Who Can't Be All About How Awesome This Is!

I’m melting from the sweetness and the sexual tension in this chapter. Holy hell.

cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter nine. mal de coucou. [new 5/9] ✩❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 9/25+ | wip | word count: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | chapter nine. mal de coucou.

pearl and the monster make landing-plans. pearl gets a massage from her survivor. see below for warnings & notes.

His hands remember everything they’ve ever touched, and everything they’ve ever felt. They never, ever forget. He stares at pearl’s pretty, delicate fingers. His lowlight vision paints them with the champagne light of the security orbs, and he can see them so clearly that he can count the faint freckles on the second knuckle of her first and third digits, and a beauty mark on the web of her thumb. He compares the satin skin and spindle-thin bones to  the mass of gnarled leather and claw that make up his own hands. Then he rolls her fine knuckles under his rasping thumb, and finally — carefully, stomach tight with tension at the thought of waking her up, of getting caught — he brings them to his face and coasts his mouth over them lightly. He wants to lick them. Take the flavor of them into his mouth, press them against his teeth. Maybe between his teeth — nibbling just enough to leave little divots that would fade in less than an hour. Get the taste and texture of her silken skin on his tongue.  An antidote to ghosts. 

read more on ao3 | masterlist, notes, & moodboard

i am updating this from an uncomfortable chair in the hospital room. and yes, i am so tired i might as well be drunk, so please forgive any messiness of this chapter. in my head i had imagined it very slow-burn and delicious, but now i suspect it is clunky and clumsy. either way, i had a hard time deciding where this was worth a ✩ or a ❤︎‬ in the ratings, so i sorta gave it both?? anyway i hope you enjoy, my little glass suncatchers. sorry for being a day late again and please note that i might be late next week too as we are still waiting on some results for this surprise-brain-surgery-thing.

WARNINGS for chapter nine: description of hand surgery/butchery. massages and the resulting filthy fantasies.

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

*At some point, probably*

Rocket: I can’t do this, it’s against my moral compass.

Peter: YOUR MORAL COMPASS IS A ROULETTE WHEEL!

Rocket: …Your point?

This is goddamn beautiful, and I’m just loving every bit of interaction between these two darlings. Also, Rocket should fuck around with every part of Natasha’s car. 🚗

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part three. illinois. wisconsin. minnesota.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist previous part | next part [est june 4] | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 3/6 | word count: 1680.

night falls on the outskirts of chicago. wanda and rocket reflect on the horrors of the universe.

During a watch party for Avengers: Endgame on Twitter, Markus revealed the idea to team Wanda with the Guardian of the Galaxy captain actually made it into several versions of the film's script. "We had whole drafts with Wanda on a road trip with Rocket," Markus wrote, "but after the Vision plot in Infinity War, nothing we came up with was anything but wheel spinning for her character." CBR

references dialogue from All-New Guardians of the Galaxy Issue #4 - 6/21/2017

At Rocket’s urging, they’d stopped in a weird little convenience-and-fuel shop that the witch had called a rest stop, and he’d sneaked in behind some other humies and poked through the variety of chargers, converters, headphones, and other piecemeal tech that the rest stop had available for travelers to buy.

He’d emptied his pockets once they’d gotten back on the road and Wanda had looked at him with a crease between her brows. 

“How did you buy all that?” she’d asked, lips pursed. She always has big eyes, but they’d seemed even bigger then, and he hadn’t been able to quite clock what her expression had meant.  

So he’d just snorted. “Do I look like I carry Terran cash?”

Again, something in the corner of her mouth had flickered.

He’d been able to spend most of Indiana peeling apart wires and twisting them into one, breaking apart plastic hulls, and snapping together pieces of metal. 

“Natasha’s going to kill you,” Wanda tells him when he pries off the plastic facade protecting the wiring for all the fancy controls on Nat’s dashboard.

He shrugs. “Not if she can’t catch me.”

The witch makes that little puff of sound again. “Just — don’t mess with anything but the sound system,” she tells him. “I’m not making this drive without climate control and blinkers.”

He snorts, then points to a little heating coil the size of an old Kree Imperial coin. “What about that? Can I fuck with that?”

She glances over. “The cigarette lighter? Sure.”

It barely takes him any time to hook up the zune, and it’s crooning through Nat’s speakers by the time they hit the outskirts of Chicago. The sun’s long dropped behind the horizon by then, and he tells her they should hole up for the night.

“Danvers ain’t in that much of a rush,” he tells her. “We can take a break. Get some sleep.”

The witch doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about sharing a room with him, which is nice, because most of the time he feels like he’s gotta be on his guard with these baldbodies. He’s fairly certain at least half of the Avengers ain’t got any frickin’ respect for him or Nebs, and it’s frankly demoralizing.

But here he is, sharing a room with the witch. He’s never been one for regular sleep, and he’s got this thing with nightmares he doesn’t really want to inflict on Wanda. So he stays up most of the night, propped dozily against the headboard and fucking around on a datapad. The witch, for her part, pretends to watch some show on the two-dimensional Terran holovid-projector — primitive — then turns it off and pretends to sleep.

Pretends.

He tilts his head down at his datapad and wonders whether or not he should tell her that he can hear her heartbeat. It hasn’t dropped down to a relaxed, drowsy rate yet — in fact, sometimes he can hear it picking up, just for a minute. He wrestles with himself for a good fifteen minutes before he sighs and gets up, crossing the room to lean against the wall with the window. The witch is facing it, and he knows she can sense him, even though her eyes are closed. He leans back against the wall-mounted climate control unit, crossing his arms across his chest and his legs at the ankle while he waits for Wanda give up her silly charade.

It only takes about twenty seconds of him staring at her with one brow raised before she opens her eyes. They’re glowing as blood-crimson as his in this light — but where Rocket knows that his are made of reflective eyeshine, throwing back the flat light from the cracked bathroom door, hers are lit from the inside: whirling firestorms that would light up like furious beacons on even the most lightless of planets. 

He tries to curl the corner of his mouth in a way that says he’s unimpressed, but it’s a lie, and he’s never been good at lying.

“F’you’re not gonna sleep…”

She sighs and sits up, then rises, moving toward him so quickly that he startles: arms unfolding to defend himself, ears flickering flat. But she just comes and pulls the heavy curtains back, staring out into the distance. The glow of the city sits on the horizon, pinned with gemstone-lights. She leans forward, elbows propper on the window sill and hands on her chin.

“I don’t sleep much,” she says quietly.

He hesitates, then leaps nimbly onto the armchair on her other side, so he can peer out the window too.

“Yeah, well, you’re in good company,” he concedes after a moment. “Not sure how anybody does, to be honest.”

She snorts delicately at that, and he startles again. It’s the first time he’s seen that much life out of her — not counting her barely-banked outrage when he’d first called her boyfriend a robot, or the deadly-looking glow in her eyes a few moments ago.

“They think you can look away from the horrors of the universe,” she says emotionlessly, then shrugs. “I suppose—”

“No,” he interrupts flatly. “You can’t.”

She’s silent, and he doesn’t say anything either. They stare out toward the city for longer than Rocket knows — and to be honest, he’s only partly paying attention: sunk moodily into the horrors that plague his own mind. When he shakes himself – fur rippling from nose to tailtip — he’s reminded that he’s not alone. The witch looks as distant as he probably had. He’d been wondering — ever since the Snap — why she’d seemed so separate from her fellow Avengers, but he figures he gets it now. They’re an annoyingly optimistic bunch and she — she’s got her own horrors, too. 

She sighs, and stretches: hands gripping the sill, back arched like a cat. “Well,” she reasons. “If neither of us are sleeping, maybe we should get on the road?”

They stop at a roadside diner with outdoor seating and even though the sun is only blushing up the eastward horizon, Wanda insists on eating outside. She’s not trying to get in a situation where someone tells them that Rocket can’t be in a restaurant. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with his fury at the — well, the injustice of it. 

Because he’s not an animal. She’s still not sure exactly what he is, but he’s not an animal. She thinks again of his voice in the darkness beside her in the still-dark hours of the morning:

No, you can’t.

All of the Avengers do it, to some extent or another. Look past some of the horrors. She supposes it’s how they survive.

But she can’t.

She hasn’t been able to look away since she’d been trapped under that bed with Pietro, staring at the Stark Industries missile. She’s been waiting for death ever since. Now, under a rose-and-lavender sky with Rocket, she suddenly realizes that this is why it had been so easy to believe in Ultron’s promises.

Ultron hadn’t been able to look away, either. 

She supposes now that killing people is perhaps the wrong way to deal with it, but she still understands the broken heart at the core of the whole aching dilemma.

She’d started to take her eyes off it, once — the Stark Industries missile and everything else that came after. She’d started to lose sight of all that misery in the softness of Vis’ eyes, and now — now there’s nothing to distract her.

She just wants to look in his eyes again, instead of at — everything else.

But here’s Rocket, and he — she thinks maybe he understands. Strange, that she would find someone else so like her. It apparently took billions of lightyears’ worth of travel and some sort of — of alien mutation or something, but here he is.

They take breaks in Rochester and Sioux Falls, and listen to almost every song on the zune, including repeats from yesterday. Rocket picks up earpods and batteries and a dozen other small devices at every rest stop they pause at, and she doesn’t ask how he gets a hold of them. He tears them apart beside her, legs still swinging in the seat, and she imagines stopping somewhere and picking up a child’s carseat for him. There’s a curl in the corner of her mouth before she recognizes the feeling of it, and it startles her — to know that she’s still capable of smiling.

Rocket reconfigures the little devices into strange combinations that she’s sure are somehow purposeful, seemingly none-the-wiser in regards to her errant, probably-insulting thought and her first smile in years. The quiet between them feels oddly companionable. 

“Rocket,” she says, sometime between stops. “What is this mission Carol gave you, anyway? I need to know how I’m supposed to help you.”

He shrugs, focused on the now-unidentifiable piece of tech in his hands. It moves so fast — flashing metal and chipped plastic, little bundles of wires. “Gettin’ me there’s good enough, sweetheart,” he mutters, then flinches at the same time she shoots him a startled, sideways stare. “Sorry,” he mumbles, grimacing. 

She puts her eyes back on the pavement, the broken white lines sliding quickly beneath and beyond them. “That’s fine,” she says quietly, and he offers a half-shrug.

“Know Nat hates when I call her that,”  he admits, still focused on whatever he’s making. Another quick glance tells her his ears are flattened, though. “Try not to.” She can feel him hesitate before he flashes a sharp grin into her periphery. “Prob’ly can’t just keep calling you witch, though.”

She snorts before she can stop herself: a broken half of a chuckle, rusty and unused. “Why not?” she asks, and he snickers under his breath as the trees go by and the zune repeats another song through his makeshift adapter.

“I think calling her sweetheart is going to be the least of your concerns once she sees how you’ve messed with her car,” Wanda adds, and when he cackles, it pulls something answering out of her lungs: cherry-blossom-bright and unfamiliar, and real. The laugh feels strange in her mouth, absent so long she’d forgotten the petalled shape of it.

Both of them abruptly fall quiet, the sounds of Joan Jett curling through the speakers.

“Did you just—?” Rocket asks, the words crackling off at the end, and Wanda’s hands tighten on the wheel.

“Yes,” she says quietly, although the startle is still in her voice. “I did.”

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist previous part | next part [est june 4] main masterlist

And I am emotionally wrecked… these babies got me in the feels.

cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂

chapter seven. starlorn. [new 4/22] ✩

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 7/25+ | wip | word count: pending. masterlist, notes, & moodboard | chapter seven. starlorn.

pearl pleads her case. see below for warnings & notes.

He expects a soft little laugh. He thinks, even a few hours ago, he would’ve gotten one. Instead, she leans forward, her fingers curling over her  bare toes, her knees pinned between her chest and the starpane. And her eyes — her eyes are suddenly big and glossy and wet, gemstone-tears suddenly balanced on her lower lashes. It feels like someone’s broken through all his ribs, gripping his heart in a vibranium fist. “Don’t make me stay on Cyxlore,” she says softly. “I won’t try to make you take me if you — if you really don’t want to. But I’d rather be here. With you.” A soft inhale. “Please.” His stomach drops out. You ready to beg yet? he suddenly remembers asking her on the rain-slick floor of her Arete cage. Well. Here she is, begging, and he’ll be an ass if he ignores it. And an ass if he accepts it.  The line of her nose and cheeks gleam with starlight. The blanket around her shoulders shifts down, pinned between her back and the cold metal wall, and the soft curves of her breasts press against her thighs. The Monster can see the shape of them, rounded and squished at her sides through the sleeveless armholes and under the edge of his too-small Sneepers shirt.  She’s so far away, and he can see her dying all over again. Lylla on the floor of the Arete; Madame Lavenza in the rainy courtyard of HalfWorld. Haunting and haunted, cold as ghosts and skeleton-bones and lifeless stars, as distant and unreachable as the edge of the universe.  Come back to me, pretty pearl.  He swallows. 

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okay, we're reaching the next phase. an agreement has more-or-less been established. hang on with me till chapter eleven or so and we'll start moving into real plot i promise??? (okay don't hold me to that)

WARNINGS for chapter seven: self-injury (biting), continued references to grooming and confinement. rocket’s explicit running commentary and the faintest whisper of d/s vibes. brief mention of bondage.

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe. a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @glow-autumz ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @pretty-chips

this is how I imagine peter quill with a symbiote would go

Rocket: hey quill where’d you put my screwdriver WHAT IN FLARKS NAME. THERES BLACK GOOP ON YOU??? (pulling out gigantic gun out of reflex)

peter: (symbiote chilling by his shoulder) WOAH WOAH WOAH. RELAX. YOU’RE GONNA FREAKING KILL ME!!!???

Rocket: yeah ok I’ll relax when YOU GET THAT THING OUT OF MY SHIP

Peter: look, man. I’m freaking out too. but put the murder machine away…

˚₊‧✶ headcanons & imagines ✶‧₊˚

smut-free | complete | word count: varies. banners by @thecutestgrotto and @saradika-graphics

various guardians of the galaxy headcanons, minifics, drabbles, asks, imagines, and fan art! most are sfw and/or fluffy, and most can be read platonically or romantically. any that are nsfw are notes as such. back to main masterlist.

✶ ask | ‧₊˚ minific

general headcanons ✶‧₊˚

˚₊‧✶ how rocket views sex work (positivitely) [NSFW] - VERY short. just few words. ˚₊‧✶ rocket & occasional post-sex feelings [NSFW] - VERY short. just few words. ˚₊‧✶ quill & innocence/optimism - getting lengthier. kind of an imagine/drabble. ˚₊‧✶ rocket & nebula (2014) in endgame ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & quill were scooped together ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ cinnamon roll peter quill continued ˚₊‧✶ rocket, lylla, & drax; comfort post-xandar ‧₊˚ [related: drax & lylla symmetry] ˚₊‧✶ rocket's dad-glasses ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket's lifespan ✶ ˚₊‧✶ how the bowie got its name (threaded convo with @mrwolfhare) [minific] ˚₊‧✶ how mantis names the abilisks ✶ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ mantis' friendship with rocket [threaded with headcanon 12] ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ mantis & drax & what parenthood means ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ why did thanos snap half of ALL life? (convo with @mrwolfhare) ˚₊‧✶ rocket is smarter than stark ✶ ˚₊‧✶ the bowie's construction/smarter than stark pt 2 (convo with @leresq) ˚₊‧✶ rocket's movie & television tastes (see follow-up ask, what if rocket finds the mcu movies?) ˚₊‧✶ raccoon sensory perception [ANGST] ˚₊‧✶ a new addition to rocket's library of mocking endearments ˚₊‧✶ eidos-rocket's goatee ✶ ˚₊‧✶ eidos-rocket headcanons with an SO (for nonnie) [SFW & NSFW] ✶ ˚₊‧✶ rocket's tail in the nanosuit ✶˚₊‧✶ rocket's use of medpacks ✶˚₊‧✶ not really a heacanon but some of the reasons people resonate with rocket ✶˚₊‧✶ universal translators (how they work, etc) (threaded convo) ˚₊‧✶ universe killer rocket (threaded convo) ˚₊‧✶ rocket solo movie/how he met groot (@chl03ph0b1a). ✶‧₊˚

imagines ✶‧₊˚

˚₊‧✶ rocket needs comfort food (creamy chicken fajita pasta nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket reacts to string cheese (string cheese nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket steals your espresso beans (string cheese nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket puts on weight 1 (nonnie) [fuck fatophobia] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket puts on weight 2 (nonnie) [fuck fatphobia] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket on birthdays (@lilfoxay) ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & coloring (string cheese nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & origami ( @wren-phoenix) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & lava lamps ( @chippybritt & @thirteens-lucky-tardis) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ bedtime rituals of rocket raccoon pt 1 [THREAD] ˚₊‧✶ rocket responds to you having an anxiety attack (hickey-nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & sudoku, crosswords & word-searches ( @hyperjorts) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & hanayama puzzles (nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket sings (nonnie) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ what if rocket finds the mcu movies? ( @mcsquared789) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ music and rocket & adam, pete & jason ( @leresq) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket goes on a road trip with wanda (for @hibatasblog) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ petting rocket till he purrs (wholesome nonnie & @whitedragoncoranth) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket "fixes" your car (@urbanfox197) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ ᯓ⋆｡°✩practice: an eidos-rocket minific [for nonnie] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket enjoying pop culture [for nonnie] ✶‧₊˚˚₊‧✶ rocket loves drag [for nonnie] ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket gets a team-up film (@leresq) ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket solo movie/how he met groot (@chl03ph0b1a). ✶‧₊˚

fanart ✶‧₊˚ ˚₊‧✶ rocket & nova corps pt 1 ˚₊‧✶ rocket & nova corps part 2 (with what if? nebula) ˚₊‧✶ rocket & being a decent fuckin person ˚₊‧✶ chonky winter-fur rocket on fron (it fucken wimdy) ˚₊‧✶ rocket stuck in deep snow (string cheese nonnie) ✶ ˚₊‧✶ rocket needs/hates his anxiety jacket ˚₊‧✶ rocket & his pjs (bedtime rituals of rocket pt 2) *may be a bit spicy/nsfw? ˚₊‧✶ bathtime rituals of rocket raccoon (@mrwolfhare) ˚₊‧✶ rocket & origami (from the above imagine) ~ (@wren-phoenix) ˚₊‧✶ you give rocket an otter stuffie ‧₊˚

see more rocket raccoon fan art by me ✶‧₊˚

100% agreement. Really, could see most versions of him using the occasional recreational drugs for multiple reasons: pain reduction, nerve calming, fun, just to see the infinite beauty of the stars shimmer a little harder, to forget emotionalistic memories, a general disregard for health/safety, and pure unbridled curiosity.

a brief eidos headcanon

the eidos collection | navigation fanfiction masterlist | collections masterlist

CONTEXT/WARNING: suggestive. mild recreation drug use, intox if you squint? this was noodling around in my brain & i’m trying to figure out if it’s something

like. eidos-rocket for sure smokes.

maybe world-tree-root, or a deep-space varietal of everbloom, or whatever. it takes you a while to figure out that’s why he always smells like campfire and ginger, mixed in with the pepper-cedar of the oil he uses for his fur and the almost-citrus scent of dark-matter engine-fuel

smokes and booze just fold themselves into the fabric of his life, so easily he barely notices. he’s not always got a cigarette clipped between his teeth — works with too many combustibles for that — but he likes to take the edge off when the situation allows.

and it’s not like smoking is his favorite thing. not even close. up till now, if a person had asked what he liked to do in his spare time, he’d say he prefers to blow shit up, work on the milano, and steal from snotty-rich skagheaps and scutbags.

but one random night between missions he manages to convince you to hang out with him at mantlo’s, and he realizes you’ve never smoked everbloom before. deviousness curls the corner of his mouth, and he finds himself flashing a fang before he can stifle the wickedness of his sharp grin. and by the time the night’s over, rocket’s realized he’s got a new favorite pastime after all:

shotgunning you in the dimly-lit backcorners of seedy knowhere bars

support banner by @/adornedwithlight | outer-space divider by @/enchanthings | moodboard by me! ♡

by solitudee

Happy Pride!❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜🩷🖤🩶🤍🤎

Happy pride month GOTG tumblr!!! 🏳️‍🌈🦝

I love being a lesbian, it’s one of the greatest gifts this world has given me :)❤️

I drew a pride Rocket for you all today to celebrate!!😄❤️

Enjoy!

Art by my request by Mila Losenko