Love me Like a Sailor
Arthur Morgan x Captain!Reader
Summary: John is a little brother. The Konstantina prepares to set sail. Arthur is nervous with a side of pathetic.
A/N: Classes got me FUCKED UP and I'm sick. I hope you enjoy tho ❤️❤️
Part 1
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When Arthur rode back into camp, he could feel eyes on him. It made his skin prickle, the way that it always did when someone was watching.
He hitched up his horse, boots hitting the ground as he brushed up her sides and let his head rest against her neck for just a moment. He had to gather himself - wouldn't be able to look anyone in the eye if he didn't.
Morgana whinnied, brushing against him almost compassionately. Arthur snorted, patting her a few times and feeding her a sugar cube.
“Quit your worryin’, girl,” he muttered. “Don't need my damn horse on my case, too.”
Everyone else was gathered around the campfire tonight. It was cool out, fall on the air and rain on the horizon. He'd have to make sure that they were ready for the storm.
A heady laugh reached his ears, unmistakable. Arthur grimaced, looking up from under the brim of his hat.
“How was it?” John asked teasingly, immediately after laying eyes on him. Arthur glared, walking past him.
“I ain't in the mood, Marston,” he gruffed. With a huff, he grabbed a bottle of beer from Pearson's wagon and uncapped it. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long sip that elicited a whistle from John.
“Cmon now, it can't have been that bad,” he said, shit-eating grin twisting his scarred features. Arthur grimaced.
“It wasn't, asshole,” he said, blush rising to his cheeks. “I got us a deal.”
John wiggled his eyebrows, making him look even more like the child that he was.
“Oh really? What kind of deal are we talkin-”
“Shut up, Marston.”
John laughed again, grabbing a beer for himself and clapping Arthur on the shoulder. He stood next to Arthur, watching the camp go by in silence for a moment.
“What is the deal then?” He asked eventually. Arthur shrugged, rolling his shoulders and taking another swig of his beer.
“They need extra protection. In return they'll pay us or peddle for us.”
John nodded, digging in the dirt with the tip of his boot. He always did that when he was thinking.
“What's the catch?”
Arthur sighed, rubbing his eyes. That's what he'd been trying to figure out.
“Don't know yet. But with how things are going, we ain't got time to wonder about it.”
“Amen, brother,” John snorted.
The two sat in comfortable silence. The sun had just started to set, purple and orange splashing across the lake and its shores. Arthur itched for his pencil.
And he thought of you.
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The ride went quickly. Charles and Javier were fast riders, always ready to run.
Van Horn was just as it always was - quiet and unassuming but for the drunks retching outside the saloon. It was an early morning; the sun was barely rising on the horizon.
The Konstantina was moored where it was last time he'd visited, almost a week ago. There was a man on watch at what Arthur thought was the bow. As they rode their horses in and tied them up, his eyes flashed over the main deck. He caught a glimpse of your silk shined hair, his heart skipping a beat.
“S'that it?” Javier asked, coming to stand next to Arthur. His bag was slung over one shoulder, his other hand coming to rest on his belt. Arthur nodded.
“The one and only.”
Javier snorted. He clapped Arthur's shoulder and shuffled his boots in the sand. Charles fell onto his other side, sighing out a breath and squinting at the boat.
“Not what I expected,” he murmured. Arthur shrugged.
“Gets the job done, doesn't it?”
Soon enough, all three men were stepping aboard the boat. The watchman on the bow greeted them, asking them to wait while he got the captain.
Javier lit up a cigarette, sitting on top of a crate. He passed it to Charles who took it with a hum of thanks.
“I'm excited to meet this captain of yours,” Javier said, leaning forward with a glint in his dark eyes. “John said she was something else.”
“John says a lot of things,” Arthur said as easily as he could manage. Charles huffed, passing the cigarette back. “Ain't none of them smart.”
“He said she had you whipped six ways to Sunday,” Charles said, crossing his arms but gesturing one of his hands at Arthur with a raised eyebrow. Arthur felt himself blush, and thanked the darkness of the early morning for hiding it.
“I don't even know what that means,” Arthur grumbled, pouting. Charles laughed, Javier slapping the man's broad shoulder with a mischievous grin.
“I bet you wish you did, though.”
Arthur glared at both men as they laughed. He was about to open his mouth and defend himself, but he cut himself off when he saw you approaching.
Your outfit was a far cry from when he last saw you; baggy cotton pants and a button up shirt that somehow hid the swell of your chest. Your hair, which was usually left long, was braided tightly and pinned methodically around your head save for a few strands in the front. When you fastened your captain's hat on your head, he couldn't tell that you were a woman at all.
Despite that, his heart still felt like it was going to beat out of his chest if he looked at you for any longer. He could've chuckled at the humor in it. Even dressed as a man, the sweep of your long eyelashes along your cheeks still made his breath hitch. The curve of your mouth still made him want to tear his hair out.
Catching the stunned glances of Charles and Javier, Arthur shrugged and cleared his throat. Their shock quickly passed, but their obvious amusement did not.
“Arthur,” Javier said in the same tone of voice that Abigail used to scold Jack.
“What?!”
“Gentlemen!” You exclaimed, greeting them with the same upbeat attitude you always seemed to have. “Welcome aboard! We're pleased to have you.”
Charles nodded, a slight smile on his face as he introduced himself and Javier, who moved forward to shake your hand. His eye flicked back to Arthur with a lazy grin that betrayed his mischievous curiosity.
“Pleasure's ours,” Javier said. “Cigarette?”
You hummed in assent, taking the cigarette between two fingers and inhaling a drag of it. Arthur stared as you let the smoke pool out of your mouth in waves.
“So you're the infamous Caspian that Arthur's been talking about?” Javier said, his charm turned up all the way. Arthur sighed heavily.
“That's Captain Caspian, to you,” you said with a wink, dissolving into laughter soon after. “For better or worse that is.”
“S'that why you're dressed like that?” Charles said bluntly, gesturing to your outfit. Javier slapped his shoulder with a venomous “Cabrón!” hissed under his breath. You smooth out the wrinkles of your shirt with a raised eyebrow.
“Sailing ain't a woman's work,” you say.
“Neither is smuggling.”
“Can't have one without the other, Mr. Smith.”
“...I suppose that's true.”
“It's better like this anyway,” you say. “Navy would be onto us in seconds if I dressed normally.”
The small talk continued as your cigarette burned down between your fingers. Arthur couldn't comprehend your words, but he figured that was okay - if it was important he'd ask you to repeat yourself and that wouldn't be so bad. He could listen to your voice like one of Dutch's terrible records.
“So, what's the route?” Charles asked, kicking Arthur's boot and forcing his attention back on the conversation.
“It'll be short - we should be in port by supper tomorrow night,” you said. “We sail from here to Saint Denis, which is where we'll drop you boys off.”
“Thought it would be longer,” Javier muttered, itching around his mustache in thought.
“Think of this as a trial run,” you said. With a shrug and a sigh you stamp out your cigarette and lay your hands on your belt. “If it goes well, we can go longer.”
Arthur nodded along, trying not to let his eyes catch on the way your hands looked clutched on your belt and failing miserably. The way he always stood, the way every man stood… it looked damn near erotic on you.
“Mr. Morgan?” You asked, jolting him once again from his pathetic thoughts. His eyes snapped to yours, meeting your amused face. “You've been awfully quiet.”
“Was just thinking,” he said, scowling. Charles snorted.
“That's new.”
“Don't hurt yourself.”
You laughed at Charles and Javier's responses, only laughing harder when you caught a look at Arthur's glare. He crossed his arms and sat back against the railing of the deck, hat falling over his brow.
“Har har,” he said. “My brand of thinking is always the least likely to get us killed.”
“Oh, really? Care to enlighten us?” You ask, clearly teasing him now because what else could he possibly be thinking about.
There wasn't any time to think about robbing and stealing and killing when he could be thinking about your hips, the swell of them and how they would give under his hands. Your eyes, how pretty they would look filled with tears of pleasure. He could be thinking about the way that your lips would form his name, and if your voice would crack with love around the vowels. Or how soft your hands would be if he got to hold them, and how the skin of your back would feel pressed against his chest after-
“Tomorrow,” Arthur said, hands fisted tight in his lap. “I was just thinking about tomorrow.”
He looked up to see your eyes soften, fondness clouding the color of your eyes. He's sure that the smile spilling across his lips is one that John would describe as dopey, but he finds that he doesn't give a damn.
Because now? All he's thinking about is how he can make you his the way that he's already yours.
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Bbg, this is for you @johnnysilverhandeeznuts