#AlexanderHamiltonxreader

[hufflepuff2010]

Alexander Hamilton Head Canons- You are Pregnant

My cousin requested this, so yeah. Here ya go, Ami.

Alexander Hamilton-

-He would be sooooo happy

-like, you don’t even understand

-of course, he would be in shock for approximately 27.4 minutes

“Alexander, darling?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Alexander, are you okay?”

“I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m gONNA BE A DAD! YEAH, I’M A FATHER NOW!”

-he would try to take as much time off of work as George allowed... and as he allowed cause he gets hella bored when there isn’t anything to do

-cuddling

-so

-much

-cuddling

-because your stomach prevents many sleeping positions, y’all have to get creative

-after scrolling through several websites you find one that works (Praise the Lord)-you lay on your side, his arms usually come around you from behind (idk how to describe sleep positions, sorry)

-literally thinks your going into labor every time you feel pain

“Ow!”

“What’s happening?! Is it time?!”

“Okay, first of all, I hit my elbow... Secondly, I’m four months pregnant.”

“Oh. Right, yeah.”

-when the baby first kicks, he actually starts crying

-he’ll start just being spontaneously romantic (like this post, lmao)

-when your bump starts showing, he’s even happier

-because now there is actual proof

-because, yeah, Alex went to the ultra-sounds, and saw the pregnancy test, but he never could really feel or see a difference

-he’s obsessed with your kid

-at random times, he’ll sorta just drape his head/upper-body on your lap, head equal to your stomach

-and he’ll just start talking

about his day at work

about how smart they’ll be

about how amazing their mother is

about Jefferson being infurating

about his friends

-he reads parts of books to them

-honestly, he has more conversations with your unborn child than with you

-and when Alexander lets a curse word slip, he appologizes

-the day you actually go into labor, he’s right by your side

-and you demand the doctors take him out for ten minutes so that he can calm down

-you actually manage to fracture his pinkie, so he has to get a cast later

-he winces every single time you scream/groan because he knows your in pain and he can’t help

-but Alex stays the entire time, murmuring encouraging words and phrases

-and, in perfect sync, the baby comes out as his pinkie snaps

-he just stands there like, ‘ow?’

-but the baby isn’t breathing

-and suddenly they are just thrusted into your hands and they start wailing

-and you feel such relief, both of you

-finally you rest your head on the pillow as the baby is placed into your arms

-Alexander starts crying as you gesture for him to get into bed with you and asks if he wants to hold the baby

-and just

-there’s a lot of love, basically

-yeah, okay, I’m done

-I can’t anymore

[moarhamiltonxreader-blog]

Ink stains

You sighed in defeat, staring down at your arm. Today was your 18th birthday, and there wasn’t anything there. 

On everyone’s 18th birthday, for some reason, their skin would receive the same ink marking as their soulmate. Such as writings, stains, and tattoos. 

Suddenly, you felt a tingle spread through your body. You froze, before trailing your eyes down your arms. Your fingers were suddenly stained with ink, your hands and arms covered in random splotches. Raising your eyebrows, you grabbed the quill residing next to you before writing on your forearm.

You should really learn how to wash your hands. Or at least, how to not spill your ink.

You watched your skin, nothing changed for a few moments before finally you felt gave up, moving to grab a book. As you grabbed it however, your eyes trailed down and the book hit the floor with a thud as a smile broke out across your face.

Never judge a book by it’s cover, miss

Trying not to squeal, you picked up your quill and quickly wrote to him once again.

I try my best. I am known as Y/N L/N, and you are?

Alexander Hamilton. A pleasure to have you as my soulmate

You squealed out loud, jumping up and nearly tipping over the ink well. You froze, backed up and did a giddy dance around your room before you picked up the quill to respond once more to your soulmate.

As the days passed, you found yourself falling harder and harder for this man. He worked under the general, was an absolute genius, and the things he wrote to you simply took your breath away. He had begun writing you little love notes and poems everyday, and each time you went to sleep or woke up there was one there, waiting for you. It caused your heart to flutter and you always did your best to respond in kind, but you could never amount to the poems he wrote you. 

The heart beating in my chest beats for you; My soulmate, you are everything I dream of, everything I wish and hope and yearn for. My love, you consume every waking thought, and yet I never tire of the idea of you. Every moment I wish to meet you, to hold you, to call you mine. I love you with every breath I take.

You sighed, tracing your hand over the ink. You couldn’t smudge it, but it would wash away as soon as he washed it away, and he was proud of his work, but quick to remove it in front of others. You had memorized his signature, his handwriting, the way he formed words, even. He entranced you, and every day you were glad to be his, and he yours.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you quickly ran your gaze down to where the poems or love notes usually lay, but tonight there was only one sentence glittering in black ink.

Winter ball tonight

Your eyes widened and you quickly scribbled a response next to his. 

Only for you

Feeling your heart race, you grabbed a dress from your closet and threw it on, quickly doing your hair and checking your face, before racing downstairs to inform your father, who didn’t have time to say a word before you were outside, practically vaulting into your carriage. 

Tonight, you would finally meet your soulmate.

Tonight, you would finally meet your love.

And I am not throwing away my shot!