literature

The Dagger Key ~ Pirate!England x Reader Part Two

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You awoke to the smell of meat cooking. The more you sniffed, the more the sweet scent of bacon filled your senses, and your stomach gave a low rumble.

“Bacon… bac—WOAAH!”

You yelped as you rolled over, falling out of your hammock in the process.

A child’s hysterical laughter caught you even more off-guard.

You lifted yourself onto your elbows and rubbed the swelling knot on your forehead. As your vision came into focus, you finally were able to get a good look the child. It was little boy with dirty-blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes you had ever seen. He wore a hand-sewn tunic and black slacks held securely with brown suspenders. His feet were bare and calloused, as were his hands. He seemed awfully young to be the cabin boy—and there was no way a pirate would allow his son to tag along for a voyage. Who in the world was he?

“You should’a seen yourself, mister! Your face went BAM!” He slapped his palms together, illustrating your recent tumble. “Like that! It was hilarious!”

You scowled at him.

“Yeah, a real riot, I am. You should see me when I’m drunk.”

You groaned, pushing yourself onto your feet.

“So what’s a kid like you doing on a pirate ship?” you asked, your voice strained as you stretched out your stiff muscles.

The boy flashed you an ear-to-ear smile; you couldn’t help but find it adorable—cheeky, but still adorable.

“The name’s Alfred Jones. I’m a friend of Mr. Kirkland’s.”

You raised a suspicious eyebrow.

“A friend? How does a little boy make ‘friends’ with a cutthroat pirate captain?”

“I’m not a little boy, mister!” Alfred declared with a frown. “I’m a hero of the high-seas boldly venturing where few men dare to tread! One day, I’ll be a captain myself, riding ship-by-ship with Mr. Kirk—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, get to the point, boy.”

He huffed, but complied.

“Mr. Kirkland rescued me. And that’s all I’m gonna tell ya!”

Alfred stuck his tongue out at you just before scampering towards the door to the sleeping quarters.

You scoffed with a grin.

“A heroic pirate? Heh. I’ll bet,” you said quietly to yourself.

“Oh, hey, mister!”

Alfred poked his head back through the doorway.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs. Better hurry up and get some before I eat it all! Hahaha!!”

You rolled your eyes, following the skipping Alfred out to the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, there ye be, mi—er, lad!”

You looked up to see Mickey standing before a smoking stove, prettying up a suckling pig by shoving a blood-red apple into its mouth. You cringed at the sight, though the apple did look rather delicious.

“’Morning, Mickey. The kid told me—”

“Alfred!” the boy spat, some bits of a biscuit flying from his lips.

“Whatever… Alfred,” you corrected with a disgruntled sigh, “told me breakfast is ready.”

Mickey laughed heartily as he sprinkled the pig with garnish.

“It is indeed!”

He lifted the silver platter harboring the suckling pig and set it onto a larger tray, upon which already sat some bread and butter, scones, and a couple of meat pies. Your stomach turned—who the hell would eat such a meal for breakfast?

“I have a job for you, cabin boy,” Mickey said, addressing you. “I want you to take the Captain his morning meal… eh… how do the French say it… s'il vous plait?”

You blinked. “Cabin boy? I thought the brat was the cabin boy.”

You dodged the biscuit Alfred threw at you.

Mickey chuckled, peeling some potatoes.

“New members have to work their way up the ladder, I’m afraid. Be grateful I gave ye the cushy job. Can’t say the same for the other louts we wrangled in. Poor sods have been below decks all morning cryin’ for their ma’s. Heh heh heh!”

You didn’t dare ask what their ‘job’ was, lest you brought some of that wrath of Mickey’s down upon yourself.

“So…” You stepped to the table where Captain Kirkland’s breakfast lay tauntingly before you. By God, that apple looked good… “Where is the Captain’s room?”

“Upper deck, stern-side, big black door with a fancy handle, can’t miss it,” Mickey rattled, his concentration focused on his potatoes.

You sighed, and after glancing longingly at the apple again, you lifted the rather hefty tray into your arms and made your way up the stairs. The morning sun burned your skin as you emerged; beads of sweat already started to accumulate on your skin. You wanted desperately to remove your coat, but doing so would risk revealing your secrets to the crew—a risk you could not afford to take. You may have impressed Mickey, but by the looks of the others—especially the Captain—they were probably far less forgiving and a hell of a lot more superstitious.

At last you spied the door to Captain Kirkland’s quarters. A strange anxiety made itself known in your chest. The Captain fascinated you, to be sure, but you were baffled as to why you were quickly becoming so restless. Maybe it was just the heat that was agitating you so, you reasoned. You shrugged your feelings away and balanced the tray between your waist and the door. You knocked three times and called the Captain’s name.

“Sir, I have brought your breakfast!”

A few moments of awkward silence later, the door opened with an aching creak, revealing a disheveled Captain Kirkland standing tall within the frame.

“Oh, the new cabin boy. Had I known one of our newest members would be coming to serve me, I would have made myself more decent,” he smirked, running a hand through his unkempt blonde locks.

Heat tingled in your cheeks as you beheld the Captain’s long, lean body. He was clothed in a loose, unbuttoned black tunic which revealed his pale, toned torso. Tight black pants surrounded his thin legs, held at his waist by a leather belt adorned with shimmering silver studs. His knee-high boots were untied, the straps lolling lazily on the floor. As much as you wanted to tell him there was absolutely no need to apologize for his appearance, you pinched your mouth shut and bowed your head.

“Ah… Erm… Wh-where might I leave your meal, sir?” you stuttered, desperate to change the subject.

Captain Kirkland yawned and scratched his stomach—that perfect… smooth… tantalizing stomach…

“Put it over there,” he said, pointing to the candlelit table on the far left of the room.

You nodded respectfully, trying not to stare any longer at his godlike body. Instead, you focused on the apple still nestled within the pig mouth. It was then that your stomach tightened with a malnourished growl. No sooner had you set down the tray, your palms flew to your belly in a futile attempt to stifle the audible rumblings. Maybe… He wouldn’t miss just one apple… Would he?

You peered over your shoulder to see what Kirkland was doing. His back was turned to you; he was busy dressing himself in his captain’s attire and humming to himself. You whipped your gaze back to the apple, swiftly slipping it out of the pig’s mouth and into your inner breast pocket.

“Oh, cabin boy?”

Every nerve ending in your body stiffened.

“Y-yes sir?”

Kirkland laughed casually as he elegantly adjusted the black glove he had slipped onto his hand.

“There is no need to be so tense, old chap. You can relax in my presence, so long as you are mindful of your station.”

There was no possible way you could make yourself fully relax, but you managed a grateful smile.

“You are too kind, Captain. Thank you.”

He tilted his head, staring at you with an indiscernible interest. The scrutiny was quite unsettling to you, and you could no longer stop yourself from addressing his rudeness.

“Is something the matter, sir?” you said, hoping your voice had not sounded as shaky to him as it had to you.

He grinned in response and moved closer to you.

“I’m simply curious as to what made Mickey grow so fond of you so quickly. He seemed rather protective of you when he submitted your name for cabin boy duties as opposed to working below decks with the other recruits.”

He was so close now; so close, you could feel an electric tension build within the sparse space between your body and his.

“What is it about you that he found so fascinating?” His voice was a low whisper.

You gulped, thinking of a quick reply.

“I simply dazzled him with my spectacular wits. Nothing more,” you chuckled, though your shot at humor seemed to bypass Kirkland’s funny bone entirely.

His eyes studied you as if he were reading a mystery novel—attentive to every detail in hopes of catching the culprit long before the conclusion.

Oh God… you thought in a panic. He’s going to find out!

You moved cover yourself, but Kirkland’s hand bolted like lightning to your wrist and held it out of his way.

“S-sir!? What are you…”

“I believe you are hiding something from me.”

Your breath froze in your lungs. He knew… He must have known. His eyes were trained on your chest like a hawk ready to swoop in and snatch its prey.

His hands gripped your coat and jerked it open, making a fearful gasp burst from your throat. He reached for…

…your pocket, pulling out the apple.

Your heart pounded wildly as he brought the apple to his lips, which curled into a sinister smirk.

“You know… I could have you thrown overboard for this,” he said just before taking a bite of the sweet, juicy fruit.

You took a few breaths, gathering the nerves you had lost in your panic.

“Forgive me, sir. I haven’t had anything to eat yet, and I was… well…”

He took another loud, meaningful bite, making you wish you could give him a reason to wear an eye-patch. Once he was finished chewing, he said, “Then I suggest you head back down to the kitchen and find whatever is left over. My little Alfred has the appetite of a boar, you see.”

You straightened yourself out, and muttered a begrudged, “Yes sir. Enjoy your breakfast.”

“I shall, indeed.”

You exited the room, and the moment you shut the door you expressed your fury in the only way you could get away with—shoving your middle finger into the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The evening air was crisp and cool. You leaned against the wooden railing along the port side, staring out at the endless expanse of midnight-colored water. The moon was nearly full, and cast a gentle glow down upon the ship. You located the North Star, and from there followed along each of the constellations. You silently named them off as your eyes flicked across the sky, memories of your mother filling your mind as you did so. She had been dead only a few weeks, but it was already becoming difficult to recall the sound of her voice or the warmth of her touch.

You sighed through your nose, reaching for your dagger. The moonlight glinted off the sharp, silver blade as you rotated it between your fingers. The hilt was made of strong steel protected by a lacquer coating. A red line of symbols was intricately etched into the lacquer; your mother never told you what the symbols meant, nor their language of origin—you supposed they were Chinese characters, for lack of a better guess. You ran the tip of your finger along the carvings, your mother’s final words playing once again in your head:

“Find the trove… The dagger knows the way… Follow it… and finish what I could not.”

What the hell were you talking about? You inwardly asked, beseeching the heavens for any sort of answer.

“You look troubled, missy.”

You scoffed, returning the dagger to your coat.

“You really need to stop calling me that, Mickey. There are blood-thirsty pirates within earshot, you know?”

Mickey laughed as he took a swig of whiskey.

“Ah, they’re all too worn out from the day to even realize that they can still hear.” He leaned on the rail next to you. “So, I hear your meeting with Cap went swimmingly, huh? Hahaha!!”

You frowned.

“I thought he was going to… find out. Ugh, I was certain I would die right then and there…” you groaned while resting your forehead in your hands.

“Ha! Oh, young missy, ye tread a thin thread with that one, ye do.”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye.

“What do you mean?”

“Cap is… very particular about people. It be nigh impossible to earn his respect, and an act of God to earn his trust.” He took another swig. “Even I cannot tell ye what he would do if he were to discover your true identity.”

You sighed. “Well, that was certainly comforting…”

Mickey playfully nudged your shoulder with his armless stump and held out the bottle of whiskey, which you gladly accepted.

“ALL HANDS ON DECK!!! ENEMY SHIPS APPROACHING ON THE STARBOARD!!”

You spit out the gulp of liquor that had passed through your lips and set down the bottle. The lookout up in the crow’s nest was frantically waving his arms and yelling for the canons to be readied. Just beyond the masts, you could see small black specks creeping ever closer across the glossy surface.

“What do I do?” you urged, looking to Mickey.

With an angry hiss, he ripped his sword from its scabbard and defiantly held it to the skies.

“Ready your sword arm and go find the Cap!” A hint of excitement flashed in his steely eyes. “This is gonna get messy…”

~TO BE CONTINUED~
Here is part two, my kittens!! :D Just a few updates on this series:

The plot is rough, and more and more ideas keep flying at me. Lol. XD I'm going to shoot for at least 10 parts, but at this rate, it most likely will be longer. But I will tell you this... There will be a delicious lemon coming very soon! ;) Now, the lemon will be part of the story, so I urge those of you who can (aged 18+) to read it. If you cannot/don't like, I will provide the part following the lemon with a brief summary of the events surrounding your little tryst. With that said, I hope you enjoy/enjoyed part two! :D

Link to Part One: princess-notte.deviantart.com/...

Hetalia and it's characters belong to :iconhimaruyaplz:

You belong to :iconsexyenglandplz:

The Dagger Key story belongs to my little self. XD
© 2013 - 2024 Princess-Notte
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Saroona0410's avatar
You exited the room, and the moment you shut the door you expressed your fury in the only way you could get away with—shoving your middle finger into the air.

BRUH, whenever some bitch in ma school walks up to me and makes fun of me anyway, I kick her ass and make her cry, flip the bird, then run to the counselor and lie until she believes I was the one beaten up.