#captain!reader

Vash's tail, large and red as it is, taps the side of your schooner gently. He is patient, waiting for your attention to return as it always does. Has to be, you suppose, to hunt and catch and look for enough fish to feed himself. And find human trash, you think, turning back to the mer. He holds out the button first. Delicate in the long shape of his claws. "That's for clothing. We wrap the cloth around us and use the buttons to keep it together in the center." You pull at your shirt and show the dull brass buttons on your own.

Vash leans forward to look. The boat tilts ever so when he does, taking the weight of his bulk. You hear the nervous grumble of your newer men behind. A trill of interest escapes the mer's throat. Like birdsong. He looks back at his own button—rusted and dented as it is—with new appreciation. "For clothing," he mutters.

"And that," you continue, looking at the decrepit awl, "is for poking holes in pages, so we can sew them together to make a book."

You know the questions will come, and brace yourself. "What is sewing? And 'a book?'" He blinks, blues as heavy as the ocean staring back at you, "What are pages?"

"That is more than the five questions we agreed on," you remind him. He looks surprised, then sullen. His long blonde and black hair falls over an eye as he rolls the awl in his palm. Gods, it's like you kicked a puppy. With a sigh, you call over your shoulder: "Tonis! Bring me a book."

Your young apprentice goes ramrod straight by the rear sail. He trembles—such a small thing, you'll never understand why Rosa insisted on starting him fishing so little—but steps forward, digging in his oversized jacket. Out pops a little book. The gold lettering on the side and front are already too faded to read.

The little redhead leans as far as he can before handing the book over. You take it gently. Vash tries to shrink. He tries to give the boy a smile without his teeth, just like you practiced. Still, the kid whimpers and goes back to his duties with a quickness not unlike a rabbit escaping the wolf.

Vash blinks after him. "He did not smile back," he comments.

You snort and thumb through the little book in your hands. Opening to a random page, you flip it over and show the mer: "This is the thread holding the pages together. If we do that a bunch of times and put covers on it, it becomes a book. Books hold information. Words that stay." Vash tries to grab it, but you pull it away before he can. "This is Tonis'. You need to be gentle."

"Gentle," Vash nods, extending two fingers forward to touch the pages. And he is: gentle. With his claws, he traces the black ink of the book, eyes roving the language he has only begun to understand. "Words," he mutters, "that stay." He looks at you, quick, and asks, "Is this...picture?"

You aren't sure; you just opened it. You turn the book back and feel your cheeks heat. It's a simple drawing: a man and woman kissing each other on a balcony. It's not so much the image that riles you up, but that Rosa would have a conniption if she found out Tonis was reading a romance novel under your watch. Still, your lips tremble into a smile. "Yes. Picture. Drawing with ink."

"What are...they doing?"

With your brows lowering, you say, "Kissing. Do mer...do you not kiss?"

Vash shakes his head. His teeth show in a parting of lips, and you have your answer for why when those daggers show.

Blinking, you place a hand on your hip. "It's a form of showing affection to someone."

"Affection?"

"You know. Touching someone. Gentle. Love?"

He shakes his head again. His brows knit together like a book's binding.

"Oh," you say, the book thumping to your thigh. You look him over, this creature, this mer who is curious about everything that isn't in his world. Sharp claws, wicked teeth, a need to survive in harsh waters with harsher competition. It's no wonder he doesn't know what affection is. "Well it's...it's when you want to be close to someone."

"To fight," he murmurs, a sad glimmer entering his eyes. And wouldn't he know what that means. The scars scratched into his skin and his missing arm are enough to answer. But he brightens when you shake your head.

"No, not for fighting. For...hm." How do you explain affection to someone? Vaguely, you look over your shoulder. Your men are busy hauling in the day's catch, calling out to each other over the sails. You'll be needed soon. Just a captain's intuition. A ragged breath escapes. "I can't—"

Then, suddenly, his hand—large, far larger than any human man's—grasps your free wrist and pulls you to him. You want to say it is harsh, and you will later when the men ask what happened, but it is not; gentle, like the waves on a silver moon night, you are pulled to the mer. He gives you enough wiggle room to yank back. Your heart hammers. Mer are dangerous, this you know. But this mer...

Vash is curious. Eyes flickering like a midnight candle, he tilts his head. He is big. He is so big. And those big eyes look at your lips with the same curiosity he first came to you with months ago when he saved you from the waves. You've given him the knowledge he so wants so far.

Would showing him this be any different?

Salt. Brine. The call of seagulls overhead. His lips are there and gone. Then back again. They press, gentle, gentle, unsure and so so soft. You feel the whisper of a word he breathes: "Affection." Your lips move with his as he says, "Close."

"Cap'n!"

And then he's gone like salt in the breeze. Your world is suddenly open sea and ship again. You hear the splash of Vash vanishing into the waters. Marl rushes up, hand grasping your elbow and looking toward the railing. "Did he sing to ye? I told ye, I told ye—"

"No," you rasp, going to slap Marl off but grasping his hand instead. "No, I—"

A moment passes. Another. You have no good answer, tongue tied up in what just happened. Marl calls for Nella and Rogg to bring some alcohol as he leads you to the center of the ship. "I'll go get ye a blanket, jus' wait here," he mutters, tromping off to the quarters.

For a moment, you are alone. Your fingers go to your lips, tongue tasting the salt of his own left behind. You…just kissed a mer. A small laugh escapes. You kissed a mer and survived.

Small bootsteps to your left: Tonis, a confused look on his face. He opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again. You beat him to the punch. "Saw all that, did you?" At his hesitant nod, you breathe out. "Don't tell the others. They're already scared enough I let Vash get so close. Keep it quiet. Here," you hand his book back to him and wink, "you keep my secret, I keep yours, yeah?"

Tonis grunts, his cheeks pinkening with embarrassment. He snatches the book and puts it back in his jacket. Again, you're reminded of a fleeing rabbit. Still, the kid stays, staring at you. It'd be unnerving if you weren't so used to stares from your men. It's what I get, you conclude, wiping away the last traces of the kiss with the back of your hand. They've got a captain that speaks with merfolk and even kisses them.

A sigh and a slap to your lap, and you're standing again. "Marl, no need for the blanket. Nella, Rogg, save the booze for when we get back. No, I'm fine—"

And you go about your day. Even with the prickling on your mouth and along your shoulders. Because you know more than your crew's eyes are on you out at sea.

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.

☆☆☆☆☆

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.

☆☆☆☆☆

“Like I care what you think…” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes and tearing the letter in half.  “Mind your damn business, Imp.”

“... Sir?” you called out, furrowing your brow. Adrian’s head swiveled in your direction and the annoyed expression he had melted away into a bright smile.

“Oh good! You’re finally awake!” he moved toward the bed as you dangled your legs off the side. His smile waned and he reached out to touch your head with concern in his eyes. “How is your head? Are you okay?”

“My head?” you blinked and rubbed it in thought. “Yeah, my head is fine? Why?”

“Captain, you were attacked in your office by a Coven scout. I just happened by when I saw the cad try to kidnap you,” he sat on the bed beside you. Either he had gotten really good at acting or he was telling the truth because he sounded genuine. “I figured the brute had hit you in the head since I found a club nearby.”

“I was attacked…?” you muttered, trying to think back to before. “The only person around me at the time was Steve… Everyone else had left for the evening.”

“Steve? Are you sure?” Adrian gasped, a hand on his chest. “Why would Steve attack you? That’s high treason!”

“He wanted me to-” you started but then clammed up immediately when you remembered who you were with. Adrian furrowed a brow.

“What?”

“N-Nothing. It’s nothing,” you looked away. You stared at a bedside table in thought. You couldn’t expose Steve like that. 

“Well, this “nothing”? Did you want to do it?”

You flinched hard at the question.

“You didn’t, did you?”

“I… was conflicted-”

“Could that be why he attacked you?”

You fell quiet as you thought back to it. Steve did have to beg you to go with him and you were afraid of giving up everything you had worked hard for. Did he think you would change your mind and decided to take you by force?

“... I see…” Adrian sighed as he pushed himself up off the bed and turned to you with his hands on his hips. “Well, at least you are safe now. I wasn’t going to let him just drag you off like that.”

He shook his head before heading back to the table. 

“I’ll have to report it to Kikimora when she returns from her mission. For now, you’ll have to stay here until Steve is apprehended.”

“Here? Where is here?” you glanced around then toward the double doors as Adrian poured the substance in the teapot into two cups, one cup with something already at the bottom of it. He glanced back over his shoulder with a smile.

“You’re in my room, Captain,” he chuckled. 

“But… none of the rooms have that sort of door…” you motioned toward the double doors. 

Adrian moved to the door with a teacup in his hand and opened it. 

“Want to come see?”

Your curiosity got the better of you and you pushed yourself off of the bed and toward the doors. Stepping out on the balcony, your breath hitched at the sight of a massive labyrinth sprawled out before you. Adrian smirked at your reaction.

“This can’t be your room…”

“Oh, but it is.”

“This place is too big to be in the castle…”

“Darling, you’re speaking with a master Illusionist,” he offered you the cup. “Here, I had this brewed in case you were hurt. Shouldn’t harm you to still have it. It’s a blend Terra gave me.”

Glancing down at the cup, you carefully took it and looked down at the bright blue liquid. 

“That’s… a pretty color…”

“I know,” he picked up the second cup and took a sip. “It tastes just as heavenly. Try it…”

“I’m… not really into the kinds of things Coven Head Terra makes, but thank you…” you set the cup and saucer down. “And thankfully my head doesn’t hurt so I don’t need it.”

Adrian’s eyes darted to the tea cup as he lowered his cup then to you in a slight panic but then he cleared his throat.

“You know, Captain. I was thinking…” he sighed, leaning against the railing as he watched you look out over the labyrinth in wonder.

“Hm?”

“You’re so… pow…” he finished the rest of his sentence with a sound and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. He was doing it again. “Everytime I see you, it’s… mmmmm?… And I thought maybe… yeah.”

“Sir, I’ve told you I don’t understand anything you’re saying when you do that…” you raised a brow at him. 

“Ah… Yes, you have, haven’t you? Hm. Okay…” he clapped his hands together and took a deep inhale through his nose with his eyes closed. When they opened, he gave a wide smile. “Well, once the Day of Unity is over and all of this running around is done, I was wondering if you would like to make our outings official.”

“Official?” you blinked. “What do you mean? Our outings are official business.”

“Not that kind of official. You and I have been seeing a lot of missions together and I would like to know if you would be… hmm?” he glanced out over the landscape while clearing his throat. 

“Be what?”

Adrian stared at you with a dead-eyed stare.

“I was wondering if you would… be mine…”

Your entire being shuddered like a character in a Ghibli movie. 

“O-Oh… I see…” you murmured, rubbing your arm and avoiding eye contact. You knew sooner or later this was going to come up.

“Maybe it could be sooner than the Day of Unity. Maybe… now?” Adrian moved closer as he set his cup on the railing. “I’ve had my mind set on you for a while.”

With a calming breath, you turned to him.

“Sir, you are my superior. There’s a power imbalance-”

“Don’t give me that.”

The way he suddenly snapped took you aback. His eyes were now half-lidded and his arms were crossed. He gave you a once-over look before scoffing softly.

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“What?”

“You and that boy have been doing exactly that. You’ve just found loopholes to get around it,” he stepped toward you. “Your last outing gave me everything I need to know you don’t think it’s a big deal. You abuse that loophole when it comes to Steve, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh come now,” he rolled his eyes before his form poofed and suddenly Steve stood before you in his leather jacket, wearing the same expression Adrian had. Steve’s voice rang out as he continued to back you into the opposite railing. “All your little “impromptu” plans with a subordinate are still plans. That reasoning holds no water now.”

You stared in mounting horror upon realizing that you were with the wrong Steve the last time you met him. When you stumbled back, your palms landed on the opposite railing caught you and “Steve” leaned over you where he was inches away from your face, each of his hands covering yours. In another poof, Steve disappeared, replaced by Adrian who leaned in further, his voice growing dangerously soft.

“No!” your voice rang out, a tone of disobedience present. This caused Belos to pause and turn to you.

“No?” he repeated.

“I’m not…! I-I can’t do this anymore!” you stood your ground as he stepped toward you. “I don’t want to hurt anyone! Especially not the Owl Lady!”

“You are teetering on treasonous talk, Captain-!” Kikimora screeched behind Belos.

“I have this, Kikimora. Go prepare your guards for the mission. I will be removing Y/N from future missions until further notice. Take another captain in their place.”

"Wait, until further notice?!" you interjected but were ignored. "Y-You can't be serious! Sire!"

Kikimora hesitated but agreed. It took only a moment for her small frame to disappear through the darkened doorway and the door shut, isolating you with the emperor. Your attention went back to Belos who had not taken his eyes off of you with a disappointed scowl. His voice dripped with poison.

“Explain yourself.”

“I-I… Sire, the Owl Lady is not dangerous… I-I’ve met her. She helped me when I broke my leg while I was in training out on the Knee last year. There’s no reason to attack her! She can be reasoned with!” you tried to reason. “I-I’m beginning to think that wild magic isn’t as dangerous-”

Belos’ eyes flared with rage and his arm moved from under his cloak. Holding his hand out, your eyes widened at the sight of your heart appearing in his palm.

“Sire, no- Wait-!” you reached out for your heart before his grip tightened on it. 

Pain shot through your body, starting from your chest and flooding outward. You clutched the spot over where your heart should have been, gasping and grunting, your eyes staring hard into the floor as your knees buckle under you. Your chest burned horribly.

“S-Sire-!” you choked out. The hand holding you up moved to grasp the hem of Belos’ cloak. “P-Please!”

Belos glared down his nose at you and his hand tighten again, forcing a scream from your throat that echoed off the walls around you. The pain in your chest had become excruciating.  Belos remained silent as he watched you writhe.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m-!” you gasped. You could feel his grip enclose your heart at a steady pace as the fear of him actually killing you this time filled your head. “I-I’m sorry! Please! Make it stop! Forgive m-me, Sire!”

After what seemed like an eternity, his grip waned and your body collapsed onto the cold stone floor. You landed on your side, instinctively curling your body into a ball as you tried to ride out the final waves of pain. Tears streaked your face and you let out a choked sob. It was the only thing that you could do that didn’t cause you more pain.

“Hmph. I suggest you remember your place from here on out, Y/N. I will not tolerate insubordination.”

His footsteps departing with the door shutting and locking behind him was the last thing you remembered.

-----

When you finally came to, it wasn’t to a cold floor pressed against your cheek, but the sound of a heartbeat against your ear. Opening your eyes, you found yourself still in the war room but you were sitting upright. An arm with a gold gauntlet was draped over your legs with another around your waist. You were laying with your side against someone and something was resting against your head. Letting out a moan caused the arm around your legs to pull them closer and the other tightened, keeping you in place.

How long were you out this time?

“Shhhh, I’m here. You’re safe,” Belos’ voice rumbled in your ear through his chest. When you put all the pieces together, panic flooded you and you tore yourself away and forced yourself to your feet. Whirling around, you watched Emperor Belos stand from a sitting position against the wall, not a foot away from where you had ended up after the punishment. “Easy, easy.”

You found yourself out of breath as an aching arose all over your body. When he moved forward, you stumbled backward into a table, trying to catch your breath. You hit the table hard enough to knock over any standing objects. Your legs decided to give out again and your knees hit the stone floor once more, your hand clenching your chest. It was as if your body was remembering the trauma all over again. 

His hands ran over your head and his fingers hooked under your chin to pull you where you were looking up at him. They began to glow and the pain started to ease. Emperor Belos was kneeling before you, the enraged expression was gone, replaced by one of remorse. 

“Forgive me… I overreacted…” he whispered as he coaxed you closer to him. “I should have not allowed my past trauma to get the best of me… I’m sorry, Y/N… Please forgive me…”

Your eyes widened slightly in realization as all those times he mentioned wild magic destroying his family filled your mind. A pang of guilt rose in your chest. You caused him to lash out. Hesitantly, you brought your hand up and slipped your fingers between your cheek and his hand. The anger and fear you felt toward him drained.

“I’m sorry, Sire…” you pulled yourself closer to where you were sitting on your knees looking up at him near his inner thigh. “I did not mean to upset you that way…”

“She deceived you to get to me and I did exactly what she wanted and took it out on you. Mark my words, Captain, she’ll pay for this…” he murmured, his blue eyes gazing into yours with a sad, but determined expression. “This is why I tell you to be careful, just as I do with Hunter. Wild witches will do anything to sow chaos and turn us against one another.”

“I-I understand, Emperor Belos. I won’t be deceived again…” you nodded. Belos leaned down and set his forehead against yours.