still hadn’t moved. She muttered an apology before drawing her hand back and hitting him square across the face. He stumbled a bit before he over came his shock and looked up at her.
“Yep.” She looked at the ground. “S-sorry…”
Her head shot up at the sound of his chuckle. “For what?”
“Well, slapping you for one.” She looked down again. “For being pregnant, too, I suppose.”
Suddenly, arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. “Don’t be sorry. I mean, as long as its mine.”
She chuckled. “Of course it is. You’re not mad?”
He smiled and held her tighter. “Nope. I was just a bit… Well, shocked.”
You nudge open the door to 221B with your foot, setting your groceries down to lock the door behind you. When you look up, you can’t help but smile at the sight you see. Sherlock was nowhere to be found, but on the couch was John, a tiny sleeping ball that was your baby cradled between his arm and his side.
A turn of your head reveals Sherlock watching the two of them with a frown from his armchair, and he states lowly so as to not wake them, “I have been making sure he does not drop the baby off the sofa.”
Chuckling, you collect your groceries and bring them to the kitchen, giving Sherlock a thankful pat on the shoulder as you went, “What would we do without you?”
John Myles Sharpe met his New Zealand born wife, Anna Sharpe, in his home town of Mornington, Australia. The couple went on to have a little girl, Gracie, who was born with hip dysplasia and had to go through numerous surgeries and medications. Due to pain, she often cried out and found it difficult to sleep.
The couple had been married for almost ten years in 2003 and Gracie was now 15-months-old. The same year, John went to a local sports store and purchased a high powered spear gun which is used for fishing. In November of the same year, Anna fell pregnant. John was infuriated, although he never showed it. He would later confess that Gracie was enough of a burden on him and that he didn’t want to have another child. He thought back to the spear gun. He had never had an interest in fishing beforehand so why did he purchase it? He practised shooting in his back garden.
On Monday the 21st of March, 2004, the family went to a family picnic to celebrate a nephew’s birthday. Nobody noticed that anything was untoward with John; he appeared to be the doting husband. The following morning, Anna took Gracie to nursery and made plans to meet up with a friend in a couple of days. The last interaction she had with another person other than her husband was the following day, when she called her private health care provider and enquire about adding their unborn baby to their health cover.
On Tuesday night, Anna went to bed as usual. John, however, had something much more sinister in mind. He went to the garage and retrieved the spear gun he had purchased. He came back to the bedroom and shot his pregnant wife in the left temple. Not dying instantly like he had expected, he shot her once again before covering her bloody body with a blanket. He then went downstairs to sleep on the sofa. The following morning, John took Gracie to nursery as usual. He created an elaborate lie that Anna had ran off with another man and said she would be back to pick up Gracie.
John realised he needed to make Gracie disappear to solidify his lies. He returned to his wife’s body to remove the spears but they were lodged into her skull; he went to the same sports store as before and purchased more. On the evening of the 27th of March, John downed copious amounts of whisky before creeping into his disabled daughters bedroom, armed with the same spear gun he shot his wife with. As Gracie slept in her cot, John aimed at her head and pulled the trigger. It lodged in her skull but didn’t penetrate deep enough to kill her. The terrified toddler began to scream and cry. John rushed downstairs to retrieve more spears and shot her again. This too didn’t kill the defenceless little girl so John violently pulled the spear from his daughter’s head and shot her for a forth time, finally killing her.
John wrapped Gracie’s body in tarpaulin, blind in duct tape. He disposed of her in a landfill. He dismembered Anna’s body with a chainsaw and disposed of her in the same landfill. John kept up his lie for three months; he went on television and begged for information regarding their whereabouts and begged his wife to come home with little Gracie. Eventually, his lies started to crumble all around him. He then confessed to the gruesome murders and was sentenced to life imprisonment.
Characters: Baby, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, Y/N Y/L/N (Reader), Bobby Singer, Charlie Bradbury, Donna Hanscum, Jody Mills
Pairing: Dean x Reader, John x Mary, Sam x Amelia (briefly mentioned - only as in canon)
Warnings: Implied smut, pregnancies, cheating, nothing other than that really aside from canon deaths and angst.
Word Count: 5800ish (woops!)
A/N: This is written for Baby’s Big 50 writing challenge hosted by @butiaintgonnaloveem and it is told from Baby’s PoV. She is still a car, but she is the one to tell the story, much like the episode Baby but done with words. I hope this worked out as well as I hoped it would.
My prompt was Allman Brothers Band - Rambling Man - I am sure I could have used it better but these were the lines that really inspired me when I wrote this fic: Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man, Tryin’ to make a livin’ and doin’ the best I can.
This is sorta a rewrite of the entire series. Very boiled down and written through Baby’s eyes.. Headlights? Whatever :P Just read it :D
Thanks to the sweet amazing @blacktithe7 for betaing this for me
***My fics are not to be saved nor posted on any other sites without my express written permission.***
I have been lucky in my time on Earth, even if I have been through more than most. Sal, as flawed as he was, was a good man. He tried to do the best he knew how to with the short time he was given. He wanted to save people even if he couldn’t save himself. So he drove me around, giving Bibles away to people he felt needed some guidance, right up until the day he drank himself to death.
Standing on that lot at Rainbow Motors, I missed him. He had treated me right, and I had no way of knowing if the next guy would. I feared the uncertainty then like I never have since. When he walked up, I knew where I belonged. Even if he wasn’t the guy that took me home, I felt a connection to that man I was not going to understand for years, but I knew I belonged with him.
It wasn’t just the way he talked about me. The way he admired me. He spoke as if he knew me. Like I was important. I was sad to see him go, but John Winchester gave me some good years. He took care of me, and he loved me. So did Mary. They were amazing people, but in all my 10 years with them, the nights I felt the most important were nights I only came to understand later on.
One night after being to a drive in movie, Mary and John didn’t quite make it home. They spend the night in my backseat, and I felt their love as they loved each other. They had done this before of course, but there was something special about that night. I could feel it then, and nine months later, when John was forcing me to go as fast as I could to get to the hospital in time, I knew what it had been.
Arthur is at The Garrison and misses a big thing that Y/n (his wife) planned. So Y/n drops a bombshell on him in anger
Arthur needed to have some peace. Last night he had a massive fight with Y/n and she was not happy. She was saying how he never thought for himself and that Arthur could still have his own ideas and be smart like Tommy. Arthur didn’t think so. But then, he never does.
Sitting in the booth with John, Finn and Michael Arthur downed the last of his whisky before sitting back into the bench with a hand on his head.
“What’s wrong with you?” John asked breathing in his cigar.
“Yesterday I had an argument that topped all others. Y/n was so pissed with me.” He said rubbing his head.
“Trouble in paradise eh?” Michael remarked.
“Something like that.” Arthur mumbled. “I mean. She’s good for me and she doesn’t hold me back from any of the business and she doesn’t ask to know everything. But she worries. Of course she does. I just don’t know why it got so bad.”
Dave strider worried that he’s going to have to out himself to his adoptive family after his period starts. He goes to the bathroom in search of pads (he figures Granny has some because she’s a girl), finds none, figures it’s because of menopause because he knows old ladies get that.
He tries to play it off all cool, talks to Granny Egbert about why she doesn’t have any pads because he expected to see them. Granny asks him what he could have possibly been doing looking for pads, Dave fumbles and starts off on a horrible rap tangent to try and blow it off as him being his weird ironically cool self.
Granny gets it. Stops him halfway through his babbling and offers to take him to the store to buy some good ones. Dave says no, what would he need pads for, he’s definitely a boy anyway it’s not like he NEEDS them or anything.
The next day, after Dave survived off paper towels scratching his groin all day yesterday, he finds some pads and a photo album next to his little mini-table on the side of his bed. The photo album has no label on it but he opens it and he finds a photo of Camp Harmony, the Japanese internment camp Jinsei Egbert was a part of.
Jinsei Egbert is photographed multiple times, wearing boys’ clothes and with a different name identifying her. After a point, Jinsei starts wearing dresses and looking more like herself in each photo.
Dave skips to the end of the album and finds a note there written by his grandmother.
“Don’t worry Dave. People like you and me have been around for a very long time.”
John’s alarm goes off. It’s the most bombastic 1500’s concerto music imaginable. Dave stuffs the photo album into his pillow case and hides the pads under his shirt. John looks up from the bottom bunk without his glasses, tells Dave it’s time to get ready for school through a yawn. Sees the pad bulge under Dave’s nightshirt.
John asks if Dave got pregnant or something. Dave tells John to get his glasses checked and since when did boys get pregnant anyway. John quips that he is not wearing his glasses right now so shut up and go brush your teeth, you have the morning breath to end all morning breath. Dave grins and races John to the bathroom. Dave wins.
Why do you think Sherlock was 'road-testing' (practising) dancing to the piece he composed for John and Mary, considering they were the only ones going to dance to it? It was the morning of the wedding, presumably he'd already taught John by this point. Do you think he was imagining dancing with John? Do you think he hoped he would dance with John at some point that night?
My first thought when I saw that scene was that he was practicing dancing to it just to make sure it was…well, a “danceable” composition, if that makes sense. Checking the tempo, feel, rhythm, etc. This is his gift to John and Mary and, just like his speech, he’s terrified of screwing it up.
As to your other questions…ugh. UGH. That whole “I taught him conversation” at the end of TSoT conversation just wrecks me. I mean, this has just happened:
Sherlock’s true feelings are briefly written all over his face, and John absolutely cannot deal. He looks down, has a second of wait, what? glances back up to confirm he’s seeing what he thinks he’s seeing, and yeah. He can’t look. He can’t face those feelings.
Sherlock sees that, and he gives John an out. He tells them to go dance. Mary (very considerately) asks “what about you?”, they joke about there being “limits,” and then the tutoring conversation happens.
Here’s how I read it (lining up the dialogue with the gifs):
SHERLOCK: “Don’t worry Mary, I have been tutoring him.”
JOHN: “He did you know…”
JOHN: “Baker Street behind closed curtains.”
I put a delay on the last frame. It lines up with John’s “closed curtains” comment. See how Sherlock’s kind of trying to laugh along until John makes that joke? He glances at John with a confused, almost hurt expression here.
John, meanwhile, has gone into full-on bro mode. It’s his way of utterly denying what he’s just read on Sherlock’s face. His shield is fucking UP. I love John Watson dearly, but I have a hard time watching him here, because he’s truly being a dickhead.
JOHN: “Mrs. Hudson came in one time.”
JOHN: “Don’t know how those rumors got started.”
A careless glance at Sherlock, a dismissive joke about their dance lessons and years of rumors about their relationship, a flippant laugh (seriously, listen to the way he laughs there, it’s SO not his normal laugh)
brush it off, never meant a thing, face the wife, face AWAY from Sherlock, don’t look back don’t look back don’t look back
He gets super affectionate with Mary. And yes, I know, it’s their wedding, they’re dancing, they’ve just learned she’s pregnant. But we’ve seen John act affectionate with Mary and this is different. John might as well have NO HOMO stamped on his forehead here.
He. Can’t. Deal.
And Sherlock knows it.
Did he imagine, after their lessons, maybe getting the chance to dance with John at the reception?
And after all, John had danced with him before during their lessons. Maybe Sherlock thought John was comfortable with it – comfortable enough with his own sexuality, whatever he considers that to be – to dance with his friend at his wedding reception, his best friend, his best man. It doesn’t mean anything unless it means something.
But no, that was “behind closed doors.” Can’t let anyone see that, nope. That’s how those rumors got started. Those silly, meaningless rumors that meant absolutely nothing, just everyone in the world reading too much into this totally platonic friendship, right mate?
Maybe they could’ve danced in front of everyone, because it wouldn’t mean anything. Except John read the real meaning on Sherlock’s face, and nope, not gonna happen now, can’t face that, can’t deal, shields up.
Because it would have meant something to Sherlock. Just like it did “behind closed doors.” It means everything. And he doesn’t care who knows, not anymore.
But John cares. Right, Sherlock? John cares who knows. He cares what people think. It really bothers you. What? What people say.
It still bothers John. He can’t deal with Sherlock’s feelings, and he can’t deal with his own. John’s shield is up and who knows if he’ll ever lower it again. And Sherlock accepts that, and he respects it, and he does the only thing he can do now.
Well. I didn’t mean for this meta to happen. Time to go cry into my soup.