Holy Shit. They Would Totally Get High Together And Watch Random Shit… Fuck Yeah My Dudes!

I’m in agonies waiting for this.

rasque.⋆☁︎:･꧂ preview [est march 7] ❤❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 3/25 | wip | word count: pending.

Once the Monster is satisfied that the runabout is far enough away from CounterEarth, safely careening through an empty pocket of space in a lifeless star system, he flicks the ship onto autopilot. His passenger still doesn’t say anything, and neither does he. He just sits for a moment longer, trying to pull the scraps of himself together. 

He finally looks over his shoulder at the pearl — and immediately wishes he hadn’t. She’s been quiet this whole time, lying on her belly in his bunk as ordered — obedient little thing — but she’s propped up on her elbows, damp dark curls turned into a tangled halo, eyes big and doe-like and taking everything in. She’s drinking it all up: him, the wide crushed-diamond sky, the notes he has pinned to the wall and the junk he’s got meticulously organized in half-open lockers and shabby boxes, on top of the other bed and in the corners.

It’s that wide-eyed gaze from when she’d looked up at him after he’d fucked her, exhilarated and confused and eager, and it makes his belly knot and his chest burn. 

He slides to his feet out of the chair — cautiously, keeping his eyes watchful on her.

“How’re you feeling, p—sweetheart?” 

She blinks at him, and then her lips curve and she gives him the most radiant fuckin’ smile he’s ever seen. 

“Excited,” she says, with a breathy little stress on the word, and the soft edge of a laugh in her voice like a baby cloud. She raises onto her hands and then curls her body up carefully, perched on her knees like the prettiest little present. The satiny cushion of her tits are almost spilling over that stupid neckline and he can see the shadow of her nipples, peaked and straining against the confinement of layered wet silk. He can also see how she’s listing to one side, trying to protect her poor bruised asscheek.

And he’s such a fuckin’ bastard, because all he can think of is keeping her on her knees like that. Strolling around her in a circle while she waits for him. Maybe with her hands loosely laced behind her back, just enough to keep her a little vulnerable, and her tits all pretty and pushed up for his mouth. 

Let me keep you all excited, pearl.

He clears his throat. “Well, okay,” he hedges. “You — what do you want me to call you, sweetheart?”

from chapter two [est 3/7] ❤︎ rasque :･꧂

a daring escape. WARNINGS: explicit references to the last chapter’s violence. big regrets. sexual fantasies. cutting (to remove a tracking device). some aftercare.

find more notes and chapters on the

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ masterlist

a story about scars. inspired by mary shelley’s frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus. 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. 

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

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

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Emotional Wounds

A Role Model Who Disappoints

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Becoming a Caregiver at an Early Age

Being Bullied

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Being Held Captive

Being Mugged

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Being So Beautiful It’s All People See

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Being Stalked

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Childhood Sexual Abuse (by a family member or known person)

Discovering One’s Parent is a Monster

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Experiencing a Miscarriage or Stillbirth

Failing At School

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Financial Ruin Due To A Spouse’s Irresponsibility

Finding Out One’s Child Was Abused

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You have utterly captured his heart break and hopelessness here. It’s so well done and beautifully rendered. I feel so blessed with all your art. ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Entanglement

Rocket no longer had the energy to care. He was weak from hunger; his food ran out five days ago. His mouth felt tacky, his tongue sticky and too heavy in his mouth. Rocket opened his last remaining water pouch and drank a few sips. It took all of his willpower not to down the lot in one go, but he resealed the pouch and set it carefully on the floor. So far, he’d greatly extended his survival by rationing what meager supplies were available to him. The force of habit is hard to break, so was the urge to think of his friends. Are my friends there now? Into the forever and beautiful sky?

-Chapter two. By @hibatasblog

I just really needed to draw something today. It’s how I cope. 🤣

Bro! This chapter is heart breaking. You know he gets out, but to really die scared and alone twice and for someone so young…ahh…it breaks your heart.

I fucking adore the depiction of this scene so much!

Entanglement

Alarms blared and screamed painting the interior of the cockpit red and yellow. Flipping a switch, Petra winced as the ship rocked hard as the shielding took a direct hit. “Rocket! Keep your eye on those Kree ships! You’re supposed to be keeping them off my ass, not flirting with them!” Petra cried as she banked a steep dive, slamming down on the yoke with brutal force.

“I know what I’m fuckin’ doing,” Rocket countered as he rained fire on their pursuers, “You make sure we don’t get shot down.”

“Oh, that’s all. Why don’t I go ahead and grow some eyes on the back of my head while I’m at it?” Petra sniped back as she dodged smoldering wreckage and a sweeping return of fire volleyed right at their nose.

“What you need to do, you big baby, is get me back to seven-o’clock so I can pick off some of these assholes,” he hissed back as the ship took another hit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” chanted Petra as she barely made a maneuver that sent them back into a position to get back on the offensive.

“Maybe I should be the one piloting instead of gunning.”

“Maybe you should get off my dick. I’m waaaay better at piloting than you are.”

“The hell you are. I’m also a better gunner,” Rocket gloated as he took out two enemy ships.

“Right, sure you are, Jan. Better pilot, my ass,” Petra challenged as she launched into a sequence of brilliant dodges and turns that gave Rocket the chance to destroy the last of their pursuers.

—-Still Chapter 7 by @hibatasblog

Because this scene made me gush! So I just had to sketch it!!

It delights me to know that my art made you happy! I wish I had more free time to make art for your wonderful stories. You have been so great, and the greatest present is being your friend.

Happiest birthday to raccoonfallsharder! You are the best, and you deserve the moon and stars! In addition to being an amazing storyteller, they are a wonderful, kind, loving friend. I’ve benefited so much from knowing them. In honor of their special day is a gouache on fabric painting from their incredible story “Cicatrix.”

What should have happened in the Infinity movies. Scarlet Witch and Rocket friendship for the win.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip. part two. pennsylvania. ohio. indiana.

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist previous part | next part [est may 28] | main masterlist

angst, comfort, friendship, & fluff for @hibatasblog rocket & wanda | part 2/6 | word count: 806.

rocket appreciates the turnpikes. the heroes discuss music, memories, and state-of-the-art tech.

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

“What’s this place?”

Wanda glances over at Rocket from behind the steering wheel. He looks like a child: sitting on three hardbound textbooks the Hulk had dug out of somewhere, legs swinging casually over the edge of the chair. He’d spent the first two hours fussing with his seatbelt, muttering about how Terran transport vehicles are deathtraps before either satisfying or resigning himself. 

The car is currently gliding through a twisting crevasse, cut deep into old mountains. Outside, the spring thaw is melting snow into little waterfalls that cascade off the manufactured cliffsides, carefully funneled away from the road. A sign warning of rockslides floats past. The trees are budding and there are little pink and yellow sprays of wildflowers peeking through the patches of grass.

“The Pennsylvania Turnpike?” Wanda offers uncertainly. 

“Huh.” The Captain of the Guardians of the Galaxy — down from six but up to three — swings his feet again. She can see his face reflected in the passenger window. His ruby-flecked, bourbon-brown eyes glow, wide and thoughtful. “It’s kinda pretty.”

Wanda blinks at the road ahead.

“You like music?” Rocket asks, feet still swinging.

She cants another sideways glance down in his direction. “I do.”

“What kind?”

She lets out a huff of air — almost a laugh. It feels strange. It’s been a while. About five years, actually. “Sokovian rock,” she tells him archly. “Some metal.” She raises a brow at him. “You know Sokovian music?”

Of course, she already knows the answer. 

Still, he’s looking at her with nothing but open intrigue. “No,” he says frankly, and his eyes are hungry. “You got some?”

It’s not quite the response she’d expected. She tries to remember the last time anyone other than Vis had asked about — home. Had wanted to share her memories, know her life.Had wanted to hear the music she’d grown up with, and listen to it together. 

Only Pietro, she thinks.

“No,” she says quietly. “I haven’t got anything.”

Rocket’s not sure how this planet goes from lush mountain forest into the flat nothingness of the Ohio Turnpike, but it does. As far as he’s concerned, this only confirms that every good thing on Terra has to be followed by a bad one. 

And also, what the fuck is a turnpike? It doesn’t register in his damn translator. 

Still, Cleveland’s not terrible when they stop for food — there’s some little cafe where they can eat outside, though Rocket’s surprised the witch doesn’t want to go in; it’s still kinda cold out for a baldbody, afterall. But it’s a good break in the monotony — especially before they start driving through an even more boring region that Wanda tells him is Indiana. 

Thank fuck he’s got something to tinker with now, though.

He’d chewed on her response to his question about Sokovian music for a while. It had sounded like a sentiment that had lived in his own head for years — I ain’t got nothin’ — and he hadn’t even realized the sound of it had faded until he’d stood at the edge of a dead star and pretended to be some kind of captain.

I could lose a lot. Me, personally — I could lose a lot. 

Then he’d asked Wanda if she’d had a zune.

The witch had blinked. “I — no. Nobody has zunes anymore.”

He’d scoffed. “I do.” He’d pulled Pete’s zune from his pocket and wagged it at her. “State-of-the-art music-portation and listening device,” he’d taunted, and something in the corner of her mouth had flickered.

“Most people use their smartphones nowadays,” she’d said — and her voice had been sort of mild instead of flat, which he’d counted as a win. “They’re a little newer,” she’d added apologetically. “Better tech.”

He’d dipped his head and stared at the zune. For some reason, the words had felt like a bruise in his heart, and he’d scrubbed his knuckles against his metal breastbone. “Better, how?”

She’d glanced at him again and shrugged one shoulder. “Faster. Sleeker. They hold more data, and they can access the Internet. Make calls, send texts. All sorts of things.” She’d shrugged again.

He’d dug his knuckles in hard  to his sternum, trying to relieve — or maybe counterbalance — some of the pressure there, and he’d stared down at the zune. “This was Pete’s.” The words had come out before he’d been able to drag them back. He’d never intended to say them in the first place.

The witch hadn’t said anything, and he’d slid his tongue over the front of his teeth, then had cast a sideways look up at her, trying to keep his face nonchalant.

“Those smartphones ain’t got more than three hundred songs on ‘em though, right?”

Her eyes had flicked to him, then back to the road. “Oh, absolutely not,” she’d said, so confidently that he’d immediately felt smug. “Fewer, I think.”

the raccoon, the witch, & the roadtrip masterlist previous part | next part [est may 28] | main masterlist

I mean he’s my favorite hot mess too!

I got this shirt in an ad and knew exactly what I had to do

He hates it loves it with all his heart ❤️

If you join in please tag any posts with #rocketraccoonpromptweek

If regret were a fine wine, that’s what this chapter tastes like. Or a sinful treat.

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ chapter three. rasque. [new 3/7] ❤︎

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 2/25 | wip | word count: pending.

a daring escape.

“Put your feet like this, pearl,” he grunts at her, showing her how to notch the soft soles of her humie feet into the metal rails framing each pane in the pyramid. “Lean against the glass — it won’t break. This frickin’ stuff is made to hold up on re-entry.” She blinks at him over her shoulder. “The Arete is a ship?” Smart girl. “Focus on your feet,” he orders instead, grimacing. He hovers his hand over the curve of her hip, and hopes that they both get lucky and neither of them get struck by lightning. To her credit, the girl gets halfway to the vertical strut he’s gonna need her to climb down before she wobbles. His hand rises to her flank immediately, pressing her against the glass. Without thinking, he strokes his hand down over the curve of her hip in a way he means to be comforting — as if he could possibly be of any comfort to her at all — but she doesn’t seem perturbed by the gesture. There’s a slight uptick in her heartbeat — a soft little drumbeat beneath the rain — but it evens out quickly. Unlike his, which is picking up speed with every new raindrop that lands on her stupid frickin’ dress. The pale silk of it is already silvering into translucence under the onslaught of the storm, and he realizes — with a stifled groan buried under the low thunder and the sound of the rain hammering the glass — that by the time the two of them get to the stolen runabout he has stowed at the shoreline, she’ll be as good as naked. Worse, really — all wrapped up like the cutest little piece of candy, pink and peach peeking through the transparent layers and clinging wet veils.

read chapter three. rasque. on ao3 :･꧂

WARNINGS: references to the last chapter’s violence. big regrets. sexual fantasies. cutting (to remove a tracking device). some aftercare.

rated with one heart mostly for rocket's filthy mind (rather than anything actually happening). aftercare will resume in the next chapter, which will probably be in about 1.5-2.5 weeks. i hope you joy my lovelies.

꧁･:☁︎⋆.masterlist, notes, & moodboard.⋆☁︎ :･꧂

some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

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