#ensign baker x reader

[knowltonsrangers]

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.]

[amberlynnmurdock]

I Yearned For You

Pairing: Ben Tallmadge x Reader

Summary: a lovely anon sent in a request here. The request said "Maybe a fic with Benjamin Tallmadge where he and the reader are reunited during the battle of Setauket?"

Well anon, you asked, and here I am, delivering! I had to rewatch that episode again instead of going into it blindly, and I'm glad I did, because boyyy, I love a rugged and pissed-off Ben lol. I hope you love it anonny friend! Also, Happy 4th!

Setauket hadn’t had a normal day in what felt like ages. Not now especially, with Simcoe’s men still lurking and tensions higher than ever among people you used to call friends…neighbors, even. Things had gotten even worse when you found out Simcoe had innocent people held captive—and not just any people, but your best friend’s uncle and…your ex, you supposed, lover’s father. Reverend Tallmadge was a good man, and you still attended his sermons every Sunday, (despite losing touch with his son), until Simcoe wrongfully accused him of shooting Abe’s father. To put it simply, things were absolutely in turmoil. And you didn’t have anyone to lean on except for Anna. 

You felt helpless, and it was a terrible reminder of how badly things ended between you and Ben. Before he went off, done up in blue and gold, without looking back. That seemed like such a little bump in the road now. The intensity of the situation now far outweighed anything you and Ben had disagreed on that night. You worried for his father, and you worried he had no idea what was happening right now. 

You cursed to yourself and shook your head as you tied a blue ribbon to hold your hair back. What did it matter, if you looked good going into town? Nothing was the same since the war started. Nothing was the same since your close group of friends separated—half at home, the other half risking their lives.

Nothing had been the same without Benjamin. 

There Anna was, standing, waiting patiently for you. When she saw you walking up, she gave a shadow of a smile, and a look that said I’m scared, too.  

“Are they still held captive down there?” You asked nervously. Your heart had been pounding all morning on your way to the town. 

“Yes,” Anna replied curtly, crossing her arms. She looked as though she was looking for something—or someone—in the crowd. “Are you holding up alright?” 

It amazed you that despite everything the brunette had been through recently, with her husband being taken away and losing Abigail, she still managed to make sure you were okay, just as she always had when you were little kids. You thought that if you had a bigger sister, you’d hope she would’ve been like Anna Strong. 

“Best I can,” you answered, “I’m worried for Caleb’s uncle and…Ben’s father,” you whispered. Ensign Baker had strolled by you and Anna, wishing a good morning. How can he say that right now? Anna returned the greeting for the two of you, and spoke again when he walked away. 

“They will be fine,” Anna told you, so sure of herself. “Believe me.” Her eyes trailed off in the distance. You followed her gaze and saw Abe and Mary, and little Thomas, ride in. You squinted your eyes at her. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

A group of redcoats suddenly came marching into town. You watched as Simcoe ordered for basement doors to be opened. After a few moments, Simcoe and his men roughly brought out the elder Brewster and Reverend Tallmadge, who was covered in dirt and sweat. You looked away—it was too painful to watch. 

“What are they doing?” You asked Anna. 

Her eyebrows were scrunched. She was looking at Abe. You hated how you felt like you weren’t let in on a secret. As kids, you all shared everything with each other. 

Simcoe and his men took them all the way up to the church. You were horrified at the sight of Reverend Tallmadge and the elder Brewster being dragged up to the gallows. You placed a hand over your mouth, watching as some other townsfolk went on as if it were nothing. How could they be so cruel? 

As if reading your mind, Anna took your hand and squeezed it, reminding you not to show too much emotion. You clenched your jaw and leaned on the building you were near. You thought you might be sick. Despite Anna’s attempts at calming you down, there was only one person who ever succeeded in making your worries disappear. 

Suddenly, gunshots rang in the air. You jumped from the sound and bumped into Anna. As if on cue, she held onto your arm and dragged you closer to where Abe and his family had ridden in. 

“Anna!” 

“Shh,” she shushed you. 

In the distance, you saw a wave of blue come out of the woods and charge up to the church. People in town began to scream. Everything happened so fast, you were being rallied into a circle by rebels. Anna looked at you again, and her eyes said everything you needed to know: we are safe. 

“What is happening—“ you whispered, and suddenly, you felt like the weight of the world dropped in your stomach as you saw Major Benjamin Tallmadge stalking through the town in his blue and gold uniform, brows furrowed, jaw clenched, focus forward. You held your breath at the sight of him and suddenly wished you and Anna weren’t standing front and center of the group. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

He glanced at the group, and for a moment, just a sliver of a moment, when he looked at you, that hard look on his face faded into something softer. Your heart was in your throat. Looking at him felt like you were exposed in front of everyone to see. And when he looked away, it hurt that much more. 

However, your reaction to seeing Caleb was a bit different—you were excited and confused, all at once. All you wanted to do was clobber him in a bear hug. 

“Just wait,” Anna whispered. 

A shot rang in the air. You all turned your heads to the left to see a giant bullet hole in what used to be the Strong’s tavern—and underneath, Selah Strong, walking up alive and well. Now, you knew whatever Anna had planned for you vanished as she made her way through the crowd to greet her long-lost husband. You had to act by yourself now. 

☆☆☆☆

You found Anna again in the tavern when the rebels had everyone huddle inside, including some captive redcoats, like Ensign Baker. You stood beside her as you watched the events unfold. 

Ben was pacing back and forth, talking to Selah and then Caleb. Abe had begun to include himself in the conversation, too. You hadn’t seen Ben in months. He was hardened now, you could tell by the way his shoulders remained taut and hadn’t relaxed a bit since he was here. He did that whenever he was angry. You couldn’t imagine how he felt now. Every so often, you swore he scanned the crowd just to get a look at you. And each time he did, you looked away, eyes drifting to the floor or the wall. 

Caleb was more brash than Ben in his actions, and rightfully so. You gasped when he held a gun to Ensign Baker’s neck. And from there, everything happened so fast—Anna left your side, following orders from Ben to open the cellar. Caleb and Abe followed Anna, with Ben behind them. You couldn’t look away this time. 

When Ben walked by you, it was like only you and he existed. So much was said in one look, without any words. He held your gaze, and while the rest of his face remained sharp, his blue eyes were soft. It was like he said I’ll speak with you. Not now, but soon. 

☆☆☆☆

A lot happened, but from the looks of it, the battle was over. Not without casualties. Fortunately, Reverend Tallmadge was alive, but he held the elder Brewster in his arms. You bit back tears as you looked away. You walked across the dirt path and stopped as you saw an army of blue march down. 

You were frozen, watching them. This may be your only chance to speak with Ben, while everyone was distracted and no redcoats were nearby. They had all retreated to the church. 

Ben led the dragoons. He had the face of a man who had won a battle, exhaustedly, but still remained strong for the men whom he had to lead. There was a difference between remaining strong and looking it, though. 

“Grab your haversacks and head for the boats!” He shouted with authority. You had to get used to this new, rugged Ben, made from war. 

He stopped in his tracks. You were about to step forward until Abe and he began to converse about something. And when they were done, Abe walked away, and Ben finally, looked at you. 

The intense feeling you had in your chest only grew heavier the closer you walked to Ben. And he stood there patiently, waiting for you, one hand on his waist, the other touching his sword. When you finally stood before him, he dropped the hand that touched his sword. You were overcome with so many emotions, you didn’t know where to begin. It was lovely to see him, and heart-wrenching, all at once. 

“I’m so happy your father is okay. I heard a boy in town said he saw Benjamin Tallmadge all done up in blue and gold,” you forced a smile, tears already threatening the corner of your eyes. Ben had looked around you as if to make sure no one was suspicious of why he was talking to you. You didn’t bother to look. 

He said your name, barely above a whisper. You bit your lip, thinking this was a terrible idea, and began to walk away. But Ben gently tugged on your wrist, and let go the moment he got your attention. 

“Are you okay here?” Ben asked earnestly. 

“As good as I can be,” you replied with a shrug. “You know nothing is the same.” 

“I know,” he nodded, breaking eye contact when he saw a tear slide down your cheek. He never could stand to see you so upset and by his own doing. He swallowed hard before he spoke again. “Why don’t you come with me? On the boats? To New Jersey?” His voice was strained with so many things—pain, yearning, regret. And the worst of all, hope. 

“I can’t,” you began to argue, “I can’t drop everything here.” 

“You can,” he argued. And it felt like you were back three years ago, arguing about the same thing all over again. “It’s not safe with those wretched men up at the hill, at our church.” When he mentioned the church, memories flooded your mind like crashing waves of images of you and Ben sitting front row in the center, every Sunday. Meeting him outside around the back of the church stealing kisses. The church you dreamed of marrying him in someday. 

“I’ve survived this long without you,” you said rather harshly, without meaning to. 

“I may be standing here,” Ben started in a low voice, “but I’ve barely survived without you.” The look on his face was full of pain; flashes of the night he left you in your mind. That same pained expression, of wanting to reach out and grab something but never being close enough. 

Your heart was beating so fast, he might’ve seen your chest moving. God, you were such a sinful liar. You were barely surviving here without Ben, too. With that redcoat forced to live in your house, you always watching your own back. Life was hard here. You wanted to leap at the idea of being back in Ben’s graces, but something held you back. 

“I don’t have much time,” Ben urged. 

When you didn’t answer, he straightened his shoulders again and bowed. 

“It was lovely to see you again,” Ben told you, choking on his own voice but hiding it well with that stern expression. “Goodbye, my love.” 

☆☆☆☆

You watched as Ben disappeared down the road with his men, to the boats. And something in you changed, minutes later. You were sprinting after the boats, that were just taking off. There was a crowd of people in town watching as the rebels—traitors, to them—sailed off to their next destination. Anna was on one of those boats. 

Just as you were running past everyone, pushing to the front, you ran into the river, not giving a damn who saw and gasped and cursed at you. You passed Anna, who was strangely coming back, against you who was marching on forward. 

Ben held up his arms and yelled for Caleb to stop rowing. 

“Ben!” You shouted. “I want to come!” 

Ben leaped out of the boat and met you in the water, up to your shins. He was shaking, you were shaking, as he held onto you tightly and helped you get onto the boat, to join him, Caleb, and Selah, and the rest of the rebel army in their journey to New Jersey. You sat in the boat, with a blanket over your shoulders, and watched as the townspeople cursed at you. You held Anna’s gaze, wondering why on earth you had switched places. 

But it didn’t matter now. Ben sat across from you on the boat, beaming with an expression of gratefulness. He took your hands in his and warmed them by rubbing them together. You didn’t have to say anything to each other—the look in your eyes was enough. 

[crowfootwrites]

Warm Welcome

Day 2 from @creativepromptsforwriting's December Prompt List! I have this fanfic plot bunny of Neelix and a baker falling in love. I'm not in a place to write that whole thing right now, but this felt cute and on-topic, so.

December 2: Baking (Neelix x GN!Reader)

Also, I've written this so that the reader-insert character is Banean, a feathered humanoid species that looks like this:

Warnings: none; not beta'd we die like men. | Words: ~975

As you settled yourself in your new quarters, you found you couldn’t keep your mind off the awful business with Tolen and Lidell Ren. It had opened your eyes to just how cruel the Banean penal system had become as fear and suspicion towards the Numiri grew on your homeworld. Even your lifelong friend Kray had fallen victim to his own distrust, using his power as Minister of Science to deliver a cruel punishment to an innocent man. Kray hadn’t known that Lieutenant Paris was innocent at the time, but that hardly made you feel better. The constant tension and cynicism swallowing Banea whole felt foreign to you, antithetical to everything you were raised to believe in – compassion, exploration, goodwill, trust. You found that you barely recognized your homeworld anymore. 

And so it was time to go. You’d approached Lieutenant Paris and Commander Tuvok before their departure, requesting an audience with the captain. You’d asked her about the prospect of joining Voyager and, as you’d assured her of your ability and desire to learn and become a useful member of their crew, she’d agreed. 

The chime sounded at your door. 

“Come in!” You rose from where you were unpacking the few personal effects you’d brought with you.

The door slid open, revealing a smiling Ensign Kim. 

“Welcome aboard,” he offered. “The captain has asked me to give you a tour and introduce you to some of the crew. Is now a good time?”

You nodded eagerly, ready to try making some friends. 

The ensign towed you around the ship, presenting various departments, decks, and friendly faces in uniform. You made small talk in the corridors and, if you weren’t mistaken, Ensign Kim appeared to be trying to flirt with you. Biting back a grin, you did your best to steer the conversations back to more neutral topics.

As you approached what your companion had identified as the mess hall, a delectable scent wafted through the corridor, stopping you in your tracks.

Following your nose, the ensign allowed you to lead as you entered the mess, revealing a stocky Talaxian male frantically stirring pots and flipping something in flaming pans. 

His eyes and smile widened as he noticed you. He scurried around the corner out of the kitchen to grasp your hand eagerly in his. “You must be our new Banean crew member! Welcome aboard!” He shook your hand firmly, glancing between you and Ensign Kim. “I’m Neelix, I’m the cook here on Voyager – lots of mouths to feed here!”

A burst of flame erupted around one of the pans in the kitchen and with a yelp, Neelix hurried back to it. Grinning amusedly, you followed after him. The heat of multiple cooking sources going at once pressed down on you and you fluttered the feathers around your face to combat it. 

“It smells incredible in here,” you exclaimed, a swell of warm spice and baking bread rolling over you. 

“Thank you!” Neelix replied, whirling around the kitchen confidently, somehow managing multiple pots and pans over the fire, packed chopping boards, and a crammed oven. 

“We have replicators on Voyager,” he continued, stirring a pot that was perilously close to boiling over. “But they’re something of an energy drain, so usage has been rationed, and I run the kitchen to make sure the crew is fed without depleting energy reserves!”

“Seems like a big job,” you commented, your fingers itching to help as Neelix flitted between chopping and flipping and stirring. 

“Oh, completely!” His response sounded cheerful. “But I enjoy it, and it’s my way of contributing to th-” 

“Your bread’s about to burn,” you interjected, wincing as you did. “I apologize,” you added as you made your way toward the oven, grabbing an oven mitt before yanking several loaves out and placing the pans on an overhead rack to cool. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt, but it was just a few seconds from being too overdone, and I-.” You shook your head, suddenly self-conscious, and backed away.

“I’m sorry, I overstepped. This is your domain, I-I only meant to help.” You lingered near the entrance to the kitchen, your hands wide and open in surrender. Glancing over your shoulder, you noticed Ensign Kim was nowhere to be found.

Neelix watched you with wide, kind eyes, not appearing angry in the slightest.

“No, no! I appreciate your help!” He sounded earnest, which soothed some of your embarrassment. “If I may ask… how did you know it was about to burn? You only just arrived.”

You shrugged awkwardly. “By the smell… I used to do a lot of baking on Banea.”

You watched as Neelix’s whole face lit up, his jovial smile erasing the remainder of your uncertainty. He picked up his ladle and resumed stirring the bubbling pot. “You know, I could certainly use a hand in here, if that was something you’d like to do,” he suggested gently. “And aside from birthday cakes, I’m not much of a baker, myself.”

He fixed you with a knowing stare. “I happen to know the crew would appreciate someone to… temper some of my own creations.” He set the ladle back down and wiped his hands on his gaudy apron. “And they would certainly never turn down consistent desserts.”

He held his hand out toward you again, waiting with an eager smile. 

Your confidence bolstered somewhat, you slid your hand into his. “I’d love to help.”

“Wonderful!” After a vigorous handshake, he launched into a monologue about the evening’s dinner and you found yourself good-naturedly cutting in. 

“Back on Banea, I made this pipfruit and roasted leola root cake with parra creme sauce-”

“Leola root? Oh, I’ve always said that leola root is one of the most versatile vegetables in this quadrant. There's no better source of vitamins or minerals!” Neelix raved as he coaxed you back into the kitchen.

[mimicthephoenix]

Belonging - Ensign Baker x Reader

(I haven't written in ages, but I finally managed to churn out this little drabble and it may just be the most self-indulgent fluff that I have ever written).

The neighbourhood was still loud and busy despite the late hour and the night was far too cold than it had any right to be. But here in the bed with Thomas, it all seemed to fade away.

I could feel his nose absentmindedly brush along the line of my neck as he lifted his head to look at me.

Outside there was the sound of breaking glass and cussing, followed by the sound of laughter. I could see him visibly wince, shame colouring his face at the environment we lived in.

Sensing the apology that was coming, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his, sensing that I had taken him by surprise as he stilled for a moment, before responding in kind.

His kiss was the barest caress against my lips, but it was more than enough for me to feel his affection as we both sunk deeper. Out of habit, his fingers swept over the hollow of my back, causing me to shiver and arch slightly at the sensation. I could feel him smile against my lips before he pulled back momentarily.

Softly caressing my cheek, he leant in again, lips firmer against mine this time. They were slightly chapped from all the time he spent outside, but it made little difference to me. I could never get enough of him.

Another crash echoed from the alleyway outside and disappointment nearly crashed over me to feel him pull away again, only to watch as my breath caught in the back of my throat as he took my hand in his and raised the inside of my wrist to his waiting lips.

I felt his breath first, hot and ticklish, before the heat increased as his lips made contact with my skin. He lingered, sweet, kind eyes watching me.

He had always been courteous, since the very first day we had met. It had developed quickly from that, him forever mindful of the way I was feeling.

“You're wonderful” he murmured, loosening his grip so I was free to wrap my arms around his shoulders. When he had first arrived home, the line of them had been stiff with tension, but now the muscles felt soft and pliant under the palms of my hands.

The sounds from the alley had finally ceased as well and it had left behind an atmosphere, where everything seemed more real. More in focus.

And Thomas was at the centre of it all. Or at least to me he was. I tried to show it to him everyday and I could only hope I succeeded. The army had given him a sense of purpose, but the belonging to somewhere, to something, had eluded him for a long time. At least that was what he had told me after we had first made love, Thomas still holding me close as our bodies settled.

I could almost still hear his voice from that night, as though he was saying it to me right now. ‘I wanted to belong. When I joined the army, it gave me something to be part of it and I'm still so grateful for that. But that feeling of belonging, that still eluded me. Or at least it had until I met you’. There had been something both earnest and shy about his confession and it would have been enough to make me fall in love with him, if I hadn't already been so.

His voice stirred me from my memories and I smiled to reassure him that I was fine, tracing my fingers across his lips as I did, feeling his breath stutter slightly, before seeming to compose himself and pressing a kiss to my fingertips.

Yes. He may have found a sense of belonging that night. But he hadn't been the only one.

[knowltonsrangers]

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.

[knowltonsrangers]

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.

[knowltonsrangers]

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.

[knowltonsrangers]

[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.

[knowltonsrangers]

hair headcanons

Various TURN! X reader

how good or bad are our boys at braiding and styling hair, and would they ever let you have a go at theirs?

For having a few sisters, Nathan Hale is average at the subject. He can do a basic braid, and definitely knows how to tie a ponytail, but anything else…he’s consulting a book or tutorial. He enjoys running his fingers through your hair, gently prying away any knots they may have come your way. and of course you can brush his hair, he actually really likes it when you do so. give him a few baby braids to frame his face and he’ll leave them there for a day or two.

Benjamin Tallmadge has no idea what you’re asking of him. He can do a very basic braid on his own hair, but good luck getting him to even attempt it on you without having a bunch of knots. he likes to comb your hair after a shower, you never ask him to, but he always finds you to do it. Ben likes to think even though it’s typically a moment of silence, it’s full of so much love. He’d never ask you to brush his hair, but sometimes you surprise him rounding a corner with his brush, and he’ll never object.

I’d like to think Caleb Brewster sometimes goes a bit without brushing his hair, and when he finally remembers after a few days, you’re chasing him with a comb to try and get it before it’s too late. It’s not that he’s unhygienic he’s just…Caleb. He probably runs his fingers through it in the shower and calls that a comb. Yet he LOVES to brush and braid your hair, he likes it in the morning when it has that soft wave to it. He’s actually pretty good at it, they’re tight and they don’t need to be redone after a little while.

Yeah…no. George Washington has no idea how to do anything that’s even remotely close to a braid, but, some of his favorite moments is when you offer to brush out the knots that have made their way into his ponytail throughout the day. He, in turn, will return the favor. He’s not vain, of course you can touch his hair, he’ll probably grumble about his grey it is, but you just wave him off. You know that if you don’t do this, he will defy neglect the act if drowned in work

Marquis de Lafayette definitely can braid, and damn I definitely think he’s the best at it. Plaits, Dutch, French, he’s very good at them, and he can do them pretty fast. Like Nathan, he enjoys running his fingers through your hair, it’s a symbol of affection, especially if he does it subconsciously sometimes. If you are ever just sitting next to him with your hair down, he’s all over you and you can’t help but bob your head yes. You don’t even have to ask to play with his hair, so he says, but you always do, and you are always surprised by just how soft it is. He likes it when you braid his ponytail, he’ll definitely leave it in as long as he can.

Ensign Thomas Baker knows next to nothing. he definitely knows how to put his own hair up, and he probably could replicate it if you needed an extra pair of hands to put yours in a ponytail, but that’s about it. He’d love it if you taught him how to braid, he thinks it looks so pretty, especially on you. sure, you can do his hair! he’d probably take anything out (barrettes or clips) before he left, but if you braid his hair, he’d definitely going to leave it in! And if you try and take it out, saying it looks bad or you missed a strand, he’ll likely run away from you so you don’t stand a chance of touching it. He loves it.

The grumpiest of all, Alexander Hamilton, will definitely not partake in any of your styling, so he says. it’s cause he’s a busy, or he doesn’t want to, or whatever nonsense he’s come up with for the day. So instead, you walk up behind his desk and take his hair band out, and just as he spins to glower at you, you’re brushing his red locks and he can’t help but melt at the touch. In rarer moments of affection, he will definitely comb your hair out after a bath, or if you are unwell. He’s an emotionally constipated gremlin, just kiss his cheek and tell him to relax. he’s really bad at braids though, don’t expect that of him-your hair will be in knots before very long.

[a/n: took a short break today and decided to work on some headcanons :) ]

[knowltonsrangers]

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.

[knowltonsrangers]

there is a difference between to need, and to have

Ensign Baker x reader

[a/n; hi- I have to mention a warning because there are mentions of blood, wounds, and bad dreams in this story. Please advise with caution with these warnings in mind.]

[tuesday, march 16th, 1:42 am]

He never dreams.

Usually, he can’t remember them. They come and go like seasons, by the morning when his eyes flutter open, any ounce of the memories that once overwhelmed his brain is gone.

Whenever you stand next to him in the kitchen during the wee hours of the morning, you always nudge him with your shoulder and ask:

“Did you sleep well?”

He’s half minded to say no, because he doesn’t recall if he actually has. But he nods nonetheless, smiling down at you with a sleepy lopsided grin.

When the days over once again, and you and him lay side by side in bed–shoulder to shoulder, something feels off. Something in his stomach fills with an uneasy feeling, and when he rolls over to ask for your opinion, you’ve already drifted off.

It’ll be fine.

He repeats in his mind, and forces himself to close his eyes and try to sleep.

[wednesday, march 17th, 3:38 am]

You had been gone two minutes-maybe three, just running to the kitchen because you realized in the middle of the night that you left your water bottle there. But as you pulled the door shut and went to throw the covers back, you noticed how Thomas was so far over on his side, basically half-hanging out of the bed.

He had kicked the sheets back and his face was scrunched up in pain and anguish, knuckles white from squeezing them so hard.

“Hey, hey! Thomas!”

You whisper-shout, rushing over to shake his shoulders. In any scenario, you really shouldn’t jolt awake someone having a nightmare, but Thomas had never had one before. Unsure of what to do, you straddled his waist, throwing a leg over his and laying your hands flat on his shoulders.

“Hey, Thomas?”

You try again, and you watch as his eyes twitch in acknowledgment. Once more, you give his broad shoulders another gentle shove, and he nearly knocks you over with how fast he sits up.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

He sputters, running a hand through his hair as he looks everywhere in the room until his eyes settle on yours. You sigh in relief.

“y/n?”

“You were having a bad dream. At least I think so. But you didn’t look happy,”

He’d finally realized that he remembered what just happened, a hand dropping to his stomach to make sure there was no blood coming from it.

“‘M fine,”

Thomas mutters, and you watch as he leans forward, catching you in his arms as he envelopes you.

“You don’t look fine to me…”

You return the gesture, squeezing his torso tight.

“That was…a very vivid nightmare.”

He explains, not letting go.

“What happened?”

You think back to the book you read, saying that stress and anxiety can trigger the onslaught of nightmares. Compared to Thomas, someone who’s never had one—as far as you knew—you thought it’s best to get him to talk about it.

So he does.

“I was in a house that was on fire. You weren’t there, at least I don’t think so. I got shot, and it felt real. Like it was really happening, I…”

He trails off, realizing that was when you had knocked him out of his funk. Eternally grateful, he squeezes you harder.

“Hey, it’s gonna be alright. Did something happen today? Did you have a bad day?”

Thomas shakes his head no.

“It’ll be okay.,”

Affirming, you run a hand up and down his back.

“I know. You’re here, that’s all I need.”

“We’ll get through it. Just hang in there.”

[knowltonsrangers]

Boyf— Ensign Baker HC’s

[a/n: hello all!!! a PSA: please drop ideas/requests in my inbox! I wanna write but have 0 inspiration. Should I reblog a prompt list? Ahhhh writers block strikes again! well—Enjoy, I’m off to work! ❤️]

• sweet. boy.

• would hold your hand for the rest of your life if he could.

• he also enjoys hugs and soft kisses.

• honest and very loyal.

• but also very insecure (a whole mood). He always asks if something is okay and makes sure that you aren’t lying.

•Literally it can be about the movie y’all are watching or where you wanna grab lunch from.

• loves loves loves sharing his clothes. He is a tall boy ™️ and his sweatshirts are the best things in the WORLD.

• pda is alright with him, but in smaller ways. Hand holding, arm around your shoulders, hand around your waist, etc.

• a whole sweetheart. If you aren’t having a good day he won’t leave until you are smiling.

• and vice versa, when he’s having a bad day, you’ll know because he is a sad puppy. Usually a good hug and a talk about his day puts him in a better mood immediately.

• 1 billion percent buys you a promise ring. Or you buy him one.

•But y’all are forever bc the most he can stay mad at you is for like 20 minutes and then he wants to talk it out.

• so freaking pure. Has a Spotify playlist that he made and he plays it in his car and says all the songs remind him of you.

• if you get sick/an injury, good luck hiding it from him. He knows. He always knows.

• “(y/n), I—“

• you look up from the stove where you’re making pancakes and don’t give any indication that you are in pain in any way.

• “Yeah, what’s up?”

• “oh my god you broke your toe how the heck did you do that—“

• he has a large first aid kit and he runs and gets it and just drags you to sit and don’t try and resist he will hold you down.

• just a good man. Love him a whole lot.

• likes dancing with you and loves humming as y’all drift off to sleep.

• we👏need👏a👏Ensign👏Baker👏show👏

[ Tag List! @thefanficnerd 💓 @shieldblacksailsonfrontier 💓 ]

[knowltonsrangers]

Ensign Baker x Reader—

Old Fashioned

He felt horribly out of place, and surely he was toeing the line of a punishment for abandoning his post. Although, it wouldn’t be the first time he wandered ways away from his post in favor of a chat with a certain someone.

“And you are positive Major Hewlett won’t mind?”

After a hesitant head shake to affirm a yes, as he laughs hollowly at the thought of Simcoe’s wrath.

He never gets caught. He wouldn’t get caught this time.

“He wouldn’t mind me escorting you home, Miss (y/l/n).”

You can feel the night breeze slap against the tall trees as the two of you cut through the thick woods to your home. It wasn’t that late—the sun hadn’t set yet, albeit it was just about too.

“You are very kind, Ensign Baker,”

“Thomas.”

“Hm?”

He had mumbled it, the word died about halfway out of his mouth. Sniffling, he straightened himself and grasped his bayonet a little tighter.

“You can call me Thomas, Miss.”

“O-oh! you can call me (y/n)! Miss (y/l/n) is far too long. I prefer my first name, truthfully.”

He’s shy, and you’re somewhere in between. You don’t notice him turn his head to hide his stark red ears, and he doesn’t notice you grab your woven basket a little tighter than necessary.

The rest of the walk is lulled in an uncomfortable silence, the only noise the leaves underfoot and night birds cooing above.

“Here we are,”

His voice is quiet, the sun just disappearing behind the horizon as you approached your home. It felt awkward and stiff, but you hoped that you could work up the courage to say something that would get him to speak to you soon.

“Thank you, Thomas. I sincerely appreciate your kindness.”

Your hand slides into the basket, and retrieves a red tulip, holding it out to him.

“It happens to match your coat.”

“I—yes, yes it does.”

He takes it and sticks it in through one of the button holes, you both laughing as it slips through and stands out.

“I love it.”

You laugh, and he lets out a deep chuckle as well.

“thank you,”

“Yes, you are very welcome.”

There is now a comfortable lull in the conversation, as the two of you just share a happy silence, watching as the sky erupted into blues and purples and oranges.

“When you happen to be off your post, maybe we could see each other again.”

“I would like that. Very much.”

He smiles at you, bowing his head to place a kiss on your unexpected hand.

“Have a good night, (y/n).”

“You too, Thomas.”

He turns and departs, watching him over your shoulder as you climb the stairs to the porch.

Ensign Baker blushes the whole way back to his post, as he just happened to have the knowledge of what a red tulip symbolizes.

[knowltonsrangers]

Jealousy/Unwanted Attention

[several!TURN!Characters x reader]

Nathan Hale doesn’t really do jealousy, he’ll admit it’s not a good look on anyone, the evil twinge of anger that wells in their face. But if he can even call it jealousy, he knows that the person shuffling closer to you is not any attention you sought out. With a deep breath as he half runs over, he will place his hands on your shoulders gently, ushering you away from the stranger. Don’t underestimate him, he will definitely share a word or two, if he feels that you are in a scenario where something needs to be said.

Benjamin Tallmadge catches your gaze from across the room, noting the look of fear in your eyes. Without a second thought, he leaves his conversation with a breathy “excuse me” and beelines directly to where you are, and the stranger that is attempting to slide their arm around your shoulder. Ben will definitely grab your hand and just pull you away, but if the stranger starts to yank back, he will start saying something. He pries the unwanted hand away, and guides you through the thickened crowd. Nobody is gonna make you feel uncomfortable, especially while he’s around.

Possibly a slight amount calmer, Marquis de Lafayette will get his point across without as much as a second glance. He sidles up to you, sensing your uncomfortableness, and asks you if you wished to be removed from the conversation. If he’s already read your mind, you nod your head yes and that’s really all it takes. He will take ahold of your hand and usher you away, asking the whole time if your are okay and did the stranger do anything else but say inappropriate language. If they did, he’s definitely holding himself back, because in his mind he definitely wants to throw hands.

Ensign Thomas Baker is an intimidating force to be reckoned with. If for any reason that he’s not by your side, and a lure of unwanted attention falls to you, he will most certainly remove you from the conversation. Lift you up and carry you over his shoulder if he has to. There’s no way anyone is going to be insulting you and is going to get away with it. Thomas, out of anyone, knows that you can handle your own, but he knows that look in your eyes when you’re asking for help.

Would probably commit arson if he could, Alexander Hamilton one-thousand percent gets jealous. He can’t focus, can hardly see as he’s blinded by unfathomable rage, may possible stomp over to where you are and change his demeanor by the snap of his fingers. Calmly, he drops an arm around your shoulders, standing just behind you so you can’t see his face. He glares over the top of your head, only to change it to a smile every time you look up at him. You don’t have to worry about anyone being uncomfy or rude anymore.

George Washington is too old for this shit. Just kidding! No, he does not get jealous, and he knows you are ready and absolutely willing to slip right out of the conversation if it turns inappropriate. However, if someone is offering nasty intentions, George is all over it. Because you send him your ‘sos stare’, and his fierce loyalty and absolute devotion to you comes in full force. He’s intimidating, and can definitely get someone to back off just with an icy glare. Don’t underestimate him, he knows when your posture shifts and you’ve grown uncomfortable in an unwanted conversation.

Caleb Brewster probably starts a fight. It’s a fair assumption, because you and him both know that if some person is trying to land a move on you, Caleb is gonna come swinging punches. That’s his face to kiss, dammit! Unless it’s a friend or family, nothing is going to stop him as he starts winding the poor sap up. When angry, he can be really frightening, and he knows it. Doesn’t let anyone touch you unless you say it’s okay. If you look uncomfy? Bye random person. He isn’t about to let it go on for a moment longer.

[knowltonsrangers]

Is it possible to please ask for 'A taking B to a tree lighting in town after finding out that they've never been to one' with Ensign Baker? Happy holidays!

A taking B to a tree lighting in town after finding out that they've never been to one

[a/n: YES OF COURSE!! Tysm for requesting, happy holidays to you too!! 💕♥️]

Ensign Baker x reader

It didn’t take much to startle Thomas, especially due to the fact that he was currently enthralled by the book he was reading. So when you gasped softly and shifted in your position next to him, his shoulders jumped to his ears and he nearly dropped his book.

“Sorry, sorry!”

You gently tug at his elbow in a way to get his attention back, a rambling apology falling from your lips.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting it, s’all,”

He laughs, watching as the guilty look in your eyes fades slowly.

“What did you find y/n?”

“This! Did you know about it?”

Thomas quirks a playful brow, curious as to what you were referring to. Dropping his book to glance your way, he takes his glasses off to look at your phone.

“Tree lighting?”

He muses, and you nod enthusiastically.

“I didn’t know this town did it so early! Hum, I would have like to have gone.”

Something turns a cog in Thomas’ brain.

“We could still go,”

He says, after eyeing the clock above the fireplace.

“After all, I’ve never been to one. You’ve piqued my interest.”

If he could take a picture of your face right now and keep it in his pocket, he one-hundred-percent would.

“You’ve never what?!”

Now you’re half on top of him, hands on either side of his hips as you stare into his brown eyes with a gaping expression. This makes Thomas laugh softly.

“I now understand it is a big deal.”

“Of course it is! It’s like, the most beautiful thing during this time of year!”

There’s a half beat of silence before you suddenly climb off of him, and begin rummaging through the closet. He doesn’t quite realize what your doing until his winter coat flies through the air, and he stands to catch it.

“We’ll make it!-It starts in twenty minutes,”

Maybe he could understand why it made you appreciate this time of year, maybe just a bit more than usual. Because standing next to you in the falling snow really did make him see the value in coming along with your adorable pleas.

“I understand your excitement now,”

He leans down to whisper in your ear, hand enveloping yours as he offers a gentle squeeze.

“It’s perfect,”

You say, smiling up at him.

“Happy to spend the first one with you, y/n.”

“I’m glad to be here with you,”

And Thomas watches, the way you hum happily in agreement, smile never leaving your lips.

Then the dark sky is illuminated softly, and he can’t help but admire the way your face reflects off the dimming red and green lights.

There’s nothing that he can compare the feeling to when you nestle yourself into his side, wrapping your arms around his waist as his arm comes to instinctively move around your shoulders.

“We should make this an annual thing,”

“We should! What a great idea!”

And of course, to Thomas, any time with you was time well spent. He’d hardly been staring at the tree, but you would never know by the way you were entranced by the scenery.

Good,

He thinks, because any time that you’re happy, he’s happy.

[tag list: @meganlpie 💕]

[knowltonsrangers]

#48 and Thomas Baker because he's so tall asjlgdahkj-

#48 One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partners

Ensign [Thomas] Baker x reader

[a/n: Thomas Keegan is 6’6 I’m like 👀i’m 5′5👀 also this is a continuation of my hc that Baker’s s/o likes to boop his nose :D I hope u enjoy!]

It started as a joke, it ended (not really) with you being tickled to tears on the floor.

“Thomas?”

You’d just gotten off class, glad to be finally complete with your annoyingly busy schedule for the week.

Thomas’ class had ended while yours was still halfway through, so you knew he had to be around somewhere. The apartment was small, so there wasn’t many places he could be, unless he ran out for a bit.

“y/n, in the kitchen!”

He calls, and you do a 180 from your current position searching in the living room.

“All done with class?”

It was ten at night, (I have a class that ends at 10:15 p.m. ffffffs) and Thomas was making brownies.

“Yeah! How was yours?”

“As good as Chemistry can go,”

He’s got on your cute pumpkin apron, but appears to have barely made any mess to need one. You hum in agreement as you shuffle over to the fridge, pulling the door open to take out a ginger ale.

“What’s the occasion? Not that I mind at all!”

You ask, gesturing to the pan he was currently putting in the oven. When he stands back up, he wipes his hands on the apron and gives you a smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I got kinda bored.”

He admits sheepishly, setting a timer on his phone for when the brownies would be done baking.

“We both were having a rough week. Thought these might help.”

“Might? I think they most certainly will!”

Tugging at his hand to get his attention, you give him a bright smile.

“It was a long week. This was a really, really nice surprise.”

Thomas smiles back down at you, turning for just the briefest moment to put the mixing bowl in the sink.When he returns to offer his full attention, you’ve latched yourself to his side and give him a squeeze of affection.

“Thank you, Thomas.”

“Anytime, really.”

Exchanging goofy smiles, you raise yourself to the balls of your feet and tug an arm free.

“Boop.”

Poking at his nose, he takes his chance and swoops down, capturing a kiss right on your lips. He’d definitely been eating the batter.

Pulling away, Thomas stands back to his full height and grins down at you.

“Let me clean up, and then we can hang out?”

Dropping your heels back to the floor, you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes, please! I’ll help clean,”

You offer, moving so you could put the excess baking sheets away.

“y/n, you don’t have to-“

“I want to.”

Insisting, you pull open the bottom cabinet to push the trays inside.

Once the kitchen was a bit cleaner than it had been, the two of you stand side by side against the counter.

“C’mere.”

Happily obliging, you accept the warm invitation for a hug.

Raising to the balls of your feet once more, you boop his nose as he looks down at you.

“Gotcha.”

You stick your tongue out, and whatever funny bone you tickled got Thomas going.

He begins to make a move for your ribs, running his hands along your sides that send you into a fit of laughter.

“Stop!”

Crying mercy, you finally collapse onto the floor with tears in your eyes and breath hitched.

“I will never stop booping your nose,”

Beaming with bliss, you both get a good laugh out of the nights events.

[tag list!: @shieldblacksailsonfrontier  @thefanficnerd  @simvez  @viper-official  @the-anxious-youth @boredtheatrekid ]