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nyxivy · 8 months

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Rocketober - Day 1 - Friends

A/N: am i starting this midway through october? Maybe so. You cant stop me

Contents: No actual smut just rocket being horny. Nsfw descriptions? Smut mentioned. Female reader. No use of Y/N

Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Friends. Just friends. Rocket chants in his head as he fixes his eyes to the gun he's tinkering with. To be honest it hasn't ressembled anything even similar to a gun since you've come flouncing in, basically flaunting your flarking flawless body in your little skimpy loungewear, making it pretty much impossible for Rocket to get anything done.

Not for the first time this evening his eyes rake over your body when you turn away from him. From the way your hair fell perfectly against the back of your neck, slightly mussed up from a day of doing nothing much, allowing Rocket to imagine that your head looked that way from being buried in a pillow, his hand placed at the crown of your skull, claws gently gripping the roots of your hair, keeping your moans nice and muffled. He shakes his head out of the daydream and his eyes continue their path down your body, your oversized sleep shirt drapes over the gentle curve of your shoulders. He knew that if you turn around he would be able to see the swell of your tits, and the outline of your nipples where you'd decided you didn't need a bra. A decision he both cursed and thanked you for. The hem of the shirt rested on the crest of your ass, bunched up where he swears he'd seen you purposefully hoist it up before you bend over to do fuck knows what. He actually doesn't think he has a single idea what you're actually doing in here apart from shamelessly parading around for him to gawk at but his thoughts never get any further as his eyes fall on your ass. He actually thinks his jaw drops open and his brain short-circuits a bit. The quite frankly tiny booty shorts you're wearing do nothing to protect your modesty, and the way you're bent over allows them to ride up even more, exposing your soft skin. He has the urge to bite. Not enough to break skin, just enough to make you squeal in that adorable way you do when something startles you. He thinks about the way your ass would feel in his hand, firmly gripping the plumpness and maybe even the way it would bounce if he gave it a sharp smack- oh fuck. He feels himself go entirely still as his eyes lock on the most glorious thing he thinks he's ever seen. Right there, between your legs, not five feet away from him he can see the plump outline of your pussy, the thin fabric of your shorts the only barrier between him and what he's sure must be the prettiest fucking pussy in the galaxy. Holy shit, was that a wet spot? He has to catch himself as he feels a growl rise up in his throat, he just wants to shove his nose into the warmth between your legs and lap up your wetness until you're a quivering mess.

He needs to look away, he feels warm all over and the sorry excuse of scrap metal he called a gun on his lap was the only thing between his cock straining against his jumpsuit and the world. He tears his eyes away from your pussy, just to trail them down your perfect legs, trying desperately to think of something, anything else.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends. He went back to chanting, the issue was not that he needed to be reminded not to try and make a move on you, lest he ruin the friendship you have with each other. In fact he found it quite easy to deny his urges, simply because he know you were not interested. How could you be? Rocket just needed to remind himself of that. It wasn't your fault he was quite frankly obsessed with you and that made him second guess every little action. You were just innocently doing- wait, what were you actually doing? You had your head in a box and were rummaging around. Almost as if you'd read his mind, you straighten up with a sigh from within your throat that could easily be mistaken for a moan. You don't have anything in your hands, you must not have found what you were looking for. When you turn around your eyes almost immediately find Rockets and he fixes his gaze to his project in front of him, cursing himself for being caught staring. When he dares to lift his gaze again he notices that he was completely right about your nipples. The hard outline of them creating shadows in your shirt and he wonders if it's because you're cold or because of the friction of the shirt. Then he wonders if they're sensitive, if he could simply brush over them and have you arching your back into his hands. Then he thinks it must be the friction, because this room feels boiling. Although that might just be Rocket. And with the clothes- or lack-of clothes you were wearing he wouldn't be surprised if you were cold. Your bare feet padded against the cool metal of the ship as you made to leave. Definitely cold. And when his eyes flicked up to meet yours you smiled at him, as if you knew something he didn't.

#Rocketober #rocket raccoon x reader #rocketober day 1 #rocket gotg #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon smut

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aliasrocket · 8 months

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Rocketober day 1 : ‘friends’

title : stars.

hey guys! Starting this off just to say I’m still on break, my exams have barely started, I just wanted to do a quickie for the first prompt for Rocketober since I have brought it up once in a poll before. Sadly, I’m not sure if I’m able to do the rest of the prompts but I’ll try to do the ones I really wanna do. Take care everyone!

here’s the rocketober list if you’d also like to participate.

Just like the op in the link, I’m accepting requests now for Rocketober prompts, please be sure to specify which prompt you’re putting in a request for.

“Guys, this is my friend.”

Nebula spills your name and points with a glass-filled hand, champagne sloshing inside when her finger swings to point to you.

Rocket could have sworn that she had stepped aside to let the fluorescent lights beam down on just you.

You, with that dainty little wave but a red dress that said otherwise, hem ending halfway up your thigh and a black purse hanging from your shoulder. Was that even a purse?

The moment rotated, just as time does, and the light had swung around to find another muse. Not that Rocket was complaining, because you looked even better in star-stewn hues, some slivers of you hidden in the dark for him to discover again.

If you weren’t Nebula’s friend.

It was a hypothetical.

Hands stretched out from behind him, soon coming around to greet you more personally—after all, they weren’t going to be here for long. Mantis and Quill have each come back from their lifelong trips to catch up with the ol’ gang. Like things changed.

Rocket serves another glance and you were already looking back at him, a star in your eyes each. He came forward with an averted gaze and offered his hand.

“Rocket,” he said, not sure if it had been over the music but when you bent down to let him hear the name he’ll never forget, you took it and let him decide the shake’s strength.

His second round of looking away had been when there was a slight ripple in your exposed cleavage—nothing screams pervert like a speechless rat.

“Rocket,” you repeated, and Rocket took a step back. “That’s a pretty name.”

Yeah, comin’ from pretty lips. The grinding in his teeth almost matched the bass of the party music.

He gets daggers in the form of a look from Nebula, and if you hadn’t been standing right in front of him he would have rolled his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Your chest flinched and you blinked, only for a split second—and because Rocket’s the master of looking away, of drawing back, of letting the pieces fall where they may, he’s stuck looking at your heels and on the floor hoping you don’t hear the cracking noises.

And you cracked just then, too.

Well, no, it doesn’t matter. If you did, didn’t—you were Nebula’s friend. Everyone had already drifted back to their shared table, and it’s another piece of reality that had its hands roaming his throat; you were off bounds.

“Rocket, are you okay?” Mantis asked, tilting her head as her forehead crinkled in that frown he remembered so well even after time made its rounds.

“Yeah, yeah.” The answer cut into whatever had been lying at the tail end of that question. Everyone lowered their heads and held the base of their drinks, not speaking and letting the music beat against their backs.

A light flashes, and a warmth engulfed his hand before he could swipe it to his chest.

Mantis’ antennae were lowered, but the glass in her eyes reflected its light clearly. Her hand was right where Rocket’s had been.

“Fucking—Mantis! We talked about this—you know what? I don’t even have the energy,” Rocket spat. “I’m outta’ here.”

“Wait!” Mantis grabbed Rocket’s shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Quill asked, head emerging from his drink.

Mantis’ head pivoted back to Rocket’s after Peter’s question, lips pursed as the inner corner of her brows arch upwards.

“Hey, if you don’t wanna tell Quill, tell me!” Drax whispered, or made a sad attempt at doing so, but over the music he was yelling.

Quill scowled. “Dude, not fair! I asked first, I get dibs!”

“That’s not how this works at all.” Drax shook his head.

“It so is!” Quill’s head snapped back around the other way. “Mantis, Rocket, what the fuck is going on?”

A darkness loomed over Rocket then stretched its way across the table to retrieve a tissue from the very end.

His head rocked forward when some sort of ball hit him, though the impact was almost like a stroke in his fur.

“Oh, sorry.”

This voice was nothing like poets would describe them to be; but the feeling, the rush and creaking in Rocket’s alloyed ribs—it felt all the more numbing yet painfully acute.

He looked up by instinct.

The first thing he noticed was that your jaw was so defined from this angle, not quite underneath you but so close he felt your warmth over him like a hood.

The second thing he noticed was that what had hit him was not a ball at all. Not a ball at all. Your breast rubbed up against the back of his head for another half second before you finally pulled away to wipe your hands with the tissue you acquired from across the table. Rocket’s ears rung from both the music that now sounded like screeching metal and the clenching in his chest.

“Sorry, I um, spilled some wine on my hands,” you explained as you crumpled the tissue to compress it in your fist. “Which one of you is the pilot?”

“Me.”

Quill and Rocket scowled at the sounds of both their voices in unison.

You laughed. You laughed and it sounded like a laugh you’d hear on Terran TV, something of a ribbon dancing in what felt like stale air. Yeah, Rocket was going to bottle that ribbon into memory like the rest of the things he’d already learned about you, and it wasn’t much.

“Sorry, maybe I should have specified. I need something of mine fixed,” you explained a second time, and you unclasped the lid of your purse to pull out a long metal rod known to be a phone from Terran electronic stores.

Another beat against the ribs and Rocket felt a lung drop. His heart punched it right out of the park.

“I’ve been pressing the side to project the screen but it doesn’t seem to be working.” You showed the entire table the power button as your finger sank into it but came up with no response on the phone’s end.

“I think one of you pilots are engineers, right?”

Quill grinned. He gave a sharp push at Rocket’s shoulder. “This one, he’s your guy.”

He flashed another scowl at Quill.

“I get it, it’s really stupid, I’m sorry to have bothered—”

“Nah, let me take a look,” Rocket insisted, gesturing for you to come closer.

“I was hoping I could get another drink while you looked at it. Can I get you something?”

One would think Rocket would have made eye contact with you before this point, but no—this was the first time since first meeting you ten seconds ago. Those eyes, widened and round, had stars crossing its skies and at this point Rocket thought he was dreaming. There was no way someone could be this fuckin’ perfect.

The ringing in his ear had only increased tenfold; now, it sounded like a flatline, a perfect audial representation of the current situation.

“I’ll walk with you.”

Without sparing his friends another look, he got off the stool and walked around the edge of the cheering room to the bar, where you had handed him your phone with a sort of languid quality to it; was it possible for this kind of thing to be graceful? The way your shoulder lifts slightly when you look down at him, curled hair fluffing up against your cheek as you handed over the tech. He’s looking up, jaw hanging—but now, he has a reason to keep his eyes on you.

He didn’t take your phone. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“About the phone.” You gestured to the phone again, raising a brow at him as some hair fell over one of your eyes from how much she had been looking down. The eye that remained … oh, fuck.

At half-mast, hypnotic. Your features framed a dream for Rocket; someone so damn gorgeous, he knows he’d thought you up at least a hundred times before. Someone of this beauty, of this cherry lip gloss, this fuckin’ dress.

Rocket’s hand slid up the rod to the hilt, both yours and his gaze in a chain neither of you broke before he pressed a button, and a blue screen emitted from the side of the rod.

“I knew it wasn’t broken,” Rocket said, lips parted as his eyes flickered to the phone then back at your star speckled eyes. Your eyes were widened again.

He wasn’t quite sure what he liked better; the almost pleading nature of your wide-eyed gaze, or the allure of your lowered lids reeling him in by the neck like a leash.

“So, the only reason you faked a broken phone is to talk to me.”

Your drink arrived, and you thanked the bartender curtly before taking a sip.

“I do recall asking for an engineer,” you said, your eyes the only part of you facing him, “instead of a detective.”

Oh, the way Rocket fumbled with the seat next to you, there was no coming back from this, because he’d rather trip and fall off than tear his eyes away from your complexion—collection of little shiny trinkets he stole and swiped from far galaxies and arranged so delicately to form you.

Maybe that’s why you felt ethereal. You were something out of a goddamn movie. A fairytale. Your hair looked like it was floating in water. Your lip had a permanent glint to it, always moving back and forth depending on the angle at which light had danced on your body.

“Hey, I’m still your guy.”

It felt irrevocably wrong to say that. He wished he could take it back. But if wishes are made to stars, then he knows if he’d done that, you’d hear him. And he’s had enough of accidentally sending the wrong message tonight.

You cocked a brow at him, finally turning your head over. Your shoulders were shrugged to keep your elbows propped on the table, hands loosely busy with your new glass of wine.

“You’re my guy?” You smirked, teeth peeking through glassy lips.

A lump accumulated in Rocket’s throat, and it happened in a split second—swallowing that lump was swallowing a loose bolt in one of his bombs.

“Yeah, what d’ya need?” Rocket tilted his head, leaning into the bar to get a better view of her when you returned to her already emptied glass.

You raised a flimsy hand, and the bartender nodded from across the isle as he poured a drink for another patron.

“I think I should be asking you that,” your smug grin thawed into a smile as you lowered your head. Your eyes pulled up because of this—it cut that doe-eyed look straight into Rocket, but he simply readjusted his posture on the bar in a sad attempt to cover up his dry lips, an empty tongue, and his parched throat.

“You wanted to tell me something when I complimented you,” you speculated aloud. “Am I warm?”

“Smoking hot, actually—” and Rocket’s eyes almost popped right out of his skull. “Uh, both in your question and—”

You laughed again, shoulders shaking as you threw your head back. Those shiny curls slid off from your shoulder and down your back to join the rest of your styled hair.

“Don’t be so uptight!” You nudged him with your hand, and you both turn to the bartender who finally came around.

“Hi, I’d like another.”

“I’ll start a tab, her refill’s on me,” Rocket chimed in, arm stretched towards the bartender who failed to hold back a crease in his brow when he turned away from you to grimace at Rocket. “And I’ll have one for myself too.”

Your jaw dropped for the first time that night, only slightly, and even then you still looked like an actress. “You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” Rocket insisted.

“You won’t like wine. You’re the type to enjoy beer.” You finally place the wine glass down. You folded your arms on the table, but kept your head in his direction.

“Never really liked Terran liquor in general.” Rocket shrugged before spinning his stool around to expose himself entirely to you. He would, if that was what you demanded.

“But.” He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling just a hair, a follicle too exposed, down to the very pore of his skin, he could feel each chill the situation brought. “You make it look like steak after years of prison food.”

Your smile caved deeper into your cheeks, roses sprinkled across them.

“So, what was it you wanted to say?”

Now you had rotated your stool to face him, one arm still on the table as you rested your face on your palm.

“Earlier? With Nebs?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded.

Fuck, fuckity flark. He couldn’t even recall the last time he used flark. That goddamn hum, the feigned innocence it implied—was it wrong to think about how much of a brat you probably were in bed?

Fuck. Too creepy.

But with the way your arm was positioned, your cleavage had just been a little below eye level and boy did he avoid eye contact a lot.

“I was gonna say you had a prettier face,” Rocket admitted. It almost sounded like a grunt, and he wasn’t surprised because his tongue tugged his gut all the way up to his throat to confess this.

“Is that so?”

Your tone felt carried, longer than it was meant to be. You grinned. Satisfaction painted you pink in the navy blue tints of the party. And he couldn’t hate it. He couldn’t even look away from it. The party? That god-awful music? Could be happening in a completely separate room for all he was aware of. You wiped him clean of everything else but you.

Before he even got to realize he’d been staring directly at your cleavage again, you rubbed a soft hand under his chin and lifted it.

His eyes met yours, and he hung off a cliff you were looking off of.

“Speechless, huh?”

“I—you—”

“Use your words, big guy.”

Rocket gritted his teeth before nearly barking it out. “Can’t blame me for how fuckin’ sexy you are.”

“Looks aren’t everything.”

“I’m the last guy you needa’ be tellin’ that to,” Rocket chuffed, a corner of his lips tugging up as he regained some of his spine. Oh, has he been slouching this whole time? “I know you know what you’re doin’, princess.”

“Princess?” You cocked a brow down at him again, gaze floating across the ceiling.

“I like it.”

Rocket smirked.

Oh yes, the good kind of warmth returned to him—he was settling in his seat the way he hoped he would, his eyes sitting better in the glimmer of your own.

“Yeah. You’re the type to like that sorta’ thing.”

Your brows furrowed. “How do you know what my type is?”

“Same way you know that I’m the kind to hate wine.”

A beat passed before you returned his gaze. “Just for the record, physically … I find you to be very a—

‘What’s going on here?”

You both turned to the same fuming expression, arms crossed as black crystal balls for eyes burning holes through Rocket’s fur.

“Rocket treated me to a drink,” you said, showing Nebula your glass.

“She’s a friend!” Nebula gritted through a clenched jaw when she swung her head around to face Rocket.

“I’m having a really good time, Nebby.”

And that had been the first time that night Rocket had seen the mask catch fire in the disco light. Some of that actress charm replaced with utmost honesty. Or, maybe it was another accessory Rocket had observed, one of something much more poisonous than anything he’d hoped you possessed.

Nebula shook her head. “You’re lucky I can tell whether you’re lying or not.”

“Well, yeah, and you kinda ruined something we were having,” you admitted further, and Rocket grinned, unable to withhold his chuckles.

“What is it?” Nebula grumbled, turning right back to Rocket.

“Nah, nothin’.”

“Spit it out!”

Rocket’s eyes crossed yours multiple times that night. And just about all of those times he wished he hadn’t crashed and burned right in front you to pick him apart and laugh at his … naviety? Hopes and dreams? His fantasies?

Fantasies aren’t real, yet there you were—smiling right back at him at the look he gave you, lowered head and a smirk as a vice.

“I just know we’re gonna get along plenty,” Rocket rasped in low tones.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, fuck me—get a room you two! And just so you know, I don’t approve of this! At all!”

And so began a long, endless, fateful effervescent string of kisses, bites, fucks and talks waving its filth and bliss in its galaxy-stippled wake.

#rocket raccoon #guardians of the galaxy #gotg #rocket gotg #gotg vol 3 #rocket raccoon x you #gotg fanfiction #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon fanfiction #rocket raccoon fanfic #gotg rocket #gotg3 #gotg v3 #gotg v2

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caesarhamato22 · 8 months

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Friends

Rocketober: Day 1

Word Count: 2.0k

Warnings: Suggestive themes implied.

Summary: When Kraglin finds you in Rocket's quarters, he questions his captain on who you were. However, Rocket isn't ready to answer that just yet.

It wasn't often that you found yourself anywhere near, let alone on the Bowie. It was too dangerous, even in stationary. You could stumble over stray wires or exposed pipes, you could hit a bunch of buttons and cause the ship to explode, or you could take ship for yourself and never return to Knowhere ever again.

Of course, those were Rocket's over exaggerations. He really just didn't want to see you get hurt on his ship, meaning it would be his fault.

In his eyes, at least.

The only times you were on the Bowie was when he was there. Only him. The rest of the ship would remain empty and silent, the only thing heard being the distant echoing of moaning, partnered with the wet sounds of pleasure.

Good thing the ship was soundproof when it needed to be.

After however long you were there for, Rocket always, always walked you home.

"For two reasons," he'd say. "One, gotta make sure my girl gets home safe, 'cause what kinda partner would I be if I didn't?" And, "two," he had hesitated before mentioning this to you, "I can't have the crew knowin' about you just yet."

Many thoughts had run through your head that day. Questions and doubts, was he embarrassed of you? Ashamed? Rocket wouldn't even associate himself with you if that was the case, he made sure you knew that.

You pondered on his reasoning, wanting to know why you had to be kept a secret from his family.

You were only left worrying for a few seconds before he added to his cliffhanger of a sentence.

"I'm not ready, princess. Not yet."

You understood his side. And with a nod, you respected it. And it hadn't been brought up since.

Spending time with Rocket on the Bowie wasn't rare, but it certainly wasn't common. The rare thing was being left alone on the ship.

It was the next morning when you realised where you had spent the night. His bunk had never been the most comfortable bed to have sex in. That just added to the many reasons why you'd go to your place, usually per his request.

You had more pillows, your blankets were softer, your bed was bigger. Rocket occasionally got genuinely worried that if he didn't set his alarm, he'd never wake up. Being surrounded by your warmth and scent was a trap, and you used it often when you didn't want him to leave. And why would he want to?

So it wasn't a surprise when you woke up with a leg and an arm hanging over the side of his single mattress, with a slight cramp in your neck, and the sheets half way up your bare back.

The bed was barely able to fit you comfortably, let alone both of you. Yet another reason as to why Rocket adored your living space. It was made to have him in it.

One of your eyes peeled open, glancing around the room and taking in every piece of his quarters.

His projects were scattered in every corner, on every spot of the floor and covering his desk. Pieces of metal littered, lost, and forgotten, or perhaps left there for when he returned to fiddle with them however he pleased.

Wearing nothing but the sheets of his bed, you sat up with a groan and ran your fingers through your hair. Visualising how messy it must look, you reached for your brush, only to be reminded that this wasn't your room. Meaning your clothes were elsewhere.

Your eyes scanned the floor, searching through every piece of tech, metal, trash, and clothing that belonged to your dearest Rocket, who constantly told you to “watch out” and “don’t touch that”. Your gaze settled on the outfit you had worn the previous night, bundled up nice and neat beside the bed.

He had a tendency to fold your clothes the morning after an eventful night. You'd never catch him doing it. But you always knew it was him.

And he, being Rocket, was currently nowhere to be seen among everything that littered his living space.

You stood and stretched before picking up and examining your clothes.

No stains. Better than last time.

You two had gone out for a dinner, a rare occasion that Rocket wasn't particularly fond of, but he sucked it up for you. Begrudgingly, but he did.

The outfit you had chosen was much too fancy for the state you were currently in. But it's all you had, so it had to do. It revealed as much as you wanted and covered what you wished.

Rocket had yet to return to his quarters, and you remembered how clear he was about you roaming the ship without him.

So, you waited, respecting his wishes and staying in his room, on his bed, prolonging your morning routine as best you could with what you had.

You weren’t sure when he’d be back, and you weren’t even sure when he left, but you assumed if he had left you here alone, it wouldn’t be long.

The smooth sliding of Rocket’s bedroom door opening made your head snap up.

“Rocket, you—“

Your eyes locked on a man’s stomach for a single second when you realised that was not the face of the raccoon you had spent countless nights with.

Letting your eyes quickly flick up to his face, seeing a short brown and grey stumble along his jaw and a tall red fin wired into his head like a mohawk. His light brown long sleeved shirt came in contrast to Rocket’s short sleeved blue one.

His focus went from the device in his hand to your face, taking note of the smudged make up and your slightly disheveled hair.

“Who are you?” He had asked after pausing. Startled but not scared. Definitely confused.

“I’m…”

You couldn’t tell him how you were connected to Rocket, that was the one and only thing on your mind. Didn’t matter who this guy was, you had made a promise to your partner.

“Why are you in here?”

“I’m a friend of Rocket’s.” Your words were quick. You thought it was the best, and most harmless thing you could say to this stranger.

It was obvious he knew Rocket. That fact was made clear by him simply being on the ship is such a relaxed manner, without others to guide him around.

“Oh,” his voice was quiet, almost unsure. “A friend?”

You nodded and blinked once when your eyes had started to sting from keeping them so wide for so long.

“And why isn’t he in here with you?”

The amount of questions he was asking made you nervous. You almost thought he knew the answer to all of them, but the confusion on his face told you he was genuinely baffled that a stranger was in Rocket's quarters. On Rocket's bed.

You would be shocked too, if you weren't the one being talked about.

“He left.”

“Left?”

“Not sure where. Or when.”

You weren’t entirely helping your case here, but it was the best you could do to avoid telling this man who you were really were to Rocket.

At times, you weren’t even sure who you really were to Rocket.

The man’s eyes glazed over you, every part of you, taking in every detail almost is if he was making a judgement on what to do you with you.

It wasn’t the most comfortable stare, but his eyes didn’t seem to carry any malicious intent.

“Might be best for you to wait outside for the Cap'n to come back."

He spoke politely but his face was stern. And rightfully so too, you couldn't blame him. Based on his knowledge, you could have snuck onto the ship and taken anything you damn well pleased.

Of course, that wasn't was what happening at all.

But you couldn't tell him that. 'Not yet', per Rocket's pleading request.

With a nod, “sure, of course,” you left the room.

The man followed behind you by just a few feet. A reasonable distant to be not too close, but able to be certain you were heading towards the exit.

Making it to the open doors of the ship was an awkward journey. The sounds of your footsteps clanked off the walls no matter how soft you attempted to walk. Your posture was straight and your head was up, yet it was clear you were embarrassed by the red tint on your cheeks.

You took in each detail of the ship that you seemed to have missed all the three or four times you had visited the inside of the Bowie. Wires, bags, the occasional chewed up toy, it wasn’t just a ship the Guardians eused for missions, it was a home.

It made you want Rocket to bring you here more often.

But that was something for you ask when you weren’t being escorted out of the ship by one of his crew members.

You reached the large open door of the Bowie, the same Guardian still guiding you further out of the ship.

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes had landed on Rocket before he managed to ask that question. He took his last couple steps towards you, but his eyes were locked on the person who had confronted you back in Rocket's room, the man who was still standing behind you with his hand on your back, a subtle motion to forbid you from trying anything.

You felt like you were being arrested, which you technically could have been, if any of the Guardians chose to do so.

"She was in your quarters, Cap'n." He explained, almost with a stammer.

"I know." Rocket's gaze flickered over you, showcasing a twinge of softness before locking back on his fellow Guardian. "I left her there."

"You ... Respectfully, Rocket, I think leaving your … hook ups alone on the ship," he spoke carefully, "ain't the best idea."

"Hook up-?" Rocket took another step closer. "She's not a fuckin' 'hook up', Kraglin."

Finally knowing the man's name brought some ease to your soul, letting you exhale through your nose, quiet and soft. It was comforting, in a way, to know the name of at least one of the people Rocket spends each of his days with.

"i just ..." Kraglin glanced at you. "I just assumed-"

"Can you get your hands off her?"

Kraglin's hand dropped from your back as he took two cautionary steps to the side. "Uh, yeah, yeah, sorry ... ma'am-"

"Don't call her 'ma'am'."

Kraglin took one extra step back. "Right." He was surprised by Rocket's hard glare. It wasn't angry, but somehow eerie. His stance was relaxed while his eyes were unblinking. "Who is she?" Kraglin built the courage to ask.

"My ..." Rocket now froze. His glare transferred to you, his eyes softening once more as his mind searched for the best answer to give his co-pilot. His brain rattled for an explanation as to why this strange woman was in his room. And in that outfit.

The moment he had taken it off you last night was still fresh and replaying in his mind.

So was the moment he folded them the morning after.

"She's a friend."

Kraglin looked at you but your eyes were on your friend. Taking in every piece of his expression and body language just to know if he believed his own words.

"Alright." Kraglin hesitated while his hands brushed against his pants twice before extending one to shake yours. "It’s nice to meet you."

Slight confusion made your brows furrow. The tension in your face quickly melted when you looked at his hand then into his eyes. You return the gesture, shaking his hand with a gentle smile.

"You too, Kraglin."

He offered a nod to you and a quick side glance to Rocket. From what you could see, he presenting a sly smile to his captain. A knowing smile.

Rocket only replied by nodding his head and avoiding his eyes, keeping his line of sight to the ground while Kraglin walked off, leaving the two of you in a moment of silence.

It broke when Rocket spoke up while keeping his eyes on the ground, searching the dirt surrounding his feet for something interesting to distract himself with.

"What did you tell him?"

You looked at him, hoping he'd look at you, but the gravel seemed to be holding his attention with an unyielding grasp.

"That we were friends."

His ear twitched, "nothing else?"

You shook your head, "nope. Not even my name."

He sighed, and his eyes gradually made their way up to yours, who had been waiting patiently. His right hand gestured forward, in a way of offering his gratitude, before being placed back on his hip.

"Thank you."

You shared a small smile, understanding his worry. The worry he had mentioned to you before in that trembling voice you had only ever heard from him once.

"You're welcome, Rocket."

DAYUM THAT TOOK FOREVER

Anywhozzle, hope you enjoyed Day 1! And I apologise for the future days delay, but they will be posted!

Rocketober List

#Rocketober #Rocketober 2023 #31 days of Rocket Raccoon #gotg #guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #x reader #rocket raccoon x reader #gotg v3 #gotg vol 3

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