#just kidding it’s a sleeve to keep him from messing with a hotspot

[butcherb1rd]

he’s gotten into alternative fashion

[gold-and-rubies]

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 4

Violence warning. Mac’s POV.

MacCready followed the boss as they crossed the bridge into Sanctuary. It had been a week since the Pip-Boy incident, and she seemed to be doing far better. He had been worried that he would lose the job because he did not think before he spoke, although it would not be the first time. That was how he lost his first caravan job. Being stranded in the middle of the wasteland was not fun.

They were coming back from helping Starlight with raiders. For whatever reason, the northwest Commonwealth was a hotspot for them. He did not complain though. Taking care of raiders was well paying, even if the settlers did not actually pay them. The raiders in this area seemed stupider than the average, making it more like free target practice than work.

He smiled softly as Dogmeat bounded up to them to say hello. He would not admit it, but he was starting to grow fond of the dog. He watched as his tail wagged wildly as the boss greeted him. She had asked him why he called her that, and not by her name. He had simply shrugged and said that was how he addressed all his bosses. It was true, but it served a purpose as well. It was to help prevent him from getting too attached. After all they say naming something creates a bond.

He wandered off towards the house as she left to greet the settlers. He did not particularly care for them, and they did not seem to mind him being distant.

Inside his room he sorted through his newly acquired gear. Other than the safe he had pushed into a corner, it did not look like it belonged to him, or anyone really. The lack of personalization was another thing he did to keep from getting attached. He did not know how long the job would last, though he hoped it would be for the long term.

He heard a knocking on the door frame. He turned to see the boss standing there, arms folded.

“When you’re done, we gotta go,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Already?”

“Yeah. Tenpines needs help… again,” she explained. He could hear the frustration in her voice. This was the third time they had requested help in two weeks. She seemed to like helping people, but this was a bit much for her apparently.

He sighed, “They should really think about moving at this point.”

“No kidding. Sturges was going to send some turrets to Starlight, because of how close they are to Lexington. Might have to send them there instead.”

When he was ready, they took off. The sun was about to start setting when they left. Normally, he did not like leaving that late in the day, especially this time of year, but Tenpines was a short trip.

When they got there they were greeted by terrified farmers. Whatever had happened was worse than the usual.

“What’s the problem?” the boss asked curtly. For once she was straight to the point.

She must be pretty damn annoyed, he thought.

“Super mutants.”

That explained a lot. Even though pay would be reduced, he would never complain about taking down super mutants. It would make his life easier in the long run. Besides, it was easier to deal with raiders. At the very least they could be bribed or threatened into submission. Super mutants on the other hand, not so much.

“We were barely able to hold them off last time. We need your help to defend ourselves.”

As callous as it was, he was honestly surprised they had survived at all.

“We’ll take care of them. Do you know where they’re coming from?”

“No, but they should be coming back tonight.”

“Alright. If you need us, we’ll be over there,” she said, pointing to the ruins of an old house.

It did not offer them any shelter other than keeping them up off of the ground, but the lack of walls allowed them to keep watch of their surroundings. They spread out their bedrolls to act like cushions as they sat there waiting. He had not been alone with her like this in over a week. They had managed to get back to Sanctuary by nightfall in the days prior. They spoke to each other, obviously, but it was mostly jokes, snarky comments, and stuff related to the old world he did not understand. They had not had a proper, sit down conversation in over a week. He wanted a way to pass the time, and having a talk like that seemed the best way to do it.

“Do you know the story of Hercules, or rather, Heracles and his twelve trials?” she asked suddenly.

“Uh, no? Who the heck is that?”

“A hero from an old myth. It is, or was, one of the most well known.”

His curiosity piqued. He raised an eyebrow at her, “You're point?”

“We’re just waiting around, right? I’m trying to find a way to pass the time,” she explained. It seemed that she had read his mind.

“By telling me about some old myth?” he asked.

“By telling you a story.”

She then proceeded to tell him the story of the old mythical hero, and his most famous legend. She painted a fantastical picture with her voice. The setting was vivid, and the people came to life. The way she spoke made everything seem so real. He could not see the things she described, but he could clearly envision every word that she said. He was completely captured by the story.

He looked at her in amazement when she finished. She had a good voice in general, but he did not expect her to be such an amazing story teller. He wondered how she learned to tell stories like that, if it had anything to do with the vault. The more he learned about her, the more confused he became.

“Damn, Boss. Didn’t expect you to be a storyteller.”

She merely shrugged in response.

Before he could say anything else he heard a noise in the distance from behind them. He stilled completely, staining to make the noise out. Then he realized what it was.

“They’re coming,” he said as he readied his rifle.

She nodded. She grabbed her pistol, and edged past him. They waited with baited breath. The voices grew louder and louder. He stared through his scope, eyebrows furrowed together. The moment the first head popped into his field of view, he pulled the trigger. The bullet buried itself in the mutant’s head.

The ensuing roars of fury chilled him to the bone. As stupid as they were, they were not a force to be messed with lightly. He felt panic rise in his chest when he saw how many of them there were. Counting the dead one, there were a dozen of them.

How the hell did they manage to survive? he thought.

The three with sledgehammers rushed towards them. Two of them fell quickly. MacCready was barely able to take the third before he raised the hammer to slam it down on the boss's head. He could see the fear in her face veiled behind steely resolve.

Bullets rained down on them. Most of them missed, but he felt one graze his right arm just below the shoulder.

The fight lasted for what seemed like forever. When it finished he felt his body sag with relief< which was short lived. He heard footsteps coming from behind him. He whirled around to find it was just the farmers.

They proceeded to thank them profusely, just as they had last time. When they left the boss noticed the darkening cloth on his arm.

“You’re bleeding,” she said, reaching out slightly.

He pulled away slightly, “I’ll be fine. It’s just a graze.” He did not want to go through the hassle of dressing the wound with one hand.

“It’s still an open wound. You could get an infection.”

“I’ll be fine. Besides, it’s kind of hard to clean up a bullet hole with one hand.”

“I’ll do it for you,” she offered.

“Didn’t know you cared about me so much, Boss,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes in response.

“You can’t keep me alive if you die. Especially to something stupid like an infection. Just let me clean and bandage it.”

He sighed in resignation. He sat down and leaned against one of the barely there walls.

“You're going to need to take off your duster and you’re button up. If your undershirt is a short sleeve you can leave it on,” she explained as if he had never been patched up before.

He shrugged his first two layers off the wounded shoulder. It was too cold for him to take them off all the way. He rolled the sleeve of his undershirt to give her better access to the wound. She reached out with her left to steady him. He jerked away when her fingertips brushed his shoulder. They were far more calloused than he had been expecting.

“You okay? Did that hurt?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Your fingers are just rougher than I was expecting,” he confessed.

“That’s what happens when you play guitar,” she said simply.

That caught him off guard. Not only was it rare for someone in the wasteland to be able to play an instrument, she was actually talking about herself in a way other than her thoughts on the situation on hand.

“You can play the guitar?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“Yeah. I’ve been playing since I was ten.”

“Well, damn.”

There were so many other things he wanted to say. A lot of questions. Despite his curiosity, he held back his tongue. He was so intrigued by this mystery woman. Probably too much.

Chapter 3 Read it on ao3

[jenny-kirk]

Story Time with Jenny: Nightmare

(Micah x Jenny- Fluff/Angst. TW: Pregnancy, Nightmares, Panic Attack)

Much like that time a tired Jenny sought to convince Micah to sleep, the roles were at first reversed. Not long before the Blackwater Job, Jenny wonders if maybe, Micah is willing to amend some of his ways...poor naive thing.

The crackling of the dying campfire was barely audible over the snores and shuffles of those sleeping close by it. Swanson, Javier and Lenny nearby, fast asleep. Jenny sat alone by the dying embers having placed an extra log on it to no avail. A steaming cup of coffee doing a better job of warming her, too tired to fix the fire properly.

It was the nightmares again. The ones since her suspicions of a suspected pregnancy was confirmed by the small bump, since the plans for the blackwater job became so real and looming.

Jenny was rarely one to show fear in battle, usually enjoying the chase and adrenaline a job created. Saving someone’s life and mocking them for it the whole day. But for some reason, things felt different about the ferry job, foreboding almost.

Hiding a pregnancy was one thing even though Miss Kirk was damn near positive a few in camp already harboured suspicion. Wearing her shawl all day no matter the weather, a blanket her constant companion, clothes noticeably becoming tighter, it wasn't exactly subtle.

Javier was more attentive than ever, most likely recognising something to be the matter when she declined her favourite pastime; swimming.

 Lenny always offering help when her morning sickness struck. “I just ate a bad berry,” was the excuse she had ready but Mr Summers would only shake his head, “like shit you did.”

And of course her regard towards Mr Bell was noticeable enough, sitting on his lap by the fire, reciprocating his attention, the two disappearing without warning, sometimes for days at a time.

It would be pathetic to admit her fear now. Not after how excited she’d been. But what if the nightmares were a warning, the job wasn’t safe, something went wrong with the pregnancy, someone gets injured, caught, or worse...

No that wouldn't do. It was just paranoia! She’d treat it like every other job. Exciting and fun. What’s the worst that could happen?...

The dark liquid trembled, rippling in her hands as Jenny’s breathing searched for regularity, a cold sweat tearing at her forehead.

“It’s a good plan Dutch, you know it. The money-we gotta try.”

“I-I know just, make sure it’s worth the risk. I'm trusting you on this Micah”

The two moustached men spoke quietly as they emerged from Dutch’s tent, the seeming hotspot for blackwater discussions. Up until now, Jenny had been regularly listening in on such conversations, hearing the plan, the take, making her heart race ever faster.

Thankfully as the pair kept their voices low, their contrasting eyes failed to spot Jenny sitting on the dusty ground, leaning tiredly against the log specifically put there to be sat on. Excited as Jenny was for the job, she couldn’t help the dreadful feeling that something was wrong. 

At their presence Jenny did her upmost to wipe the sweat from her forehead, taking deeper breaths to calm herself. So focused on this process the girl hardly heard the clomping footsteps so uneven from her side until out the corner of her eyes a mass joined her on the floor with a sigh.

“Y’ain’t tired Missy?”

Shaking her head Jenny managed a small smile Micah’s direction, a witty response to yet again commence a back and forth of banter lost among her thoughts.

“You ain't been givin’ me much reason to be,” her hazel cut eyes shot to pieces, reddened by past tears despite her pathetic attempt to tease.

The blonde’s brows creased, squinting his eyes to observe her. ‘Damn pregnant women always so sensitive’. Something was the matter but that wasn't any of his business, nor did Micah wish it to be. 

Contemplating leaving to sharpen his knife or rob a homestead, Micah then devised a cunning plan. This woman was carrying his child after all and if he wished to get any kind of action, it was probably best to keep her happy

“Then you gonna tell ol’ Micah Bell the matter?”

“Ain’t nothing the matter Micah, just needed some air is all”

The blonde pulled a knowing, mockingly agreed face with a nod before sniffing looking about the silent camp.

“That why you’re shakin’ like a leaf is it?”

Noticing he stared directly into the cup within her hand, Jenny quickly placed it to one side. Micah was defiantly the observant type, Jenny was clearly frightened by something, unusual, not only this but that headstrong spark had disappeared into the night, leaving her reserved and quiet, unable to make a move or joke.

With a sigh an arm wrapped around Jenny’s waist drawing her closer to the man, her head resting against his shoulder, suddenly grateful the rest of camp slept, allowing Micah to show such a side he always fought against. A weak side that did nothing but get those you cared about killed.

Remaining silent for a short while, Micah could feel Jenny’s breathing hot and hurried against him, a sniff that turned into a choke prompting his question.

“Y’need a cry?” 

Jenny looked up at the man, expecting such a comment to be sarcastic and mocking yet his soft gaze harboured no trace of that. Surprise and hope made the woman’s heart heavy. Was Micah really allowing this? In the middle of camp with no mocking? Maybe this baby really was going to change things...

Feeling her eyes tear up in almost an instant Micah allowed her to sob into his shirt, making it a darker shade of red with her tears, her long brown hair getting tangled in his hand which combed through it, the other keeping her close.

Repositioning herself so as to hide her face away from the world, she knew what a mess she was leaving. Saliva, snot and tears all plastering itself to Micah’s already destroyed red shirt, which, by the way, absolutely stank of all things nasty. 

But that didn't matter right now.

Jenny near scrambled to face Micah, clinging to his shirt as if it would somehow make everything better. All her worries cured. About the baby, about the gang, the job and even them.

God how he’d surely mock her for such an emotional moment...A weak moment, as he might say. 

But for now, she sat clinging as Micah’s larger hands held her steady, one dropping from her hair to rub and pat circles across her back with a hush.

It went without saying that Micah was not one for comfort or care, leaving him very much at a loss within the predicament.

“It’s alright...I don’t sleep much neither.”

Telling folk sleep was overrated was only half the story. Growing up Micah’s father didn’t leave him or his brother Amos much time to do so. Drilling into their heads that letting your guard down would spell disaster, making him and his brother keep guard so as he might sleep in their place.

And so to this day, sleeping was too dangerous a task even for Micah, the amount of enemy’s he had it was too much a risk. That and sleeping reminded Micah too much of his past, dreams could be nasty things.

Miss Kirk’s small bump rested close against Micah’s own potbelly, the warmth of his embrace and uncharacteristic softness calming, already finding her heart-rate slowing in the comfort of his embrace as she coughed and spluttered helplessly into his shirt.

Eyes burning a yawn breaking her from the sobs Jenny began to calm down, remaining buried in Micah’s shirt, his hand grazing through her dark hair, patiently waiting for her to regain herself. It wasn’t like this happened often.

“It’s pathetic,” Jenny admitted with a shake of her head, voice muffled.

Waiting for a ‘Yes, it is. Pull yourself together woman or our kid’s gonna be just as useless.’ Jenny looked up to Micah who merely waited, listened, such attentiveness was lingering on concern.

“Nightmares. Never used to have ‘em...but now...” Some shuffling behind the pair made them look only to see it as Uncle shifting in his sleep against a tree. 

“They feel so real. I-I don’t want ‘em to be real Micah.”

With a sigh, not comfortable nor used to comforting another, Micah perpetuated the question, “What kinda nightmares?”

“Oh awful, awful things. That job, somethin’ goes wrong, people get hurt, bad.” Not telling Micah the full extent of her fears while answering his question posed, staring into his cold eyes.

Holding her tight Micah continued. If Miss Kirk was not ordinarily so full of life, so fun and optimistic (or if she was not carrying his child) Micah would have mocked and berated the woman for days over such news.

‘Carin’ for people, that's how you get hurt.’ But no, he was already contradicting his father’s teachings as he himself had learned to care (to an extent) for someone himself.

“Ain’t nothing going wrong. We go there, get the money, n’ we’re far away before the law even find out.” 

Jenny merely nodded. It wasn't like Micah would actively put them all in dangers way, right? Having caught her breath, reduced now only to a few odd snivels, Jenny leaned back a little, seeing the state she’d left the older man’s shirt in. 

A sheepish look over her as Micah tutted, placing his wide brimmed hat on Jenny’s head lopsidedly making her huff a chuckle as she wiped her eyes with her own sleeve.

“You go on ‘n sleep now, y’hear sugar?”

Unhappy reluctance had Jenny look to her tent.

Placing a kiss on the sniffing woman’s forehead, his moustache which would soon be roaming somewhere very different, prickling lightly against her cold skin, Micah offered a rare gentle smile. Already working on undoing his dampened shirt.

“Come. Reckon I know what helps~”

[occasionalfics]

Cross the Stars, part IX

part viii.i, part x

A/N: I’d apologize for the adorable amount of intimacy I wanted between these characters but I’m not sorry or ashamed of it. Also, this is another long one and, again, I cut a scene in half to get it under an obscene word count. TW: some language.

Summary: Yondu is hers, and he recognizes that she was a Captain, if not the captain now. But that doesn’t stop bad news from creeping in.

Words: 5,086

~~~

She wakes up to a grunt and loud, metallic knocking.

“Yondu?” a small voice calls from the door.

“Shit,” Yondu mumbles.

Another knock. “Yondu, the crew’s looking for ya.”

It’s not Kraglin, she realizes as she comes to.

“Tell’em to fuck off,” Yondu says, shifting so he can dig his face further into her neck.

She smiles and lets out a sigh that turns into a giggle when his short whiskers rub against her skin.

“You know what happens when I do that, Yondu.”

He grunts. “Fine,” he says, then kisses her neck before pulling away.

Indriza grabs onto him, not wanting him to leave. If he gets out of the bed, everything will be real. She’ll really have left her sister, Allura, her home - but then again, having him will be real, too.

“I gotta go, ‘Driza,” he says, one leg hanging off the bed.

“Nope,” she says, keeping her grip sure.

He sighs, leans forward, and kisses her lips this time, leaning over her.

“Yondu, one of them is gonna eat me-”

He rips away from her. “I’ll eat ya if ya don’t shut up, kid!” he calls.

Indriza supports herself on her elbows. “Is that Peter?” she asks.

Yondu nods, taking advantage of her loosened grip. He slides off the bed and finds clean clothes. Indriza grabs onto his blanket and pulls it up to cover herself, half expecting Peter to come into the room.

Yondu comes around to her and kisses her again, breathing deep - she hopes to keep her with him when he goes. “Ya can take a shower, if ya need,” he says after he’s pulled back. He points to a door at the side of the bed that she hadn’t noticed until then, then runs his hand through her hair before turning to the door. He unlocks it, opens it, and steps out quickly so that no one can get a look inside.

Indriza waits until the door is shut and she hears the lock click into place before getting out of the bed herself. She can hardly believe she’s here, in Yondu’s bed on the Elector, and that this has to be her home now. She tries not to remember Omara’s words from the night before - she could do without a healthy dollop of guilt this early in the morning.

She thinks it’s morning, anyway. It must be - Peter is awake, and so is most of the crew. She stretches as she makes her way around the bed, picking up her clothes to place them in a pile at the end of the bed as she goes. She almost misses the arrow at the bottom of the mess, but then nearly trips over it. Indriza picks it up, holds it out before her, and examines what looks to be handcrafted Yakka metal. There are little spots on it that look like burns, but on the whole, it is beautiful and intact. But she isn’t sure where to put it - somewhere he will find it, but that it won’t fall into the wrong hands. It should be fine in the room, she thinks, given that the door is locked and that Yondu is the only Centaurian on board.

She puts it on his side of the bed, just below his pillows, then goes into the washroom. His shower is different from the ones on the Axion II, but it’s not difficult to figure out. Before long, she has the hot water streaming. She steps in and revels in feeling Contraxia and her mistakes melt from her skin. She has no soap or cleaning products of her own - those were things she forgot to grab before leaving - so she uses Yondu’s. He has nothing to clean hair with, given he has no hair, but she makes do.

When she’s done, she opens a cabinet in the back of the small room and finds drying cloths. She takes two and wraps one around her hair, the other around her body. She opens the door to the washroom to find Yondu on the bed, arrow in his hands. He sits up  and smiles when she goes to stand in front of him.

“I take it the crew didn’t eat Peter?” she asks.

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “But they know yer here.”

She sighs. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He shrugs. “I ‘spose. Some of ‘em are loud mouths, most of ‘em’re impulsive. Ever’one of ‘ems got a temper.”

She holds onto her cloth with one hand and undoes the one on her hair with the other. “You say that like I’m not also a ravager,” she says.

“I just don’t want none of’em gettin’ their hands on ya,” he says, his smile falling just a bit. “Never thought I’d get ta see ya again, let alone have ya here with me. Can’t let none of’em have ya.”

She steps closer to him, dropping the hair cloth on the floor. She tucks the top of the cloth on her body into a knot to keep it in place before leaning to be face-to-face with him. “I’m a big, tough girl. I can handle a ship of pirates,” she says, her smile turning into a smirk before she kisses him.

Before she pulls away, there is a loud grumbling between them. It take her a second to realize it’s her stomach demanding food; the grumbling comes with vibrations and a little bit of pained tension. She can’t remember the last time she’s eaten. It was before she left the Axion II, that’s for sure.

Indriza groans and pulls back from Yondu, heading over to her bag.

“Hungry?” he asks.

“Apparently,” she says, digging through her things. She finds clean underclothes, pants, and a top, and without hesitating, drops her cloth to get dressed.

“Mmm,” he whines when she pulls up panties. “No! I like you better without those things.”

She shoots a giggle over her shoulder at him. “I bet you do,” she says, ignoring his protests at each step of her dress. The only one she listens to is when she is about to put on her old jacket - the fabric is dyed to match the colors of the Axion II: dark purple, black, and rusty brown.

“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he says.

She folds her arms across her chest and waits as he goes to a hidden closet. It looks like the rest of his walls and opens at his command, but inside hangs only identical coats. They’re burgundy-red, leather, and match the one he has on currently. Yondu pulls one off its hanger and brings it to her.

“But this is yours,” she says when he holds it out.

He shrugs. “I gotta couple. I want ya to have it.”

“It’s a captain’s coat.”

“Yer a captain, ain’t ya?”

She hesitates. Is she a captain? She hasn’t felt like one in so long. She’s honestly not even sure she knows what it feels like anymore. Surely Yondu won’t make her captain of his people - they’d never hear of it. That’s why she left them out of her dreams and fantasies. She wants to be his equal, but knows she won’t be, can’t be, until she proves to the crew she is worthy of the position.

“I was,” she says quietly, eyes wide.

He shakes the coat out in front of her. “Go on,” he says.

Slowly, she reaches for the coat, examining its smooth texture beneath her fingers. It’s lined with fur of some kind, soft and comfortable without being too warm, and has many pockets and utility straps. It even has an inner holster for his arrow, but if it’s her coat now, it’ll hold her sharp knife.

She slides into it, noting how it smells like him: Xandarian Whiskey, motor oil, and the same soft lavender scent his soap has. It’s comfortable, and makes her feel taller and wider just by being in it. Suddenly, she is not stocky, small Indriza. She is Indriza Ombato, revered ravager turned pirate.

“Ya like it?” he asks.

She nods, turning her arms over a few times to adjust the sleeves. She looks down and sees that over the left breast pocket is the ravager symbol - the emblem of the United. Burgundy flames took up the space her purple ones had once been in, but that wasn’t what shook her.

“You still keep it?” she asks. She knows he’s not supposed to - he’s exiled. He is contractually obligated to remove the ravager emblem from his clothing, the ship, his crew. It was all a punishment for whatever caused him to be shamed in the first place.

“Feels wrong to burn it,” he answers, a hint of sadness in his voice.

Knowing what she knows, she agrees. It feels wrong to even think of abandoning the United, regardless of the United abandoning them. So she nods and puts a hand against his cheek. “You’re right,” she says.

And that’s when her stomach goes off again, reminding her that she absolutely needs to eat something. They share a laugh, then he leads the way to the commissary.

 ***

 Yondu, Indriza, and Peter can’t leave the ship. They can’t even dock the Elector at most ports, especially ravager hotspots. The three of them are all too recognizable. Centaurians and Axions are few and far between, and Yondu’s face is all too recognizable. Indriza is one of only a handful of her people left alive, and even fewer happen to be ravagers. Peter is the only nine-year-old Terran child this far out of Terra’s orbit. Kraglin usually stays with them, since he is young, easily scared, and loyal to a fault. He only leaves Yondu’s side when told to. He refuses to take small pods and ships out to ports without the captain, even if those trips are necessary for the maintenance of the Elector and its crew.

So the four of them are stuck together while the rest of the crew, at varying intervals, is allowed to roam the galaxy. They actually get to ravage, rather than sit back and wait for the hype of the bounty to die down.

“That could take years, Captain,” Indriza says. She has gotten into the habit of referring to Yondu as such over the few weeks she’s spent with him, knowing that using any other title would show the crew he was soft and made excuses for her. She didn’t have to be told that, though; she had been a captain once. Even Allura had referred to her as such. Omara had been the only one to use her given name in formal settings - they were not only equal captains, but sisters. That was a circumstance a crew, possibly even the Elector’s, could understand.

“It’s what we gotta do,” he says, hands on his hips, feet apart as he addresses his crew.

She likes seeing him like this, getting to know him as Yondu and as Captain. He is as kind to her as she hoped he’d be, but stern and ruthless as a leader and ravager, just as he had been when they’d met on Ubraa-10. Sometimes she swears he is the best she has ever seen - the best ravager, that is, which makes her proud and sad at the same time. She is proud of him, more so every day she is with him, but she is sad for him, knowing what she knows.

“You’re always sayin’ I’m small and good for thievin’, and now you won’t even let me do that!” Peter says.

She looks at the young Terran, as does the crew. He is well protected by Yondu and herself, and even Kraglin as he learns how to protect others. But he is still a boy, and most of the crew frightens him. He is blond and freckled, something Indriza can only assume is attractive in a child on Terra. Since she’s never been there, he is her example of every good thing about the planet.

She has come to respect and care for Peter Quill, child of Ego and Terra. They don’t get a lot of time alone with how large the crew is, but sometimes, in quiet moments in the commissary or while she’s assisting in the upkeep of the ship, he asks her odd questions about being a ravager. He’s an excellent listener, she knows, and so willing to learn. It makes her sad when someone interrupts their conversations, even when it’s Yondu.

“Yeah well I’m gonna eat ya if ya complain anymore about it,” Yondu responds.

Indriza is not alone when she rolls her eyes at that. He is always threatening to eat the Terran, possibly because Peter doesn’t know better. Centaurians don’t eat humans, but Yondu knows he can be terrifying on the outside. He uses that to keep a certain level of control over the crew - never Indriza, but maybe that is because she never questions him without reason.

“Squad 1, find food. We don’t wanna be runnin’ low,” he says. “Squad 2, head for Sovereign. I’ll send the details in a half hour.”

Half the crew departs.

“The rest a’ya, get back to yer stations.”

The other half leaves the bridge. Kraglin stays in his seat, watching the navigation and sonar of the Elector closely. Peter stays because he has nowhere to go without Yondu’s permission. Indriza stays because Yondu does - she is much like Peter and Kraglin in that.

When all but the four of them are left, assuredly, he comes to her and puts an arm around her waist. She relaxes next to him, though she is beginning to feel the effects of staying in one place for too long with the same people.

“Haven’t heard anythin’ from that girl’a yers?” he asks.

She has told Yondu about Allura. Everything. How they were lovers, how much it hurt Indriza to leave Allura behind, how guilty she feels for hurting someone she loves so much. He has been more than accepting of the whole situation, though she doesn’t know if that’s because he approves of the relationship or because he just wants to appease her. She doesn’t question it, since none of it matters if Allura does not reach out to her.

Indriza shakes her head. “I miss her,” she whispers.

He nods. “I know, but she’ll let ya know when she’s ready ta talk.”

She puts her head on his shoulder as Kraglin turns in his seat. “Squad 1 has departed, Cap’n,” he says.

Yondu nods. “Thank’ya. Prepare the comm for Squad 2.”

“What can I do?” Peter asks.

Indriza thinks that, out of the four of them, she feels the worst for him. He is a small child in space, lost to his homeworld - not entirely unlike her. He has a whole galaxy he should be allowed to explore, and yet...the second another ravager spots him, he is as good as dead, she knows.

Not everyone knows his father is Ego. Most of the crew of the Elector doesn’t know. He is just some kid to them, maybe one who asked to stay with the crew after they picked him up. She assumes most of the crew doesn’t care for the United’s code, but after all, it is the Captain’s responsibility to uphold the code. Crew members who break it can be expelled and replaced.

“Find a safe planet to dock at for a night or two,” Yondu says. “No ravagers. No Kree provinces.”

Peter’s eyes light up with the assignment. Indriza sighs and smiles as he plops into the seat next to Kraglin. Together, they look for a safe place where they may all disembark and be off the Elector for a while.

“We’ll be ‘round if ya need us,” Yondu says before turning them around. They left together and went back to his room. They spend a lot of time there, together alone, now that neither of them can leave. Indriza pretends not to care too much - she is happy and in love, and Yondu seems to be the same. But she desires to see the galaxy again. She wants to find Allura or just...to be free. Some part of her wants to find Stakar Ogord herself and explain everything she knows, but she is aware of how useless that would be.

Restless. That’s the right word. She is restless.

Thankfully, Yondu is good at distracting her.

The second his door is closed and locked, his lips are at her neck. He hasn’t even thought of shaving since she arrived, so his prickly whiskers are longer and curved around his chin, which scrapes the skin on her chest. She giggles and bites her lip.

His mouth travels up until he finds hers.

“You know,” she says between kisses. “We can’t.” Kiss. “Only do.” Kiss. “This.”

“We definitely can,” he responds. His hands move down to cup her butt, and with the help of the door behind her, he lifts her off her feet.

She wraps her legs around him, totally forgetting about the rest of the galaxy. No one else matters except them - Peter and Kraglin are far, far away. Further still when he puts his tongue against her bottom lip. She opens her mouth for him, closing her eyes to enjoy each sensation fully.

Something vibrates, and at first, she imagines it’s some kind of mechanised toy he’s had one of his crew members pick up for them. And then she realizes that the shaking is coming from her pocket, and not his. She breaks from the kiss, but does not disengage from him entirely. Pulling her minicomm out, she stares at the hologram.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Allura.” Her legs drop to the floor, but her free arm stays on his shoulder.

It’s Yondu that lets go. “Answer,” he says, stepping back.

She stares at him for a moment, but he nods, and so she does what he says. She accepts the call, and then Allura’s face is displayed before her.

“Indi,” she says.

Indriza can feel her heart beat faster. She can't help but smile as Allura does. “I’m so glad to see you,” she says.

Her face falls into a mixture of anger, sadness, and worry. “I won't be long, I’m afraid.”

“Are you okay?” Indriza asks.

Allura nods. “I am, but you won't be.”

Indriza looks at Yondu, who shrugs with a worried look on his face.

“She’s hell-bent in finding you, Indi. I’ve never seen her like this.”

When she turns back to the comm, she sees the terror in Allura’s eyes, even as small as her likeness is. Indriza doesn't have to guess who Allura is speaking of.

“What does she want?” Indriza asks.

“The bounty. She reported your treason before I knew you were gone. Stakar Ogord has raised the bounty. He wants the both of you.”

She knew this would happen, and yet, that doesn’t keep the absolute terror from freezing her body. She had made her bed, now she has to lie in it. She chose Yondu, despite losing everything she had, despite the dangers that lay ahead.

“I have to go. Steer clear of Xandarian provinces until further notice. I’ll contact when I can,” Allura says, and then she is gone.

Indriza drops the comm, finding it hard to breathe. Her throat is closing, though not in the emotional crying-type manner it has before. This is real closing - hyperventilating, going weak in the knees, falling to the floor clutching her chest closing. Yondu drops to her, puts his hands on her arms, and is saying something but she can’t hear him. All she hears is ringing as the words flash across her mind: “He wants both of you.”

Stakar Ogord was once her ally. They had never been particularly close, like she knows he and Yondu had once been, but he had offered her family a new start and a group to belong to, security in strength and numbers, and any resources he could spare when her faction had just formed. He is kind to those who are loyal to the United, firm, and terrifying - all things a leader should be, she knows. She learned most of what she knows about being a Captain from observing his strategies, though she didn’t always agree with them. Omara had, she remembers.

And that’s the thought that makes her scream, despite not having much breath to do it with. Omara, her baby sister who she practically raised on her own, her co-captain, and Stakar Ogord, her mentor and role model, were out to get her. She had made choices, choices she still believes in, but choices that have turned almost all those that she loves against her.

She is crying, though she doesn’t remember letting tears fall. She clutches her sides, her hair fallen over her head as it tucks itself in as far as it can go. Her shoulders jump every time she is able to breathe, which is not very often. Pain in all corners of her body explodes, though she has no reference as to where it really comes from. And through it all, Yondu is holding her, shushing her and cooing useless but sweet affirmations.

“Driza, it’s okay. We’gonna be okay,” he says, starting to rock her back and forth.

She admits to herself that it works, if only a little. Her crying turns to sobbing, her breaths even out, and her muscles relax. She falls against him, letting everything out in sobs and frustrated moans. He continues to offer whatever little nothings he can.

“Driza, we’re two’a the smartest, fastest ravagers in the galaxy,” he says. “He ain’t gonna catch us, an’ neither is that sister’a yers.”

“If we never leave the ship again, sure,” she says barely above a whisper.

He lifts her up by the shoulders until she is sitting back on her knees, facing him at arm’s length. “We’ll go further than the galaxy,” he says. “The universe is big. ‘S gotta be somewhere fer us out there.”

She shakes her head. “It’ll take too long, and we don’t know that anything else is out there, or where any of it would be. We leave and risk mutiny and starvation or we stay and get caught.”

“Ya say that like I ain’t been on the run for the last two years,” he says.

“There’s never been a bounty before.”

“Maybe so, but I can still outrun the other factions. Always have. You used’ta too, ya know.”

He’s right. She remembers when the Axion faction was one of the most revered ravager factions in the United. She and Omara were partners then. She didn’t make stupid mistakes that changed her entire life then. She had only recently lost her mother, was ruthless, and would stop at nothing to protect what family she had left. I’m soft, she thinks.

“Driza, we ain’t goin’ nowhere without each other. That counts for somethin’, right?” he asks.

She looks at his red eyes, eyes she’s come to find so much comfort and adoration in since coming to the Elector. She has to trust him. She trusts the look in his eyes, the gleam they give off.

“Yes,” she says. “It does. It just doesn’t change the fact that my own sister sold me out to the United, who I didn’t even really betray-”

“Now you know what it’s like,” he says, his features drooping a bit.

Indriza sits quietly, waiting for Yondu to continue.

“Stakar Ogord was the only kinda daddy I ever had,” he says. “He freed me, ‘Driza. Lit’rally. Gave me a purpose. And then I picked up that dumb kid, and suddenly my whole family turned against me. Everyone except this crew.”

She gives a long sigh and wipes her face with the back of her hand.

“We all make stupid mistakes,” he says quietly. “Unfortunately, we gotta pay the price for them.”

“You are not a stupid mistake,” she says, sure and bold in her choice. She sits straight to make her point even more poignant. “Neither is Peter. You saved him, Yondu, like I wanted to save you when the bounty was set. We may all make stupid mistakes, but at least some of us take the time to understand those mistakes.”

He sighs. “I didn’t want this for ya, though. I didn’t want ya to have to run with me.”

“I wanted to.” She doesn’t tell him that, at one point, she had almost convinced herself that they would be able to convince Stakar Ogord of his innocence. It seemed almost cruel to even mention it, given how heavily he carried the guilt of his actions with him. “You’re right. We’re going to run together. That’s what counts.”

They sit in silence for a bit, until Peter knocks on the door with news of a, hopefully, safe port. It’s on a planet Indriza’s only heard of, which makes her a bit anxious. She can’t map out what the place looks like, doesn’t have an exit strategy, and at first doesn’t even want to go.

Yondu gets up and leans out the door. He whispers something that she doesn’t hear to Peter before shutting the door, then returns to her side on the floor.

“We can’t go anywhere,” she says. “It’s too dangerous. Someone will find us and report us-”

“Peter’s pretty good at huntin’ down good places,” he interrupts. “An’ he doesn’t show me nothin’ without showin’ Kraglin first, so this place’s got both’a their stamps of approval. ‘S gonna be safe.”

“What if it’s not?” she asks, taking a deep breath to keep herself as calm as she wants to appear.

“Sometimes we gotta take chances,” he says, shrugging.

“On the very same night we learn that there’s a bounty out for both of us? Yondu, more than just our lives are at stake.”

“I know,” he says, maybe a bit too loudly. “Y’ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t already know, Driza.”

“Sorry,” she says quietly, looking away from him. She feels so small and fragile - a feeling that is so foreign to her, she’s completely inexperienced at how to overcome it. For so long, she’s had to be the strongest person she knew. She was the caregiver, the captain, the older sister. Now she has no idea who she is.

“We’re bein’ as careful as we possibly can, Darlin’,” he says quietly. “Let’s go have some fun since we don’ know when we’re gonna get ta again.”

She can feel how anxious she is at the idea of putting both of them at such a risk of being caught, but she can also feel the walls of the ship closing in on her. Slowly, they move to remind her that she is trapped. But maybe, if she just believed they could handle themselves for one night, she could relax and be happy on a planet she’s never seen before.

She forces a deep breath, then nods. “I don’t have anything to wear,” she says.

Yondu smirks, then stands and goes to his coat closet. She turns on her knees and watches from across the bed as he pulls out a small orange dress. It looks to be about her size, with cut outs from the sides and a low neckline.

“Had Tulk pick it up ‘bout a week ago,” he says. “Just incase.”

Indriza stands and goes to him. He holds the dress out to her, so she feels it between her fingers. It’s smooth spandex with hardly any seams.

“I don’t have shoes to go with this,” she says, unable to hide the smile on her face. She’s flattered that he’d thought of her, and she can’t deny that she’s even slightly turned on by the thought of wearing something Yondu picked intentionally to see her in.

He shrugs. “Ain’t no one’s gonna notice yer wearin’ boots with it, where we’re goin’,” he says.

She looks down at her ratty, dirty boots. They’re not falling apart - yet- but they’re also not formal or well taken care of. There are scuffs all over, and some parts of the laces are frayed. But they’re the only shoes she has, and she realizes that he’s right. If she has any inkling of where they’re going with her in this dress, no one is going to care what’s on her feet.

Without a word, she steps up on her tiptoes to kiss him in thanks quickly before going into his washroom to change. Just after she has her shirt over her head, Yondu calls, “Y’know I seen ya naked before, Darlin’.”

She laughs, rolls her eyes, and shimmies out of her pants. It takes her another few minutes to get into the dress and try to secure it before she gives up. Her arms are too short to finish the zipper in the back, so she grabs her clothes from the floor and heads back into the bedroom.

Yondu is no longer wearing a shirt. He has a short version of his usual coat on, the fur lining flush against his neck, and what she thinks look to be a clean pair of pants, but he is otherwise unchanged. When he sees her, he whistles, but not the arrow-commanding whistle. It’s a whistle of approval, supported by the wiggle of his eyebrows. “Lookin’ good,” he says, sauntering over to her.

“Where’re we going that you won’t need a shirt?” she asks, cocking just one eyebrow at him.

He smirks. She turns around, pulls her hair over her shoulder, and waits as he finishes the zipper. He doesn’t answer her question until he can put both hands on her ass. She gasps at his touch, but shakes her head anyway.

“A beach, ‘parently,” he says, much closer to her ear than she expects. His hands move to her hips, where the cutouts end.

She shivers against his touch on her bare skin, to which he chuckles. His lips go for her neck, sucking and nibbling as she smiles and reaches back to hold onto the side of his head.

Then, of course, there’s a knock on the door. It’s Kraglin - they’ve landed on the planet safely and undetected.

Indriza pulls her hair over her shoulders, flattens out the dress as best as she can, and adjusts the bust before Yondu grabs her hand and pulls her out the door and off the ship.