Mutinous Affairs [Pirate!Spain x Reader]

The man and young woman sit side by side on the creaky wooden bench. They are close to one another; the kind of close that exhibits the desire to be even closer, yet neither wish to risk it. The moon is high and the sea is calm. The ship rocks amongst the waves like a baby in a cradle, and not a sound can be heard.

The man gazes calmly at the dark expanse of sea that spreads out from under the ship like a velvet handkerchief of rippling waves. His green eyes are fixated on the even darker horizon that disappears softly into the water; it is still an hour or so before the sun replaces the moon’s gentle light. His lips are pursed, as if words are being held back, and every so often he adjusts the red coat around him. His brown hair is almost entirely concealed beneath a similarly colored hat, making him look as if he is decked in blood.

The young woman stares at her hands. Her (e/c) eyes do not move from her pale, calloused fingers. The messy, carefree wave of (h/c) hair obscures much of her face, for her head is bowed down slightly. Her attire is made entirely of black, so it is almost like she was cut straight from the obsidian sky above her—minus the glittering bits of stars, of course.

Though the night is clear, the atmosphere clinging to the two is as cloudy as a storm sent straight from the devil.

After what seems to be an eternity, the young woman at last speaks.

“...you’re a fool, Antonio.”

Her voice is soft; seemingly indifferent. Yet it is layered with levels of contrition and acceptance, remorse and compliance.

The man called Antonio allows himself one syllable of a chuckle—a bitter one at that.

“Sí. I know, mi amor. I know.”

His accent is sensual, a voice from the country of Spain. Yet it is filled with the same emotions as the girl’s, despite the overtone of defiance.

There is another moment of silence.

Until:

“Things would have never come to this if you hadn’t been as arrogant as you were. He will exact his revenge. You know that as well as I do. And...if I didn’t have a duty to my captain...”

She turns her gaze to him at last, (e/c) eyes locking with bright green ones, and one rough yet slender hand grasps his equally scarred one. “If I didn’t have a duty to my captain, I would do everything in my power to ensure this doesn’t come to fruition. But...” A smile curls its way up her salt-dappled lips, and it is not a gleeful one. “That isn’t the case, is it? I must remain loyal to my captain. I am a pirate, after all. Just like you. Treason is of the highest crimes...and I will not allow myself to have that stain on my already black heart.”

Antonio simply slides his free arm around her waist and pulls her as close as is physically possible. He says nothing, opting instead for resting his face in her dirty, salty, yet absolutely lovely mess of (h/c) hair. He breathes in and out, his hand squeezing hers, wondering what it would be like if a tsunami decided to crash down on the two of them at that moment.

“I have already asked so much from you as it is, mi querida (name). I won’t be so selfish as to ask you to do that.”

(Name) shakes her head and closes her eyes, allowing herself to lean against his chest and enjoy the false security of peace the fleeting moment gives her. “I know you wouldn’t,” she murmurs. “Yet there’s the part of me that wishes you would...so that I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.”

“To feel guilt is to be human,” Antonio responds in a simple manner. “Whether you are a pirate or not. Mira,” he nods ahead to the black sea and sky that spreads out in front of them. Where the night meets the ocean, there is an almost imperceptible dot. Both know immediately what it is; there was no need for a spyglass.

“He’s almost here,” (Name) says quietly, (e/c) eyes now fixated on the faraway dot. “It didn’t take him very long, did it? Then again...you didn’t exactly hide your trail.” She turns and gives Antonio an accusatory look, though it is one that comes with exhaustion rather than spite.

Antonio manages another laugh. “De veras? You noticed?”

“Yes...I did,” she sighs.

Another moment of silence.

The air could have been sliced through with Antonio’s precious rapier.

“...Toni.” (Name’s) voice cuts through the heavy miasma even stronger than his blade could have. “Tell me the truth. Tell me exactly why you didn’t kill me the moment you realized I had come aboard.”

“You already know why, amor.” Antonio’s fingers are on her chin now, tilting her face up so that he can gaze at her in the gentle yet almost sickly light of the moon. If he did not know her better, he would have perceived the two droplets of water at the corners of her eyes were irritation from a salty spray of seawater.

He knew her better, however.

Antonio smiles softly and lowers his face so that their foreheads brush against one another.

“Te adoro.”

His lips press against her forehead.

“Te quiero.”

The tip of her nose.

“Te amo.”

And finally, her mouth.

(Name) could not resist but to respond back. She throws herself into the kiss as if she were tossing herself into the sea. Her arms wrap around his torso tightly, as if he were her lifeline. Her lips dance a tango against his own, desperate. It is the one thing that breaks through her stone wall, and she cannot help the fine droplets of ocean water that come from her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

“I love you too, Antonio,” she manages to get out against his mouth. “Damn it all, I love you...” There is gunpowder on her lips, judging by how much friction the kiss is causing. “Arthur be hanged; if you had been my captain, everything would have been so different...oh, Antonio, forgive me...forgive me...”

It takes everything in the Spaniard to pull away from her lips after what feels like an entire lifetime. Once he does, he gingerly brushes away the saltwater tear from her cheek with his thumb. Not a word passes between them—no, everything has already been said.

Now all the two pirates—the girl pirate, under the command of Captain Arthur Kirkland, and the man known as Captain Antonio Carriedo, Kirkland’s sworn enemy in all the seven seas—can do is hold one another in the silence of the night and rock together with the swaying of the ship as they await the dawn.

Come dawn, (name) and Antonio would part for the last time.

---

The ship is completely calm. The crew obediently stand on the deck, weapons nowhere to be seen. There is another ship right against the hull, a board connecting the two massive vessels. On the other ship is a crew equally as motionless as the one Antonio Carriedo is standing before. At his side is another man; a man with scruffy blonde hair hidden by an even redder hat, and eyes a shade of green that reminds the Spaniard of poison. Arthur Kirkland’s face is a mask, betraying nothing, and his hand rests calmly on the hilt of his cutlass in its scabbard, concealed slightly by the crimson coat he wears. The other side of his hip is adorned with a pistol, safely kept in its belt pocket.

In the midst of the two pirate captains is (name), whose (e/c) eyes are as indifferent as a blade. She looks not at the Spaniard, nor at the British pirate who is her rightful captain. Instead she gazes on, eyes on the slightly rough waters that surround them, paying no heed to the conversation going on between the two male pirates.

“I’m a fair man,” Arthur is saying, his thick British tone obscuring the words somewhat. “I’ll thank ye for takin’ care of the lass, (name). Though I won’t ignore th’ fact that you failed to return her t’ me immediately, Antonio. Also...” His venomous gaze flickers to (name), and her flinch is barely noticeable. “I won’t ignore th’ fact that the lass failed t’ dispose of you when I asked her to.”

Antonio smiles courteously, inclining his head somewhat. “Ah, lo siento, Arturo. I’m afraid I was...enjoying myself a bit too much, with her presence and all. Your (name) certainly is a very charming chica.”

Arthur is not amused by the cheeky words.

“Well, now...you’ve taken something of mine, so it be only natural I take something of yers. Aye? It’s pirate conduct, after all.”

The Spanish pirate captain simply nods. “Sí. I am an honorable hombre. I know. However, I have one request, if you may.”

Arthur raises a blonde eyebrow. “Aye?”

“Make it clean.” Antonio’s voice is clear and loud, and his crew stands to attention even more so. “Make sure my crew gets to the next port. And most importantly...” His eyes land on (name), who is still gazing at the expansive ocean as if no one but she is present.

“...protect (name).”

At those words, (name) finally turns around, staring at both Antonio and Arthur with fire in her eyes. She says nothing, but the flames in her gaze hold all the words that would have been said.

The next moments happen in a flash; yet it also feels as if it is eons upon eons.

Arthur’s calm, seemingly heedless demeanor changes instantly. His face twists into a mask of vicious rage, and his hand is on the pistol before anyone can move. He pulls it out, cocks it, and points it straight at Antonio’s head.

Bang.

Antonio falls to the deck.

Scarlet petals bloom beneath him, even a darker red than his coat.

(Name) remains motionless, even when the pistol points to her next.

Bang.

The girl falls to the deck as well. Perhaps it is fate, or perhaps it is just some cruel trick of gravity; she is slumped against the Spaniard’s corpse, her own garden of crimson rapidly joining with his.

The acrid scent of gunpowder and smoke fill the air. Not a man moves. Antonio’s crew merely stare at their fallen captain, while Arthur’s stare at their own. Finally, Arthur raises his hand and waggles his fingers, ushering two of his men to come forward. He says something to them quietly, and they nod.

It is only when the two bodies on the deck are covered with a thick sheet normally used to prepare the sail that there is a voice.

It is Arthur’s.

“Carriedo’s crew...you will take what little belongins’ you can carry an’ join my own. At th’ next port, you can decide on either joinin’ me permanently or not. Leave the bodies here on the ship; the three of ‘em can rot together.”

The crew immediately springs into action, rushing this way and that, avoiding the body-shaped bulges beneath the sheet. The ruby puddle has already began to blush through the white sheet, and it still continues to spread out onto the damp deck, sinking into the wood to forever stain it.

Many pairs of eyes linger on them for only a moment, before hurrying along.

They were pirates.

They knew when to obey their new captain.

Arthur Kirkland watches it all with an air of grim satisfaction. He turns around slowly, intending to board his own ship and quickly sail away from this abomination. However, a hand rests on his shoulder for just a moment, and he turns his head to see none other than one of his crew members. It is a young man whose name Arthur can’t exactly recall, but he definitely knows the boy has always done his work in an orderly fashion—just the way he likes it.

“‘Cuse me, Cap’n Kirkland,” the boy says submissively. “If ye don’t mind me asking...why’d ye shoot Miss (name)? If I recall, yer quite...fond of the bloody good job she did navigatin’ an’ all that.”

“It’s simple,” Arthur shrugs, tilting his hat forward so that the sun’s rays would not bother his eyes. “(Name) was given a very simple job. To kill tha’ lily-livered Spaniard. She failed, an’ instead the lass allowed herself to succumb to his charms. That’s mutiny in me eyes, boy. An’ I don’t take too kindly to mutiny.”

“But...she was—"

“A woman?” The British pirate captain scoffs as his boots step onto the familiar deck of his own ship, and he gives the man a look that tells the crew member he is an idiot. “Nay, son. The moment lil’ Miss (name) signed onto me ship, she became a pirate before a woman. I am an honorable pirate; my punishments don’t exclude my crew members, even if they be of the female sex.”

The boy looks puzzled yet. “But...that doesn’t explain why you did it. The Spaniard made you promise to protect (name).”

“Aye. He did.”

Arthur at last looks up at the bright, blue sky; a sky too colorful for what had just occurred.

“...an’ I did protect the lass. Endin’ her life was a kindness. She would’ve gone mad without that wanker. I protected her from what would’ve come, is all.”

A chuckle escapes his lips, and his shoulders slump for just a moment.

“It was a shame. She was one of my best navigators, too. An’ her skill with a blade...” He trails off, meeting the young man’s eyes for a moment. “If there’s one thing y’ learn in life, boy, it’s this: treason is th’ most offensive crime t’ a pirate. And these mutinous affairs that happen on the high seas?”

His fingers caress the pistol at his side; a churlish gesture filled with hidden regret and pain.

“They be the most offensive crime of ‘em all.”