Feb 15, 2025
My oc x Ensign Baker for Valentine’s Day! (They’re gonna kiss Baker’s just nervous)
Clyde Willous!
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Spain
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Suriname
seen from Germany
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from South Korea
seen from Netherlands
seen from Belgium
seen from Algeria
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
My oc x Ensign Baker for Valentine’s Day! (They’re gonna kiss Baker’s just nervous)
Clyde Willous!
infigo [pt. 2]
Ensign Thomas Baker x reader // bookstore au
[part one]
Writing the paper should have become the easiest part, once the books were in your possession. The resources were all at your disposal, yet, every time you opened up your notes and computer, nothing seemed to come to fruition.
As a senior in college, writing a short history paper should be akin to nothing. You've written more on math assignments, for crying out loud.
Mindless daydreams seemed to take control of your thoughts, shuffling papers around your desk as your eyes drifted to the book on your bed. The one that Thomas had so kindly slipped into the bag the other day.
About halfway through the novel, you couldn't have been happier to have some sort of distraction, albeit an encouragement of procrastination. It was a simple gesture that had your heart racing in your chest every moment you thought of the interaction. It was so incredibly kind of him to help you, let alone gift you a book.
He must be incredibly observant, to notice how you just simply glanced at the cover before walking back to the front of the store.
"Hm,"
The bookstore was only a short walk away, a location that seemingly went unnoticed your first few times down that street. It was its own hole in the wall, but a lovely one at that, a secret you'd be hesitant to share. Your gaze moves to the window in front of you, a test of your eagerness being thrust upon you just by the rain.
The bell taunts him once more, a bought of terrible weather raging as the door all but slams open, enough that with a heavy sigh, he stands to close for the day.
No one in their right mind would venture out in this storm, and it was possibly doing more harm than good allowing the door to keep flinging open like that.
It's an short walk to the front, and just as he begins fishing around his jean pockets for his keys, he nearly stumbles over his own two feet to see a figure trudging through inches-deep water.
"Surprise?"
He's rendered speechless for a short moment, before shaking his head and gently yanking you inside, closing the door. Finally finding his keys, he locks the door so it would be just the two of you, and the two of you alone.
"I really didn't think it was that bad, or else I wouldn't have come. I think it got worse on my way here,"
Thomas just stares, eyes a bit wide as he takes in your appearance, a red raincoat actually dripping onto the blue carpet. Not that he cares about that, he cares that you're soaked to the bone and worried that he's upset with you.
He is, but only because you’ll probably get sick-not that he isn’t happy to see you, he is, very much so. But how could he ever say that? He and you hardly know each other, but your friendly and kind personality is just so endearing that he couldn't ever stand to see you so disappointed.
"I would hope so,"
Finally regaining his senses, Thomas breathlessly laughs, coming to stand behind you as he peels your coat from your shoulders. Then, he sighs in relief as your upper half is not as drenched as your bottom. He hangs your jacket on a rack next to the door.
"Did you need another reference for your paper? How is it going, by the way?" You hum in thanks, pushing some hair that was stuck to your forehead away from your eyes.
"Oh, aha, about that..."
Something twists in his stomach, a twinge of guilt first that he wasn’t as helpful as he thought he was.
"I actually came by to thank you. The paper...yeah, it's coming along, but really, the books were a huge help."
Relief floods his shoulders once more, before analyzing the rest of your statement.
"You're very welcome, y/n, of course. But I'm positive you didn't come all this way just to thank me-" He just hopes you can't hear how loud his heart is. Lord knows its the only thing he can hear right now.
"And to thank you for that book! You most certainly did not have to do that, I've been reading it since I've left here,"
A smile spreads across his face, cheeks beginning to hurt.
"It would be a fair assumption that you've done little of your work, and have been spending your time reading?"
You blush, the toe of your rain boot dragging against the carpet in slight protest.
"All right, yeah. You caught me."
You giggle as his smile brightens, a laugh on his lips as well.
"I am so glad to hear that you're enjoying it. Though, not too proud of myself for making you neglect your work."
"It's a small price for such a excellent novel. Not your fault anyways, I am always getting distracted."
A small lull forms, and just as you go to suggest maybe you should head back, his eyes catch your bag. Shrugging off all of his fear to attempt to be forward, he shakily asks:
"Did you bring your work with you?" "Oh? Yes, I was planning on heading to the library on my way back from here."
Your nose twitches.
"Though, it'll probably be the opposite of a library, especially during finals week. So noisy."
Thomas swallows thickly and gives the chance the most he's willing to muster.
"I was planning on closing for the day, y/n. The store is yours to work on your paper, if you would like."
He watches the way your jaw unhinges slightly as if he just offered you a hundred dollars.
"You have already done way too much for me, absolutely not-!"
"You have a quiet space, shelves of historical resources, and a bachelor's in American history at your immediate disposal. What more could you ask for?"
He doesn't miss your eyes lighting up.
"You were a history major? Oh, well now we're best friends, Thomas!"
Thomas laughs, and you can't help the way your cheeks warm at the sight. He was just so incredibly gentle and kindhearted, that you were certain that it would be no easy feat to leave the confines of the store if you chose to stay.
"You don’t have to. And are you sure it's okay? Seriously, the last thing I would want to do is impose,"
"I only graduated last year, y/n," He smiles, gesturing with his hand to the front desk, trailing right behind you as you approach it.
"I think I've still got it in me. And you could never impose, y/n, really. I want to help you,"
Sliding the stool over to you, you hop onto it, and he disappears into the back for a moment, but returns with a mismatched chair, pulling it over next to you.
Happily, you unpack your bag–computer, notebook, and lastly, the books.
"Want to see how far I got?" You jest, tone clearly sarcastic, but Thomas blindly nods.
"I'd love to."
And when you open your laptop, the both of you are met with a laughable blank document, not even your name or course atop the sheet.
"Oh, y/n..."
"I'm a pretty bad procrastinator. I like to call times like these desperate measures, but it seems all my small detours led me to the right place."
In the mismatched furniture, the two of you sat relatively at the same height, Thomas still just a bit taller than you. It was easy to meet his gaze here, behind the desk, and you felt a bit more courageous than before.
"You must be really good at math, then."
More laughter echoes, as hours pass in a mere blur, chattering amongst yourselves as you type away. It almost felt like twenty minutes had gone by, when your phone buzzes, signaling that someone was looking for you.
"Oh, it's four already?"
The both of you look up to the clock on the opposite wall, confirming that the time was in fact three fifty-eight.
"I take it then that it's time to wrap this up?"
You nod glumly, a small pout upon your lips as Thomas begins marking pages and closing over books.
"You're nearly done, y/n. Another paragraph and a proofread, and that's all it needs." "I'm not bummed about that,"
If you could describe his face in one word, it would be confused.
"Wait, let me back up. I am eternally grateful for everything, you literally just sat with me for hours assisting in a paper when you absolutely did not need to." You take a breath.
"So thank you, Thomas. I literally could not have done it without you."
"You're always welcome around here, no matter the circumstance. I am always happy to help." Your nose wrinkles, a smile toying on your lips. He senses what you mean before you continue, but allows you the floor to say it, even though you needn’t to.
"You'll have to tell me your favorite cookie, so I can bake for you sometime. But, ah, the reason I am so terribly bummed out is because this means it is goodbye, at least for now."
Loneliness was a feeling that Thomas knew a little too well, and while he was disappointed alongside you, he hoped it had meant he would have your visits to look forward to.
"Well, maybe physically, but I think given the circumstances that your paper isn't finished, maybe I can offer this,"
He grabs a piece of scrap paper from the desk drawer, scooping up a pen and scribbling some numbers across the surface.
"In case you get stuck with that last paragraph." He winks, and you take the paper gingerly, holding it to your chest as if you were safeguarding it.
"You are an absolute gem, you know that?"
"Anytime."
When you gather your things, Thomas moves to the front window, happy to see that the weather has let up, miraculously so. Just some grey clouds overhead, but the rain had dissipated for now. He grabs your coat off the rack, as you slip something atop the desk, hopeful he doesn't see it until you've left.
"Is it okay if I swing by tomorrow?"
Helping you into your coat, you look up at him expectingly.
"Of course, I'm open tomorrow."
"Okay, great!”
Slinging your bag onto your shoulder, he unlocks the door for you, holding it open as you venture outside.
"Oh, I almost forgot!"
You beckon him to you, and thinking nothing of it, he leans down, just enough that your arms latch around his neck, squeezing him into a hug that makes his whole face beam red.
"Thank you, very much,"
"Anytime. I’m just glad somebody finally got use out of those books,”
He manages to get out, arms coming to your waist to hug you gently in return.
"I'll see you soon!"
And just like that, the door closes over, nearly on his nose as he stands there, as if he couldn't just believe what happened.
"I need to-" He turns, eyes catching the white envelope on the front desk, immediately grabbing his attention.
Written on the front in perfect cursive read 'Thomas', and he's positive this time, that his heart skipped a beat.
[a/n: this is 1.8k words. how. how did this get so long.]
Could you do headcannons for turn characters reacting to having someone admit their feelings?
Benjamin Tallmadge: I think Ben would be shocked that you admitted you had feelings for him, like there’s a good chance this man is gonna be speechless for what will feel like an eternity. Give him a minute and allow him to fully process what you just said. Once he processes it, I think he would be relieved that you told him, he’s been trying to work up the courage to tell you his feelings for awhile now.
Benedict Arnold: I don’t believe for a second that anyone in their right mind would have feelings for him. But let’s pretend, shall we? He’s gonna be a smug asshole about it, he just automatically assumes all women everywhere love him. Telling him you had feelings for him would just inflate his ego and it would probably be visible from space. Please don’t tell him you have feelings for him, the world doesn’t need that shit show.
Robert Townsend: I think he would be very caught off guard to find out that you had feelings for him, he might even wonder if you’re lying to him. Actually, he probably assumes that you’re lying to him. I think eventually over time he would return the feelings, but not in some grand gesture, Robert is all about those small and subtle gestures.
Caleb Brewster: He’s gonna tease the fuck out of you about it, pretty much to the point where you regret ever telling him. It’ll come from a place of love though. Plus, he would give you that cute smirk and you would remember that you love this dumb troublemaker.
Lafayette: I feel like it would depend on where you told him. Like if there were other people around, I feel like he would probably act like a proper gentleman about it, very respectful and chaste kiss on your cheek or hand. But if you were to tell when the two of you were alone, he would probably act like an excited puppy, I feel like he would pick you up and spin you around and probably trip over his own feet.
Alexander: I don’t think he would be surprised that you had feelings for him, he figured it was just a matter of time before you fell for his charms.
Washington: I feel like he would just silently stare at you with that Dad™ look, probably to the point where you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Also, he probably start talking about wood paneling to avoid talking about his feelings or he would just simply say “Thank you.”
Edmund: This man will be a stuttering mess, he would be so excited but also a bit nervous that this is just another Anna situation. I think once he realizes that you actually mean it, he’s gonna be over the moon.
Andre: I think he would already know before you say anything, he’s just been waiting for you to say it. You would already be the most important person in his life at this point, so hearing you tell him that you’re in love with him would just be icing on the cake.
Abe: For some reason, I picture you telling him as he’s about to do something very stupid. I mean it’s Abe, so this isn’t exactly out of the realm of possibilities, ya know? Anyway, I think at first he would probably gloss over the fact you just told him that you’re in love with him and keep telling you his dumb plans. Shake some sense into this boy and try again.
Rogers: First off, is he sober enough to remember? If not, you might have to wait until he’s gonna be able to remember. Also, I would suggest asking my wife @simcoeandchesterfieldmysavages since she’s the Rogers expert in our commune.
Ensign Baker: Oh, my sweet darling Baker boy. I love him so much I literally wanna cry. Telling him you had feelings for him would make him the happiest he’s ever been in his life. All he really wants in life is to be loved and to have a family of his own, so knowing that you returned his feelings would be the best news he’s ever heard. He would probably smile for days afterwards and tell everyone in a ten mile radius how lucky he is.
Akinbode: He is already fully aware that you’re in love with him and has been for awhile now. When you finally tell him, he’ll get that cocky smirk that kinda makes your heart melt and say something like “took you long enough to figure it out.”
infigo
Ensign Thomas Baker x reader
in which a bookstore owner can’t keep his composure when a pretty customer enters his store.
There was something repetitive in sitting behind the same counter six days a week, fingers tracing over the cash registers buttons as if he had nothing better to do. Realistically, there was plenty of things he could be doing, eyes moving to the four stacks of books that needed to be put away, and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his position.
If someone miraculously entered the store, then he’d get to work, he supposes.
That would be a rather big “if”, no one had even crossed pass the large window at the front, just out of his sight so he had to lean a bit backwards on his chair to see the dancing shadows.
Three minutes go by and he’s back to tracing the broken key on the bottom of the register, one that doesn’t do anything if you press it.
There was nothing to do, he’d read enough in his spare time to make his eyes crossed, nothing new to the shelves interesting enough to pique his curiosity.
It’s terribly frustrating, a sigh escaping his lips, ready to accept defeat for the fourth time this week, when the little bell above the door jingles to life.
The bell—
The bell?
He hadn’t heard that noise in a month, save for when the wind would blow the door open on its own.
A terrible joke, the weather plays on him.
He’s half minded to think it’s such, but as he can recall, there was no call for such conditions today.
Straightening his posture, almost at a loss for words when he hears the footsteps along the wooden floorboards.
The store is small, there is little place for someone to hide, yet, the figure remains just out of his sight as they stick close to the non-fiction section.
Shrugging his shoulders, he almost goes back to the broken button once more, when the shadow rounds the corner, gaze bouncing around before they fall on his desk.
“Hi!”
Thomas just nearly falls off his stool, swallowing thickly as he tries to recover, smiling warmly as he waves hello back.
“Afternoon. Something I can help you with?”
“Maybe, I’m looking for a book for my history paper. I brushed past your non-fiction section, but I didn’t know what exactly I’m looking for.”
They approach the counter, Thomas still ramrod straight in his chair, hands fidgeting with a pencil to keep them from trembling.
And why was he so nervous-he’s done this thousands of times before, and it’s typically the same interaction.
Except it’s not. You’re beautiful, and you’ve differed off his path of usual customer conversations. You’re opening up a new exchange of words for him, least in this setting.
“What is your paper on?”
Your smile is contagious, happily reaching into your bag once you’ve made it all the way to the counter. You retrieve a sheet of paper, eyes scanning over the words before reading them to the man.
American history, his favorite.
He was not about to act excitable about it though, and looking at it from your perspective, it was for a paper, and not for personal interest.
“I do have a history section, we might find a better selection on that topic there,”
Thomas tries his best to remain calm, though your eyes light up, and does nothing to calm his raging heartbeat.
“I tried the library, but I think a lot of people had the same idea as me. I couldn’t find any book on the subject.”
You tuck the paper under your arm, thanking him profusely, turning to go look for the section, when he stands from behind the counter.
“Here, I’ll show you,”
The first thing you noticed when you saw him was how handsome he was. The second thing you noticed was his outfit, the red sweater with khakis and a pair of black loafers.
A absolute cutie, that’s for sure.
“Thank you!”
You hum, following his path to the shelf more towards the back, though tucked away, it had the most books. Even a small table on the wall had a display for the subject, alongside a few other things.
“You said it was about the Battle of Guilford Courthouse…”
He’s panning the shelf, and you take a step so you’re next to him, looking over the titles as well. Thomas is hyper aware of your presence, close enough to brush elbows, and he watches from the corner of his eyes as you take the lower shelves, and he the higher ones.
You take notice of how he pulls titles down from the top shelves, feeling a twinge of red brush your cheeks, hoping you weren’t caught staring.
Standing next to him like that, it’s kind of hard to miss how much taller he is than you.
“These should be able to help you out.”
He has two books in his arms, one a large text about battles of the American Revolution, and the other, a smaller hardcover about battles in North Carolina.
“You’re the best. Thank you so much!”
He can’t help himself, smiling softly as you nearly jump for joy, the stress leaving your body over the paper and its references.
“No worries. Here, I’ll take these to the front,”
As you begin to head towards the register, he notices your hand linger on a book on the display table, thinking it over for a half-second before continuing on. This piques Thomas’ interest, glancing down at the table to see the title, then back at the top of your head.
He quietly shoves the book into his arms, alongside the other ones.
While ringing you up, his fingers ghost over the broken key out of habit, staring straight at the register as you shuffle through your bag, looking for your wallet.
“I’m y/n, by the way,”
You chirp, handing him over a five and a couple singles, trying so hard not to think about the way his hand brushes against yours in the transaction.
“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Thomas. I’m happy to see you’ve got what you need,”
“It’s nice to meet you too!”
He hands you the paper bag, then your change, waving goodbye as you begin back towards the door.
“I’ll see you soon, thank you for your help! Have a good day!”
Thomas nearly falls back into his chair once he hears the bell chime, signaling your departure.
“Please,”
His head comes to his hands, dropping them to the desk with a small thud.
“Come back whenever you’d like.”
When you begin down the street, your finger dances along the edge of the bag you’ve been holding securely to your chest.
It’s odd, because you feel three spines, and not two.
Curious, you peek inside, to find the book you had been admiring on top, carefully slid into the bag as if the person was trying to do so unseen.
Your cheeks find themselves a red color once more.
what if…[pt.2]
…Ensign Baker escapes after being shot and makes it to your house.
Ensign Thomas Baker x reader
[a/n: the ‘surprise’ won on the poll!!]
[WARNING: this fic contains: blood/gunshot wounds/bullets/stitching/etc. please read at your own discretion.]
The next morning, you can’t help the sinking feeling that arrives in your stomach the moment your eyes blink awake. Nauseated, you throw the blanket from your body, tearing out of bed and hurrying down the hall.
“Ensign?”
You call, fearful that something had happened in the early hours of morning. While you had tossed and turned during the night, getting up every half hour to make sure the man on your couch was still breathing, you must have finally fallen asleep.
Taking the left quite hastily, you slide into the foyer, heart beating wildly as he still remains asleep, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Oh, thank goodness.
You heart calms, as your mind drifts to what you need to do about the hole in his torso.
He’d fallen asleep.
Sitting up rather harshly, he’s immediately reminded of the wound in his side. Hands coming to the bandage, no relief is found as it begins to grow saturated, crimson bleeding through the white gauze.
The sudden movement must have caused that, and he grimaces at the pain.
His gaze moves around the room, and he’s immediately frightened that since he fell asleep, something has happened to you.
Mustering any strength he had, his hand comes to the arm of the couch, standing shakily as his other hand holds his wounded side.
“y/n?”
Thomas calls weakly, shuffling through the foyer, nerves rising as you don’t answer him.
“y/n! Where are you?”
It’s more than a simple question this time, it’s a plea, and when he makes it into the next room, his heart drops to not find you there.
You, however, had just left for a few moments to get some appropriate thread and a surgical needle to better close that bullet wound.
Since Thomas had not told you who did this to him, you’d thought better than to risk taking him into town in such a vulnerable state. Ultimately, though, you might regret such an decision, since you had very minimal experience with stitches.
Carefully entering so you wouldn’t wake him, you close the front door over with a small thud.
The absolute horror that takes over your features when you see the couch empty is indescribable.
“Ensign?!”
Blood travels along the floor in a scattered path, and your feet follow, calling for him every breath when he does not answer.
When you find him, he’s got one hand supporting all of his weight on the kitchen table, the other cradling his side as blood trickles down his front.
“Ensign…”
You sigh, and you realize that he’s probably lost a lot more blood now versus last night. He’s fighting fiercely to stay upright, and it takes no time to duck under his good arm and take on some of him like dead weight.
“Thought…something happened…to you…”
He wheezes, and you urge him to turn, so you can sit him in the chair next to the table.
“I went to go get stitching supplies, I didn’t have any here,”
Carefully you help him lower into the chair, and he drops into it with a groan.
“I thought you’d still be resting, Ensign.”
“S’not Ensign…y/n…”
“Yes, right. Thomas. Forgive me,”
The sarcasm crosses once more, and Thomas chokes on his laugh.
“Now that you’ve looked death twice in the face.“
You chide, coming once more to kneel on the floor, this time right at decent level to attend to his wound.
“I suggest we close this up once and for all.”
“Lucky me.”
Thomas heaves, and hisses in pain when you peel away the gauze, and your eyes jump wide.
He must’ve noticed, because his hand comes to cover his side once more, shielding your view.
“You…do not have to…”
Thomas feels horrible. He would never have thrown all this on you, lest make you stitch him up. In retrospect, he knew he could trust you, and that’s why he came here.
He didn’t have any other reason to explain his actions.
“You cannot stitch yourself up, that is like asking you to pass out.”
You stand, instructing him to not move, as you go back into the foyer to get your supplies.
Thomas deeply sighs, pressing the saturated gauze back to his side once more. When you return, you have a bucket of water and your sewing equipment.
“Ready? Cause I think I had to suture this, like thirty minutes ago.”
He nods blindly, as you kneel to the floor once more, pushing away the gauze as the hole pours.
“Why…no Doctor?”
He’s talking to avoid the feeling of the needle going in and out of his skin, even though he gasps for air every time you do so.
“You did not get to mention who shot you.”
Another stitch in, another breath out.
“If I managed to get you to town, what if they were there? I was not going to risk your life anymore than it already has been, Thomas.”
Thomas is flattered by your loyalty, and seemingly in a daze because no sooner you cut the thread with your teeth, and tie the final knot off.
“There, that should do it. I’ll wrap it once more, but it should be alright if you don’t move so much.”
He nods again, biting at his bottom lip as you take a strip of cloth, instructing him to lean forwards a bit.
“I did not know you had such…medical experience.”
“I know the basics, just for when injured militia come to my door,”
Thomas doesn’t like the sound of that, jest or not.
“There you go. I’ll help you back to the couch, and you’re to stay there. Until I know you are okay.”
With the stitches, it’s easier to stand without aggravating the wound as much. Your hands feel like they’re being engulfed by his as you help him up, and all he can do is stare down at the top of your head as you stare down at his wound, ensuring no blood was escaping.
“Thank you. And excellent…job on the stitches.”
“Thank you. Much obliged.”
Once more, you are under his uninjured side, walking painfully slow down the small corridor to get him back to the couch.
“Is Major Hewlett looking for you? Should I—“
“No,”
He shakes his head, missing your touch as you help him to sit.
“Likely my foes think me dead. No need to let them know I am alive, lest not yet.”
You nod slowly, moving to take his bloody clothes and gesturing to the many cloths that litter the room.
“Alright, I will work on getting the blood out of these. Please, for the sake of yourself, stay put. I will just be in the next room.”
Thomas nods, unable to argue as you disappear behind the next wall.
He wondered if you could see the heat to his cheeks, or the way his fingers trembled under your touch.
He hoped that you couldn’t. He owed you a lot more than that sentiment, and he wasn’t quite sure if it was appropriate to ask that of you after you saved his life.
For another time, he supposes.
what if…
…Ensign Baker escapes after being shot and makes it to your house.
Ensign Thomas Baker x reader
[TW: mentions of blood/injury/guns/wounds ahead. please read at your own discretion.]
If he wasn’t already on the brink of death when he knocked on your door, you surely would have punched him silly for not going to someone more qualified for such a thing.
“You…your house was the closest.”
He heaves, and in exchange you gasp, watching as he leans against the doorframe, middle saturated with the crimson stain you pray wasn’t as bad as it looks.
Sliding under his uninjured side, you instruct him to stop moving his torso so much, and lean some of his weight on to you, so you can get him inside. Your hand comes to his back, the other to his chest, trying your best to help him regain his balance.
“I should kill you Baker, if this doesn’t.”
It’s sarcasm, one that you don’t quite care at the moment it it doesn’t come across as such. He laughs, breathlessly, swiping a hand under his mouth as it trails a line of blood along with it.
“Yes, y/n. I definitely…deserve that.”
He collapses on your couch, mumbling a quick ‘sorry’ as he’s noticed how much of a mess he’s brought into your foyer.
“That’s alright.”
A bit of fear settles in your stomach, rushing to the next room to find some bandages and medical supplies.
“Just how long ago did this happen? And what is it?”
You exasperate, rolling your sleeves up and helping him into a sitting position. Still, he laughs, and you can tell some sort of shock is occurring by his behavior.
“None more than half hour. You have a long walk to your house, y/n.”
You begin to unbutton his white shirt, careful to peel away his saturated red wool coat. Tossing it on the unoccupied portion of the couch, you gasp as you open his shirt fully.
“Oh dear lord, you’ve come to me to excavate a bullet?!”
With the way he was acting, you knew he was going to pass out soon. You needed to get that musket ball out, and get some pressure on that gouge of a wound.
“Okay, take this off.”
His vest and white shirt follow the coat, and you’re able to see the hole much better, albeit in candlelight. The bullet didn’t make it very far, thankfully, so in a way, it quelled your worries for a moment.
“I know you are lying, Ensign.”
In an attempt to keep him chatting, as to not let him succumb to unconsciousness, his head perks up considerably.
“Why’s…that?”
“Any way you look at it, my house is farthest from town. You should have gone to a doctor—“
“And have whomever did this to me, follow? To end it for good?”
His soft voice is firm, and you can tell as much as he’s tried to hide his true emotions, he is scared to his very core.
“You are lucky you are alive, Baker.”
“Thomas.”
He grunts as you pull the bullet out.
“Bet that feels a lot better, yeah?”
The blood pours, but you’re able to breathe a bit in relief. It’s an injury that can be sealed properly with stitches, but by a proper medical professional, who will have to do that in the morning.
There was no way you would make it to town with him like this, he’s exhausted, and has been through enough.
From your experience, he’ll live. You bandage his side, tightly, to seal the wound for the time being. Thomas hisses in pain, but ultimately relaxes when you pull away.
“There,”
From your perspective, the spot between his legs as you worked from the floor, the tall army officer seemed more sheepish, then as if he was in pain.
“Whomever did this to you…you should see to it that they are arrested.”
You stand, stiffly, hands and arms streaked in his blood. It’s unsightly, but you aren’t expecting any more visitors tonight.
“I…I was scared.”
Thomas says meekly, head turning from yours as you can see just how much this was destroying him.
“That is why I came to you. Yes, I risked it…but…I was willing to.”
It makes your heart flutter, tucking some escaped hair back behind your ear.
“I would be afraid, as well. You went through enough trouble to get here, best I take care of you, yeah?”
He laughs once more, and you can’t help but feel the warmth in your chest spread. He’s looked death dead in the face tonight and lived. He’s lucky for it.
“I will be fine here, tonight. If that is alright with you.”
“Oh yes, let me yank a bullet from your torso and toss you out. Please.”
You quickly wash your hands, water gone cold but well enough to get the job done.
“Thank you.”
He says, sincerely, when you re-enter the foyer.
“No need. I am just going to be in the next room, come get me if the wound worsens at any point in the night.”
You pause.
“Or for any other reason. I will be here, please don’t worry,”
He nods, as you blow out the candle, retreating back to bed with a mind full of rampant thoughts.
You’d be lucky if you got a wink of sleep tonight.
[COLLAR] or [HUG] for Baker? He's a huge comfort character of mine and I feel he needs more love <33 :DD
[HUG] - sender tugs receiver in for a hug.
Ensign Baker x reader
[a/n: I did hug, since I used collar for a Benjamin prompt! 💕]
“Are you crying?”
It’s a simple question, one that should be easy enough to answer, but all it does is make you cry even harder. It’s quite obvious, yet he asked as if he wasn’t so sure he was seeing it with his own two eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
It’s instantaneous, the way he’s sitting on the bed next to you, arm mid-air as if he’s hesitant to complete the next action.
“I-I don’t know!”
You sob, hands coming to your face as fresh tears roll down your rosy cheeks. It’s impossible to stop, and you begin to cry harder at the sputtered respond of Thomas.
“That’s okay,”
He insists, arm finally dropping around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. You melt, crying turning to shaky breaths for air as he holds you tighter.
“You don’t always have to have a reason to be upset. It’s alright to cry sometimes, even if for no reason.”
His voice is soft, chin resting gently atop your head as your arms lay round his waist. It’s momentary peace, eyes finally drying as your cheek smushes against his chest.
“You can talk to me, whenever you feel like it.”
You realize that Thomas is talking to fill the silence, because he’s trying to calm you down.
The only thing that you’ve been able to focus on was his heartbeat, so the sound of his voice pulled you out of that trance as your eyes moved upwards to try and catch his gaze.
“Thomas?”
You ask breathlessly, hands dropping to either side of him as you attempt to pull away. Loosening his grip, but does not fully break the embrace, Thomas looks down at you with worried eyes.
“Yes, y/n?”
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
And he means it. There’s no need to thank him, or even apologize-he’ll never hear it. Nothing you could do about it, in this moment, he is here for you, and no thanks is necessary.
“You know. For always wanting to make sure that I’m alright. I don’t think anyone else would sit here and listen to me cry for no reason.”
“There probably is a reason, you know. Sometimes, you just reach your breaking point unknowingly.”
He shrugs, letting his shoulders sag a bit.
“And besides, I’d do it forever. Just to make sure that you know you are not alone.”
Your bottom lip comes to jut outwards, trembling as you feel the weight of more tears. They brim and threaten to fall, the warble in your voice returning.
“O-oh no, what is wrong? What did I say—“
You just yank him closer, stuffing your face inside his coat as you hold him as close as you possibly can.
yearn
[a/n: this is a sequel to there is a difference between to need, and to have. I have been stumped lately and found intrigue in maybe making this into something. hang in with me for a hot min :)
Per this story, there are mentions of: nightmares, fires, and gunshots. Please read at your own risk.]
ensign baker x reader
thursday march 25th, 12:49 a.m.
It’s nothing unusual to him, it’s the landscape of most of his dreams of late. It’s a small cabin that sits on a farm, but the crop the ground bears is blurred. No matter which way he turns, all he can see is the cabin and the woods behind it.
Taking a step forward, the gifts nature had bore crunch underfoot. Leaves, branches, stems—anything that could make a noise, did.
“Hello?”
He tries, forcing the words from his tight throat, swallowing bitterly as the words come out fearful.
It’s a dream, he knows it is.
So why can’t he wake up?
Moving onwards to the cabin, he notices how the sky turns to an ashen black and the moon never comes to fruition.
“Is anyone there?”
Usually, there are two figures. Sometimes three. They’ve usually made their appearance by now, scaring him in his boots and making him thrash wildly.
Thomas wants the nightmare to end. And they say if you can confront it, it may help.
He turns the knob on the cabin door. It creaks open.
“You’re back!”
This…this is different. He’s surprised, hand reaching up to quell his beating heart.
“y/n…”
He breathes, ignoring every inkling in his body to turn around. Thomas rushes to you, and just as he embraces you, eyes screwed shut, you’re gone.
Then a scream.
For some reason, he knows it’s yours.
“y/n—!”
Spinning around, he finds the searing pain erupting in his body as a gun shot fires. It shoots upwards and downwards, left and right, before it gives way and it forces him to sink to the ground.
Then the fire comes.
“Thomas Baker, wake up!”
He hears it, and he can’t tell if he’s dreaming or it’s you.
It’s all mulled together. He’s finally unable to tell the difference between reality and his dreamscape.
The wall he built up was crumbling.
“If you don’t wake up, I’m going to call EMS!”
Okay, so maybe that was reality beckoning him back. He obliged, and finds himself sat upright on the sofa, covered in sweat and forehead nearly bumped into yours.
“You should talk to someone.”
You say, pushing the locks that had fallen back on the top of his head.
“Maybe I’m not enough to handle this.”
You murmur, and he catches it. Shaking his head fiercely, he grabs one of your hands in both of his.
“You helped. Tremendously. There was a breakthrough, I—it wasn’t the same. It ended the same, but…I think I’m getting somewhere in solving this.”
“I doubt I had anything to do with it, but I will comply. If you say so.”
Thomas nods, furiously, and presses his cold forehead against yours. Sighing, you hold him close.
“Was it the farm?”
“Yeah.”
“And the crop?”
“Still couldn’t see.”
“What about the people? How may were there?”
“None. Well of them.”
He won’t mention you just yet. He has to make sure it wasn’t a one off chance.
“Let’s get you to bed. It’s early enough that you can still get a good nights sleep.”
Thomas complies, and stands with you still in his arms. Holding you tight, he walks down the corridor to your bedroom, never letting go.