#Delgado x Reader

[spookyspecterino]

New You

Sam Coe x GN! Reader x Delgado

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used. Reader is called Rook a few times, like in some Crimson Fleet quests.

Some angst. A lot of explicit language. Implied sexual relationships. Pining for a criminal. Poor Sam. Sam is supportive but worried. Delgado is a warning all by himself.

You're there to watch as the pirates you've worked beside for months are taken to prison. They have a few things they'd like to say.

This is about the Crimson Fleet Undercover plot.

I just started the questline. I have no idea how it ends of if anything along these lines even happens. My brain literally bullied me into writing it 😭 I stopped everything to write this lmao.

I really love the theme of going undercover, assimilating, and then having to deal with who you've become and how you've changed after everything. So there's some of that in here.

“You sure you wanna be here for this?”

“I have to see it through, Sam. After months of being undercover, it wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.”

He grunts softly. “Alright. Just prepare yourself for pirates to be, well, pirates.”

Doors open on the other side of the transport deck. A squad of UC security and Naval troops, all decked out to the nines, file in, holding mean looking rifles.

The sounds of trouble already echo through the open door.

“Ya fuckin’ bastards! Let me go, I didn’t do jack shit!” A mane of red-brown hair comes in the doorway first as Mathis is quite literally shoved through. It was no surprise that he’s giving everyone trouble.

It doesn’t take much time for him to notice you standing to the side. “You!” He snarls. “I’m gonna put a bullet through your head if it’s the last thing I ever do!”

The laugh that comes out of you is rough, full of vile, and cruel delight. “Shut the hell up, Mathis. The last thing you’ll ever do is rot in a two-by-four cell. I hope they make it cold just for you!”

Mathis screams more explicit insults, most geared toward your mother. The guards fight and yank at the man, rifles raised. Still, they manage to subdue him, robbing you of a chance to put Mathis down yourself. You’re laughing until he’s well past the other doorway and out of sight, you hoped he could hear it from down the hall.

“Seems like a real winner. Good friend of yours?” Sam asks, studying you.

“Fuck no. Hated that asshole from the moment he opened his mouth, to be perfectly honest. I’m going to sleep well knowing he’s going through his worst nightmare.”

Sam’s face pinches together, you only catch a glimpse of it from the corner of your eye. His mouth twists, as if he has more than just, “Ah, I see.”

“Have something you wanna say?” The response is snappy, challenging, automatic—something you had to adopt in the midst of pirates, and you regret it immediately. “I…I didn’t mean that…” You sigh, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“It’s alright. I get it. Just try to remember you’re not a pirate anymore.”

“Yeah...I’m working on it.”

His eyes linger. You can feel his thoughtful gaze. It makes you itch.

Pirate life was at least simplistic. Somebody had a problem? You’d know about it immediately. A short knife fight or a brawl and it’d be over. Done.

Being around Sam again was…well it would take an adjustment period.

Months of pirate life, a life you’d adapted to very quickly, and you’re spit back out into civilization on the other side. There was no guidance on how to go back to “everyday life”—on how to shed this new person you’d become.

It’s infuriating. Everyone expects you to pick back up from where you left off…but you can’t. You’re not the same person anymore. Sometimes you wake up and think you’re still on the Key.

Sometimes you wish you were still on the Key.

“I can see you thinking behind that wall of silence.” Sam gently says. His voice sounds so loud on the empty transport deck. “Just know that I’m here for you—always will be. You wanna talk about what happened during those months, you can come to me, judgement free. Promise.”

When you don’t respond, Sam chuckles. “You’re always so quiet now—which is fine,” he’s quick to add, “I just want to help.”

“Yeah…thanks.” Is all you can manage as the transport deck’s doors open again and more armed personnel file through.

Naeva is silent, head held high…until she catches sight of you.

“Oh, it’s on when I get out of here, Rook!” She spits through her teeth, trying to lunge for you. The guards stop her, pull her back into line, but her body remains tense.

“Looking forward to it, Naeva.” A cruel grin breaks free. “You know, I never killed that other Rook you sent me after. Austin Rake. He’s at some Starport, drinking for free right now.”

“You fucking traitor! You’d better be looking over your shoulder for the rest of your damn life! ‘Cause when you don’t, I’ll be there to put a knife through your back!”

“We’ll see about that. I’m sure you’ll get a knife through yours first. Delgado probably isn’t happy that it was your recruit who brought his empire down around him.”

She grins, something dangerous lurks in her expression. “Oh, I’m sure Delgado has some plans for you, Rook. After everything, I can’t imagine how you’re gonna look him in the eyes.” They’re nearing the other doors, Naeva’s trying to twist back to face you, fighting the pushing and pulling of her security escort. “You know he trusted you. Honest to God. Have fun living with that for the rest of your life, traitor!”

Her words hit a nerve. You were very careful not to let it show. Still…it hurt.

As the doors close, Sam turns to face you. “Listen, why don’t we just go? This isn’t healthy.”

“Not really focused on whether it’s healthy or not.”

“That’s part of my point. You have to get away from this stuff, away from the Fleet. This whole thing is just going to give you more to think about and keep you awake at night.”

Lashing out and snapping back a retort is what you want to do. But instead, you take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

His voice turns soft, pleading. “Don’t go silent again. Please, talk to me.”

“Sam,” you start, very carefully, “I need this. This is my closure.”

“Are you sure?” His blue eyes were soft, full of worry.

More questions—and feelings. It agitated you. Made you grind your teeth together. “I’m sure.”

He looks away, frowning. He’d probably bring it up again, but future you would have to deal with that. Right now, you were more focused on—

Doors slid open. Your heart skips with that familiar flutter while a hard knot forms in your stomach.

Delgado walks, freely, without any guards touching him, through the doorway. He’s given space and walks leisurely as if he owns the Vanguard. There’s no hassling, there’s no pushing.

You’re expecting the worst—or for him not even to look at you. Instead, he holds your stare with a faint smile. “Hold up.” And the guards around him actually stop.

You know that look in his eyes, you’ve seen it a hundred times, your feet move without any command or thought.

Delgado. Leader of the Crimson Fleet. Even if you tried, you couldn’t spare him.

He steps away from the security unit. One last private meeting with the man who owned you, heart and soul, for the last few months.

“I was wondering whether I’d see you here.”

Why are you smiling? “Couldn’t resist the urge to tell Mathis one last time to go fuck himself.”

He chuckles. It sends your nerves out of whack. “I’m very impressed by you. Playing the part that well…” he tilts his head, a secretive smile just for the two of you catches at his lips. “…certainly had me fooled.”

Late nights in dim lighting. Cigarette smoke. Legs tangled up in sheets. Whispers. Rare laughter. It floods back, threatening to break your tough façade.

“Tell me, mi tesoro, are you prepared to go back to the life of normalcy? With your,” He leans over, looking Sam up and down with open distaste, who stands further back—arms crossed and glaring, “little Vaquero?”

“I’m working on it.”

Delgado barks out a laugh. “I know this person you are now. You’ll never be satisfied again.” There’s a teasing glint in his eye that you’re stubbornly avoiding.

“My life before the Fleet was just as exciting and satisfying.”

He hums, his smile turning darker. “I doubt that very much. There isn’t anything so thrilling as robbing a GalBank transport and returning home to celebrate with drinks and…” He pauses, eyes scanning you. “Well, that last part is just between you and me, eh?” His eyes flickered to Sam, then back. “Can he give you that?”

You chuckle, it’s forced. “Delgado. Jealous to a fault. Some things never change.”

“You know he can’t.”

“He can give me something else. Happiness. Security. Maybe even be a life-long partner.”

“And I couldn’t? You insult me, my dear. I would have given you everything.”

“Just as long as you had what you wanted first.”

He holds up a finger. “We obviously know one another very well. So, I offer you this. If you ever get tired of playing nice in a universe that is anything but, you know where to find me.”

“You’re serious?” Your voice lowers to a hiss. “And what, break you out of high security prison just for you to kill me? No thanks.”

“On my word, all debts and grievances would be squared. Think of it. I’d have you by my side—we could build something better than the Fleet ever was. Be free of the UC, the Rangers, everything. Like we always talked about.”

A guard behind him starts walking over. “Alright, time’s up. Let’s go.”

You’re frowning, eyes flickering anywhere but his. “You’re insane.”

Delgado’s expression turns. The light fading from his eyes. “You’ve never been satisfied. It’s something I really like about you.”

He lets the guard corral him back to the others. Your fists are tightly gripped. “The person you knew was undercover.”

“Tell yourself whatever makes you feel better.”

As he’s escorted away, you want to follow. Your legs tense, trying to keep still. His parting words before he passes through the door are, “I’ll be seeing you.”

Then he’s gone. The transport deck feels emptier than it ever has been.

Never satisfied. A life of normalcy. Going back to surveying planets and doing odd jobs for the Rangers. The idea claws at you. Your mind battles with the concept, with the unspoken feelings. Remnants of your past self against whoever you are now.

We could build something better than the Fleet ever was.

You know where to find me.

Sam walks up, standing by your side. Watching. You hadn’t moved. Still staring at the closed doors.

“What did he mean, ‘I’ll be seeing you’?”

The lie is easy. “No idea.”

[bearlytolerant]

This is a little fic as a thank you to @fangbangerghoul for drawing one of my fave ocs. I do hope you enjoy this final version. ☺️

Fandom: Starfield

Rating: E

Pairing: Delgado x Reader

Word Count: 3825

AO3 Link

“Ah, the dread pirate Captain Delgado of the Crimson Fleet,” you say in your distorted voice. You bow with a flourish. “I never would have thought you’d leave your throne on the Key and grace me with your presence.”

“Cut the theatrics,” Delgado spits. “You are outnumbered.”

You take one step back and lower your hands to your side, knives still gripped tight, giving a slight nod. “I only wish to negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” An understanding passes between the two of you. Delgado lowers his gun. “What is there to negotiate?”

Holding up two of your gloved fingers you gesture to him after sheathing your knives. “Leave the others and come with me. Surely, there is a favorable bargain we can strike?”

“There is no bargain!” Mathis Castillo sidles up alongside Delgado as if he has any say at all in the matter.

“Shut up so I can think!” Delgado gives him a shove back which earns a nasty little glare from the bearded rook.

���There’s nothing to think about,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes that he can’t see. “It’s a simple bargain.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing is simple with you.”

“I promise it will be quick and I know we can work something out that leaves us both walking away with what we want.”

You watch as Mathis whispers something into Delgado’s ear. Delgado scowls.

“Fine. But if you try anything—”

“Yes, yes you’ll blow my head off, etc.” You gesture for him to follow you with the curl of your finger. “I’ll keep this civil. I promise.”

He takes a step forward and you turn, heading toward the outpost.

Delgado treks after you, the eyes of his merry crew now at your back and you half wonder if they’ll go against his wishes and shoot you dead. After all, they’ve killed for less. But you make it to the door unscathed and smash the hatch button. Together you step inside. Hitting the next one on the wall inside, the door starts to close behind you. But before it gives one last hiss to lock in place, Delgado tugs on your suit, hooking his fingers under your helmet.

You assist. Yanking yourself free of the helm, it hangs loosely on your fingertips as Delgado’s lips trail along your chin. Nibble at your neck. There’s still a small mark left from the last time you saw him.

“I don’t know why we have to make this so dramatic,” you say.

His kisses still and he withdraws. “If you’re going to complain, I can simply turn right back around and leave.”

“I’m sure your empty threats work well on your crew but they won’t work on me.”

“Dios mío.” He shakes his head in exasperation as you smirk but he grabs your helmet out of your hand and shoves it back onto your head. He turns tail and hits the hatch button. Inner door shuts and outer door opens.

“Wait,” you call. But he ignores you, taking a step into the open air.

“Load up the cargo!” He barks at his crew. “It’s a no deal!”

Anger wells within you. Does he really think he can just walk away? But as you follow after him and reach for Delgado’s hand, there’s an explosion and chaos ensues. Screaming and gunfire. Almost black smoke unfurls like a hand delivering a smite in the dusty sky. He glances back at you and you nod your head. Though, a part of you wants the other pirates to steer their own fate while you remain uninvolved.

Heading further out of the hatch together, you get a better view of what’s going on. Spacers, usually highly unorganized, spill from all corners. They must have set an ambush. Each of Del’s crew is aiming at a spacer but the fleet only has half their numbers.

“We could flank them,” he says turning back to you.

“I’ll take left.”

He gives a curt nod and you split, going in opposite directions. You flip the switch that makes your suit reflective and more difficult to see. You scan the area, searching for a spot to climb up the outpost for a better look. There's a boulder not too far away that if you sprint over to, and use your boost just a bit, you should be able to reach the top. It will be high enough ground.

You take off running. There’s another explosion behind you. But you don’t look. Your eyes stay focused straight ahead. Too focused. Halfway to the boulder, pain shoots up your right leg and you glance down to see the tear in your pants and the blood pooling and dripping in rivulets that splash to the ground. You stumble and the spacer strikes again. This time you grab their wrist, keeping their blade away from your throat. But they deliver a well placed kick to the knee. There’s a loud crack. A bloodcurdling scream. Yours? Like fire and ice in your veins, the pain oscillates between an unbearable burn and a tingling numbness. Your head swims. Clenching your teeth, you touch your forehead, attempting to hang on to reality.

“My, my, if it isn’t The Mantis! And everybody loves to talk you up! You’re no superhero and when I’m done with you, everyone will see the ordinary human you are,” the spacer taunts.

They topple you, taking the advantage. Your head hits the dirt with a blow to the face.

Everything fades to black.

—

Your body jostles. Swims. Like static, your eyes open to gray and flecks of white. Something is buzzing in your ear. You try to lift your hand to swat it away. The thing moves and speaks to you. No, not a thing. But someone? You throw all of your energy (which is minuscule) into seeing and listening. Slowly but surely, your vision clears and you can make out Delgado’s form. His lips are moving but you can’t quite understand what he’s saying.

“Huh?” You manage to rasp between dry, cracked lips.

“It’s about goddam time.” His voice is clear as day now.

Your vision adjusts to your surroundings. You blink, capturing details. Scattered trees with canopy branches along a patchy grass landscape and copious amounts of rocks, you see the small, simple outpost situated between the circle of dirt you’re laying in. Everything comes back to you. A contraband interference gone awry when spacers ambushed. There’s still a little smoke in the air and you realize now that the dirt is littered with spacer bodies. So, Delgado’s fleet survived.

You palm the ground beneath you. Curling your fingers, you try to move but you wince in pain as your head starts to throb.

“Take it slowly,” Delgado coaxes and he offers his hand. “Let me assist.”

Still a bit dazed, you take his hand and he helps you to your feet. You wobble and he stabilizes you. But pain sends a shock through you. Nearly crumbling, you let out a small broken sound. Delgado wraps one arm around your waist while throwing one of yours up and around so your hand dangles over his other shoulder bearing most of your weight for you.

“I can do this myself, you know.”

“Have you seen the condition you're in?”

“Not exactly but I’m sure—”

Delgado removes your arm and takes a singular step away. You crumple to the ground. More pain rips through you like a wildfire. Air whistles between your teeth as you suck in a breath.

“You’re an asshole!”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Well, let me see it. Show me how you can walk all by yourself.”

You glare up at him, the tingling fire spreading throughout your body again as you try to stand. “Not even going to lend me a hand?” You ask in a muttered breath.

“No. Unlike you, I actually listen. You said you can walk on your own. So, cut the crap and get up. Let me see you walk.”

Gritting your teeth together, you try to get on your hands and knees. But your one right knee reminds you that you’re in no shape to kneel or stand. Something is broken. You roll and flop onto your back, barely holding back tears. Delgado’s brow flies up as he stands over you, throwing you a patronizing look.

You struggle with the pain in your leg as you lie there staring into the sky. It sizzles through your veins like an internal burn. “Fuck,” you mutter, unable to admit Delgado is right.

He scoops you up in his arms, no longer willing to argue with you.

“Do not worry. I won’t tell a soul that The Mantis needed to be carried.”

“Did I mention that you are an asshole?”

Your body jostles as he shuffles back over to the lab outpost hatch.

“Come now. That is harsh. Would an asshole carry you? You should be thanking me. Not throwing insults.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s at the hatch now, smacking the button with his gloved hand and you both wait in silence while the door hisses open. He hits the next button. The outer door closes and he steps into the first room of the abandoned science outpost. It’s all sterilized white walls, occasionally decorated with hazard posters and whiteboards with notes scrawled across them. Some formulas, but mostly notes the scientists left for each other. A vote for movie night draws your eye and you briefly read through the titles. You silently cast your own vote as Delgado continues waltzing through the room. You spot a med kit hanging on the wall beside the door leading into the next room. He rests you against the wall underneath the kit.

Pulling up your pant leg, you check the condition you’re in. You’ve been through worse. But your knee is swollen with a bruise at the center like a fresh picked bouquet of violets.

Delgado sits back on his haunches and administers a trauma pack. The pain ebbs away as you rest your head on the cool wall. Then he rips open the package of an immobilizer with his teeth. He immediately tends to your wounds.

“I can get that.”

“Listen to me. I don’t like repeating myself. You are injured. Badly. I am going to take care of you and you are going to shut up about being able to do it yourself.”

You sigh as you lean your head back, too weary to fight him on the issue. Instead, you interrogate him while he fusses over your injuries.

“What happened to the contraband?”

“What do you think happened?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing your precious Fleet got their hands on it but I wasn’t sure. It could’ve been blown up.”

“It was.”

“Oh.”

“So I sent the Fleet away. Shinya patched in new coordinates for a party cruiser to crash.”

“That seems pretty low for the Fleet,” you say, wincing slightly as he wraps your knee in bandages.

“The cruiser is full of a bunch of corpo fucks with backgrounds that would have you showing up at their doorstep anyway. Unsavory types.”

“More unsavory than Fleet?”

“Yes. I would be happy to send you all the information Shinya has on them if it will ease your conscience.” He finishes with the bandaging and pulls your pant leg down.

“I believe you. Or will try to.”

He tries to stand and you grasp his wrist.

“Why did you stay behind?”

“Why do you think?” His eyes meet yours, the wrinkles around the edges softening.

“Thank you,” you whisper and swallow. “For staying behind for me.”

He graces you with a gentle smile, placing a hand over yours. There’s a light squeeze.

—

Back on your ship, that Delgado had carried you to against your protestations, he makes the only real substantial meal you have. A soba noodle pack. While he’s distracted, you remove your suit. You plop down in a chair at the table and wait. It’s not a long wait. He sets down two servings. One for him and one for you. He also places a juice drink pack near your bowl before sliding into the seat across from you. He hands you a spoon. You take it and he stirs his soup. Cringing, you prepare for the lecture you’re sure he has prepared. Something along the lines of needing to keep more than just protein packs and oatmeal in your food stores. Probably tack on how you need substantial meals if you’re going to be out kicking ass into all hours of the day and night.

“How was your time in Paradiso,” he asks, much to your surprise, before slurping his own noodles.

It takes you a minute to process but you blink the surprise away. “Not relaxing. I ended up doing some corporate espionage. For a tea recipe.”

His nose crinkles with a disgusted face. “Why would you subject yourself to that kind of torture?”

“Call it a moment of temporary insanity,” you shrug and sip some of the broth from the bowl.

“A moment?” He laughs. Then shakes his head.

“You’re one to mock me when you’re dining with The Mantis inside of the Razorleaf.”

“I suppose I too am having a moment of temporary locura.”

You chuckle with him and the two of you finish off your noodles in a contented silence. He collects the dishes and takes them to the sink, washing them. You slide out of your chair and slink up behind him, curling your hands around his hips.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “I owe you twice now.”

Slowly, with suds still on his fingers, he twists to face you. Cupping his face in your hands, you gaze into the warmth of his sun touched eyes. His hands snake around your hips, surely leaving wet prints, and grasps your ass, tugging you near. Your thumbs graze along his stubbled jawline as you inch your lips a singular breath away from his. Closing the tiny gap, he nibbles on your lower lip before he slants slightly, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He consumes you with a devouring kiss.

He’s less restrained than you, hands exploring every part of your body that he can manage to reach. Your clothes, is now the towel that sops up all the suds and water from the fingertips. Spinning you to swap places, he pins you against the counter and you melt in his hands. His fingers find their way under your shirt and he glides them up, rolling the tee up as his hands follow. Lifting your hands above your head, he slides the shirt off your arms and tosses it aside. He works at your pants next, hooking his fingers in the elastic. He stretches and shuffles them down to your ankles and you kick them off.

Hands around your waist again, he lifts you just enough to set you on the counter and peel your panties down your thighs, all the way pat your ankles. He shoots them across the ship and turns back to you with a self satisfied smirk.

“You’re gonna have to go fetch those when you’re done with me,” you scold.

He raises a brow but lowers it as he digs the pads of his fingers into the top of your thighs. “I don’t think so. Besides, I will be the one giving orders,” he spreads your thighs apart, “around here.”

With a sharp intake of breath he eyes you and then takes one step to stand between your legs. Unhooking your bra with nimble fingers, he slides the straps down your arms and then tosses it somewhere behind him before cupping each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing.

“Dios mío. You are incredible,” he breathes. He continues to fondle your breasts and then pinches and rolls your nipples between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“Why thank you, papi.”

He laughs before bending and drawing a nipple into his mouth. You let out a soft sigh as the warmth and tenderness of his tongue against your skin soothes away lingering pain, replacing it with an inner ache of desire. As if reading your mind, one of his hands travels down your middle, coming to rest at your cunt. He cups you, swirling his thumb around your clit as his mouth moves to the other breast.

“Already so wet for me.” Continuing to tease you, he slips a finger inside of you, curling just slightly and you clench around it while he continues to increase yowant with the steady circling of his thumb. “How long have you been wanting me to touch you, mi princesa codiciosa?”

With parted lips, you meet his intent gaze as he guides another finger inside you. A shattered sigh slips loose. You answer, “the moment I saw you.”

He rewards you with another pump of his fingers, this time going deeper. Muscles contracting to keep him right where he is, he thumbs your clit more.

“I am unsurprised. So helpless and needy for my touch.” There’s a cluck of his tongue. “Finally, something you can’t do for yourself.”

“I can,” you retort. You try to sound more firm and condescending but it comes out more breathless.

His brow shoots up. “Oh?”

“I just don’t want to,” you whine.

He shares a small, self satisfied smirk. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, the pressure for release building slow but bright and blooming. You try to scoot and take more of him in. As soon as you try to grind he withdraws, leaving you wanting.

“Why is that?” He coaxes an answer from you, grasping your chin to meet his gaze while he thumbs the line of your jaw with your own slick.

“Because sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of,” you admit.

“You don’t like doing everything for yourself? Maybe I should make you.”

You shake your head no in his grip. “Please, Del. Help me feel good.”

He releases your chin and trails that hand down your body, thumb resting on your clit again. With his other hand, he frees his cock from his waistband. He strokes down his hard shaft and swipes his tip along your slick folds. Once, twice and then a third time, taunting you.

“Delgado, please.” He smirks with your plea and with his nails digging into the side of your thigh, he thrusts deep into you with a groan.

With a sharp intake of breath, your hands reach out to grasp anything. His biceps, then his shoulders. The back of his neck. They end up landing in his hair as he drives into you.

“More,” you manage to say.

“More? Dios mío, so fucking greedy.”

But he moves his hand further up your thigh, the other trailing across your stomach and side, falling to rest at the small of your back. Gliding the one around your thigh to clasp the underside of your leg, he wraps it around his waist and keeps it supported. The angle he has now makes you cry out with his next thrust, penetrating you even deeper. “Yes, that’s it. You take me so well,” he practically coos.

He sets a perfect pace. Not too slow but not too fast. Allows you to become lost in the ebb and flow of your building orgasm, hand slowly slipping, losing your grip with each progressive moan that he encourages from your mouth. Your hand plunges into the sink of dissipated suds and cold water and he steadies you with the hand at your back. Scooting you forward just a bit, he fucks you and fusses over you.

“Hands in my hair, mi vida.”

The one hand still wet, you follow his instructions, threading your hands through his salt and pepper hair and grasping the short strands tight.

“That’s it.” He continues to pound into you, coaxing more shattered cries from your lips. “I’ve got you,” he reassures as the pleasure builds, your walls gripping his cock.

Your eyes close, seeing nothing. Only relishing in that sweet release that spreads the pleasure throughout your body in an electrifying pulse. Every fiber of your being lights up with tingling numbness. His thrusts slow as he pulls you even closer, holding you. He continues to fuck you gently as you come down from your high until you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you with a low groan. His head falling against your chest. His grip on your leg loosens and you let it slowly slide back to the counter where it drapes over the edge. His cock continues to quiver inside of you and you pull his head up to look at his satisfied and hazy gaze. You pull him into a hungry kiss, remaining locked in his arms for a few moments longer.

He releases your lips and combs his finger through your hair. “Is that what you needed, my vida?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “yes. Thank you.”

—

After a warm shower, Delgado sits on the couch, both of you only half clothed, and he pulls your feet into his lap. A softer beat of music plays in the background. You’ve got your tablet in hand, playing your favorite comedy vid on the screen. You chuckle a little and then laugh as he grabs one foot, tickling the bottom. You jerk away. But he grabs your ankle and tugs it back. Starts massaging the tender portion between the ball and the heel. You groan a little and set your tablet down in your lap.

“I don’t want to take you home.”

“So don’t,” he says, his thumbs placing pressure into your heel.

You smirk. “Is this where you tell me you’re giving up your life of piracy to become The Mantis’ sidekick?”

“You are delusional.” He picks up your other foot and starts massaging it.

“Too bad. You’d make a cute sidekick.”

“It is more thrilling to be known as your arch nemesis. I would like to keep it that way.”

“What a shame.”

“I do not see it that way.” He places a kiss on your foot and pushes your feet aside to crawl up your body, placing a palm next to each side of your head, pressing the couch cushion down. “I keep you in business.”

You laugh in his face at the absurdity of his statement. “I have enough crime without you to keep me in business.” You reach up and run a hand through his hair.

“Ah, but you have to admit, it is more thrilling this way. Tangling yourself up with me.”

“Mmm, I suppose I do see the appeal of tangling myself up with such a naughty pirate. But I may need further convincing.”

His face inches closer to yours, a devilish grin spreading on his face. “Of course you do,” he says before biting your lower lip and melting against you in a deep and lingering kiss.

[notyourramona]

I need more Delgado/reader fics but I'm burnt out from writing the past 4 days so I can't just write my own. At this point I'd settle for a Sam Coe x Delgado as well. Or even reader/Sam coe/delgado.....

[simp-for-the-masters]

i want the master to call me a good boy so bad :((

Delgado!Master: calls you good boy after you complete a task for him

Ainley!Master: calls you a good boy when you help lead someone into a trap for him

Simm!Master: calls you good boy cause it's fun to see you flustered,it's his newest pastime

Missy: calls you good boy with a head pat and kiss on the cheek, both condescending and genuine

Dhawan!Master: calls you good boy with the growl of his

[dreamsinmoonlight]

From Eden

(This. Would. Not. Go. Away. I had this pop up in my head while on a bus and then it kept bugging me until I wrote it so here it is.

It is a very weird fanfic I feel but it's for us Master fans and we're weird and they're weird so makes sense. It is not for one Master in particular; it is for the seven most notable ones, as noted in the notes. I apologize if you wanted more of one particular Master, I do want to make proper ones later but this needed to be the whole group of them.

This whole thing is set to "From Eden" by Hoizer, specifically the Mahogany Session version; I recommend listening to that song while reading this

Fandom: Doctor Who

Characters: The Master (Delgado, Crispy, Ainley, Jacobi/War, Simm, Missy, Dhawan), Reader (Time Lord)

Pairing: Master x Reader

Genre: Romance

Summary: It's a dance, through time, through space, through victories and through defeats. There is so few constants in the universe but you are his.)

It started at one.

He smiled at you in that charming, hypnotic way of his and you felt as if you could trust him to the ends of the universe. You knew deep in your bones that you would and as he offered his hand to you, you took it without a second of hesitation. Those burning eyes of his were upon you and only you; the music played around you and the Tardis hummed along but he seemed only interested in you.

You were his companion, the one and only. There were many for that other bleeding heart, the one who stood against him, the one who kept getting in the way, but you were a singular point and impossible to imitate, if your favorite danger was to be believed. You'd met him more than once, both monster and savior, and you found the man with the suave way of trying to bring upon domination far more interesting.

His smile, his voice, the way he held your hands in his as he danced with you, feeling his touch despite his gloves; his movements were playful but in every step graceful and calculated. There was control to it, to everything he did, and you could not help but trust him to take control, to be in command. Though you knew that the end result could only be trouble. At least you'd face it together.

It went to two.

He was broken, burnt, hurting. And there was a desperation that oozed from each and every pore of a dying body. Regeneration, revenge, survival, destruction, you understood and you followed along still.

But even death had time for a dance. His movements were far more sluggish and stiff, a body that could not move as well, as fast, as easily. But you saw still in his eyes the soul of the man you loved, the spirit of one who could not, would not, be held back by anything, not by imprisonment, not by defeat and surely not by something by as silly and unimportant as death.

The world around you was silent and hurting but you knew all the best ways to make music nevertheless. Though neither of you truly needed it when you were the ones doing it; his body might not be willing to do much but you didn't for a second doubt that he could handle any of this. There was nothing that a monster in the dark couldn't do if he truly tried, if he believed, if he persevered. And this monster certainly would continue on. A new life was not so far away you were sure and though some part of you felt sorry for the one who would be losing out, you really only cared as long as it meant that he would be able to smile and be who he always had been before.

The third lasted.

There was something wild in his eyes and you were uncertain whether to blame the planet you both barely survived escaping. There had always been something in his eyes, an edge of madness, a portion of danger that made your hearts beat all the faster because how you could not be allured by the subtleness in his smile.

But feral was never something you attributed to him before and it made this dance all the stranger and exciting. His hands held you like vices, he pulled you close and in that smile were sharp fangs ready to tear flesh and eat you alive. Yet not a drop of fear beat through your body and you held onto him as he led the dangerous movements of this dance, still controlled and elegant in some far more aggressive way.

He may never be the same, you thought to yourself as you noted the gold to his eyes, and he would never be himself again. He'd been changed in dangerous ways and it was a question not a guarantee that regeneration was coming if he faced it.

But death was ever just a small thing and temporary to him. In those bones that knew that you'd always trusted him, too was the knowledge that it didn't much better to you what changes came.

You smiled and followed him through every step of the dance, holding ever tight to him without fear.

Four came with tragedy.

The universe was burning and it wasn't his fault. The universe was dying and he wasn't the cause. These were strange things to think, to feel, and pain and fear finally found it's way not just into you but into him as well. And it colored those eyes in ways you never imagined.

This could be your last dance together and you both knew it so you were going to make it a good one. The song was the same as it had been at every other junction but it burned into your skin as he held you with a desperation that made you hurt so much.

None of this was your fault; if anyone it was theirs, those monsters who called him a monster, those beasts of stagnation that saw the universe as their toys and as worthless all at the same time. It was that bleeding heart who couldn't bring himself to do what was necessary even if it saved them a lot of heartache.

And now you'd lose your favorite and he'd lose you. But not a word of this passed either lips, held back by the taboo of weakness but you needed no audible words, not when you knew each other as well as you did.

He tried for elegance, as he had done for countless lives, but the wish not to let this actually end turned a waltz into something endless. Every time it could come to the last second he winced and forced the song to start again and you resisted the urge to rest your head against his chest. Because you already could hear his hearts breaking perfectly fine as you were, knowing this couldn't go on. It would end.

It revived in five.

An eternity came and went, in it's wake pain and loss. But fate couldn't keep you apart and you remembered the way the strange desperation in his eyes turned to relief as he forced his way into the hideway on the edge of nowhere you'd locked yourself away in. And though you had not recognized him at first, the way he pressed the pocket watch into your hands and made you open it, the way you felt everything you were meant to be return and the way you immediately realized who he was, who he had always been and always be.

Your mad feral monster and when you spoke his name he smiled with everything he had before doing as you always did, always would. He scooped you up and danced with you, he laughed and told you of what you missed, of the bleeding hearts' acts and his own and what chaos and death and suffering he had wrought. Of the pretty blonde woman he had seduced but oh, never fret, never fear, though he'd truly felt something deep in those broken hearts of his, you were still the one and only true companion to the monster. Proven right by betrayal, by pain and suffering, and he'd nearly burnt himself to death again but he'd won and he'd stolen what he needed from those who hurt him, had always hurt him. And then he came for you. Because you, you were the one good constant in his chaotic vicious cruel existence, and he wanted nothing more than to have you dancing with him once more, loving him despite every act he wrought upon the universe. And this made you feel so loved you forgot about eternity.

Six changed the dance.

She was beautiful, like a rose covered in thorns, like a drop of honey full of poison, like death itself. She smiled and she laughed and she danced about, the skirts of her dress twirling as she did so, her hair a controlled mess upon her head, her eyes glittering with the essence of true madness. And you wanted so bad to press your lips to hers because how could you, the monster's companion, ever, ever resist such a beautiful sight.

Her hand reached out to take yours and you held tight, drawing close and smiling warm as the sun to her ad you joined her. The world was in a tizzy, it always was though whenever she choose to make herself known, and the bleeding hearts would find his way there in no time but there was always time enough for a dance. You two had learned that so long ago that it was less a thought as it was an existence.

Yet something in your hearts told you that things were different, because she didn't seem as keen on the destruction as she was on seeing that troublemaker who always got in her way. Because there was a gentleness you couldn't explain or expect but who were you to ever deny your beloved monster the shards of goodness still left embedded in hearts broken over and over more?

Seven.....Seven....

She died. He woke up. And it seemed like everything had returned to the norm. But there was a childishness and playfulness and giddiness that you knew meant only trouble for the rest of the universe. The bleeding hearts had proven not enough, or maybe the monster had been lacking, but you were biased and you knew this to your core.

He took you by the hand and the song continued to be the same as it had been when he'd been elegant and when he'd been broken.

When he'd been feral and when he'd been afraid.

When he found you again and when she had been almost good.

And in this dance you found all of them, mixed and swirling, and in every way him and every way not. His eyes still burned but they burned in ways different than ever before; he laughed and it was cracks and edges. He schemed and he hoped and he acted and he hurt and killed and destroyed and this time it was his fault, every step of the way. He was the same, he was different, he was himself, he was not.

But still you smiled back at him and you reflected back all the ways you'd changed too, every day you'd spent with him, every time you'd found each other, lost each other, fought the bleeding hearts and every other force against you. And every time you danced.

Still you found, as the music continued, as he held you close, as he smiled and he whispered all his plans, as he tickled your ear with his voice, that one thing had not changed:

You still trusted him to the ends of the universe.

[plethora-of-imagines]

Self Care

AN: First fic of the year! As was voted by the people a fic focusing on one of the Masters! Delgado!Master, one of my clear favorites!

The basic concept for this fic as exsisted since 2021, but other than a few smaller details and the vague idea of comfort it is almost unrecognizable!

Word Count: 2025 (hehe fun word count for the first fic of the year)

Warnings: hurt/comfort, dissociation, injured!reader, unintentional self-harm (health wise, not physical), nudity, non-sexual intamacy

Description: You've had a rough day, and the Master has decided that you need to be taken care of.

You were uncomfortable.

Panting in the entrance to the Master’s TARDIS. Struggling to breathe instead of inhaling the water dripping down your face. Clothing soaked, creating a puddle below your feet as it dripped onto the floor. Leg aching. The water mixed with blood to create a stinging pain from the jagged cut you had obtained while escaping the danger you had managed to stumble- literally- into.

You were physically and emotionally exhausted.

The groaning and wheezing of dematerialization only served to make you slump further.

Minutes of silence passed as you failed to work up the energy to move. Unable to jump in surprise when warm fingers tilted your face as a clear “tsk” was let out by the unharmed and only slightly damp man in front of you.

“You’re ice cold, my dear. We need to get you warmed up.”

Unable to focus your gaze on him, drifting in your painful dissociation.

A quiet, “hmm,” was the only response you could muster up. Dizzy when your body began to move unexpectedly.

The Master’s arms wrapped securely around you, bringing a distant sense of comfort. Clinging to him once set down as he attempted to pull away. The feeling of safety being pried away from your hands, fingers unable to continue gripping onto the clammy fabric being yanked away.

A hurt, distressed animal. That’s what your whine sounded like to your own ears.

Weakly bating at the hands that were undressing you. Not wanting them to remove the clothing that your mind swore was keeping you warm. Clothing equaled warmth, right? The room was shaking, no wait, that was your body. Pinned down by a weight as something pressed against your skin. Squealing as pain flooded your mind. Begging with useless words for it to stop. Pain- now your only companion, your unwanted lover. SIlent sobs wracking your body as the pain slowly abandoned you along with the little warmth that had remained against your skin. Nonsensical sounds reaching your ears and adding to the confusion that wrapped itself around your head- a noose that only seemed to tighten.

The warm scent of vanilla flooding your nose eventually broke through your hazy mind. The ability to focus slowly returning, like the slow drip of the faucet next to you. No matter how many times the Master tried to fix it, it always needed to be kept in the oddest of positions to be fully shut off. Weighted down limbs struggled to grasp and move the knob enough to halt it.

Your attempts were aided by his hand, resting overtop of yours. The small bottle in his hands being unceremoniously left on the counter nearby.

“If your mind has managed to return to the present time, I would like to hold your attention for a moment, my dear.”

Leaning carefully into the bare chest in front of you, the double heart beat soothing the racing of your own heart.

“Why are we naked?”

You could feel the smile in his words.

“Our clothes were rather soaked, and your sensitive human constitution is simply too prone to illness to allow you to remain in those waterlogged things.”

“And this means that you also had to strip down,” you slowly teased back after a lengthy pause.

“Naturally,” he smoothly replied with an inflection as smooth as butter. “Now are you going to continue to question my desires to share a bath to warm you up, or may I get on with drawing it for us.”

“Oh by all means, proceed.”

The wince as you shifted and pulled at the gash on your leg didn’t go unnoticed.

“Of course we will have to deal with that pesky injury first.”

“Please.”

A tiny glass jar was being opened in his hands just a few moments later. Tiny glowing fireflies bursting out into the room. Reminding you of the meteor shower the two of you had gone to see months ago. They remained suspended like stars, slowly drifting down over the two of you. Scrunching your nose when the first one landed on your open wound.

As if a hive mind, the rest of the little glowing lights followed suit. Swarming around your leg. A tingling sensation overtaking your nerves. An uncontrollable giggle bursting forth.

“What-”

“I have found having a small supply of nanobots to be helpful for cases like this.”

It was only a few minutes later that your giggles were able to subside, smooth skin being left behind where the gash had previously taken residence. The nanobots collecting together back into the small jar after tickling the rest of your skin briefly. Like little kisses against your skin.

Remaining where you were, watching as the Master filled the large bathtub with hot water, and some of the liquid from the bottle from earlier that he had picked back up. The gentle sound of running water the only noise in the quiet bathroom. The smell of vanilla growing more potent with the mountain of bubbles that formed near the tap.

Positioning himself between your legs, his beard tickled your cheek as your face was cradled against his. The difference in temperature between your still cold skin and his almost burning. His hands trailing along your body, rubbing warmth into you as he kissed you deeply. He cupped your hands between his own for a while, letting his forehead rest against yours. The steam slowly filled the room until you were certain that the mirror must be fogged up behind you.

“I will be just a moment, my dear. If you would not mind turning off the tap once the bath is full.”

Humming an affirmative as he released you to leave the bathroom. Focusing on the bathtub once more you watched as the bubbles threatened to overflow out onto the floor. Hopping down from your perch on the counter onto slightly unsteady feet, you pushed the bubbles around so that they could remain within the tub.

Feeling much better from the warmth already, you knew that you would have to sleep more tonight. Teeth picking at your cracked lips as you contemplated how to get the best rest while still being awake before the Master would start to do anything interesting without you.

The purposeful creaking of the door made you realize how you were harassing your lip, quickly releasing it to avoid the Master seeing. He set down a wooden bath tray filled with snacks on the floor next to you. Making your stomach growl in hunger, as you realized how hungry you were. Yet you didn’t dare to grab anything from the tray, at least not yet. Turning the tap off the Master slowly entered the water, bubbles clinging to his skin. Strong arms helped to steady you as you climbed in after him. Settling against his chest with a satisfied sigh. With one hand he lifted up the tray to settle across the width of the tub. Thankful for the heat that could be blamed for the blush that grew across your face at the show of his strength.

Those strong arms pulled you firmly against his chest, not allowing you to move a millimeter out of his embrace. It was then that you noticed that every bottle of product, soap, and all the washcloths were securely out of your reach. The only thing that you could reach was the spread he had brought for the two of you.

It was an impressive sight to see. An artfully arranged mix of fruits, cheeses,and surprisingly crackers. Those would leave crumbs in the bathwater no matter how careful you were eating them, which you knew the Master despised. The only sweets on the tray were the natural sugars that could be found in the alien fruits he had provided. While you would enjoy the added sweetness you knew that they were nourishing too. Filled with vitamins and antioxidants in their sweet and just slightly sour grape-like taste.

Fully submitting to the Master's desire to care for you, popping one of the bite sized fruits into your mouth, savoring the taste. Gathering cheese on a cracker next you brought it to the Master's mouth. He would hopefully at least indulge you by partaking in what he had provided you. He gently kissed your temple before accepting your offered food. Taking a bite and doing his best to ignore the crumbs it made. Without any words you could tell that he wanted you to have the rest of the offered snack. You obliged. Silently understanding his promise to partake in the offered platter, in his own time. 

Knowing that he was likely to bring food to your lips more often than his own. It was something you had learned to accept- his desire to provide for you. Your acceptance of his care warming both of his hearts.

Contentedly sighing as the Master began to absentmindedly trace patterns along your stomach. Twitching every so often when his fingers ghosted over sensitive skin. The comfortable silence lasted for several minutes while you lightly picked at the small feast provided. Once your hands stilled, no longer reaching for something from the tray, the Master took over. Lifting more food to your lips, taking something for himself only after he had fed you at least three things first.

“After an ordeal such as today, you should be pampered, my dear.”

Still chewing you looked up at him, furrowing your brow at his stern expression.

“Don’t look so shocked,” he scolded. “I have been planning to force you to allow me to care for you properly for weeks now. I have noticed you failing to take proper care of yourself.”

Swallowing heavily before answering, “I do take care of myself, Master.”

“Oh is that so? Tell me then when was the last time you ate a full meal?”

Your silence was its own answer.

“No? How about a full night of rest?”

At the continued lack of response, he pressed another piece of fruit against your thinly pressed lips. The silence as you chewed- both on the fruit and what he had said- was oppressive.

Still considering his words he continued while starting to slowly wash your skin with feather light touches.

“I know that you are only human, my dear. There is no need for you to push yourself to keep up with me all the time. Of course I am partly to blame for not reminding you of this prior to today. You were hurt due to my carelessness, something I refuse to allow to happen again.”

“I’m sorry.” 

The apology was choked out as you struggled to contain your emotions.

“As I said, you are only human, my dear. I should have anticipated your good intentioned attempt to adhere to a Time Lord schedule when I took you on as my traveling companion. We will break this silly little habit soon enough.”

“Should I expect a meal plan and a bedtime in the future,” pushing away your heavy emotions with an attempt to tease.

“Hmm perhaps if my reminders alone are not enough,” he dryly teased back. “Now let me finish taking care of you tonight.”

Lazing away in the warm water as he finished cleaning up the both of you, and continued to prompt you to eat more. The rougher texture of the towel as he dried you off made you squirm. Water still dripped down his chest, getting caught in the slightly curled hair that covered his chest. Unable to follow the water further down the path of his body by the towel wrapped around his hips. Standing side by side as he helped you with your nightly routine. Resting against him as he guided you from the bathroom to the bedroom. Lifting your feet enough to help him slide clothing onto your body. The silky smooth feeling was heavenly against your skin. It enveloped you almost as well as the blanket that he soon was tucking around your bodies. Nuzzling into him while he settled in with a book.

“Stay with me,” you asked in a weak whisper.

“I have no plans otherwise, my dear. Rest now.”

[daydreaming-of-doctor-who]

~Alexa, play Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood~

So, hi 😬

Can we imagine a teen reader being the 3rd doctor's and the Delgado master’s companion? Like, would be nice to see them bickering about how dangerous a place can be for him/her and (s)he’s like: don’t fight, divorce parents

A/N: THIS IS PERFECTION! You know they would be such 'dad's.' I mean, they already act it with Jo!

Teen!Reader being the Third Doctor's and Delgado!Master's Companion:

They may be best enemies, but when it comes to you, their teenage companion who is practically like a child to them both, they come together like the concerned divorced papa's they are.

It starts with you almost getting yourself into a dangerous situation and one of them telling you: NO.

Then it follows with them both bickering with each other over how to better teach you, or watch over you, or what's best for you, or how to should learn, etc.

"The best way for Y/N to learn is to experience it for themselves."

"No, no. Guidance is what Y/N needs. They need someone watching and--"

"Y/N's gone! Where have they gone now?!"

You got bored of listening to them bicker with one another again, so you went to find something more entertaining.

It's weird knowing one of them is trying to (maybe) sometimes kill the other. Honestly, it's not quite sure if the Master wants to kill the Doctor or not, or they just need to really talk out their problems.

At least you know the Master doesn't mean for you to get involved in his plans with the Doctor. It just...happens?!

One of them is teaching you how to be environmentally friendly towards the planet and protect it. The other, is teaching you how to set traps and use people or things to your advantage.

Life's even more confusing, but at least one thing is certain: You've been adopted by two Time Lords who are divorced and will also probably be the safest person in the universe.

[agentofteamvaliant]

Musicals Aren't Supposed to Have Encores | Luke Dunphy x fem!reader

Based on season 4 episode 14 of Modern Family: "A Slight at the Opera."

Warnings: None? Two eighth-graders kiss a few times... does that need a warning?

Word count: 2,052

Summary: Luke and Y/n step up to new roles in "The Phantom of the Opera" performance their middle school is presenting. Cam doesn't know what to do when the audience calls for an encore at the end of the show.

A.N.: Notes vs notes became a very hard thing to keep track of while writing this. Because I had notes, as in musical notes that you sing or play. And notes, as in theatre notes, directions as to what to do, and ideas of what needs to change. The struggle of being both a music kid and a theatre kid is real.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean Genevieve is sick?" Cam exclaimed to the girl's mother over the phone, "First our Phantom falls ill, and now our Christine? Does the world think our theater department is filled with actors?... No, of course, I'm sorry. I hope she feels better soon."

Theatre never goes exactly as planned. You're bound to have bumps along the way. Cam was prepared for that. He had backup props and backup lavaliers. What he hadn't prepared for was for both his Phantom and his Christine to get sick.

Having already found and lost hope in having Luke play the Phantom, Cam felt he was running low on ideas and patience. So, he turned to his assistant director/stage manager: Y/n.

"Well, Y/n. What do you think?" Cam asked.

"About which?" she replied, "We've got a couple problems right now."

"Either. Any. All. I don't know," he was obviously at the end of his wits.

"I think that you should show Manny the video you have of Luke so that he can see what you want him to be doing," she offered.

"Alright," Cam agreed, calling Manny over to watch the recording, "And what about Christine? I hate to say it, but Genevieve was the only soprano we had who could--"

"Luke has to do it," Manny cut in, before rushing off to undo the damage he had done.

"Well, that solves that problem," Y/n said cheerfully.

"I doubt any of them even know all the words, let alone the right notes, the right timing..." Cam trailed off, "Luke could you run 'The Phantom of the Opera,' please?"

"The whole show?" Luke asked, surprised.

"No, the song," Cam clarified with an exasperated shake of his head that looked much more like Mitchell's mannerisms than his own.

"Uh, sure, yeah. I don't know my cue without Christine's part, though."

"Y/n, could you sing Christine's parts until I figure out a replacement?" Cam requested turning to her.

"Well, I don't normally... but I guess I could... I do know the words, and the notes, and the timing and blocking... Sure." She replied.

The two walked over to the piano to practice. Y/n hadn't gotten more than four lines in when the whole theater was staring at her. Cam realized that maybe his Christine had been hiding in plain sight just like his Phantom. Her vibrato was perfect. Her voice paired perfectly with Luke's. Y/n and Luke looked up shocked when the entire ensemble came in perfectly on cue to find that Cam was conducting them like a choir. Y/n smiled at Luke, as they turned so the entire cast was rehearsing together. When they got to the part where Christine climbs up in notes, everyone's jaws hung open. Y/n herself was a tad surprised at how cleanly the notes came from her chest. Sure she loved to sing. Sure she had practiced this entire musical what felt like a million times. But to hear it in a theater. To hear how creepy her friend Luke could sound, perfectly portraying the Phantom. To hear the song all around her. It felt unreal. Especially when she got to the E6. She knew that for Genevieve they had lowered it, but she also knew that she could hit it. So, she ditched the note Cam had given the original Christine and chose instead to follow the regular notes of the song.

"Y/n," Cam started once the song was over, "You need to play Christine. Your voice is perfect. You know all the directions I gave. You understand what I'm trying to do with this show. Please, we need you as Christine."

"Okay, okay," she replied quickly.

They were very lucky that the costumes, which had been brought in for different actors, fit Y/n and Luke almost perfectly. Everything after casting Y/n had been rushed chaos. She had called her mom to bring her a pair of white heels since the original shoes didn't fit. But she neglected to tell her mom why she needed the shoes, simply insisting that the show sounded amazing and her family just had to come. Standing backstage, Y/n and Luke were talking while she used safety pins to shorten his cape. They didn't exactly have a replacement stage manager after all and she had offered to continue with both roles.

"You look really pretty," Luke commented as she stood up and handed him his pinned cloak.

"Thank you," she replied, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks, "you should wear suits more often, you look quite dashing. I'd lose the mask though, your face is too cute to be covered."

Now it was Luke's turn to blush. He knew that Y/n was good at flustering people, of course he did, they had been best friends for years and she was his long-time crush, but he had never found himself on the receiving end of her flattery.

"Hey!" She called out quietly to one of their castmates, "That's not where that prop goes. Go put it on the prop table where it belongs."

"You know we're supposed to kiss, right?" Luke asked when Y/n turned back to him.

"Yes," she answered, "Poor Genevieve and Marcus, do you think that's why they're both sick? They had to kiss so much in rehearsal."

"Oh yeah, poor things, they had to kiss someone over and over again," he said, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Careful," Y/n chided, "I'll kiss you over and over again."

"Like that's a threat," Luke snarked, before remembering who he was talking to, the confidence leaving him at once, "--I mean, we should probably practice at least once. Just, so we're on the same page. Know what to expect."

"Hmm, probably," she said slowly, before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward her.

Y/n kissed him gently, sweetly. And then it was over, and Luke decided he would do whatever it took to be able to kiss her again.

"Alright," Cam called, all the actors gathering around, "Uh... Luke, Y/n if I could talk to you for a moment after we're done. Alright, everyone, this is going to be great, there's nothing more we can do at this point. I know we've had a few hiccups, but I think we've come out stronger. So, good luck. Just, don't think about the audience. Be loose, speak clearly and enunciate, and have fun. Break a leg!"

When he had dismissed everyone else, Y/n and Luke walked over to Cam.

"Ah, good," he began, "I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And I wanted to make sure you didn't have any questions. Last minute confusions?"

"Nope," Luke said.

"None," Y/n confirmed.

"Good, good. And the kiss, I know we didn't talk about it. You're both alright with it?"

"Yep."

"Yes. We made sure to go over that with each other. We're on the same page. We know what to expect," she clarified, smiling at Cam, before looking at Luke with what he swore was a smirk.

"Wonderful. Then I'll go introduce our show, and we will begin," Cam said before leaving with a flourish.

The show was going perfectly. The audience was already captivated and they were only five songs in. When the iconic opening notes to "The Phantom of the Opera" began to play Y/n could feel people shift in their seats. She felt the pressure to perform the song well but didn't find herself nervous. One glance at Luke told her he felt the same way. Hearing how their voices melded together perfectly, Y/n was filled with giddy happiness. She couldn't have really explained it, but it pushed her further. When she began her climbing notes they were even stronger than they had been earlier.

They had taken an intermission between the two acts, and Y/n was enjoying some lemon honey tea, while a speaker next to her played "Something to Believe In" from Newsies. Luke was sitting in a makeup chair, across from her with his own cup, fidgeting as prosthetics were being applied to his face. In between taking sips of tea, the two were softly singing along to their favorite musical number, causing the poor kid trying to do Luke's makeup to continuously snap at him for moving his head.

"And if I'm gone tomorrow"

"What was ours still will be"

"I have something to believe in"

"Now that I know you believed in me."

Out in the audience, Haley had arrived during intermission and was now entering the theater with everyone else.

"I left the house as soon as I got your text," Haley exclaimed to Alex, "I can't believe Luke is playing the lead!"

Backstage, Cam called quietly: "Curtain's up again in five! You're doing great, y'all!"

Finally, they were reaching the end of the play. Alex was clinging to Haley's arm, practically holding her breath. By that point she had all but forgotten that her brother was playing the Phantom, having become deeply invested in the story. Not until Christine was standing, turning the Phantom to face her, did Haley lean over to Alex to whisper: "Can you believe that's Luke?"

Then, Christine kissed him.

"Oh my gosh," Alex exclaimed lightly to her sister, "They like each other."

"Who?" Haley replayed, "The Phantom and what's-her-name?"

"No, Luke and Y/n."

"Oh, yeah, duh. They have for years."

Then, Christine was kissing him again.

The curtain came down and then raised again, leaving the cast to bow. They led the audience in applause to the sound crew, the lighting crew, the musicians, and then Cam who joined them on stage. The curtain went down again, but the audience's applause didn't die down with it, rather it picked up. A few parents in the audience called for an encore, and soon the entire theater joined in.

"We don't have an encore," Cam quickly whispered to the cast, "Musicals aren't supposed to have encores. But they seem to really want one, does anyone have anything?"

"We do," Luke said, looking at the girl next to him.

"We do?" Y/n questioned, her eyebrows raised.

"Sure, 'Something to Believe In,'" he told her, before turning to Cam, "From Newsies."

"Are you sure?"

"We know the whole thing by heart," Y/n assured him.

Cam walked out in front of the curtain.

"Well, ladies and gentlefolk. You asked for an encore, so an encore you will receive," as Cam spoke, Manny ran to tell the pianist what the encore would be.

Cam continued, "But first, I'd like to thank my terrific cast for getting over humongous hurdles, especially my incredible leads, who only stepped into their roles today, having previously not been a part of the cast, but the crew. And who, just now, pulled an extra song out of their hats, like theatre magicians,"

He looked at the pianist asking, "We're ready?"

The pianist confirmed he was, indeed, ready.

"This is 'Something to Believe In' from Newsies," Cam said with a smile, before walking off stage.

The curtain had risen again, revealing that the mobile set pieces had been removed. There stood Luke and Y/n, the former of which had changed slightly: he had ditched his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, messed up his hair, and was standing so the audience could only see the normal side of his face. Their plan was to run the scene from first line to exit, and that's exactly what they did.

Sitting in the audience, Alex and Haley quietly squealed to each other. For years, they had been having monthly movie nights, just Haley, Alex, Luke, and Y/n. And each month, they watched one of four movies. Newsies being one of those movies. They had often joked that Y/n was like Katherine, joining another family. And each time "Something to Believe In" would start, someone would say it must be one of the best love songs ever, and the rest of the kids would agree.

Boy, did the two actors have fun with it. The nudging, the kiss. The playful looks turned to silent flirting. Everything they wanted to do in their own lives, and the song required all of it. When the curtain lowered for the final time, the audience erupted in cheers. Backstage, Cam ran to Y/n and Luke, engulfing them in a hug only a proud director/uncle could give.

I don't own Modern Family or any of its characters/plots. I don't own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters/plots/songs. I don't own Newsies or any of its characters/plots/songs.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being the Nonbinary (Second) Youngest Pritchett Sibling

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): The Pritchett-Tucker-Dunphy family x nonbinary!reader (platonic/familial)

Warnings: Descriptions of coming out and canon-typical ‘not understanding the queers’. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: I haven’t watched all of Modern Family yet, though I’ve seen up until season 8 and the occasional later episode. This is highly self-indulgent, and I’ll probably end up writing some more fics based on this premise; feel free to request them!)

Growing up, there may have been signs that you were a little ‘different’; maybe not.

If there were, Jay chose to ignore it.

Some suspicion would only arise after Mitch’s coming out(s).

Whenever you realised you were nonbinary, I imagine that the first of your family members who you would come out to would be Mitch, who would, in his own repressed way, support you in any way he could.

I don’t know if Claire would necessarily understand, but she’d still be supportive.

When you come out to your parents, they’re both confused, but Dede is immediately accepting and supportive (and Jay always insists that it was just to spite him).

On the other hand, Jay... well, he isn’t cruel or dismissive or anything. 

He just doesn’t get it.

But, you’re his kid- his baby- and he doesn’t want to lose you because he doesn’t understand.

So, he’ll go along with it and try calling you what you wanna be called.

Keep the peace, y’know?

And, he’ll screw up.

At first, part of him will feel like you, or anyone else who corrects him, are being overly pedantic, but he’ll grit his teeth and concede to avoid any conflict.

It’ll take him years and several lectures from Mitchell and Gloria for Jay to realise how important it is for him to try his best to understand you, or at the very least get it right as much as he can.

And, when he does, he’ll make sure to let you know that you have his full support, and he’s sorry that he couldn’t let you feel that sooner.

Gloria has always supported you.

Like your mother, her acceptance of you was immediate, and this time Jay couldn’t claim it was to spite him.

She wants the best for you and your relationship with your dad, so she will try her best to get him to support you rather than just tolerate you because he loves you.

Like Claire and Mitchell, she corrects him when he gets things wrong.

She’ll be happy to take you shopping for gender-affirming clothes.

And, she’ll be happy to listen if you ever need it.

Manny’s a mature and sensitive kid, so I feel like he’d mostly understand your gender when it’s first explained to him.

He’s never afraid to ask questions, though he’ll always do it out of curiosity, not judgement.

Phil, Claire and their kids all respect you.

Claire will always correct your dad when he gets things wrong.

I imagine that Phil is especially supportive and will happily refer to you as his ‘sibling-in-law’.

When Claire told him about your gender, I feel like he probably looked it up and, with a lot of research, grew to understand you as much as a cis guy ever could.

Haley and Luke probably don’t completely get it at first, but they’ll both try their best.

Alex is probably the Dunphy who understands it the most (and she probably thinks that being nonbinary is really kickass).

If anyone in her family needs any clarification on anything (it’s typically her siblings), she’ll be the first to explain things.

I feel like she’s very supportive of and knowledgeable about trans and nonbinary people and the issues they face (just between you and me, I headcanon Alex as queer, so that’s probably why).

Your chief supporters in your family are Mitch and Cam.

Whenever you need to vent about things that the rest of your family just won’t get, they’re always happy to lend a listening ear, especially Cam.

Although Mitchell cares so much about you, he struggles to be as openly loving and kind as Cam.

Cam will probably be the one who urges Mitch to speak to Jay on your behalf about how his behaviour affects you.

If you ever get any gender-affirming medical treatment, they’ll volunteer to go with you to appointments.

They’d also introduce you to their queer friends, if that’s something you want.

It may take some time, but you’ll get to feel like an accepted and supported member of your family in the end, because even if some of them don’t get it, they’ll try their best to make you feel affirmed.

[how-masterful]

Chaos

Missy X Reader, Dhawan!Master x Reader

Summary: It's a late night after an eventful day, and in your exhaustion you muse about the Master and his chaos. But the chaos is seemingly just beginning. Notes: Here we are! The fourth annual birthday fic in a row for @plethora-of-imagines! And my first fic in a while! It's been both fun and frustrating getting back into writing, but i'm pretty happy with how this turned out- and where i'm planning for it to go! Don't worry plethora, you'll get your joust soon! Enjoy! (Also reader note, there's mention of Delgado!Master X Reader in here too, just in case that's not your thing!)

To finally rest your head upon a pillow was bliss. The aches and pains of the day that held tight within your bones seemed to melt into the plush duvet, dispersing from your body and leaving you nothing more than an exhausted husk. Today, as ever, had been far more eventful than any plan the Master's brain (or brains? You still weren't so sure about that one) could create. 

It seemed these days, even the simplest of visits would end in a universe threatening scenario- whether it was indeed the Master threatening the universe himself was often a flip of a coin. Chaos trailed behind the Master like a shadow, a tangible shred in the fabric of the universe. No matter his reason for visiting, whatever planet he dared to step his foot onto could never be left in the same state. His compulsion for chaos prevented it. He left destruction like footprints in the sand.

You adored it. You adored him. But some days the chaos felt just that- chaos. A heavy weight that made you crave nothing more than a good night's rest.

You sighed deep into your pillow, turning onto your side as you let out a hefty sigh. Even today, what had started as a simple visit to a museum had ended with utter destruction and you being banished from a whole subsection of space. The Master had, perhaps overnight, developed a strong passion for the correct and morally appropriate relocation of artifacts to their home planets, instead of keeping them in museums on the opposite side of space. From memory, you recalled musing about how strange this new desire was, how… benevolent. The shelves in his own office were crammed and sagging in the middle from the weight of all his stolen keepsakes. Since when was he so bothered about things being where they belonged?

Then you noticed the dangerous twinkle in his eye, his hand stretching outwards to grasp hold of your own, his electrifying touch leading you down the exhibition hall and towards the large glass cabinet housing a weapon of, when put bluntly, targeted mass destruction on a single planetary scale. 

The Master's moral mission to return the artifact had been nothing more than a vehicle for destruction-the weapon was specially designed to implode the planet the moment it made contact with its unique outer crust, which was why the museum across the stars kept it in the first place. To prevent destruction. To show the universe such chaos must be prevented. Be contained. But with the shatter of glass, and a dastardly smile, the Master had taken it into his hands to wipe that planet from the map. 

“That's what they get for working with the Grand Serpent.”

He’d grinned, watching the fire from the safety of his TARDIS, one hand upon your thigh, another bringing his teacup to his lips. He’d never been fond of that slimy old copycat. You’d smiled and sipped from your own cup in return, the curl of smoke in your nostrils a familiar and oddly comforting smell. 

Your eyes fluttered shut, the darkness of your own head far more comforting than the darkness of the room. Sleep had begun to sink deep within your limbs, a welcomed relaxation as opposed to your mental debate.

The chaos, as he’d once said, was a wonderful thing. It was routine yet also unique, that strange unicorn of a lifestyle that tinged the edges of everything you knew. Chaos brewed itself in the smallest of fashions and grandest of scales. Cushions that didn’t match, eclectic mugs that filled up the cabinets, mountains of books yanked from the library and piled in precarious structures, minefields of abandoned and temperamental experimental devices that could go off at any moment scattered around the various labs in the TARDIS.

But it shone deep from within the Master's eyes, his deep browns a perilous vortex you could find yourself falling into at a moment's notice, never wishing to crawl free of him. He was a harbinger of chaos, a walking weapon of catastrophe, anarchy at his fingertips. He could send your body and soul into a frenzy as easy as destroying a dynasty. You could never want him any less.

Sometimes, however, it all became too much to handle. You needed much more rest than the Timelord could bring himself to want, need or take with the amount of adrenaline running through his system. With a kiss to your forehead, a promise to return, and a request to take full advantage of the luxuriously comfy hotel bed, the Master had returned to the labyrinth you’d lovingly called ‘The Timeline Club’- once more meeting with his former self to discuss new business. Business it was essential they’d both be able to remember.

The other Master had started to become a more prevalent part of your existence, arriving to join your plans on occasion, arriving to join your more personal excursions even more. The Master, your Master, with his wide smile and eyes that could soften to a dangerously innocent doe eyed look, had taken such pride in how willing you were to get to know his former self… intimately. A boost to the ego that could never be matched: No matter what body he was in, it seemed you were destined to find it ridiculously attractive- and you weren’t inclined to argue with his hypothesis, considering the other Masters' visits often ended in you providing damning evidence.

The long curtains that hung beside the wide window began to softly sway, caught in a gentle breeze as your brain began to slow, allowing your thoughts to soften. You’d once suggested to your Master, well, Masters now, that you'd felt an ‘off’ button to your brain would be far more effective in getting the amount of sleep you needed when running on such a tight schedule. Your younger Master (definitely younger, despite looking like he should have been the older Master- much like the brains, it was awfully confusing) had a penchant for that sort of thing, his words were able to guide you to such a wonderful rest in less than a minute. Hard as you tried, no sleep you could muster on your own had yet compared to his.

Making a space for him had been almost as easy as breathing. He was so different to your Master, so refined and stoic, yet the hold he had upon you was exactly the same. Your apprehension upon your first meeting had disappeared with the same ease that your mind had now disappeared into a needed slumber. 

That was, until, you heard it. Your eyes barely cracked open at the familiar groan. The groan of the TARDIS, wheezing and phasing into existence. The breeze upon the curtains had swelled into a storm, the fabric billowing as the furniture began to lightly rattle, the cool wind snatching away the warmth of sleep you’d worked so hard to find. 

You sat up slowly in bed, pushing the covers back with balled fists as the TARDIS finally materialized upon the far wall of the hotel room, taking the shape of an elaborate wardrobe, swirling carvings of hissing snakes deep within the mahogany wood.

“Master,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. “You said you’d be hours, I've only just got in bed.”

The door to the wardrobe swung open, light piercing through the gap and bathing the room in a fierce purple glow. You squinted hard, your eyebrows furrowing. The Master's tardis had a red console unit light.

“Did you change the console room again?” You mumbled, rolling your shoulders. The ache from earlier in the day had finally returned to your joints.

There came no reply from within. Except for the slow click of high heels upon metal inching closer and closer.

“Master?”

“Not quite.”

A figure emerged, bathed in shadow, breaking the glow of the TARDIS with her silhouette. Her voice, a Scottish lilt, made your eyes snap wide open.

“But you’re not far off.”

The other wardrobe door opened, and the figure stepped out of the TARDIS and into the light. Her long brown hair was fashioned into a messy updo of curls, her piercing eyes precisely lined with deep black liner. A pale broach sat perfectly within her white collar upon her throat, her long purple skirt covered by a matching purple jacket, the tops of her sleeves puffing out like a victorian. She smiled darkly with her red rouged lips, brandishing a slender black umbrella in one hand, its metal tip digging into the carpet.

“My my, what big eyes you have.” She teased, stepping closer in her black leather heels.

“All the better to gawk and say ‘what the hell is going on?’ without actually saying anything.”

You inched back slowly, hand carefully creeping towards your phone on the nightstand. The intruder's gaze caught you immediately. She tutted lightly, before raising the umbrella in her grasp and aiming it at your phone. With a loud hiss, the phone jumped from the table and clattered to the floor, an involuntary yelp escaping you.

“That’ll do you no good, dearie.” She teased, shaking her head.

“There's no use calling him, there's no danger. He wouldn’t be so self sabotaging. I should know.”

“Who are you?” You snapped.

The intruder giggled, raising her free hand teasingly to her lips.

“Oh, he hasn’t told you? Typical men, always wanting to keep their shiny things to themselves. Such a boys club, isn’t it?”

“Answer the question.”

“I am!” The intruder replied, gesturing exasperatedly.

“No, you’re really not.”

“Uh, I really am. I’m providing indirect answers through context clues masked with sarcastic commentary! C’mon poppet, you’re letting the side down here.”

You pressed your lips together in a tight line, narrowing your gaze towards the strange woman.

The intruder sighed dramatically, placing her hands on her hips.

“Wow. He really didn’t tell you who I am? I’m offended. Seriously, totally offended. You’d think after promising to let you meet me A YEAR AGO he’d fill you in on the deetz- but no, you’ve been running around making whoopee with the silver fox for months, far too distracted to come and visit little old me!”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, when memory got to you first. It was a partial haze, the image muddied by alcohol and exhilaration, yet you could still make out the shapes. One year ago you’d visited the Timeline Club for the first time- a year ago, you’d met your other Master for the first time. After your… antics… the Master, your Master, had carried you out and mentioned something about-

“Workshopping…” You said aloud. The intruder tilted her head like a curious cat.

“He’d said he’d be workshopping it… he said I needed to meet…”

The intruder stepped forward, reaching the edge of the bed and smirking expectantly. You looked up, awe slowly spreading across your features. You gasped softly, the tension falling from your shoulders.

“You’re… Missy?”

The Timelady hummed in approval, her hand reaching to cup your chin with her fingertips, lifting your face to meet her gaze.

“That’s Mistress to you right now, pet. We’re still getting to know each other.”

You gaped up at her, unable to pull your eyes away. You could see it within her eyes, that familiar twinkle of danger. It was the same one you saw in your Master's eyes.

“Now come along, we’ve much bonding to do, so little time.”

Missy preened, bringing her face closer to your own, leaning across the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been so looking forward to getting my hands on you, poppet. Those boys have been keeping too short a leash on you.”

The Mistress chuckled, booping the end of your nose with her fingertip.

“Now it’s my turn to have some fun.”

Missy grinned down at you. And in that smile, you saw the familiar storm of chaos.

[noforkingclue]

Hi, I absolutely love reading your fics, may I please request a Delgado!Master x reader. Where the reader is not in a good mood after their date stood them up, the reader gets kidnapped by the master who then finds out what happend to the reader. So they decide to hypnotise the reader to forget what happened or that they even met the person who stood them up and then uses the TCE on the person who stoop the reader up.

If you're not comfortable then it's all good. I hope that you have a nice day/evening and keep up with the amazing content.

Note: requests are currently closed

Of course anon! Hope you like it :)

Title: Smiling Again

Doctor Who tag list: @v4n1r, @queerconfusionthings, @yourneighbourhoodclown, @love-of-fandoms, @emilythezeldafan, @fabulous-jj-style, @theseeker945, @pleadingeyes, @kjaneway1, @truthbehindthemysteries, @im-a-muggleborn, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @mythandmagik, @geocookie21, @zerocanonlywriteshit, @thewinterpoet2, @anteroom-of-death, @night467, @clarasoswaldd, @sessa23, @mxacegrey

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You evening was only getting worse.

You had a shitty evening with your date standing you up. You had gone back to UNIT HQ because you couldn’t stand the idea of going back to your empty flat. Unfortunately for you that had resulted in you getting kidnapped by the Doctor’s best enemy.

“You are awfully quite there my dear,” said the Master, not looking up from his console, “anything on your mind.”

“Why do you care? You didn’t kidnap me for the company.”

The Master paused to briefly look at you over his shoulder before turning back to his work.

“What makes you say that?” he said eventually

You frowned slightly and shifted from where you were sitting on the floor.

“I’m just another human,” you muttered, “and not a particularly interesting one at that. Who would want to spend time with me.”

This time the Master turned his back on the console. He folded his arms and looked down at you.

“Is that a hint of bitterness I detect.” He said

“You tell me.”

The Master walked slowly towards you before kneeling down in front of you. You had pulled your knees up to your chest and had rested your chin on them. You raised your eyebrows at him and the Master reached forward to grasp your chin. You tried to move away but the Master was quicker. He held your chin tightly and forced you to look into his eyes.

“Tell your Master what happened.” He said calmly

“N… No.”

“Tell me.”

“I… I don’t want to.”

“You do,” he said, “Don’t fight it. Give into me.”

“I… I… I was going on a date.”

The Master frowned not liking the idea of you seeing someone who wasn’t him.

“And?” he prompted

“I was meant to be going on a date,” your voice was soft a dreamy, “I got stood up. Shouldn’t be a surprise really. Who would want to date someone like me.”

“Enough,” the Master cut you off, “Enough. Now sleep, my human. Sleep and let your Master fix everything.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you gave one last glare at the Master before you reluctantly succumbed to his hypnosis. Your head slumped against his chest and the Master smiled as he stroked your hair. He pressed a soft kiss as he pulled you into his arms and couldn’t help but think how well you fitted against him. He smiled as he thought about what he was going to do to your supposed date.

Whatever he was going to do it was going to be slow and painful and will only end with his shrunken body.

But that won’t happen for several hours.

He was sure that was going to make you smile again.

[spookyspecterino]

Pieces of Me, Locked Away

Chapter 1

Delgado x GN! Reader

Warnings (Chapter Based): Foul Language

After you turned in the Crimson Fleet you find yourself unable to return to the person you once were before going undercover. You do your best to find closure, even if it leads you straight to ruin.

Ohhh boy have I been excited to share this!! Originally it was going to be a one shot and then I decided to torture myself :) Based on this fic. It's a continuation, but not required to understand what's going on. Thank you to @fangbangerghoul and @thatsgoodsquishy0 for looking over my rough drafts/plans and of course for all the encouragement!! (Go check out their Starfield fics if you're hankering for more Delgado or Sam content, you won't be disappointed)

“No weapons, no food, no drink, do not approach the glass, do not touch the glass—”

The UC guard was droning on and on as you emptied your gun holsters on the small table. A few of your knives sat prettily next to them, all lined up in a row.

Why would you try to bring food into a place like this?

“You got all that?” she asks, giving you a look like she knows you’re not paying attention. Her uniform looks eerily discolored under the harsh florescent lights of the facility.

“Rules. Got it. Has anyone ever tried to bring in food, or is that just—”

“You’ve got no idea how many people try to sneak in cake, of all things.”

She starts collecting your weapons, depositing them behind a steel gate. You fidget with your hands and shift your weight from foot to foot. “Cakes, huh? With little filers in them?”

The attempt to lighten the mood falls flat. She gives you an even more intense look. “Guns and drugs.”

“…oh.”

She stores a few more things away, one of them a waiver you had to sign about liabilities, before hitting some buttons on a panel. “Watch yourself when you’re down there. You’ll be on camera at all times.”

The metal, grated door clicks open at the sound of a loud buzzer. You feel the guard’s suspicious stare follow you through the doorframe. The path forward descends down a short flight of steps and to an elevator. Behind you, the door swings shut and locks with a loud click. There’s a camera in almost every corner with little, blaring red lights. Like eyes, they track your every movement.

It only weighs on you more, the feeling of being watched mixed with nervous anticipation. You know who’s waiting for you down there. But what you don’t know is how he’s going to react when he sees you.

He had already thrown you for a loop back on the SysDef transport. Before he was really imprisoned. Now, it had been a few months. The reality had probably sunk in that this was going to be where he stayed for the rest of his life. Is a king in chains really still a king?

You’d find out soon enough. But your heart had already made up its mind.

The elevator goes all the way to the lowest floor. You must be deep underground by now. Layers and layers of metal, rock, and dirt between you and fresh air. Shivers creep up your spine. The UC wasn’t messing around. Something else, just on the edge of your mind, starts to pull at you. Sympathy.

You’re reminded of all the stories he would tell you, late at night while you curled up next to him listening to the hum of the Key’s engines. Stories of how he knew he belonged up in the stars. How his dreams of Akila were full of black skies, as if even then he understood his place among the universe.

And now he was stuck down here. Away from the stars he once commanded.

Hm. Why were you thinking of this now? Of all times?

Why didn’t it just stick to your dreams? Slipping in and giving you that warmth you’ve been begrudgingly missing for these past months. Waking you with a gentle smile—until you remember that you’re not on the Key, and the space next to you is empty. Until the dread and secret regret overtake you.

The elevator doors slide open. The movement is clunky, they jitter as if they don’t want to let you pass. Beyond the elevator is a short corridor with two guards standing watch beside another metal door. This one is fancier; more money was put into it. It’s more secure.

The guards, tougher armored and more annoyed looking, openly stare as you walk out. A hunch tells you they don’t see too many people down here that aren’t facility personnel.

You halt at the door. Waiting for another rule list to be thrown at you.

They’re both slow to react. “Arms out, feet shoulder length apart. You’ll be scanned one last time.”

One guard brings out a high-tech, personal scanner and runs it along your arms and then legs. The other guard watches you like a hawk. As his partner works, he scratches his chin, nonchalantly.

“You’re the first one.”

“Excuse me?” You ask. Giving him a look, hackles raised. It came out more defensive than you planned.

“The first visitor—and you passed the clearance check.” He pauses, looking you over slowly. Your skin crawls. “Who are you?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you see it is my business. Everything within these walls is my business. And soon, you’re gonna be the talk of the whole facility. The mystery visitor.”

“Oh, I get it.” You sneer back. “You’ve got nothing better to do than shove your nose into places it doesn’t belong. Do us all a favor—go jump out of an airlock.”

“Somone’s got an attitude. You know I can hold you here, make it so that you’re registered as having visited, but never get through this door. You try to visit again, and your clearance might not pass.” He says it with a smile.

You’re getting through this door, even if you have to commit crimes that would put you in one of these cells.

“What a damn shame.” You growl, giving him a toothy grin. “I was going to bring cake next time.”

“Don’t fuckin’ tempt me.”

The guard scanning you straightens, done with his routine procedure. “Cut the shit, Rav. You know that won’t fly.”

‘Ravs’ head whips over to his fellow guard. “Comon’ you’re really gonna stand there and tell me—”

“It won’t. And you’ll end up with a knife in your back.”

Rav opens his mouth again to argue, but the other guard gives him a scorching look before addressing you. “You’re cleared to enter.”

He inputs a long string of numbers and presses his hand to the console. A few positive beeps sound in response and the door unlocks.

Slipping through, you don’t give either guard any more attention. They continue arguing about something. The word “Payroll” is tossed around.

On the other side of the door a long wall of glass stretches from one end of the room to the other. Little holes, too small to put your hand through, periodically line the glass at chest height.

A thick red line, about six paces from the glass, marks the limit of how close you can get. You wonder, for a moment, if you were to cross that line would any alarms go off? You don’t bother looking for cameras, their electronic stares are heavy from back near the door and the corners of the room.

The first thing that strikes you are the bookshelves, beautifully made of real wood, lining the far wall of the cell. It’s a whole damn library. Some art decorates the space. A desk sits in front of the bookshelves. And a large bed in the corner. The other corner is concealed, you assume it’s the toilet and shower.

And right in the middle, poised and stoic, stands Delgado.

He watches you with feline-like eyes. As if he could pounce on you any second, regardless of the glass. Is he smiling? You’re not close enough to confirm it. The drab, grey prison uniform looks odd on him. Surreal. But he’s still dashing enough to make it look good somehow.

Stopping, just as your toes hit the red line, you have trouble holding his eyes. Instead glancing around the cell and at the glass a few times.

You’re the first to speak, though you wish you weren’t. “They put you in a damn fishbowl, Del.”

He chuckles, drawing your eyes back to him in a flash. “I was just thinking that earlier. Before you got here.” His look holds a deeper meaning that will no doubt linger and haunt you.

“That so?” You bring a hand up to scratch at the back of your neck, averting your eyes.

Weak. Nervous. He can sense it.

His stare is too heavy. It makes you feel too much. Your legs burn with the effort of keeping still. You have the freedom to leave, but he still holds all the power here.

Clearing your throat, you throw out the first topic of light conversation your racing thoughts can cling to. “Your guards are a piece of work. Well, one of them, that is.”

“Do you have their name?” He suddenly looks intense, focus snapping to a fine point.

You find yourself fighting back a smile. “Just curious, Del… if I tell you, what’s gonna happen to him?”

“Plain and simple, you won’t be bothered again.”

Your brow raises ever so slightly. “Who says I’m coming back?”

Del clicks his tongue, sauntering over to the glass. “You’ll be back.”

Feeling his allure, you take a step forward as well. “You’re awfully confident.”

“It all comes down to why you decided to visit me.” His lips quirk up into a lopsided smile. “Which I also knew you would, eventually.”

Why you decided to visit him…

Your throat suddenly goes dry and your heart thumps erratically. “Well… I…” You clear your throat and look away. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Del stares at you curiously, studying you.

“Was this—were we…real?”

“We as in…” his eyes widen ever so slightly.

You could break through that wall into personal territory so easily, tear through carefully laid bricks with a single question. It conjures memories of gripping skin, panting breaths, desperate kisses—rare laughter and stories whispered in the dark—all just as vivid as the nights the memories were made. Your face probably had a reaction as well, though you tried your best to hide it.

Delgado regains himself quickly, flashing a smile and looking away. “You waited to ask me this when I couldn’t run away.”

It’s a hint of what you’re simultaneously hoping and dreading to hear. You need to hear it though. “You’re looking to run away from it? What if I had asked you on the Key?”

“If you had asked me on the Key, I would have shown you my answer.”

“…I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.” You lie.

“Come here, closer to the glass.”

“You can break my heart from here, Del.”

He frowns a little. “You think I’m going to say something harsh? To you, mi querida?”

You don’t answer. Dread collects in your stomach. Just like on the transport, he’s contradicting why you came to see him.

“So that’s it.” He says, voice hushing as understanding floods his face. “You want me to hurt you.”

Damn him.

You remain firm, taking a step back. “You won’t admit it? Even now, after I’ve betrayed you?”

“What would I be admitting to?” He’s careful, hazel eyes watching critically.

“You never cared for me. I was an object to you. A source of entertainment on boring nights.”

“…is that what you think?”

“Say it, Delgado.”

His shoulders square back, and there’s a flash of anger in his expression. “I have never lied to you. And I refuse to start now so you can accomplish some kind of mission.”

You turn away, shaking your head, pacing the long room. Unable to stand still any longer and formulating some other kind of response.

He watches you, tracking with that feline intensity. “What do you hope to accomplish with this? You want to use your anger to justify what you did?”

You halt, spinning to face him. “No! I just…I… that’s not it!”

He’s quick to fire back, getting so close to the cell wall his breath fogs the glass. He’s growing angrier by the second. “You want to move on? Love someone else?” When you don’t answer he growls his words in frustration. “Is it that fucking cowboy?! Are you really so susceptible to puppy dog eyes—”

“No, Del! It’s not him either!” You throw your hands up, distinctly aware of how fast you’re losing control. “Fucking Christ, Del. Why can’t you just admit that you don’t care about me? What does the King of the Crimson Fleet want with a Rook—other than the complete obvious?! Nothing!”

Delgado stares at you like you’ve lost your damn mind. Speaking slow, he acts like the words hurt him. “You were more than just a Rook to me. You—”

“No—” you stop him, waving him off, “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“You don’t want to hear the truth?” He asks, a flare of anger rising. “You’re content with hurting yourself for no reason?”

“There is a reason! And I’d like for you to—”

“Tell me what your reason is!”

Your eyes catch the red light of the camera sitting in the top right corner. You’re overcome with feelings of foolishness and embarrassment.

“You know what…” You say, eyes fixed on the camera lens. “I’m not doing this anymore. Goodbye, Del.”

Storming off towards the door you can hear Delgado scoff. You don’t dare turn around, or else you might never leave. As you yank open the door and pass through, sounds of smashing and heavy objects toppling over follow you out. You don’t look back.

The door closes and it’s deadly silent.

This new you, a thing that’s clawed and twisted itself out onto the surface, has left behind more scraps—fragments of a cherished life that ended too soon—than you can count in the past year and a half. One piece of this person you’ve become, a very large piece, remains stuck in that room, behind the glass—trapped under a mountain of rock and steel. Waiting and hoping to be set free again.

[d3lta-200x]

Masters with an S/O who gets chronic pain and is having a bad day.

▲not proof read and spoilers ig?▲

Gender neutral reader

Fluff, romantic

Sorry if it's a bit ooc it's my first time properly writing for the master

Delgado! Master

Refuses to let you leave the TARDIS unless he knows that you are well enough to leave the TARDIS. He brings you food and medicine. He will get you what you need.

Runs you warm baths to help you feel better. Checks on you even if he is busy. When he isn't busy or doesn't need to leave the TARDIS he'll sit with you in bed and even pamper you with cold face masks and massages.

Ainley! Master

This man has everything, you need a heat or pack he has them at the ready. He also has a pack of ibuprofen and paracetamol in his pocket just incase.

You need a walking stick or a wheelchair, that's fine he has both in his TARDIS and he is happy to push you around. Also won't push you to go out and help him with his evil plans.

Offers a little bit of hypnosis to help with the pain but only if you're okay with it, he also made you a piece of jewellery that helps relieve a bit of pain.

Simms! Master

This man is either really sweet about it or he complains about it. He is upset about the fact that you can't go out and join him on as many adventures. Most of the time he is an absolute cuddle bug although he says it's only to make sure that you don't hurt yourself.

When he was on the space ship in the disguise he was happy to let you rest, after all he was only playing a waiting game.

He would also happily give you massages and joked a couple times about how you might be better off as a cyber man. Definitely does a skincare routine with you to help you relax.

Has jelly beans on him so he always has sugar on him

Gomez! Master

She will get anything you need. If it's while she is in the vault she would reluctantly ask the doctor for stuff and beg for you to stay with her. She gets really worried about you especially when you aren't around her.

If it's once she is out of the vault and causing chaos she is making sure you are alright at all times. Like Simms version she carries jelly beans on her so if you need sugar she has something with a lot of sugar in if you need it.

Has a compact walking stick on hand so you have support if you need it.

Dhawan! Master

This man is so worried about you, anytime you need anything he is there right away. Like missy he carries a fold up walking stick and he also carries jelly beans on him. He has ibuprofen and paracetamol in his pocket as well.

Sometimes he will work while in bed so he can stay with you and make sure your okay. Says something along the lines of he needs to protect you because humans aren't as strong as they think they are and can easily overwork themselves. Let's you cuddle with his plushies only because he says it will help. Also gets you a heat or ice pack. Like Ainsley offers to hypnotise you to help with the pain. He also looks for other worldly medicine to help you.

[fangbangerghoul]

THIS IS THE BEST PRESENT EVER AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

You gave me things I didn't even knew I would love! You are so talented at writing Delgado and I love your version of him so much! my old grumpy salt n peppered criminal T.T

Your fics always are hot, silly, and thrilling and its such a wonderful skill you have to weave all those things together and make them work so perfectly!

also fuck Mathis lol

Amo a mi rey~

This is a little fic as a thank you to @fangbangerghoul for drawing one of my fave ocs. I do hope you enjoy this final version. ☺️

Fandom: Starfield

Rating: E

Pairing: Delgado x Reader

Word Count: 3825

AO3 Link

“Ah, the dread pirate Captain Delgado of the Crimson Fleet,” you say in your distorted voice. You bow with a flourish. “I never would have thought you’d leave your throne on the Key and grace me with your presence.”

“Cut the theatrics,” Delgado spits. “You are outnumbered.”

You take one step back and lower your hands to your side, knives still gripped tight, giving a slight nod. “I only wish to negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” An understanding passes between the two of you. Delgado lowers his gun. “What is there to negotiate?”

Holding up two of your gloved fingers you gesture to him after sheathing your knives. “Leave the others and come with me. Surely, there is a favorable bargain we can strike?”

“There is no bargain!” Mathis Castillo sidles up alongside Delgado as if he has any say at all in the matter.

“Shut up so I can think!” Delgado gives him a shove back which earns a nasty little glare from the bearded rook.

“There’s nothing to think about,” you tell him with a roll of your eyes that he can’t see. “It’s a simple bargain.”

He shakes his head. “Nothing is simple with you.”

“I promise it will be quick and I know we can work something out that leaves us both walking away with what we want.”

You watch as Mathis whispers something into Delgado’s ear. Delgado scowls.

“Fine. But if you try anything—”

“Yes, yes you’ll blow my head off, etc.” You gesture for him to follow you with the curl of your finger. “I’ll keep this civil. I promise.”

He takes a step forward and you turn, heading toward the outpost.

Delgado treks after you, the eyes of his merry crew now at your back and you half wonder if they’ll go against his wishes and shoot you dead. After all, they’ve killed for less. But you make it to the door unscathed and smash the hatch button. Together you step inside. Hitting the next one on the wall inside, the door starts to close behind you. But before it gives one last hiss to lock in place, Delgado tugs on your suit, hooking his fingers under your helmet.

You assist. Yanking yourself free of the helm, it hangs loosely on your fingertips as Delgado’s lips trail along your chin. Nibble at your neck. There’s still a small mark left from the last time you saw him.

“I don’t know why we have to make this so dramatic,” you say.

His kisses still and he withdraws. “If you’re going to complain, I can simply turn right back around and leave.”

“I’m sure your empty threats work well on your crew but they won’t work on me.”

“Dios mío.” He shakes his head in exasperation as you smirk but he grabs your helmet out of your hand and shoves it back onto your head. He turns tail and hits the hatch button. Inner door shuts and outer door opens.

“Wait,” you call. But he ignores you, taking a step into the open air.

“Load up the cargo!” He barks at his crew. “It’s a no deal!”

Anger wells within you. Does he really think he can just walk away? But as you follow after him and reach for Delgado’s hand, there’s an explosion and chaos ensues. Screaming and gunfire. Almost black smoke unfurls like a hand delivering a smite in the dusty sky. He glances back at you and you nod your head. Though, a part of you wants the other pirates to steer their own fate while you remain uninvolved.

Heading further out of the hatch together, you get a better view of what’s going on. Spacers, usually highly unorganized, spill from all corners. They must have set an ambush. Each of Del’s crew is aiming at a spacer but the fleet only has half their numbers.

“We could flank them,” he says turning back to you.

“I’ll take left.”

He gives a curt nod and you split, going in opposite directions. You flip the switch that makes your suit reflective and more difficult to see. You scan the area, searching for a spot to climb up the outpost for a better look. There's a boulder not too far away that if you sprint over to, and use your boost just a bit, you should be able to reach the top. It will be high enough ground.

You take off running. There’s another explosion behind you. But you don’t look. Your eyes stay focused straight ahead. Too focused. Halfway to the boulder, pain shoots up your right leg and you glance down to see the tear in your pants and the blood pooling and dripping in rivulets that splash to the ground. You stumble and the spacer strikes again. This time you grab their wrist, keeping their blade away from your throat. But they deliver a well placed kick to the knee. There’s a loud crack. A bloodcurdling scream. Yours? Like fire and ice in your veins, the pain oscillates between an unbearable burn and a tingling numbness. Your head swims. Clenching your teeth, you touch your forehead, attempting to hang on to reality.

“My, my, if it isn’t The Mantis! And everybody loves to talk you up! You’re no superhero and when I’m done with you, everyone will see the ordinary human you are,” the spacer taunts.

They topple you, taking the advantage. Your head hits the dirt with a blow to the face.

Everything fades to black.

—

Your body jostles. Swims. Like static, your eyes open to gray and flecks of white. Something is buzzing in your ear. You try to lift your hand to swat it away. The thing moves and speaks to you. No, not a thing. But someone? You throw all of your energy (which is minuscule) into seeing and listening. Slowly but surely, your vision clears and you can make out Delgado’s form. His lips are moving but you can’t quite understand what he’s saying.

“Huh?” You manage to rasp between dry, cracked lips.

“It’s about goddam time.” His voice is clear as day now.

Your vision adjusts to your surroundings. You blink, capturing details. Scattered trees with canopy branches along a patchy grass landscape and copious amounts of rocks, you see the small, simple outpost situated between the circle of dirt you’re laying in. Everything comes back to you. A contraband interference gone awry when spacers ambushed. There’s still a little smoke in the air and you realize now that the dirt is littered with spacer bodies. So, Delgado’s fleet survived.

You palm the ground beneath you. Curling your fingers, you try to move but you wince in pain as your head starts to throb.

“Take it slowly,” Delgado coaxes and he offers his hand. “Let me assist.”

Still a bit dazed, you take his hand and he helps you to your feet. You wobble and he stabilizes you. But pain sends a shock through you. Nearly crumbling, you let out a small broken sound. Delgado wraps one arm around your waist while throwing one of yours up and around so your hand dangles over his other shoulder bearing most of your weight for you.

“I can do this myself, you know.”

“Have you seen the condition you're in?”

“Not exactly but I’m sure—”

Delgado removes your arm and takes a singular step away. You crumple to the ground. More pain rips through you like a wildfire. Air whistles between your teeth as you suck in a breath.

“You’re an asshole!”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Well, let me see it. Show me how you can walk all by yourself.”

You glare up at him, the tingling fire spreading throughout your body again as you try to stand. “Not even going to lend me a hand?” You ask in a muttered breath.

“No. Unlike you, I actually listen. You said you can walk on your own. So, cut the crap and get up. Let me see you walk.”

Gritting your teeth together, you try to get on your hands and knees. But your one right knee reminds you that you’re in no shape to kneel or stand. Something is broken. You roll and flop onto your back, barely holding back tears. Delgado’s brow flies up as he stands over you, throwing you a patronizing look.

You struggle with the pain in your leg as you lie there staring into the sky. It sizzles through your veins like an internal burn. “Fuck,” you mutter, unable to admit Delgado is right.

He scoops you up in his arms, no longer willing to argue with you.

“Do not worry. I won’t tell a soul that The Mantis needed to be carried.”

“Did I mention that you are an asshole?”

Your body jostles as he shuffles back over to the lab outpost hatch.

“Come now. That is harsh. Would an asshole carry you? You should be thanking me. Not throwing insults.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s at the hatch now, smacking the button with his gloved hand and you both wait in silence while the door hisses open. He hits the next button. The outer door closes and he steps into the first room of the abandoned science outpost. It’s all sterilized white walls, occasionally decorated with hazard posters and whiteboards with notes scrawled across them. Some formulas, but mostly notes the scientists left for each other. A vote for movie night draws your eye and you briefly read through the titles. You silently cast your own vote as Delgado continues waltzing through the room. You spot a med kit hanging on the wall beside the door leading into the next room. He rests you against the wall underneath the kit.

Pulling up your pant leg, you check the condition you’re in. You’ve been through worse. But your knee is swollen with a bruise at the center like a fresh picked bouquet of violets.

Delgado sits back on his haunches and administers a trauma pack. The pain ebbs away as you rest your head on the cool wall. Then he rips open the package of an immobilizer with his teeth. He immediately tends to your wounds.

“I can get that.”

“Listen to me. I don’t like repeating myself. You are injured. Badly. I am going to take care of you and you are going to shut up about being able to do it yourself.”

You sigh as you lean your head back, too weary to fight him on the issue. Instead, you interrogate him while he fusses over your injuries.

“What happened to the contraband?”

“What do you think happened?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing your precious Fleet got their hands on it but I wasn’t sure. It could’ve been blown up.”

“It was.”

“Oh.”

“So I sent the Fleet away. Shinya patched in new coordinates for a party cruiser to crash.”

“That seems pretty low for the Fleet,” you say, wincing slightly as he wraps your knee in bandages.

“The cruiser is full of a bunch of corpo fucks with backgrounds that would have you showing up at their doorstep anyway. Unsavory types.”

“More unsavory than Fleet?”

“Yes. I would be happy to send you all the information Shinya has on them if it will ease your conscience.” He finishes with the bandaging and pulls your pant leg down.

“I believe you. Or will try to.”

He tries to stand and you grasp his wrist.

“Why did you stay behind?”

“Why do you think?” His eyes meet yours, the wrinkles around the edges softening.

“Thank you,” you whisper and swallow. “For staying behind for me.”

He graces you with a gentle smile, placing a hand over yours. There’s a light squeeze.

—

Back on your ship, that Delgado had carried you to against your protestations, he makes the only real substantial meal you have. A soba noodle pack. While he’s distracted, you remove your suit. You plop down in a chair at the table and wait. It’s not a long wait. He sets down two servings. One for him and one for you. He also places a juice drink pack near your bowl before sliding into the seat across from you. He hands you a spoon. You take it and he stirs his soup. Cringing, you prepare for the lecture you’re sure he has prepared. Something along the lines of needing to keep more than just protein packs and oatmeal in your food stores. Probably tack on how you need substantial meals if you’re going to be out kicking ass into all hours of the day and night.

“How was your time in Paradiso,” he asks, much to your surprise, before slurping his own noodles.

It takes you a minute to process but you blink the surprise away. “Not relaxing. I ended up doing some corporate espionage. For a tea recipe.”

His nose crinkles with a disgusted face. “Why would you subject yourself to that kind of torture?”

“Call it a moment of temporary insanity,” you shrug and sip some of the broth from the bowl.

“A moment?” He laughs. Then shakes his head.

“You’re one to mock me when you’re dining with The Mantis inside of the Razorleaf.”

“I suppose I too am having a moment of temporary locura.”

You chuckle with him and the two of you finish off your noodles in a contented silence. He collects the dishes and takes them to the sink, washing them. You slide out of your chair and slink up behind him, curling your hands around his hips.

“Thank you,” you whisper into his ear. “I owe you twice now.”

Slowly, with suds still on his fingers, he twists to face you. Cupping his face in your hands, you gaze into the warmth of his sun touched eyes. His hands snake around your hips, surely leaving wet prints, and grasps your ass, tugging you near. Your thumbs graze along his stubbled jawline as you inch your lips a singular breath away from his. Closing the tiny gap, he nibbles on your lower lip before he slants slightly, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He consumes you with a devouring kiss.

He’s less restrained than you, hands exploring every part of your body that he can manage to reach. Your clothes, is now the towel that sops up all the suds and water from the fingertips. Spinning you to swap places, he pins you against the counter and you melt in his hands. His fingers find their way under your shirt and he glides them up, rolling the tee up as his hands follow. Lifting your hands above your head, he slides the shirt off your arms and tosses it aside. He works at your pants next, hooking his fingers in the elastic. He stretches and shuffles them down to your ankles and you kick them off.

Hands around your waist again, he lifts you just enough to set you on the counter and peel your panties down your thighs, all the way pat your ankles. He shoots them across the ship and turns back to you with a self satisfied smirk.

“You’re gonna have to go fetch those when you’re done with me,” you scold.

He raises a brow but lowers it as he digs the pads of his fingers into the top of your thighs. “I don’t think so. Besides, I will be the one giving orders,” he spreads your thighs apart, “around here.”

With a sharp intake of breath he eyes you and then takes one step to stand between your legs. Unhooking your bra with nimble fingers, he slides the straps down your arms and then tosses it somewhere behind him before cupping each of your breasts in his hands, squeezing.

“Dios mío. You are incredible,” he breathes. He continues to fondle your breasts and then pinches and rolls your nipples between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“Why thank you, papi.”

He laughs before bending and drawing a nipple into his mouth. You let out a soft sigh as the warmth and tenderness of his tongue against your skin soothes away lingering pain, replacing it with an inner ache of desire. As if reading your mind, one of his hands travels down your middle, coming to rest at your cunt. He cups you, swirling his thumb around your clit as his mouth moves to the other breast.

“Already so wet for me.” Continuing to tease you, he slips a finger inside of you, curling just slightly and you clench around it while he continues to increase yowant with the steady circling of his thumb. “How long have you been wanting me to touch you, mi princesa codiciosa?”

With parted lips, you meet his intent gaze as he guides another finger inside you. A shattered sigh slips loose. You answer, “the moment I saw you.”

He rewards you with another pump of his fingers, this time going deeper. Muscles contracting to keep him right where he is, he thumbs your clit more.

“I am unsurprised. So helpless and needy for my touch.” There’s a cluck of his tongue. “Finally, something you can’t do for yourself.”

“I can,” you retort. You try to sound more firm and condescending but it comes out more breathless.

His brow shoots up. “Oh?”

“I just don’t want to,” you whine.

He shares a small, self satisfied smirk. He continues to fuck you with his fingers, the pressure for release building slow but bright and blooming. You try to scoot and take more of him in. As soon as you try to grind he withdraws, leaving you wanting.

“Why is that?” He coaxes an answer from you, grasping your chin to meet his gaze while he thumbs the line of your jaw with your own slick.

“Because sometimes it’s nice to be taken care of,” you admit.

“You don’t like doing everything for yourself? Maybe I should make you.”

You shake your head no in his grip. “Please, Del. Help me feel good.”

He releases your chin and trails that hand down your body, thumb resting on your clit again. With his other hand, he frees his cock from his waistband. He strokes down his hard shaft and swipes his tip along your slick folds. Once, twice and then a third time, taunting you.

“Delgado, please.” He smirks with your plea and with his nails digging into the side of your thigh, he thrusts deep into you with a groan.

With a sharp intake of breath, your hands reach out to grasp anything. His biceps, then his shoulders. The back of his neck. They end up landing in his hair as he drives into you.

“More,” you manage to say.

“More? Dios mío, so fucking greedy.”

But he moves his hand further up your thigh, the other trailing across your stomach and side, falling to rest at the small of your back. Gliding the one around your thigh to clasp the underside of your leg, he wraps it around his waist and keeps it supported. The angle he has now makes you cry out with his next thrust, penetrating you even deeper. “Yes, that’s it. You take me so well,” he practically coos.

He sets a perfect pace. Not too slow but not too fast. Allows you to become lost in the ebb and flow of your building orgasm, hand slowly slipping, losing your grip with each progressive moan that he encourages from your mouth. Your hand plunges into the sink of dissipated suds and cold water and he steadies you with the hand at your back. Scooting you forward just a bit, he fucks you and fusses over you.

“Hands in my hair, mi vida.”

The one hand still wet, you follow his instructions, threading your hands through his salt and pepper hair and grasping the short strands tight.

“That’s it.” He continues to pound into you, coaxing more shattered cries from your lips. “I’ve got you,” he reassures as the pleasure builds, your walls gripping his cock.

Your eyes close, seeing nothing. Only relishing in that sweet release that spreads the pleasure throughout your body in an electrifying pulse. Every fiber of your being lights up with tingling numbness. His thrusts slow as he pulls you even closer, holding you. He continues to fuck you gently as you come down from your high until you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you with a low groan. His head falling against your chest. His grip on your leg loosens and you let it slowly slide back to the counter where it drapes over the edge. His cock continues to quiver inside of you and you pull his head up to look at his satisfied and hazy gaze. You pull him into a hungry kiss, remaining locked in his arms for a few moments longer.

He releases your lips and combs his finger through your hair. “Is that what you needed, my vida?”

“Mmm,” you hum, “yes. Thank you.”

—

After a warm shower, Delgado sits on the couch, both of you only half clothed, and he pulls your feet into his lap. A softer beat of music plays in the background. You’ve got your tablet in hand, playing your favorite comedy vid on the screen. You chuckle a little and then laugh as he grabs one foot, tickling the bottom. You jerk away. But he grabs your ankle and tugs it back. Starts massaging the tender portion between the ball and the heel. You groan a little and set your tablet down in your lap.

“I don’t want to take you home.”

“So don’t,” he says, his thumbs placing pressure into your heel.

You smirk. “Is this where you tell me you’re giving up your life of piracy to become The Mantis’ sidekick?”

“You are delusional.” He picks up your other foot and starts massaging it.

“Too bad. You’d make a cute sidekick.”

“It is more thrilling to be known as your arch nemesis. I would like to keep it that way.”

“What a shame.”

“I do not see it that way.” He places a kiss on your foot and pushes your feet aside to crawl up your body, placing a palm next to each side of your head, pressing the couch cushion down. “I keep you in business.”

You laugh in his face at the absurdity of his statement. “I have enough crime without you to keep me in business.” You reach up and run a hand through his hair.

“Ah, but you have to admit, it is more thrilling this way. Tangling yourself up with me.”

“Mmm, I suppose I do see the appeal of tangling myself up with such a naughty pirate. But I may need further convincing.”

His face inches closer to yours, a devilish grin spreading on his face. “Of course you do,” he says before biting your lower lip and melting against you in a deep and lingering kiss.

[simp-for-the-masters]

I can't help but think the Master/Missy would actually love an autistic reader. Straight forward, speaks their mind, yet when it comes to social situations they will depend on the the Master/Missy... and let's be honest, they love it when their companion is at least somewhat dependable on them.

100%!

[isabellasinclairsworld]

Okay so i'm re watching Shameless and I wanna know if i'm the only one who thinks Derek is kinda hot. (Derek was the guy who got Debbie pregnant.)