paulinet

[paulinet]

Morning ☀️

[paulinet]

Practice ❄️

I've already drawn them in a similar outfit, so... I decided to do it again ✨

[paulinet]

In the rain

Warnings: fluff, kiss, profanity, ooc Medicine Pocket, gn reader, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: It's starting to rain. Let's go outside and act like kids for a while.

World count: 2600≈

From the author: I would write something quickly and more often, but perfectionism eats away at me, and I delve into the literary side... I just like it when you can feel the character and understand everything that happened on a deep level. Well, because of this, I often use ooc, since I always worry that I might ruin the character.

In short, I just love to chew everything up.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

"Medicine Pocket."

"You're being so-o formal. Hey, relax! The weather's great, and you're sitting there like a statue!"

"Woof!"

"And the temperature dropped to 12°, you'll catch a cold," — you say with a sigh, staying indoors and listening to the rain drumming on the roof. Why did it have to start raining today, right now, and so heavily? You haven't checked the weather forecast in a long time.

Medicine rushed past you at breakneck speed, almost dragging you through the mud, followed by several dogs eager to have fun with their owner on such a nice day. You stare in amazement. This researcher seems oblivious to the cold. And, by the way, they have never once slipped on the mud. Amazing.

"You definitely need to relax, you're grumbling like Ulrich," — they stick out their tongue and run away across the grounds with the dogs. Wherever they go, the four-legged creatures follow, and you couldn't even stop them. What childish behavior.

There's nothing left to do but sit on the hard steps and watch Medicine run back and forth and play with the dogs. The only thing missing for the full experience is a frisbee, but it wouldn't fly far in the rain, and they would only get angry. This day didn't bring them anything interesting, so they had to make it colorful themselves, I mean, work more productively to brighten up the boredom and find good spirits in the darkness. What could be better than active work? Actually, lots of things.

You hadn't checked the weather forecast in a while, but as soon as Doggo saw a storm brewing outside, he pulled you away from your work and took you outside with pets. Actually, they wanted to take you out in the rain, but you managed to slip away and stay dry.

And now they are running around and having fun, talking to the dogs. They are wet, and their clothes are probably heavy. Their hair is stuck to their face, but this does not affect their mood. The mud on their shoes washes off quickly with water, hardly accumulating, but their clothes are almost like canvas for artists.

Clearly, they didn't run away for long and are now cooing with their pets. Would Medicine leave you bored? They're more likely to start throwing mud or pretend to be injured and fall down, but force you to stick your head out in the rain. To some extent, all their cunning plans can be learned, but do you need to know them?

And now all you need is a pair of binoculars to watch them play. You feel sorry for the dogs, they'll catch a cold, even though they could compete with anyone in Laplace in terms of good health.

The rain was pouring down. It was better than the stifling heat that had lasted all day and was more exhausting than on any other day. There was nothing to do, and it was uncomfortable to work. You couldn't even go outside, because you would quickly get your hands and feet wet, and possibly injure yourself.

The rain will definitely be cooler than the stifling heat of the morning. At least the air will be filled with the smell of damp earth and grass.

"What are you sitting there for?" — a loud exclamation came from afar, before approaching you, and then, following those words, they deliberately shook themselves off like dogs next to them, splashing you from head to toe. That's... Cold, to say the least. "Come with us!"

"Woof!" — mischievous dogs pick up on their owner's idea on the fly, immediately forming a circle around you in the hope that you will join in their fun.

You shake your hands and brush the water off your clothes. You glare at them viciously, like an owl at a meek mouse, clearly pleased with themself. There, they grin as if they have once again caused a global problem or stolen a piece of bread from under your nose. But the dogs at their feet stick out their tongues and bark in agreement.

"You're all in cahoots, aren't you? "

"You lack a sense of humor and the desire to have fun," — they reproach you, but continue to smile, as if they have something else in mind. You become wary. "What are you looking at? It's just dirt and water. Don't panic."

Their voice are slightly muffled by the rain, but still ring loud and clear. When they grumble, it feels like they can reach anyone, no matter what.

"Come on, it's fun! Didn't you do this when you were a kid?"

"Ha-ha, you know it's easy to catch a cold in this rain, right?" — you shook your head, and as if to emphasize your words, a strong gust of wind blew by. Your hair remained in place, but Medicine's hair was blown tightly against their face, completely blocking their view. It seems they lost their "hair tie" somewhere.

"Ee-e-ew, damnit!" — they stuck out their tongue, trying to brush the wet strands of hair away from their face with their hands, but it didn't work very well.

They resemble a wet puppy, what a nuisance. Especially when they sometimes make movements with their hands that resemble the movements of their paws when an animal cannot shake off an annoying flea from its fur. You smiled, and pity settled in your heart. No matter how annoying they sometimes are, you still love them, even when they behave too chaotically even for you.

"Hey, come here," — you called them, and when they looked at you suspiciously through their hair, but came closer, under the roof, and leaned over, with a gentle movement you removed all the wet strands from their face. Now they looked at you with dissatisfaction. You gently tugged their cheek with your fingers. "What? I helped you, so why are you annoying now?"

"You really did have a boring childhood."

"Of course, it's nothing compared to yours."

"And you treat me like a fucking child," — they grumble, pulling their face out of your hands, but not letting go.

All you can do is roll your eyes at their complaints. As if you don't know that they like it when you sometimes babble at them like that. Although it's extremely difficult to call it anything like that. Most likely, they're just being mischievous.

"I treat you the way you deserve to be treated," — a lighthearted merriment settled in the air, drawing in a fitting atmosphere. "You look like a wet puppy right now, just as cute."

"…" — they remain silent. They stare intently at you, narrowing their golden eyes.

Silence descends, broken only by the sound of heavy rain and gusts of wind carrying away bright green leaves and broken twigs. They would be suitable material for building a nest. Sometimes you hear thunder in the distance.

Another gust of wind forced you to close your eyes, and in the next second, Medicine abruptly pulled you toward them.

In a flash, you find yourself under heavy drops of cold, heavy rain, and the dogs happily follow you.

"Hey!" — you barely had time to react when you almost slipped on the wet ground, but they caught you by the arms. You glare at them angrily. "That's not allowed!"

"Why?" — their voices were drowned out by rain and wind, and their face were slightly blurred, but you could see them smiling at their new tricks.

"I didn't plan on getting sick with you!" — you clung to them like a lifeline. Either they didn't know what it was like to slip and slide, or their shoes were specially designed to grip even mud. Or maybe they were just lucky. And knowledgeable, unlike you. "Have some conscience!"

"Pff, why? I'm doing fine as it is."

"Of course it's bad, you shameless!" — you gently pat them on the shoulder, but you can't help smiling when they drag you further through the mud and bad weather. Your clothes are already soaked, your hair is stuck to your face, and the weight of it all makes it difficult to move normally. The wind only made the situation worse—the exposed parts of your body were freezing even more.

"So what now? You're already as wet as I am," — they take a couple of steps back, the dogs tagging along behind them. "Are you going to punish me and these wonderful little ones for inviting you to come play with us? You're so-o-o-o mean!"

You look at this wonderful picture: Medicine Pocket, completely soaked but looking proud, and the dogs around them, who are just happy to spend a little more time with their owner, happy and just as wet through.

Well, okay, if you get sick. It's not big deal, if you'll feel bad.

Why only you? Because you're up against that human and animals with as much health as all of Laplace put together. Like Medicine isn't used to fever or something like that. It's no worse than the usual test of a drug made from the most unappealing substances on yourself.

"Asshole," — you say with a smile, breathing through your teeth, then take a couple of steps toward them, and they take a couple of steps back, then break into a run, and the dogs, as if understanding that they'll get it too, run after them. "Well, all of you'll get yours!"

"Ha-ha, try to catch me!"

And with that, you chase after them through this awful weather. They'll pay for dragging you and the dogs into their mess.

At the very least, it can be said that everyone who watched this circus performance from the windows of the center felt a bit better.

"Here. Otherwise, you'll really catch a cold."

You throw a towel over their head and rub your hair with another one. You are both soaked to the bone, and even a warm shower doesn't help.

In fact, you almost caught them. Although they run quite fast, you would have almost caught them and kicked their ass for such antics, if the guards hadn't decided to interrupt all the fun and dragged you inside by the scruff of your neck. "For disturbing the peace," — they said.

Well, you caught dozens of glances on your way here. Mostly because of the dirty footprints and water droplets on the floor. But everyone's gotten used to the rest.

"Woof!"

You crouched down and shared your towel with one of the puppies. Both you and the dogs were soaked, and you dried them off first. There's no point in them shaking themselves off like really dogs, they'll just spread the dirt everywhere.

"Well, well, little one? Had enough running around? Tired, aren't you? Cold? I'm cold too," — you gently rub their head with a cloth, paying special attention to their ears. "Well, I hope you've had enough exercise. The main thing is not to get sick. That would be bad, you know? So come on, you've got plenty of health, don't even think about getting sick."

"Woof! Woof!"

"That's right, I know you understand."

Talking to dogs is commonplace. You know that they understand. They're smart, although sometimes they can be just as moody as their owners.

You can't see it, but Medicine is watching you out of the corner of their eye with a satisfied smile, rubbing their hair with a towel. You look cheerful—that's all they need. But they pout when they hear your next words.

"But I had fun with all of you, you know," — you say, petting the animal's cheeks, and continue talking. "It's been a long time since I ran so recklessly in the rain. Thank you, puppies, for deciding to take me with yours."

It's not so cold anymore, although you can feel your skin burning from the sudden change in temperature. Lightweight clothing will soon warm you up and you'll be cozy.

You stand up and turn toward the perpetrator of the crime and meet their gaze. It is judgmental. Not serious, more like that of an offended child who did not receive the promised sweet. You tilt your head in confusion.

"What?"

"So, you called me an asshole and wanted to beat me up, but you praise them for pulling you out into the rain?" — they propped their cheek with their hand, looking at you in confusion. "I think you have a ba-a-ad memory."

"Why is that?"

"Because I pulled you out into the rain, remember?"

"Oh, really? I don't recall that."

"You're not very bright."

They turn away, as if unhappy that all the credit went to someone else.

You quietly burst out laughing.

"Are you offended?"

"Oh, and that's all you can come up with?" — they sneer, glancing in your direction out of the corner of their eye. "No. I thought you had more imagination than that."

The sight of Medicine Pocket, in a T-shirt and simple pants, their hair still wet and a frown on their face, was nothing but endearing. It was clear that they were still happy with what they had done, but offended that they weren't the ones who were praised first. It was as if you had praised some random person who was just standing next to the one who really deserved the praise.

"Medicine."

You called out to them, but they didn't even think about turning around. They just pulled one leg up and leaned on it. The towel fell off their head, but they didn't even think about picking it up.

"Medicine Pocket?"

"Go dry your head off, maybe the extra water will drain from your brain."

You took a few steps toward them, no longer holding back the mockery in your voice.

...

"Pff, Medi, are you serious?"

You slapped their shoulders, trying to look them in the face.

"Are you upset that I praised the dogs instead of you?"

"Uh-huh, no way," — you see them smile. Teasing. "Do you think I have nothing better to do?"

Of course, they weren't offended. They just like to pretend that they're deeply offended. Who doesn't want a little attention in situations like this? They just want to be assholes a little longer.

"Of course you're not offended," — you massage their shoulders a little too hard, but you have an excuse - they deserve it. They shouldn't have dragged you out into the rain without warning. "How could you be jealous of me and you own dogs? That's ridiculous."

You can't see it, but you know they rolled their eyes.

They are mischievous when they can benefit from it. Medicine is not offended by you at all; on the contrary, they like it when you talk to their dogs so kindly. It is not surprising that they have a better reputation than their owner. Although they often cause problems too.

Eventually, you switch to gentler caresses, occasionally touching the skin with your fingers through the fabric of the T-shirt.

"As if you don't know that I meant all that for you, too," — you know they know. You just have to remind them of it at every opportunity. "I had fun, even though it was cold. Just warn me next time so I don't fall over. And thanks."

And then, while they let their guard down, you kiss them on the neck, gently biting their fair skin first. They usually do this to catch you off guard and scare the hell out of you. But today, at least for now, you're in charge.

You can feel them tense up, but not because they find it unpleasant.

Rather, they were a little shocked. Just a little. Just a tiny bit.

You can finally see their face over their shoulder. Actually, you expected to see arrogance or something like pride, and you saw it. You saw it, but mixed with embarrassment.

Oh.

Did they blush just from a simple kiss on the neck?

Intriguing. You repeated your action, and this time you felt them jerk their neck slightly to the side. It was so subtle that you thought you had imagined it. As if a block of concrete had suddenly been moved by a slight breeze. But no — their cheeks were still red. Because of their white skin, it was much more noticeable.

This time it's your turn to smile sarcastically and mock.

"Hey, what's with your face? Are you sick already?" — you put your hand on their forehead, but Medicine immediately pushed it away irritably. "What if you have a fever and we don't even know it! Hey!"

"Oh come on, stop this nonsense!.."

"What? Is that what you call it now?"

"I always have some bullshit going on with my health, you should be used to it by now."

"Then why are you all red?"

"..."

The redness on their face disappeared in an instant, and they leaned against the windowsill, staring out the window, where the rain continued to pour down. Pretending to be calm. Yeah, right.

"Maybe you just like it, hm-m?"

Medicine Pocket smirks. They pretend that you missed and that you are a terrible sniper.

Medicine is by no means tsundere. They always say if they like something you do, especially if it is similar to what you sometimes do with dogs.

But sometimes it's very difficult to admit that you like something, something unexpected that you probably hadn't even thought about until a certain moment. This happens to everyone, and your partner seems to be no exception. Even Medicine Pocket was slightly thrown off balance.

"I like that too, by the way," — you say now, sounding a little more relaxed. You hug them, draping your arms around their neck, and rest your chin on their damp hair at the top of their head. They can be so difficult sometimes.

But they know that you understand their cunning.

"I need to do this with you more often. You have a nice reaction to that."

Maybe Medicine will take it to the grave with them, or maybe they'll mention it one day, but they like it when you show initiative like that.

When you don't just wait for them to continue courting you or showering you with all kinds of affection, but do something in return. You would say that this is the essence of a relationship, when both partners sincerely love each other and give each other such affection every day, right, but... Medicine can honestly melt away from some surprises, especially if these surprises are so unexpected that even they don't have the audacity to respond to them. Especially when you do what they usually do.

They smile and stick out their tongue at you before staring out the window again. It was still raining cats and dogs. To be honest, they were very upset that you were both sent back because you two were breaking something and making noise. They dragged you two inside by the scruff of your neck like a naughty kitten! How could they do that?!

You don't spend much time together as it is. You understand - their work is such that they can easily go crazy. Not only do they work tirelessly, sleep once every three days, and may even wake up at 3 a.m. on their day off because they've figured out the formula for some medicine that needs to be tested urgently, but others also take away all the free time you spend together!

Simply because it was apparently noisy for the people working on the first floor.

Losers. They have not yet heard real noise.

That's why Medicine Pocket dragged you into the rain. You... looked so lonely there under the roof, unlike them and the dogs nearby. The loneliness around you was eating away at the atmosphere, so they dispelled it by snatching you from the clutches of that hateful monster.

They tend to be lonely, but even that has its limits. And when there's a chance to have fun, they'll definitely drag you into their ideas. Everything becomes better with you around. Even failed experiments, listening to Lucy's bad jokes, and helping X with his weird, chaotic experiments.

You won't be mad at them for such antics, will you?

They are simply trying not to forget that there is now someone in their live who is dearer to them than anyone else.

You.

They press their head against your hands, admitting defeat. Only this time they will give you a head start. Only this time.

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

What made you start liking Medicine Pocket? Or, what’s your favorite thing about them? Btw I love your art! The one of Medpoc in the skirt extended my life. 💗💕

In general, almost all of my favorite characters are quite quiet and calm, so I was shocked when I saw Medicine Pocket and thought, "Oh my god, I love them." They are the embodiment of everything I usually pass by, but they are the ones I single out among all the characters in reverse.

I love that I don't fully understand them. There are a lot of characters in reverse, and it's understandable that we're not given too much detailed information about each one, and Medicine is such a chaotic and complex character for me that I just love learning about them from every angle. It's like setting myself a challenge and enjoying even losing.

So I set myself the task of trying to understand them, at least in my own texts, even if it would later be sharply refuted.

Maybe I just want to be like them at certain times in my life, that's all

(I was just thinking about who would forbid me from painting them in a skirt?.. I love that art too, thank you 🫶💕)

[paulinet]

happy bdayyyy we love ur writing :-)) u are a joy to the r9999 community !!

Thank you so much!! 🫂💕 It truly makes me happy to hear that someone actually really likes my writing... I still can't believe it. I don't have as much time to get creative right now, but something else will definitely come up. Thanks for supporting all of this! 🫂

[paulinet]

Oh, well... Happy birthday to me!! ٩(๑･ิᴗ･ิ)۶

This is just a silly sketches I finished about a long time ago?... I love it. I want to draw them more often 🥹🫶

[paulinet]

Hardships

Warnings: hurt, angst, conflicting feelings, misunderstanding, a quarrel, open final, ooc Medicine Pocket, gn reader, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: everyone misses what abruptly disappears. When a quarrel has hit a nerve, but you can't give up on each other - is it so important to give in to the moment rather than realize exactly why the conflict occurred?

World count: 2100≈

From author: I wrote this on emotion, and I think it came out not bad. Anyway, I like the way it turned out, even if it seems a bit out of character for Medicine Pocket. I'm not sure I was able to convey the entire situation after editing, but I felt it was unnecessary to add anything else. So there it is.

But I don't think I'll ever reread it.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

It started so abruptly.

You guys... Had a big quarrel.

And then you two went to your rooms and stopped talking. That's just it.

Honestly, you didn't even think that you could almost hate each other at one point, to the point where you decided not to say another word. Not you, not them even remembered, and what, in fact, was the cause of the quarrel?

What prompted you two to put duct tape over your mouths and not try to talk?

Medicine didn't want to believe it was possible to have such a serious quarrel. That you can be offended by their behavior or comment when you have never once rebuked them for it. That it was possible to get angry at them so... Strongly.

That you, who has never had a quarrel with them to this extent, knows how to yell. Can defend your position as vehemently as they do. All Medicine Pocket remember is the look on your face: annoyed, depressed, betrayed. Detached. You weren't a berserker, but it was worth it just to get a closer look at your emotions, into your eyes, as it was clear:

You're hurting.

It was already clear to them that you see the same pain in their eyes.

They're hurting, too.

They knew they weren't going to hear it directly. You wouldn't say it. You left just as they did, unable to cope with the wave of those thoughts and unpleasant words.

Of course they would have support you and try to comfort you, in their own style; like they used to when you were out of sorts and in pain. When you didn't want to cry, but howl, and you couldn't even be in the same room with them because that's not something you want to show.

They understand.

Because that's what they do when they want to cry.

They go away. Hide. Trying to be strong even when there is nowhere to vent their pain, and tears become the only true solution.

But when you roared unceasingly, tucked into their shoulder, when you grabbed onto them as if they were the last log you could grab onto and float through this tsunami of problems and not get lost in the kaleidoscope of emotions, when you apologized with all your might for this "circus" or "over-dramatization," when they could have been there for you and said:

"It's all right. Cry. This stays between us."

When they hooked every edge of your clothes with their fingers and pressed you against them, just afraid that you would disappear into this maelstrom and you would be much worse off. Much worse. They hated being afraid, and still they couldn't destroy the sprouts of that feeling at the sight of someone else's unplayed and not fake pain.

The pain they'd let coursing through their veins if there was such a way. A substance.

If it would make you feel better.

If you don't tremble in their arms from fatigue and exhaustion, if your heart doesn't beat so furiously that it's about to pierce it's about to puncture your rib cage, if you don't suffer - their pain is not such a big price to pay.

For them, being in a state of "rocking" or "suspension" is much more familiar than being completely calm and harmonious. And just a new, regular substance that requires a test will not be something special. It will be the price they pay for not being able to transcend themselves.

Again.

They're sure you'd do the same for them.

Even if it was just being there for them. But they knew you couldn't go and comfort them the way they want to comfort you. You don't want to say goodbye to those hard feelings right now and make unbalanced decisions that will lead nowhere, but only add salt to the situation and tear your expectations of each other to shreds.

They would love to be in your arms, the same ones they give you when you're upset. If they asked, even without words, you would definitely hold them until they felt better.

All that remains is silence and reflection.

Medicine Pocket aren't master of words. They cannot express well enough all their worries for you, especially for themselves, for every feeling flowing through their chest, through every cell. They can't string two words together, either. They are trying so hard to let you know that they is here, that they will not abandon you, even if they don't say those necessary words to you in a fragile moment. That you shouldn't go through this alone. That you shouldn't beat yourself up about how you feel.

You are you. You are as chaotic as they are, you are their favorite chaos they have no control over and watch with a smile on their lips. You are something they would like to keep for the rest of their lives. But of course, they will never accept these feelings.

Understanding what you feel, what you sense, is one thing. It's quite another when you try to accept it.

They still cannot accept how precious their partner is to them. How precious you are in every sense. Such situations help to remember it, understand it, try to accept it and show that you should not throw rotten words at emotions.

But now Medicine Pocket can't take the cold of their own room, even when the bright, hot sun shines through the windows, warming their shoulder blades as they stare at the floor and clench their fists.

And they're angry again. But at themselves. Because they haven't made an attempt to talk to you for two weeks now. Why not? They don't know. It's pride. Stupid, unnecessary pride.

It's so easy. And yet, they're here, not next to you.

It's all stupid. They're stupid. A researcher could have written or saying something a long time ago, saying how sorry they are that things turned out this way... So- So wrong!

But they can't even whisper any words with their dry lips. They can't unclench them or even say a single mute word.

They hate this feelings. This unknown. This wrongness. This emptiness.

This feelings - not even guilt or anger or those stupid five stages of grief that everyone talks about, no, it's much worse.

It's just pain. Dull, fixed, repetitive pain.

For yelling at you. For letting the echoes of your words turn into shards of broken glass and cut they heart from the inside out. For allowing yourself to be weak and leaving it at that. For not being able to even work now because, for the first time, they don't know which way to go. They're stuck.

Stuck because they realized they still needed time. Time to recover.

They had clearly let something slip past their ears for their own good then, but even so, one should have realized how you had come to such a... Painful quarrel with nothing good to come out of it?!

Ordinariness had been replaced by silence. Everyday life had become routine, it was no good now, now that they couldn't even relax. It wasn't like that.

It pisses them off. What pisses them off is their own pride, their desire to just say "Fuck it!" and go and talk to you, even if you don't see fit to apologize for what you said, then apologize, then come to your senses, they'll give you time to chance, hell...

Just take away that your invisible presence in their lives for a couple of days until they realize why you said so many dirty words to them and why they chose to respond in kind.

And yet, evil tongues are scarier than a gun. Scarier than anything.

Doggo bit their lip and felt a scarlet drop of blood run down their chin. It was too much this time. But it didn't matter.

It's cold in the room. It hadn't been this fucking cold in their room that Laplace had provided them, not even in the first few days of their stay here. But here they're freezing and goosebumps are running through their body.

A lot of your stuff is here. Insignificant things. Clothes folded on a chair, a stack of books you should have returned days ago, a notebook with your notes in which Medicine liked to leave a piece of themself in the form of sketches and short letters, and you did the same in their notebook, a few of your bling on the table, a hair band on the nightstand...

None of that matters now. It was as if time had stopped, even as the red slider on the calendar moved forward, counting down the second week of silence.

Medicine Pocket sigh deeply and wipes their face with their hand, the glove absorbing the blood. They grin bitterly and walk away.

To the lab. To work. Where the chill of your absence is less palpable than in this empty room.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't want to see them. Hear them. Feel more than just being around them.

They're like that. Normal. They act like nothing happened. Like you two weren't quarrying, arguing, shouting insults and grievances that have built up over time.

It wasn't all their fault. It was just as much your fault, if not more.

And now you're disappointed. In yourself.

And how are they doing? You didn't want to leave them alone, especially after a situation like this, and you're sure they didn't either, just the misunderstanding was stronger. Medicine, though harmful, is still a human being. A person who probably took some of the frustration of the situation too. Took some of that pain for themselves, and it's hard for them, too. Which is probably why, for the umpteenth time, they are simply ignoring your existence. But you know that's not true.

And yet... yet...

You so seek their presence. In every project, in every object, in every word, a resemblance to them. Dogs are one of those constantly carry their image, their noise, their absence in your life, but they are the ones who, with their sad demeanor, remind you that they care when they rub their noses on your hand, as if apologizing for their negligent owner and calling you to apologize too.

You know that.

To think of a week. It used to seem to you that even the hours in a day were not enough to get the job done. But now, everywhere you look, you see time and days passing, while everything around you seems to be frozen.

In any other case, you both would have survived a week without each other, and a lot more if you had to go somewhere else. It's a little sad, unpleasant, but... Tolerable.

But you're both in a quarrel. A hard quarrel. A quarrel that still hurts, and you need to get over it before you go over and apologize.

You follow them without even hiding, and you also have so much luck and need to work there too. And it's getting harder and harder to look at this biologist calling someone an idiot again. You're swallowing a lump.

Why don't you say anything? Say something. Right here, right next to they. A simple "hi" will suffice.

They are literally a meter away from you, standing there, long fingers typing on a keyboard, hollering to a colleague to help with the notes. Your mutual acquaintance looks at the two of you as if he's seeing you for the very first time. You're both around each other, and you don't help each other with such a simple task? Have the poles on the planet reversed? The puzzled look is enough, and you lower your eyes to the keyboard, continuing to type letters, numbers and other combinations.

You think this quarrel has already become a Polichinel's secret. Let it be.

We need to focus on work. You're sighing noisily.

The smell of Medicine Pocket hangs in the air, creeping into your nostrils, tickling your lungs, but you continue to stand silent. You're a masochist. You want to stand here and breathe them, even at arm's length.

Almost there. Close enough to touch. You reach out towards them...

And you take the edge of the calculation paper with your fingers. You keep working while your heart beats beneath the layers of clothing, about to pierce through your rib-shaped defenses and just tear your skin out of frustration. It's frustrated. It's in pain.

You can almost feel the tears in your eyes when you step away to the other side of the lab for a long time. You feel uncomfortable when there is no clap on the shoulder, as usual and so simple but necessary:

"Good luck with that."

It's like there's a live parasite inside your heart. It wriggles and beats against the walls of the heart so much that you could swear you have a problem with this stupid, loving organ. At the same time, someone outside, like a sadist, like the most evil person in the world, is inserting thin and sharp, rusty needles into your muscles, staggering each one back and forth to make the hole bleed as much as possible, and then pouring alcohol into it and watching you, so cold and strong, hold your soul in your hands and keep on working.

You don't resent them anymore. You're not angry. It's just painful.

It hurts because the mistakes have already been realized. You've cooled down. You've been able to find the right words for reconciliation. You think you're ready to talk.

But every time you remain silent, you don't even dare to reach out to this genius.

And each time you walk away, you leave yourself and them with nothing. You're a coward.

You want to hold them so badly. To wrap your arms tightly around their neck or their waist and just be in their warm, safe, secure embrace. Just fucking touch them.

Just comfort them like they usually comfort you.

The blood on the glove is conspicuous. But they didn't change it, which is odd. Maybe they didn't notice? But they're not the kind of people who'd miss it. You need sterility everywhere and all that, and here...

You look back. Just a little, with one eye.

And they look back, too. You see their yellow eyes, like newly-issued gold coins, and you clutch the folder with the documents tighter to you.

Talk to me. Please. Say something, give me a sign to say something.

I want to end your suffering.

Please, please.

I really, really miss you.

You look into their eyes and you can't look away. You don't seem to be feeling well. They don't feel better either.

You both want to talk. But you're both still hurting, each other's harsh words hurt from the inside out. The guilt for what each of you said is there, too. You don't like torturing each other.

You need to calm yourself down. Sometimes the attraction and longing for a loved one clouds the mind, and it is impossible to assess what has happened normally, without a veil over the eyes, without the desire to just be near. Sometimes you need to be alone with yourself, think, reflect. Make sure you know what to say, how to apologize, before you hug each other like hungry wild animals.

Not one of you looks away.

You're drowning in each other's eyes. You sinking and not even grabbing for a lifeline when your colleague shakes you by the shoulder.

"Hey, are you okay? Come on, there's more to do!" — it makes the same motion several times, but it's a nuisance, preventing you from fueling yourself for further solitude for a couple more days. You can't help but think about how it gets in the way. But you do.

You should be ashamed that you miss them. You should be angry. Resentful. You're both too proud to walk over and fix things just like that. There's gonna be another quarrel.

And each of you understands that. You can't judge each other for the way your partner experiences pain. In a week, in two weeks, maybe one of you will need more. After all, you did say some nasty things to each other that, though forgotten in the heat of rage and the moment, are only reminded of themselves by a dull, deafening pain.

At this rate, you two won't last.

But now is not the time. You should miss each other more, better understand how the situation will go after cuddling, if there will be any in the near future. Thoughts and breakup do not visit either of you, they seem to be nonsense, no one even hinted at such a thing.

You both lower your eyes and turn away, going deeper into your own affairs.

And live another day in pain, which requires not only willpower from longing for the usual pastime, but also rational and correct reflection on the situation.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

Just learning how to do neat sketches 🎶🐚

[paulinet]

Negative indicators

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 - this.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, misunderstandings, profanity, happy ending, ooc Medicine Pocket, Medicine Pocket - them/them, gn reader.

Synopsis: Did you know that they're people too? And that they may not be perfect either? Right?

World count: 5000≈

From author: This part didn't want to come out the way I would have liked at all. I was afraid to move away from the recognizable character. And I couldn't figure out how to move forward. So it was quite hard to write. (That part is not there, we will still love them, wake up and love them further).

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

Every person has a negative sides.

As sweet as this relationship may be, we should not forget that Medicine Pocket are human beings just like everyone else in the world, and they are not without their mental and social problems.

Let's start with the fact that they are workaholics. No matter how crazy people call them, no one dares to say that they don't do anything. They devote all their time to new research and don't let their colleagues down. They don't tolerate laziness.

They often lose track of time doing experiments, filling out papers, or looking for something new. They need something to keep their attention, so they look for anything that will keep them busy. How else do they make discoveries, you ask?

That's not to say that they don't know how to rest and be fully lazy, but research does take up 60-70% of their time.

Medicine forget about food, water and etc, and can sit in their lab for long periods of time working. If you try to distract them, they will not respond, or they will first "politely" ask you to back off. If asked by coworkers, they are quickly told to fuck off.

This can last from a few hours to a few days, and when they "withdraw" they are quick to seek you out. Then the rest of their free time is spent with you, with friends and socially. You could say that research is their way of discharging, and spending time with someone is their way of getting energy for further work.

They can be docile from time to time and then suddenly become as active as if they had a thorn in one side. At one time they may be relatively quiet and harmless for a few days and then become like a raving psychiatric patient. This is when they need to let their energy out and enjoy spending time, if you and everyone else is not so busy.

About that. They don't mind if you are much quieter than they are and less mobile, but they do spend a lot of time outdoors and they would like to spend it with you. If, however, you don't like a lot (when I mean a lot, I mean a lot) of walking, well, there are going to be discrepancies here.

If they walk around Laplace, I think they get into every place they can. They'll stick their noses in everywhere and drag the others with them. It's fun to find more and more interesting places in Laplace, right? I think in their hometown, they were the most active kid too and poked around every millimeter looking for interesting things.

Medicine Pocket can't stand not being given their own personal space. Working and hanging out together is great! But they just as seriously need a few hours to themselves, just to themselves. If you don't give them their personal space - they'll start cursing and getting angry. It's not on purpose, but they really don't like it.

They are very emotional. Especially when something doesn't go as they planned. Sometimes you can calm them down with dog toys, and sometimes even those don't help. On one hand this is good - they are more open, more honest with their emotions and not afraid to show them. On the other hand... Sometimes it can be... I don't know, annoying? Tense? It takes some getting used to, I think it'll give you a headache at first.

As I mentioned, they're damn loyal partners. Like dogs, yep.

This is why they don't tolerate lies in relationships. They're open about their judgments, opinions, what they're doing, where they're going - they'll let it all out without even thinking about it, just because it's not a big deal to them. You know, like, what if you come by after work to pick them up?

But if you start lying to them often, they become resentful. They're loyal to you and they care about your opinion - so why don't you even want to tell them what you're doing? It's not that hard to tell them what you do during the day or what's bothering you.

They are in no way controlling you. Their concept of being honest is to share your opinion even if it is radically different from theirs, to warn you if you are unavailable and to tell you if you are not satisfied with something. This is the most basic thing you should at least be doing. They... Like to get to know you.

But how do you involve them in your affairs if they disappear, come back and pretend that everything is okay without asking about you? Or rather, they do, but not what you want them to ask?

You just have no choice, you know? It's very hard to get rid of them sometimes, the energy clouds their view. They've just worked so hard, now they deserve some rest! What could be better than a rest in the fresh air and with you?

But... Actually, if you say it in a more "clear", straightforward way, they will generally understand. They're not idiot, after all. The relationship will be up to both partners, actually.

Except sometimes it feels like they're the only one in the relationship, and you're... Well, a ponytail.

Just like lying in a relationship, they do not like control. They are free-spirited and liberated, and controlling this dog makes their opinion of you... Questionable. They do not control you, and they will not tolerate the same for themselves.

They also don't tolerate being made jealous. Pocket are not the kind of people you can lead such an emotional roller coaster with. The only reaction you can see on their face is indifference or annoyance.

It doesn't mean that they are completely indifferent to you. They are not ready to share you with someone else, it's true. For them, fidelity in a relationship on both sides is the most important thing, but deliberately making jealous, flirting with other people is not their style. And they hope it's not your either.

They're just good at other emotional merry-go-rounds, okay?

They are lovers of spending money. They don't care about money, however they need it. Spending a huge sum of money is no problem. They don't leave themselves with empty pockets, but why would they look at something cheaper when the first option is expensive but the best option? It's easier that way.

And so they will not tolerate it when you reproach them too often for spending money on sometimes, frankly, not the most understandable things. Especially when their superiors have already squeezed them for funding for a new project, and they have nothing to surprise their investors with. They need it, you know?

Sometimes they do not take your words seriously. Not just words, but complaints, annoyance about certain things, etc. How can you be angry with them? It's such a small thing, well, calm down.

But compare this their lack of understanding of your claims as slowly putting stacks of poison on a character in a game that slowly destroys you.

Only when they see on your face a sincere expression of anger, misunderstanding, or, even worse, tears, will they realize that they have devalued your feelings and given you a reason to be truly offended by them.

Then the situation gets more complicated because they don't know how to apologize. No, I don't mean apologizing for the sake of apologizing. They don't know how to sincerely apologize and admit a mistake.

They're not ashamed of it, but... It's hard for them. They're stubborn to the end. Until you have a final fight and the situation gets out of their control. Then they too will start to open up all their emotional gaps and realize how much they may have hurt you with their comments.

Hey, that doesn't mean there won't be an apology. There will be. "I fucked up. And... You don't deserve it. I was an idiot."

It will take a long time, but they'll learn to apologize to you genuinely, and the sincere "I fucked up" will evolve into an equally sincere "..I'm sorry. I really miscalculated. You... You don't deserve it."

But if you've already offended them, they expect an apology. They will think over all your pretentious actions and words against them and point out exactly what offended them. It is often quite difficult, but not impossible, to hurt them. Keep in mind.

Speaking of comments. They tend to pick up on small details in you or your behavior. Sounds like a good thing, doesn't it? They'll be the first to notice if you've trimmed your hair a few millimeters or something. But it also means they might misunderstand some of your claims.

They often want what's best, but don't consider the factors that get in the way of that "best".

Like, you can tell them one thing and they'll chew it up into something else entirely. It's like talking to a toxic parent who can both hear you and turn the situation in their direction. Sometimes they do it on purpose, for the sake of a joke, and sometimes they don't notice how such jokes can hurt you.

Sometimes they can be very annoying. But they will understand if you don't want to hear from them for a while. Just say so. In fact, they always hear you. They just don't always understand exactly what you're trying to convey.

Just accept the fact that fighting with them is like putting out a fire with gasoline, i.e., it's best not to even start.

They also sometimes don't respond to messages, they just read. You know that type of person who reads, mentally replies and closes the chat? That's them.

And if you have any personal problems because of this, tell them right away. It is not a fact, of course, that they will try and constantly answer, but silence of problems pisses them off as much as presenting them.

They're the ones who work in a large circle of people every day. They're the ones who aren't afraid to speak their mind, to say what they want. They're loud and quick to lose their temper.

They're also the type of person who, even after all that, won't let people get close to them. Seemingly ambivert and etc, but they are the type of person who is as open as they are closed. You can tell you know them, but do you really know and understand them that well, do you think? They'll argue.

No one can ever truly look into another person's soul, but they will be truly grateful if you at least try to understand them.

They do care, but in their own way. More brutal, more... It's not even a hint of caring. But a lot of people just don't look at the bottom line, they just pick up on superficial words. For them it is not difficult to ask you to be more attentive to yourself, to eat, to sleep and everything like that, but because of the immediately following unpleasant words - it is not clear what they mean.

They're not the kind of people who cry or whine a lot about something not working out. But I don't think it doesn't happen at all. They cry, it's just that no one ever sees it.

I think they only cry when they don't have a chance to let out absolutely every emotion. It's as if they have to be pinned against the wall on all sides and not given a chance to get angry, bite someone, or speak out. It's as if their feelings are deliberately shoved into a barrel so that they accumulate and accumulate until the only way out is to cry.

Their noise, screams and bites are like a way to get rid of unnecessary, heavy emotions that only exhaust them even more. And when a person is shoved into a glass flask of water and corked, leaving them gasping for breath, you have to do everything you can to break it and break free. Medicine Pocket cry because it's their way of dealing with suffocating emotions and feelings.

Like I said, they don't like being seen by anyone. They're not too pretty when they cry, and yes it causes new problems due to their reluctance to open up to someone with that sensitive side. But... If it's you?

I guess it doesn't take a lot of words. No action either. Sitting down and being quiet is the best help, that's all you can offer right now. They'll talk to you when they're ready. When it's not so hard for them.

We all know that Medicine Pocket are amateur at testing drugs on themselves. Not amateurs, professionals.

Have you ever considered how dangerous it could be? How many times do they put themselves in danger? Countless times.

How do you usually hold up because of all this? Hard to say.

Usually, when they are testing something on themselves, they don't let you near them and they don't approach you themselves. Because sometimes it's not the most pleasant sight (amazing resilience in their colleagues, actually). All it takes is one or two people to record everything that happens to them. And Medicine don't like to be disturbed or interrupted.

Then you find them in a hospital bed. How does that make you feel?

Especially when they may be near death. Or in such a serious condition that it's easier not to even go into their chamber, because it's so hard morally.

But I think fate has favored them in such a way that even if they're on the verge of death 100 times, they'll still make it. And yet it can make you very uncomfortable.

So if you don't accept it right away and often discourage them from experimenting etc, you're sure to have a lot of arguments.

Relationship them is a ticking time bomb. In every sense. Especially in health, both physically and mentally. Without realizing it, they can smack you around on all fronts and not feel guilty about it. No, they're not assholes who like to play with other people's feelings.

It's just that they've been used to dealing with their own feelings and problems for so long that now digging into other people's is an unknown luxury they want to touch, but that luxury is crumbling before their eyes.

Like... Like they want a relationship, but at the same time they feel good enough. There can be serious misunderstandings because of this, because most of the time they might act like you're friends and not lovers.

They're really trying. They try to understand you when you talk about something, they try to accept the fact that they can hurt you as well as you hurt them. They try to consider even the silliest (or not) reason you resented them for and not repeat it. They are learning how to run this experiment next, and this is the first time they've had it so difficult.

They are often lost and angry because all these feelings are a novelty in their familiar life. Give them and yourself time. Medicine Pocket... really love you. And they will try, even through their own resentment.

Do not approach them when they are angry at others. They can bite when they are too overexcited. They almost bit your hand once in that state, and they've been staying away from you ever since when they're so angry. After all, they don't want you to forbid them from biting.

They are clearly the kind of people who can often bite their lips in anger, but it happens so rarely that it's not even a bad habit. But reworking is a serious and bad habit.

They never immediately talk through problems, if possible. While they are working, their thoughts still return to this or that conversation, and only then do they start to draw conclusions and make logical chains. Then they put their work aside and with an angry "damn it" they start thinking.

And they're usually just as quick to go solve the mystery. The first thought is the right thought, you ever heard of that? It doesn't always work with actions, but... I think you get the picture.

For the past day the reports have been hovering around the lab like a black storm cloud, sometimes rattling with reminders of deadlines and a strong wind in the face of other colleague's discontent, and they don't give you a moment's peace of mind. Your temples are pounding, your thoughts are glued together, and the time hasn't even reached lunchtime, the sun is only just knocking on the window. The earliest morning, an ordinary morning, a familiar morning. A morning that didn't portend a grand change in plans.

That's what you thought while you were putting another stack of papers to other stacks of the same kind, and they only grew and grew exponentially.

Everyone is bustling around. Everyone's working. Everyone...

"Hey, Y/n! Where'd you go?" — of course. Everyone. Except for your partner, who apparently decided to distract you from your work since they finished it themselves. Unless something new and uncharted was found that they could study for a long time.

Your gazes crossed, and you smiled tiredly. Still, it's nice to see someone smiling in this room, not in a strained way, but from the heart. There is something about it, something good, and it colors your day with warmth and joy.

"Oh... Medicine, it's you. You scared me," — and though you say it sluggishly and without mimicking their vigor, as if you don't need them here, Medicine Pocket know you're always glad they're here.

They wave off the fake scare, standing up next to you.

"Yeah, yeah, but I haven't started scaring yet. What's up?"

The casual conversation should distract you a bit from the impending wave of work yet to be done, and you're willing to slow it down for the sake of this conversation.

"Not bad... Working as usual."

If 'as usual' can refer to the stacks of papers that look more like endless, skyward-facing pillars, then yes, it's working fine. But from the sour look on the researcher's face, it's not hard to realize that they don't like any answer. Where is it seen that this is the norm?

"And you like taking longer than you should with all that paperwork... You've got to moderate it, you know. You've got such circles under your eyes... Terrible," — first they examine the paper, then you, from top to bottom with a loud whistle.

"They're always like that."

Well, they're obviously not going to leave it like that.

"And now it's gotten many times worse. Have you seen yourself in a mirror? You definitely need to take a couple hours away from all this nonsense!"

They raked all the papers into one pile, pushing them to the opposite end of the desk. Now you should be devoting all your time to them, not to the boring report you have to hand in... This evening.

But... you don't have time for fun now.

"Hey... I'm working," — it sounds so lame, it's not even a complaint. You're just tired, honestly, no energy to argue or figure out what they suddenly need.

But it's not on Medicine Pocket radar, and they pull you from your workplace towards the exit by force, and you can't say anything - they interrupt you faster than you can digest it.

"You'll work later. I'm sure Lucy won't complain if you take these papers later. Dump it all on me, as usual. A deal?" — enthusiasm is in the air as you and them walk down the hall.

Only this enthusiasm doesn't reach out to you at all, on the contrary, you scare it with your ominous and tired atmosphere.

"..."

What else is there to say? You were hoping that you wouldn't be dragged somewhere, but just distracted for a few minutes.

They started talking again about something new, about what they were up to and the workers were about to bring it to them, walking you through the winding corridors. You sigh.

They won't listen if you say it anyway.

"Deal."

If you managed to turn in that poor musculature last time and no one reprimanded you at the last minute, it's pure luck that you probably gave it your all. Other times, it's unlikely to fly.

You seemed to have a little fun, your brain cooled down and ventilated, it was easier to breathe and think. And then you came in and you just sorted everything out real quick. Everybody's on the plus side! Right?

That's right. Everything worked out fine that time.

Now you're sitting with Medicine at the same table with a bag of cookies in your hands. You can't even get food down your throat.

Not because you don't want to eat, but because you would be doing something else right now instead of sitting in a public place listening to other people with their vague, obviously useless to you, conversations.

Medicine Pocket are saying something, loud and clear, and your head is starting to hurt from their voice. Their voice is very beautiful, pleasing to the ears at any time, but not now. Now it hits them like a jackhammer or a drum, no pauses or breaks, just a monotonous chewing of another of their projects.

The tea had gone cold, too. Not a sip was taken, even the sachet was left in the glass.

You just stare somewhere behind Medicine Pocket, trying to take in their loud speech, but it doesn't work. Words fly out of your ears in milliseconds. It made the task more difficult and just cluttered your head more.

"You're kind of creepy today. Did you get off on the wrong foot?"

You flinch when someone walks noisily behind you, or maybe it's because of an unexpected question from someone you're talking to. Or both.

"Sort of," — is the short answer that doesn't go without detailed scrutiny. From the look becomes more grave.

"That's not an answer."

"Why?"

"Give me a clear and articulated answer, not an undeveloped piece of it."

Oh, there you go. It's your fault. This time they dragged you off the lab under the pretext of going out to eat or you'd be only skin and bones. It's great on the one hand, they care about your health!

On the other hand, you almost fell asleep on that couch, even though it wasn't too comfortable. But Medicine didn't care too much about that.

"I just didn't get enough sleep, what else is there to talk about?" — and that's the truth. Maybe they'll remember why you didn't sleep well.

But instead only a chuckle follows.

"Of course you haven't slept, you're trapped in a castle of papers and files! I really appreciate your hard work, but you don't live on work, or it will suck you dry."

Do you often take your own advice? you really want to ask this, but you hold back because you don't want to start a fight over nothing. It'll be even harder to clean it up. The packet of cookies is discreetly put on the table. It's redundant in this ridiculous conversation.

"...Uh-huh," — it's easier to agree than to ask them, seriously! What are you gonna say now? You went with them. There's no excuse. You could've said no and moved on to a pleasant dreams.

"..." — they stop talking, too, but stare at you absently, as if waiting for another answer.

This can't go on like this. You're too tired, and it's strange that they haven't figured out why.

You move away and stand up, catching the surprised look on your face. You shrug.

"...I'm a little tired."

"And?.."

"I'm going to go lie down. Good luck with that project," — you turn around and walk away towards the exit. To be honest, you weren't even listening to what they were saying. You'll try to get it out of someone later.

Medicine Pocket tense their shoulders, but say nothing. They just stare at you. For a long time, until your figure disappears through the doorway. Only then do they return to your empty seat.

"...Have a good rest, I guess."

Today you would like to lose yourself in the fog and never return to the place where you work.

Sometimes you get the impression that people are either too dumb or want to test how dumb you are. Either you have done something wrong to someone and now you are being tortured like a child to a parent in a store, or today the planets have got into the most disgusting position and decided to kindly take out all their accumulated anger on you. Otherwise, there is no other way to explain why you are being yanked around more often today than anyone else in the room. Even if that is, to some extent, your job.

Would you like you to get the files from desk because they really need them right now? Uh, fine. Record data while someone's doing an experiment? No problem. Help them set the temperature for boiling? Okay.

At the end of the day, everyone is tired but they did a good job. Well done, what else can you say to them and to yourself?

Now, sitting at the table in your room, you have to finish some work. Thankfully, there's not much to do! You're a lightning today. That's something to be proud of.

But as soon as the pen is between your fingers and your head is set up for productive work, gathering the rest of your strength in all departments, of course you are interrupted.

You don't have to imagine them.

"Hey! What's going on?" — you sigh. The whole mood is killed with one ball, a three-pointer. But with that comes misunderstanding.

"What else do you need from me today..." — you cling to their facial expression. And what happened today that was so unpleasant that their eyebrows drew together into a house? "Did something happen?"

"Did something happen? Are you serious? That's what I want to ask you!"

You frowned, pushing away from the table.

"What do you mean?"

Medicine Pocket take the nearest chair and sit down across from you, staring firmly into your tired eyes. There's no reproach or the usual irritation in their gaze. It's incomprehension.

"You haven't responded since yesterday morning."

You blink in surprise.

Oh, they mean you haven't answered them for such a long time..

"...No?"

"Check if you don't trust me."

The smartphone in your hands turns on, and... You see about 25+ messages blinking reproachfully on the screen. That said, your phone was not in silent mode.

"Oh..."

The chat opens, and your finger slides across the screen, reading the messages in passing. You seem to have missed a lot of important stuff.

Budget Buster

Hey, you left your bag in the cafeteria.

If you don't pick it up yourself, it'll stay with me until tonight.

Yesterday, 9:28 a.m. reading

If X comes to you with another request to participate in the experiment, fuck him. He's been on everyone's ass today.

Yesterday, 11:47 a.m. reading...

Hey, when a person writes, it's nice to respond.

But not silence, that's gross.

Yesterday, 8:00 p.m. reading

Are you kidding? You always answer.

I won't believe you broke both your hands on pen and papers at once.

8:12 a.m, reading

Are you holding a fucking grudge against me and you don't even bother to tell me about it?

1:32 p.m reading...

The messages fly by one after another, while you try to think of something to reply to them.

Because you did ignore them deliberately to some extent.

Well, you had a difficult and hard day without them, and you had no energy left to answer, you didn't even want to pick up that rectangular box and type your answers.

Although you'd think they'd be more concerned about the fact that you're not responding to them rather than the fact that you've suddenly disappeared.

...It's embarrassing.

Out of the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of Medicine Pocket watching every your move, the movement of every eyelash and breath, in an attempt to find something that will lift the veil of mystery and reveal the truth that they have already realized they will absolutely hate.

They weren't worried. It's just that you almost always respond. Almost instantly.

And now you've been silent for two days in a row, after leaving the cafeteria with a cloudy expression on your face as if you were about to throw up, but it's unclear why: they were sure you only see food 1 time a day.

Of course they'll resent the sudden change in attitude.

"So what the hell is this all about?" — they deliberately say indifferently, as if they came to you because you owe them something, but you know the true emotion hiding behind the facade: impatience.

They look directly into your eyes, trying to guess your emotions. They can't. It's all clouded by fatigue.

You sigh and look away. You think about how to start a conversation.

"Remember when you asked me how I was doing. I lied," — the hoarseness comes out before you can collate the words into more or less coherent sentences.

Your fingers clench awkwardly and carelessly, you don't know where to place yourself.

"Like I'm blind. I noticed something was wrong with you from the start."

"And why didn't you ask?"

This sentence comes out so abruptly before you even realize it.

Unlike Medicine Pocket.

Their eyes widened, their brows furrowed even more. Like you didn't tell them how you felt, but something unpleasant, and now they're reconsidering their attitude toward you-that's how you felt.

"What? Why should I ask when I can already see that you can't even perform simple actions anyway?"

Really. If they can see that you are unwell, why ask? They have eyes and other senses that allow them to assess your already waning, volcano-like state.

You sigh involuntarily, deep and long, because the air around you has compressed to the point where you're about to be crushed to the floor.

"That's the problem."

"Clarify," — even though they seem to know what you're talking about, they want to hear specifics.

The fabric of your work uniforms is so uncomfortable. It's heavy, just when a discussion reaches its peak and demands an immediate response. You should have changed.

"I'm tired, Medicine."

"I see."

"You see, but you don't understand. I'm tired of you too," — you say it in one exhale because it's the unpleasant fact you don't want to talk about.

Medicine feels bitter on they tongue.

It's to be expected that you're tired of them. They get tired of themselves too, rarely of course, but tired. But... They didn't expect you to say it like that.

Straight up. Hurtful, yeah. Unpleasant.

That's what they usually do.

"How could you be tired of me if you've been ignoring me for so long?"

"That's why I didn't answer. It was horrible of me, I know... But otherwise you wouldn't have let up for a while."

Let up? What do you mean, they're let up? Oh, come on.

"I'm a human being, too. And I get tired, too. I thought you understood that," — you confession begins uneasily. The corners of Medicine Pocket eyes squint and they lips stretch into a wry streak. "I'm sorry, but sometimes I just don't want you to drag me on rest, because it's not a vacation at all. You can be totally the wrong kind of rest for me sometimes."

"You sometimes are absolutely not the rest I want," — the last phrase crashes into them very hard, and sticks in their heads like a cheap record in an old vinyl player, and with that squeaky, cliffy noise keeps playing, sounding only worse with each turn. Unpleasant.

They don't understand. They don't understand why you're suddenly talking about it. They don't understand why you're suddenly tired of them, why you don't even want to see or hear them, why you don't enjoy spending time with them? What did they do wrong that makes you feel so... so... Lame?

Hey, Pocket don't forget about you. They don't want you to live a 'work-home-work-home' life. If you're tired, of course you need to rest. If you haven't eaten, of course you should eat.

But... Tired? Of them? After all they've done for you?

"Noted," — the phrase came out too mechanical, like a robot, old and rusty. They rise from their chair and prepare to leave as you catch them by the sleeve.

"You don't get it," — your words, on the contrary, sound more alive because you've already made up your mind to say everything here and now. "Sit back down. I haven't finished."

They obey. But now they no longer sit firmly and confidently, and sometimes fidget in the seemingly so comfortable chair.

"I'm not a child to be told the obvious things."

"Why won't you even listen to me now?"

You drop them again when they've just returned to the pedestal of confidence. Twice.

"If I wasn't listening, I wouldn't be sitting here giving you an fucking interrogation," — they snap back, because they have no more avenues of escape left.

"I still love you," — the words the researcher dares not go against. They turn their head to the side, propping their head up with their hand so that their lips are not visible. Biting their lower lip. "But you don't hear me too often."

It seems like such an obvious truth, but here it is right in front of them-and they lose their temper.

"I didn't answer you, not because I was bored with you, but because I wanted some rest. I should have written about it, but the day was terribly busy and I was tired, and it was too late to write anything, you showed up on your own."

This time they choose to listen rather than be outraged, though their eyebrows are still furrowed and their opinion of the situation is still at odds with yours.

"Why don't you just say you're tired? I'm a sentient being, in case you've forgotten."

"Because you don't give me a voice. I'm trying to say something, but you're taking it to a point where silence is the best option."

"In that case, fucking speak up."

"I tried but... You're hard to argue with. And I don't want to hear some of the less-than-pleasant things said to me in these moments."

You suddenly realize you still have them by the sleeve of your other hand, and tug lightly on it.

"I know you're trying. And it makes me feel good that you want to help... But sometimes a simple 'how are you feeling?' is enough. And the question of whether I'd like to take a break... And what kind."

"That's three questions."

"Pff, Medi..."

You're not angry anymore. Almost. Just looking into their indignant eyes with a meek smile.

"Please... Listen about my condition too. I'm really curious about the weed you were trying to weed there, but-"

"It wasn't a weed."

"Oh, really? What, is it a plant from the emperor's garden?"

"I don't do plants at all right now."

An awkward pause ensues, which is immediately interrupted by your crooked and embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, I was so sleepy I wasn't listening to you."

"I already understand that."

Their expression brightens, and you can even see through the hand at their mouth that they're smiling. Then they tug on your sleeve in return, but more timidly and cautiously.

"And, ahem... I get you, too. Don't lecture me again," — you construe this as 'I screwed up, sure, but I kind of get it and I'll try not to do that.' No problem. "What's so funny this time?"

You shake your head negatively.

"Nothing. Just glad you understood."

You want to add 'not completely, but at least you heard.'

"I saw you've got that annoying idiot's molecular biology experience report in there, you know, let me see," — but they didn't need to, because they decided to take the conversation in another direction.

"Want to help?"

"I want to evaluate his work."

"Please, here you go. Like he's going to outdo you."

"Pff, I don't think so."

They stare at these papers and discreetly moved a little closer, then slapped the sheet with the edge of their palm indignantly.

"And he wrote this shit? Give me a pen..." — and they immediately start filling it out with already completely different data. If you're lucky, it's not your fault and those angry words are not addressed to you anyway.

You sigh.

You feel better. You've been heard. Not 100% understood, but heard. And that's what you wanted to think about for the rest of the day, while Medicine Pocket "discreetly" helped you sort out those idiotic reports (probably to make amends).

This Doggo help with the reports, even though they're the reason there's so many of them? I don't think you'd mind.

At least it won't be a big deal anymore.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

you’re writing is so good PLEASE WHEN IS PART THREE OF LOVE JINX COMING? AND PLEASE NEVER STOP WRITING

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR SAYING THAT I REALLY APPRECIATE IT MORE THAN ANYTHING 💓💞

I've been planning about 4-5 parts in a compilation (shall we say) about the relationship with Medicine Pocket, and it will be completed over a period of time!! "Love jinx" will be followed by at least one more part, and I won't say for sure if I'll flesh compilation out beyond that. We'll see as time goes on

And, well, of course after that I'll continue to slowly write. I want to leave my mark on the Medicine Pocket fanfics haha

[paulinet]

For the sake of breaking a habit

Warnings: fluff, kisses, gn reader, ooc Medicine Pocket, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: Your lips are in a terrible state, and no amount of hygienic lipstick can save them. It's a habit that's hard to break without someone's help, right?

World count: ≈1700

From the author: Well, something uncomplicated before something complicated. I wanted something like this: soft, streamlined, and enticing.

When I have more of my story's, I'll compile them into a little masterlist.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

We all know nervousness, right?

Nervous when you are working on a gigantic project, on which you spend all your energy and time. You get nervous when you present this project in front of dozens (if not hundreds) of people, explain every aspect of it, and then nervously rub the edges of the sheets in your hands and wait and wait and wait. Approval, a nod, a wave of the hand, anything to take away the aching pain under your ribs.

But you're not afraid of these people, no.

But you worry about your work as a part of yourself. Here, you have taken something from your soul, from the depths of your mind, and you put it all together in a presentation and present it to the big people. Funding for almost any project, you know, hurts you enough if it doesn't come from somewhere else.

The habit of biting your lips came quite suddenly that you didn't even realize your lips had turned into chewed mincemeat.

All of a sudden you found out that they started hurting. And when you looked in the mirror, you were stunned and wondered, when did it get so bad?

You put the stack of sheets aside, sit back in your chair, and finally let yourself relax. This day hadn't been too hard compared to the other days, when you'd been working hard to clear out the backlog of reports, but you were still exhausted.

It's after midnight and there's about three of you left here. You and two other subordinates finishing their work.

There was no need to stay so long, but man, you wanted to finish most of the stuff for tomorrow (because there will obviously be more tomorrow).

The muffled knock of the door opening into the half-empty lab didn't even make you turn around. Few interesting people would have come in this late, at most one of the other workers ran in to say "hey, idiots, it's past midnight, let's go to bed already!" Same questions for him, of course.

"Well, how long are you going to stay here?!"

Oh, right. There's a person of interest, and that person is welcome to drop by anytime.

"Sprawled out in the chair and now she's going to sleep here. Shouldn't you move the bed over here right away?" — you sigh when Medicine Pocket sit down next to you, only on the desk, disrupting your careful arrangement of papers. Ouch.

"I'm not going to sleep in here. But you're right, my strength is almost gone," — you hear the sound of sheets of paper shattering and frown. "You've ruined my meticulously organized stack of papers according to all canons of perfectionism."

"Oh, yeah? It was an accident."

"Sure you did."

You don't even turn your head away from the ceiling to pay attention to them. Not to say they don't like it, but it does make they worry.

"How many hours have you been sleeping these past few days?"

"I am a creature in no need of sleep."

"I don't think Lovecraft would praise you for parodying some of his creatures."

You laugh.

"I'm trying to get 6-8 hours of sleep..." — their face seems to lighten, but resentment catches up again in seconds. "... In 2 hours. It's not working yet, heh."

They're clearly not happy with your answer. And who would like to find out that their partner has suddenly decided to adopt their lifestyle and also sleep less than a giraffe or a horse, not even close to the numbers needed to maintain strength in the body?

"Like a child, for God's sake."

"What about you?"

"Well, you have to admit, I look a lot better after a few days without sleep than you do."

"You're such a romantic."

"But honest."

"Uh-huh."

The conversation is interrupted while their interest is piqued by your face, because over the past few days you've started to look like a person with a less than healthy lifestyle. Not a junkie, but on the right track. It's time to look for jokes on the subject and appropriate cosmetics.

Especially their eyes ran over the bags under your eyes. Goths would be jealous that you don't have to work hard on your makeup - they'll take you in, and praise you for being in character.

And their gaze stopped at your lips. And it lingered until you stared back at them in puzzlement.

Awkward pause.

"What, is there something on my face?"

"Your face looks more like a mask from the movie Scream right now. And what the hell happened to your lips?"

Oh. You have forgotten about them for the duration of your work, but they always remind you of them afterwards. On a brief inspection of you, people can't tell that your lips are suffering from a meat grater or a meat mallet. It's only when they catch your eye for a long time that you realize that things are just awful.

That's what nervousness brings people to.

"I don't know."

"How do you not know what you're doing? Are you using or something?"

"No, it's just a bad habit I picked up out of nowhere."

"You can't get rid of it? Or is it out of your hands?"

"I don't notice when I start doing it. It's fine in the morning, by the end of the day it's like kissing a grater."

"Nerves are fraying?"

"Along with the cuckoo, I suppose."

They don't say anything to that, which you can't tell by their facial expressions.

Annoyed. Again.

But instead of grumbling, silence follows. A brief hiccup before they climb off the table and hover over you in a chair. Their venomous eyes prickle you, and before you can make any sound, they take your chin and kiss you.

You don't even manage to squeak. As usual.

The feeling of fatigue was replaced by the anticipation and excitement of an unexpected kiss. And more than one. Your consciousness focused on every fleeting sensation, every tiny movement of your bodies.

Their lips are always wet. Wet and thin, like two strings, curved in irritation or sickness from something poisoning they've eaten. Cold, they leave a herd of goosebumps behind them if they kiss hotter parts of your bodies, and never warm up no matter how many times they kiss. Even after a hundred kisses before bed or in the morning. But that doesn't stop them from being persistent and not at all shy of outsiders you've already forgotten about.

They don't close their eyes most of the time, and today is one of them.

Staring point-blank, as if they were preparing to fire a gun at some animal and aiming without being distracted by extraneous sounds. In the light their eyes are like two Ilyich bulbs, and even in the darkness they will stand out with their sparkles. And they've never been embarrassed by it.

On the contrary, they like to place bets on which minute of the kiss you will avert your eyes. And it's very annoying and fun for you at the same time. It's like stepping on the same rake every time because you like it.

Their lips, although thin, are very assertive. They do not hesitate to take the initiative and apply more diverse actions. They have a different way of kissing every time, you can never guess what was intended for this time. They savor your already killed lips, push forward, don't give you a chance to get out of the situation and turn your head.

The fingers in white gloves encircle your chin and do not let you move, holding you firmly, but in their own gentle way, not forgetting to change the position of your fingers from time to time.

You hear your own heart pounding when all they has to do is run their tongue over your lips. Here's someone, but Medicine Pocket, after much practice, have gotten much deeper into kissing. And now they'll bet anything just to see the ripples of burning excitement on your face again.

They're so mean when they need something. So untouchable, but in need of that little act of appeasement. Screaming audacity in every action. You know you'll be in drool and hickeys (later) afterward, but you reach your hands behind their nape and use your fingers to part the strands of their hair.

They take it as a call and, most importantly, as a permission to take further steps.

And somehow, you know, it doesn't matter that somewhere out there the laboratory door opens and one of your coworker leaves (perhaps he couldn't stand the unexpected sexual pressure. You can understand him).

And you look away, unable to take the pressure anymore.

They love it. They love it to the point of shaking at their knees.

Like to tease you and pull you out of your frames, Medicine are happy to break them against their knee and toss them into the dark sea, to the bottom, where already lies a whole collection of what they have stepped over with indescribable pleasure. They bite your bottom lip with a mocking smile before you feel their other hand on your waist.

Under your lab coat.

And they slowly moves upward, their fingertips tweaking the fabric of the garment underneath. Carefully as they continue to run the other limb down your neck, squeezing it lightly. They're not sadistic, no, by any means, and it doesn't rob you of even a crumb of air, but the feel of long, slender fingers leaves you no choice but to succumb completely to their power. Which, by the way, they always have plenty of.

Hot breath scorches your face as they pull away - the air isn't infinite, after all - and leave a weightless kiss on your cheekbone with a sarcastic smirk and squinted eyes as if to scream "you just can't say you didn't like it."

They don't seem to be tired at all, and the air in their lungs never planned to be released, but you've been there before - once they didn't let you go for so long that you got dizzy. No, not from magical sensations, but from lack of oxygen. They've been trying to be careful ever since.

You breathe deeply, massaging the back of their neck with your fingers. They love that, especially when kissing. It makes them go crazy.

And they respond by weightlessly stroking your waist, sometimes squeezing it lightly.

But now they just slightly arch their head back before dropping their arms to the sides of your chair and moving closer again. Just a little more, and their knee will be between your legs for balance.

"I'd rather you didn't bite your lips anymore, but that's a buzz too," — they give out in one breath, still relaxed under your hands. "Your lips aren't lips, they're chewed up duct tape."

You take a deep breath. You try to keep a serious face, as if the job didn't end hours ago. Like it would have been possible to keep working if someone hadn't decided to show off and go on a "distract at all costs" mission. Who wants to be caught thinking, breath hitched just because of the person next to you who just kissed you with all the passion they're been saving up lately?

"Pff, what, so disgusting?"

"Mm-m, no, quite the opposite. 'Almost' as good as always," — they flick you on the nose, and curve up in a smile. "But you'd better not bite your lips again."

"Why would I?"

"If you want to kick the habit, you need to switch to something else, something safer."

"On you, or what?"

"You're guessing," — Medicine Pocket pull away with a noisy sigh. You cross your arms across your chest and pretend you don't want to continue. "You're going to get some kind of infection - and then what are you going to do? I'm not going to treat you."

"..."

You puff up your cheeks and don't say anything. Still in mixed feelings, it's hard to think as well as move. Your body still feels their touch at your waist. It's hard to let go.

It's hot, isn't it?

"You need to get better sleep. Otherwise you'll look like a pale grebe"

"Thanks."

"But honestly," — they shrug. They take you by the chin again and examine your swollen lips more closely. "I've got some ointment somewhere that's just right for this."

"...Can I have some?"

Not for nothing. Of course they won't give you anything for a simple thank you. Especially not to you.

And you can see their facial expressions become more condescending. You guess you're in luck.

"I will. On one condition."

Oh, right. Of course.

"And what's that?"

They poke their thumb at your lips.

"You stop biting them. And start control yourself."

Expected. But did they think it would be so easy?

"And what happens if I can't kick the habit? I don't control myself when I'm nervous."

They let you go, take a couple steps away, and spread their hands as if they're really upset about it too.

"Then don't expect me to kiss you again."

...

One second of silence.

And you burst out laughing.

"Ha-ha, can you contain yourself?"

"Let's just say it's a challenge for me, too."

Yeah, a challenge.

You roll your eyes tiredly. You know they're lying.

You know they'll break their promise tonight before they go to bed.

And yet you still listen. As if nervousness is nothing. It's just a little thing.

They're such idiots.

"Either..." — they lean closer and give you another slap on the nose. "...Remember this situation every time. What's better: biting and tearing your lips in cold, nervous, rotten loneliness or making out with a gorgeous person like me who loves and cares for you, you stupid lip-biting lover, huh?"

"...I'm gonna take that damn book of poetry away from you and throw it away, you've learned to talk too pretty."

They turn on their heels, starting to walk back towards the exit and make no response to the sarcastic comment.

"Think about it!"

And they hide behind the door.

You sighed, going back to cleaning up the mess on the table and floor. The papers were all scattered, and they hadn't even bothered to clean up after themselves. Well, nothing-nothing, you know how to retaliate terribly, he-he.

You stack the paper in an even, aesthetically correct stack and place it on the edge of your desk.

And then you meet the gaze of your remaining coworker.

...

Spark. Lightning... And the anticipation of a lump in your throat of shame.

Words cannot convey the shame and embarrassment on your part, and you just nod her and pretend that paper is the most interesting material on Earth. The best of the best. She walks by, pausing for a moment near the table, shrugging timidly.

"I'd agree to kick the habit if I were you."

And quickly retreats toward the exit. The lab is quiet and peaceful now, with only the occasional beeping of devices.

And suddenly you realize she's heard everything.

All the conversations, including...

...

You cover your burning face with your hands.

How much you love and hate that Doggo.

I already know I'm gonna need a couple days to rest. Well, you know, it's not like I'm an English-speaking person, and it takes me about... 3-5 hours? To edit this or that text and not to lose the meaning of each sentence (I just don't want to present everything in a horrible state I'm a perfectionist a bit).

That's why I post something once a week, you know, so I have enough energy to recover and +- enough energy to write something new. At least I try.

I will definitely post part 4 after «Love jinx» and part 2 «Bonus for waiting», it's just that right now they are in... A little bit in a stupor. I'm working on them, but I'm not really happy with what I'm getting. Plus I have more ideas lying around that I'd like to do, ahem, well, I'm working, just slowly...

Dividers by @petalpxl

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

Bonus for waiting

Warnings: fluff, modern au, headcanons at some points, ooc Medicine Pocket, Medicine Pocket - they/them, reader - she/her, but it came out relatively neutral. Almost.

Synopsis: failed dates lead to something more interesting than disappointment. Wouldn't you agree?

Word count: 2500≈

From the author: just a little sketch. It's nothing serious, but I like this AU(?). Suppose?? I had a good day and decided to write something to cheer me up, hopefully you too.

You may think there's a lot of unnecessary stuff here. That's the way it's designed, I think the atmosphere is there.

English is not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

You put on your shoes and shake any dust off your clothes one last time. Tearing around in front of the mirror, you examine your work and wink at yourself with a smile.

It's going to be a fun day!

You lock the door and run down the steps, almost jumping over one like a Shaolin monk. Finally, you step onto the floor and open the door, welcoming the fresh, hot air. Summer is in full swing, damn it.

As you walk along the paved path, turn your head to all the things going by. There's a couple walking with bags full of stuff in their hands, there's a mother buying her child an ice cream by the cart, there's a car passing by you with damn loud music. How is the driver still deaf?

The afternoon sun bakes your head and shoulders pleasantly, and you clutch the strap of your bag. You breathe deeply as you pass a flower bush. It's a good thing they haven't been cut down like those trees near the art school, leaving the walls all bare and unsightly. They could have stood for many more years!

You turn left and walk on the sidewalk again. You walk past a half-empty bus stop and hear children talking, playing some kind of game. They must be having a lot of fun after school and starting to relax on their phones.

You'd like to have fun today, too. Studying at the institute eats up all your time, but you also need to relax, which you're not very good at. You can relax for a while when you go to a dog shelter near your home. You buy some food and just go visit these cuties. It's a shame you can't afford to get one yet: you're not poor, of course, but you have a long time to save up.

At the beginning of the new school year, you met a cute guy when you lingered in the courtyard of the institute, rewriting notes from a fellow student, and now you've been socializing for a few weeks. Everything is going well, you can even call yourselves not just acquaintances but friends.

So he asks you out for a walk in the park. Just for no reason at all. To walk in the park, to eat ice cream, maybe to go somewhere else.

Not to say you have a lot of dating experience, but it's common to invite someone to the park to get to know them better. You didn't mind at all if it meant you could hang out with someone and enjoy yourself. Who would turn down a walk on such a beautiful day?

"I hope nothing spoils today," — you probably should have wished that beforehand.

The park, already familiar but still like new, welcomes you with painted gates and the noise of children running along the paths. Walk straight ahead and you'll see the hanging swings. They are already occupied by grandmothers and moms with strollers, ideal for those who want to relax. But unfortunately, this is not the place for you.

You go further into the park and do not even think of taking your eyes off the trees. Pine and rowan trees, and even the cherry tree - everything here welcomes you and disposes to a pleasant pastime. It's hard to turn down something like this. Even in the rain it is dazzlingly beautiful here.

The janitor is sweeping away the windblown sand and spruce branches from the paths, and you go around him to walk a little further straight ahead. You come to a bench.

The simplest bench, hidden in the large bushes at the sides. Wooden, with an ornate backrest and a garbage can next to it. Opposite it was another bench, just like it.

You sink down onto it with a sigh and let yourself relax. It's normal to be a little nervous, but it's worth it. This guy is very interesting to you-it's a sin not to at least try to be friends.

The phone in your bag vibrates and you see a notification from an online store on your screen. Something like "Faster! Hurry up! Don't miss out on hot as grandma's pie merchandise, 70% off!" Uh-huh, sure. The prices may be low, but they're still the same.

You decide to check your messenger notifications and make sure you got it right again. Yes, it's Saturday, the time is 1:49 p.m., and the meeting is scheduled for 2:00 p.m. sharp. You're in the habit of coming in early and giving yourself a break. It calms your nerves, and it's nice for the other person to see you there early.

You walk into your friend's chat room and involuntarily smile at her message.

Y/n, Y/n, listen! I found a cool restaurant near med university! in Korean style!!!

Read at 1:49 p.m.

There's kimbap, and kimchi, and there's even Dalgon candy!!!! Ya know, from the squid game?

Read at 1:50 p.m.

Let's go there next week? I can't this Sunday, I have to take my cat to the vet( And ya're going to the shelter next weekend?

Read at 1:50 p.m.

Pls?? Can you find the time?

Read at 1:50 p.m.

As you start typing your answer, you hear loud footsteps coming your way, but you don't pay any attention to it. Only when the footsteps stop in front of you do you decide to look to see who's there.

Your gaze is fixed on a boy (or girl? You honestly didn't give it much thought), looking around bored. They hands are in the pockets of their shorts, their hair is sprawled across they shoulders, and they bright yellow eyes are looking at the surroundings.

"Hey, was anyone here?"

You were so engrossed in considering their appearance that you didn't immediately realize it was you who was addressed. Startled, you smiled, and the shock went away.

"I just got here five minutes ago myself. But I didn't see anyone here."

"I see."

They sigh, sit down across from you, cross their legs, and cock their heads skyward. Now you sit across from each other, but on opposite sides of the benches.

You continue to stare at them, scrutinizing every detail of their appearance. Something seems vaguely familiar.

Exactly!

You remembered. You saw them a few times outside the dog shelter where you occasionally bring food. Very... It's hard not to notice them. Their behavior is quite out of character with a hundred people and more like the behavior of those four-legged friends you love.

"It's not polite to stare at strangers like that, like some kind of maniac," — you reprimand yourself and return your gaze to the phone.

Your friend's messages make you smile again. She's a nice person when she's not begging you for notes because she missed class due to a trip to the hospital. Her teeth need to be fixed, of course, but for some reason her absences fall on the days when the most information is taught. Then, while she's rewriting, you'll have to tell her what the words in your notes are.

Sure, we'll definitely go next weekend. What time is convenient for you?

Delivered at 1:56 p.m.

You hit "send" and suddenly notice the time. 1:56 p.m, but... You don't see anyone in the neighborhood. He's late?

Oh, well, that's all right. Maybe it's traffic, he's taking the bus to the park.

You put your phone away and lean back on the bench. You breathe in the same hot air, but mixed with the smell of the park. The sun scorches your back, and you close your eyes briefly.

Across from you, there's an incomprehensible noise.

And opening your eyes again you see stranger angrily munching on a chupa-chupa. They have placed their foot with the unlaced sneaker on the edge of the bench and have one arm around it, while they are staring off into the distance. You can definitely hear the crunch of that candy.

"They must be waiting for someone, too. Someone important," — the thought made you smile involuntarily. You're not the only one waiting for a person who is running late.

To brighten up your time a little, you decide to open an e-book. Waiting is waiting, but why not do something enjoyable?

It's some cheap novel you dug up off the internet. As usual, the heroine is mouse blind, rat stupid, but everyone spreads out in front of her like a red carpet in front of a celebrity in old cartoons. Typical, but... Okay.

It takes you a while before you finish the first chapter. It started off well enough for a book like this.

You check the time. 2:10 p.m.

And you immediately open a chat with a friend.

Hey, where are you? You late?

Delivered at 2:10 p.m.

You decide to check when he was online... Yesterday, 11:34 p.m.

...

He overslept?

You'd be lying if you didn't say you felt bad. You've been planning all this time, getting ready to have fun, and you've been so... Screwed up.

Did it ruin your mood? Honestly, yes.

But you thought you've been in this situation before. You'd be up late watching something and you'd be hard-pressed to get up. And if it's in the middle of the week...Ugh.

At exactly that moment, the phone vibrated.

Shit, sorry. I overslept because of a bunch of homework, I just got up. Pls wait a little while?

Read at 2:15 p.m.

I'll get dressed and call a cab!

Read at 2:15 p.m.

You're shining! It's okay if it's he a little late, right? You were so sincerely warned.

Okay, no problem. I'll wait.

Delivered at 2:16 p.m.

You turn your gaze back to your surroundings, and you are once again attracted to the person across from you. You didn't even hear them lie down on the bench, throwing their legs over the armrest. Only now do you notice they're wearing different socks. Cute.

"I wonder who they might be waiting for?" - A friend? A classmate? Maybe a sibling?

It's none of your business, but they look interesting. Especially their hair. White like that, rust-colored with black on the ends. They're sprawled out on the bench, and their bangs are pulled back, pinned up by their glasses.

The combination, surprisingly, reminded you of the spots on a dog, which was kind of cute. Strange how you always noticed their behavior at the shelter, but never noticed what they actually looked like.

But enough with the staring again. Waiting is waiting. One more chapter to go.

As time goes on, you finish chapter two.

Honestly, the novel is a bit bland, but it reads easily. That's a plus.

Yes, you're pissed off by characters, one of whom constantly neglects the other, but.... What can you do? It's the only thing you can get your head around.

You're distracted by a message.

Sorry, I'm indecently late. I'll be there soon!

Read at 2:38 p.m.

Can you wait a little longer?

Read at 2:38 p.m.

You're frowning. You've been looking forward to this day, of course, you wanted to get to know this man better, but... Is this how he's showing himself? It's not the nicest thing you'll find out about him.

You sigh and roll your eyes. Your mood's ruined, but... Last chance.

Okay.

Delivered at 2:39 p.m.

There's a resentment coming over you. You really wanted to walk in this park again, and it would have been more pleasant with someone else. What's stopping you from walking now? Well. You promised to wait at this spot. It's a big park, and you like to walk. If you leave, you're not likely to make a quick circle and come back.

You clutch your phone in your fingers and sigh.

"Waiting for someone too?"

You flinch when the person across the hall addresses you. Why are you being so skittish today?

"Yeah. He's late... A little bit."

They look at you closely, and now they're standing behind the bench, leaning against the backrest. No more chupa-chups, but they look annoyed. Kind of like a Chihuahua. They obviously talk to you out of boredom, and you keep the conversation going because of it. It's better than being bored.

"Judging by the look on your face, 'a little' feels like a long time. Are you sure it's worth the wait?" — they say it so casually, it makes your chest pound.

Is it worth the wait? Well, uh. Honestly, you liked this guy. Cute, kind, and you have interests in common, lots of them. You wanted to try it. That's why you said yes and that's why it took you so long.

Maybe he really is late. But now it seems like you've been putting up with it too long.

"I think I'll wait," — you smile and nod slightly, saying, yes it's nothing, and it doesn't escape their attention, it shows. Only they shrug and say nothing. Instead, they move away from the bench, starting to slowly circle around it, clearly not intending to continue the conversation.

You snickered.

"And you... Waiting for someone too?"

"Sort of," — they reply instantly, despite the demeanor.

"Is he late too?"

"Unfortunately for him, yes."

"Are you sure it's worth the wait?" — you decide to answer the same way, and for good reason.

They chuckle and turn their heads back to you. Whoa... They've got pretty sharp teeth. It looks ominous.

"Hey, no fair," — the indignation in their voice is beyond words. But it's not really indignation, it's just fake indignation.

"You started it."

They puff up their cheeks, but are clearly satisfied with the answer. They shrug their shoulders.

"It's a long way for him to get there. But that doesn't excuse this idiot's tardiness."

You unwittingly accept that about your situation. It doesn't justify your friend, but it's true that these situations do happen. So now we're supposed to hate everyone when they're late? That's not very nice either.

"And yet you're waiting for him?"

"What can I do? He owes me something."

Well, waiting for your debts to be repaid is also some reason to be here.

Suddenly you see them squint and stop. Now you've switched roles and now they're staring at you. Now it's clear that this can be quite uncomfortable. Take note.

"Hey, look, could I have seen you somewhere? You look so damn familiar."

Wow. They've you... Remembered you in some way? You didn't seem to stand out much. That's flattering.

"At the dog shelter. I bring food there often."

They blinked in surprise.

"Oh, really? And you're not lazy?" — you don't know if it was a rebuke or genuine interest. But on their part?

"No, not at all. I like dogs."

"Why don't you take one for yourself if you like them so much?"

"I can't yet. And I don't have a lot of money for a dog," — you shrug with a chuckle, and decide that's enough revelations for now. "When I get a chance, I'll definitely get one."

You smiled and decided to be the first to end the conversation, returning your attention back to the book. Hey, meet us, a cheap novel with lots of clichés!

You're drawn in, you don't argue. The way the main characters flirt with each other seems really hilarious. Only you were frustrated by one of the situations there, in which the man himself scheduled a meeting and decided to cancel it at the last minute. You were really hoping that wouldn't happen to you.

A new message distracted you from the growing strange feeling.

Not coming, sorry. No offense, have an emergency. Shall we do it another time?

Read at 3:08 p.m.

You're falling out. What the fuck do you mean, I'm not coming?!

Your lips are pressed into a line and your hand is clenched into a fist. So this is how you get repaid for waiting?!

Fuck you.

Delivered at 3:09 p.m.

You don't regret your rude answer. If that man was late once, he'll be late again. Couldn't he have just said he couldn't make it? Why did he feed you all these expectations? What are you, a seedling, to be fed with fertilizer?

You suddenly remembered that he was late for class many times. But those were five or ten minutes, not a fucking hour.

You were angry, if not more, upset. The anticipation of a good time washed over your eyes a lot.

"What, bummer? Not coming?"

The voice across from you sounds a little mocking, but you hear sympathy. Barely audible, but it's definitely there.

You lower your gaze.

"Won't come."

You spit out the words and clutch the hem of your skirt. You've wasted so much time sitting on that bench, watching people walk past you and reading a cheap novel. You could have been having fun somewhere else, by the way.

"Sympathize. You didn't have to wait so long."

You're frowning. The unsolicited advice starts? You pass.

"And who have you been waiting for an hour?" — you ask sharply, looking at the stranger reproachfully.

They are silent. Now they sit on the bench, digging into their phone and swinging their leg again. They are clearly very bored.

"Good question," — they look at you for a moment, and then somewhere off to the side. "Apparently that idiot isn't coming either. And he still owes me."

You want to roll your eyes, but you hold back. You don't want to take it out on someone who's right.

But it turns out you were wasting your time. You wasted your outfit, you wasted your makeup, you wasted your choice of places to go. You wasted a good day, and he ruined it.

It could have been a fun day.

...

In fact, why did he ruin your day?

The time is only 3:00 p.m with the thread. You're still pretty, dressed up, enthusiastic (albeit with a ruined mood), and now you're mad at your (non) friend who ditched you?

...

Have you no pride at all?

You stand up abruptly, the key chains on your bag jingling loudly. You don't know why you stood up so abruptly, but your emotions must have gotten the better of you.

You have to rub this guy's nose in it and have some fun!

And, apparently, your emotions took over your brain (along with your instinct for self-preservation), because you had an idea.

You take a quick step to the bench across the street. It feels like you should be sent, but there's nothing to fear today.

"Hey. Let's hang out?"

The blond's surprised gaze flicks away from the phone and pierces you from bottom to top. They look like a surprised puppy, to be honest.

"Again?"

"Let's go hang out somewhere. It doesn't matter where."

Your answer gives him a pleasant chuckle, and the toothy grin is back again.

"Hang out? Are you out of your mind from grief, offering that to a stranger? What if I came here on purpose to wait for the moment and drag you off somewhere?"

"I'll do it first, don't worry," — you smiled proudly. "I mean it. You've been ditched too, I take it?"

They push themselves off the back of the bench and tuck their phone into their pocket. They seem interested in you. Of course, for an hour you both sit there bored, exchanging a few words. Anyone would be happy with an interesting proposition.

"Well, not really. But we'll take it as such. So what?"

"Well, since we've been abandoned, let's hang out together. Let's not ruin our day."

They jump, put their hand on their knee and prop their head up. I think you're about to be teased pretty hard about this.

"What if I don't hang out with strangers?"

Now it's your turn to laugh. But is that a problem? You extend your hand to them.

"Well, so let's get acquainted. Y/n," — they look at your hand like it's something strange.

But eventually, they take your hand and stand up abruptly. Oh... they're quite tall. A head and a half taller than you. It seems different from afar... But you can't back down.

"And you're funny. Medicine Pocket," — they lean closer, and to your surprise they kiss your knuckles. You can almost smell the musk and the hospital. They're probably in medical university.

Warmth quickly rushes to your cheeks, and you're ready to swear that stupor is exactly the reaction they've been waiting for. And it makes you resent it a lot.

"And you're a strange one," — there was no denying that the mood got worse after that gesture. On the contrary, amusement flowed through his fingertips. "Want to go karaoke?"

"And I like you already," — the suggestion was to their liking, since they swayed slightly in your direction. The smile never stopped coming off their face. "Let's."

They nudged you lightly by the shoulders, giving you the direction you wanted, and then joined you beside them.

"Just so you know, I don't have a wallet today," — he said, either bragging or warning. You can still change your mind.

"I've got you memorized on your face if anything," — but who says you can't respond the same way?

"Is that a threat?"

"I'll find you at the shelter anyway. I'm sure they have your contacts."

"Hey, I'm starting to think you're the maniac," — you get a shove in the shoulder, and they walk with your back to the front, all the while keeping your gaze fixed on you.

"I can assume you're in medical university."

"Not because of my name, right?"

"Well, who knows, who knows..."

"...I get it, I get it. I can't even joke with you, can I?" — they're pouting, but you can see in their eyes they're enjoying the conversation.

"I take all jokes seriously."

"I take that back. You're mean," — Medicine start walking normally, but with his head held high. You have to catch up with them a bit and make an effort not to laugh.

"You don't like me anymore? I was just kidding."

"... Fucking joker. Fine, I'll pay for us."

"What are you, a gentleman?"

"I have to match today's outfit."

"But you don't have any money."

"That's right. I'll take your wallet and pay for both of us like a real gentleman."

You just can't hold back the laughter. Talking to them is just as much fun as watching from the sidelines. The mood is instantly lifted.

You don't know them at all. And going anywhere in fact with a stranger is very dangerous. But you've seen them many times at the shelter and you can make a bold assumption - they're a good person. Strange, but good. You want to believe that.

And you plan to have a good time with them.

This day is definitely going to be fun. You'll do your best to make it so.

I WANTED TO WRITE A LITTLE SKETCH- and I couldn't. I looked back and there's already 2k words chasing me. (ʘ‿ʘ)

I really wanted to make a lively narrative and I hope I did it... And I still feel like there's not enough detail or interaction between the reader and Medicine Pocket. I'm not a perfectionist but *cough cough*. Also, when you edit for a long time, you don't like the final result. It's me.

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

Love jinx

Part 1, part 2, part 3.

Warning: SFW, NSFW!, comfort, profanity, unknown gender, lewd talk, Medicine Pocket ooc, headcanons, blurred boundaries of a genderless reader, implies your job at Laplace, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: what comes after the recognition? That's right, an official relationship looms on the horizon. So what will they be like with such a chaotic partner?

Word count: 3000≈

From the author: I don't know how long my desire to write anything will last... I really love it, but I change my tastes and hobbies too quickly. So if I disappear for a long period of time, it's okay. I come back, usually. With Medicine Pocket, it's impossible not to get back to writing, you know?

I'll probably write another piece of headcanon on this topic and then try to develop the drabbles, it's been a while since I've done one. Doramas occupy my free time, it's fun to get inspiration from there.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

SFW

Please accept my sincere congratulations if you have become a Medicine Pocket partner. It means you can hold their attention for so long that they fall in love with you.

Please prepare yourself for the fact that they've been hiding a COLOSSAL amount of energy since they first realized their crush and they plan to let it all out.

Finally they can cuddle with you indefinitely!!! They've finally gotten to the point where they can drag you on walks for hours without hesitation! At last they can touch you not as a friend, but as a lover?? God, hold that newborn puppy.

They will really act like a puppy for the first while. Perhaps a little superficially, doing completely trivial actions, but understand, this stage of the experiment they've been stuck on has lingered and they're just thrilled when they have the right to continue!

They still don't understand even themselves. What are they doing? Why are they doing it? Medicine Pocket just follow their heart. If they want to hug you, they hug you, if they want to kiss you, they kiss you. Now they can do it.

And no, they don't look stupid, at least not in your eyes. Sometimes they blush, sometimes they overreact like a volcano or geyser, but only for the first few months. Afterward, they'll just react... Internally. Because they'll have already been through it, and it will be easier.

They look at a lot of things through a "dog is man's best friend" prism. But the situation here is that they are not your friend, they are your partner. Your lover. Does that change their worldview? Not much.

"Medicine Pocket!"

"Huh? What do you need?"

"Hey, have you been listening to me at all?! I'm talking in front of you and you're flying in the clouds and looking at Y/n?!"

"I'm not allowed? Just say it again."

"Damn it, Medicine Pocket! You're not yourself! And Y/n keeps look at them.... Did you guys have a fight?"

"Ms. Regulus, I don't think it's any of our business-"

"What do I care! I don't like my friends acting weird."

"...Hm-m-m... Hm-m..."

"Ms. Regulus, I don't think there's any friendship between them now."

"What??? Mr. Apple, do you think they quarreled to the point where they are now enemies? What nonsense! Those two have never gotten to that point."

"Miss, look closely."

"What else is there to look at?"

"Do you think friends get that look?"

"Hm-m?"

"I mean, have you ever seen Medicine Pocket look at them like that before? What kind of friendship can we talk about?"

"I don't understand."

"How should I put it... I think they're lovers."

"Uh-oh... Huh?!"

Tight hugs. Medicine Pocket are very clingy partners, it is important for them to touch their partner somehow, whether it is a hug, holding hands, touching each other with skin or through clothes - everything is accepted. And everything is given back in the same volume.

"Medicine, take pity on your back. Better stand up and stretch properly if you're tired."

"I'm more than comfortable."

You wouldn't be so worried if you weren't sitting in different chairs and the distance between you was enough for Medicine Pocket to reach up with your whole body and hug your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Comfortable hanging like a jelly worm at the table?"

"Quite. Plus, they're tasty."

"Jelly berries are better."

"No way."

"Look, I don't doubt your stretch, but move closer then at least."

"Why do you care so much how I sit?"

"We're in a meeting."

Not that they like to shout about your relationship left and right, but they are not shy to show such small (and not so small) actions in a big crowd or at important events. Everyone knows everything for a long time, and those who are not satisfied - they are just jealous.

They don't know how to kiss. Yeah. It's not as bad as you'd think, but-- They're bad at it. But they learn fast! Just give them a couple sessions, oh, they'll love it. I'm sure you won't either.

If you can't do either, they can tease you for a while. Until it becomes clear that they are no better. Then they'll just grunt with a half smile. You both have a lot to learn.

Their kisses aren't even kisses at first. They're wet, emotional, ugly, you never know where they'll kiss you. But their favorite places are the lips and the back of the neck when they hug you from the back. If they have the chance, they'll kiss your shoulder.

They bite. They bite a lot. It doesn't matter where - almost you go has red bite marks, gritty skin from hickeys, and minor bruises when they hold you during coitus (I think they have pretty tenacious fingers). Of course, if there are places that hurt you too much, including your genitals - naturally they will remember them and not touch them. But biting is a way for them to show how much they like you.

If you want to bite them back, the first time you do, they'll give you a shocked look. Like, wtf? You're finally doing the same thing to them???

"... What was that."

"Sorry, I mistook your hand for my eclair. You won't be waving them around when you talk."

"... You're lying."

"You can't prove it."

"... Y/n."

"No."

"My darling..."

"Medicine Pocket, don't you dare."

"You're finally getting into it..."

"Medicine-"

There is a belief that if you don't speak your partner's love language, they will assume that you don't love them enough. It's a 50/50 situation here, but after the first time, get ready for them to get impatient for more biting. On their part, they will continue to bite as well, even more actively.

They 100% like your hair, whether it's short or long, but they favor the latter. Sitting and braiding your hair is soothing and your hair stays intact. But if that doesn't present itself - they like them too. Sometimes they need something to keep their hands occupied, you know?

"Please tell me, do you take me for a yorkshire terrier?"

"M-m-m...? What makes you think that?"

"Why do I have so many little tails all over my head?"

"You're just a hedgehog, get over it. If you snort..."

"Medicine Pocket."

"I get it, mhm. But isn't it cool? You look like a badass metalhead now."

"...Do you want to be on the team?"

"Huh?"

"Give me your hair, Doggo. I don't have to suffer alone."

They use all sorts of different nicknames for you, from the most banal "sweetheart" and "darling" to "pest" and "dumbass". The last ones, of course, are pronounced with more restraint.

In our case, they just eat something in the middle of the night after a tiring job. The emptying of the dog treat supply is attached.

Accept the fact that they have quite rowdy friends, just like themselves. Regulus and X alone are worth it. So don't be surprised if they start grabbing you and dragging you into all sorts of mischief. Don't worry, Medicine Pocket is usually always at your side, you'll all get what you deserve for your shenanigans.

They like loud music. Something like rock 'n' roll or metal, maybe electro or something, something half with meaning and a cool rhythm. So a lot of times when it's just the two of you, it's just the three of you: you, them and the music. They're fine with it. But! they'll turn it down if you're resting or you really, really need to concentrate. They know how to respect other people's concerns (in particular, just yours).

Everyone knows what dog people are like. And now you're in that category too. They always have at least 2-3 puppies running around at all times, and you have your own personal miniature guards. They yap at anyone but you. If you want, one will live with you (although it's probably illegal to keep animals specifically in rooms, but who says you're a law-abiding employee?) It's just a shame that the cats now smell dogs from you and avoid you.

Your personal doctor. Stomach ache? Take the pills in the third drawer of your desk. Horrible throbbing in your head? There were pills in the locker on the left, they don't seem to be gone yet. You need pads? They put them in the bottom drawer on purpose, they should fit you. Are you physically injured? 0.5 seconds, they'll digest the information on the fly and treat your wounds.

No one stammers on their qualifications, but you can't worry about pills and help.

They do not like to accept help when you try to support them morally. Even though you're partners, they just don't understand that help. They don't need it. They can handle it on their own.

Don't talk to them during this period. Don't try to get into their thoughts, moods, etc. Do not try to help, it will only make things worse. It doesn't matter what the situation is or how they come to it, whether it's another attempt to "humanize" Lucy or the failure of a very important experiment they had high hopes for.

Just, uh... Stick around. You know, somewhere. Walk around (just quietly), do your own thing, hum something, maybe even talk to yourself. Just do whatever it takes to show "I care. I'm here for you."

When this is over, they'll come to you. They will just crawl under your side and ask you about something that happened in their absence. Even if Medicine doesn't say anything for your help, know that they are grateful to the very depths of their souls.

NSFW

And this is where the difficulties begin.

Medicine Pocket don't identify themselves as any gender, moreover, they have no reproductive organs. And at first, you have to wonder. But they don't really think about it.

Why? Because they don't care too much about the topic at first.

They may not have a specific doctor's education, and I lean more towards veterinarian, but since they sometimes act as a doctor, we can conclude that they have some sort of doctor's education, which means that the subject of sex is not taboo for them at all.

This researcher is not one that desires you 24/7 and has an unconscionable amount of preferences.

Let's be honest, they probably aren't interested in such a thing as sex at all.

I believe that after the removal of reproductive organs they have lost at least half of their sensitivity in intimate places, if not all of it. They feel pain and all that, but they never really enjoyed it. They have many other ways of doing it.

I'm inclined to think they're asexual. And that explains their lack of interest in sex and such things, but just because they have no interest doesn't mean they can't be interested even a little bit. They have you now.

Yet, they love you more platonically. Hugging, kissing, spending time together and talking are priorities for them. Sex is just another nice perk you can explore together.

"What do you think of shibari?"

"How long ago did you start shooting in the forehead?"

"When I had to stick syringes in the board instead of darts. So?"

"How can I tell you my opinion on something I've never been involved in?"

"Solitaire."

"Medi, do I look like someone who's ever used it? I've never thought about tying anyone up."

"Who said you'd tie me up?"

"Same question for you."

"... "

"So you wanna try it once?"

"Fuck, which one of us has a libido at rock bottom?"

"What? I'm actually interested in this kind of thing for scientific purposes."

"I bet you've got a list of 1,000 and one ways to make me orgasm somewhere."

"Are you following me from this bottom with a camera?"

"Jesus, you're-"

They often wave off such ventures with phrases like "it's for science" and "I want to experiment with this...", you may no longer be surprised. Just say "yes" as you would to a phone scammer.

By the way, they have no desire to experiment with different places to do this. There's still something where their boundaries are strictly crossed by signaling tape. No prying eyes. Not even dog eyes (children are forbidden to look).

Even though they are chaos in its true incarnation and ruin the lives of half of Laplace, they aren't completely fucked up like many people think. When strangers to both of you look at you, their faces reflect only one emotion: pity for you.

Like they think you're, uh... Another animal to experiment on. And now let's think about the not-so-innocent thoughts that go through their heads... Uh-huh.

But really, Pocket is more than normal in all of this.

For example, they have their own rules when it comes to intimacy - nothing traumatizing. Nothing that could somehow cause harm or leave a more severe injury than a bite, a hickey, or a small bruise.

Yes, you'd think they'd be willing to experiment like mad scientists with evil intentions. The truth is, they are if it's interesting to them. And there's a lot of things they don't know, but not everything interests them enough.

They are pretty good at flirting, although they may not realize they have said something obscene. It's only when you hint at it that they realize. And they're pretty good at it directly.

If you flirt back with them, they don't get excited and flirt back. They just lose their filter, you know?

"I have a very important question."

"I'm busy, let's do it later..."

"It's urgent."

*deep sigh* "Just a minute."

"Is your heart free?"

"What kind of question is that? Of course not. I've got atria and aorta and ventricles and stuff in there."

"...That's not what I mean."

"I have no other heart."

"..."

"Is that it?"

"Oh, fuck you, you ruined my attempt at flirting."

"Are you fucking flirting with me?"

"I'm trying, thanks for noticing."

They're clearly leading this whole thing. Leading and not getting anything in return. Seriously, they don't need to be fucked back like they do you.

They enjoy watching you squirm in pleasure. How you wriggle against their hands or tongue, how you moan, how you beg them to continue. That's their ultimate reward.

But I think they would really like it if you praised them afterwards. Tell them what a great job they are doing, pat them on the head and just put them down. +100 for mood and everything.

They are willing to experiment, but not often. If you want to try a different position, some role play, toys, etc., they will definitely try it with you, if it is unconventional and interesting enough. But, uh no, anything to do with dogs in this regard only makes them disgusted and distrustful.

But I think they favor missionary and cowgirl, but only if you sit with your back to them. It's easier for them to control the situation.

They don't really care if it's going to be with clothes on or not. They're fine both ways, but if you have your own fetishes about it, well, they'll take that into account.

I wouldn't say they are immediately very caring partners afterwards. They will definitely check how you are feeling and then lie down next to you to rest. Then when you both have the energy - you'll clean up together.

Okay, fair enough. Medicine Pocket will have a really hard time admitting to themselves for the first time that they suddenly want to try something with you other than hugging and kissing. Like, why? They don't need it, and all of a sudden-

They are complete wrecks before they even start. But not shifting wrecks, but disappointed in themselves. It's not that bad, but they're a bit doomed.

But when the first time goes, it's a little stiff, it's a little different than a lot of people say, like, "wow, that was so great" or "that was a hot night." No. You just let each other relax the first time. Trust. And have fun with how idiotic they are.

I slide the comb up and down, and the hair becomes more manageable under the plastic tines. The tangled, messy strands line up like a ruler into something more pleasing to the eye. Finally, silence.

Emotions from the hard day are fading, and so is the urge to drop everything to hell. It's time to savor the minutes before bed. It's still illegal for two people to sleep in the same room - who follows the rules anyway, huh? Especially out of the two of us.

"Ha-ah, finally can lie down. I'm tired," — a heavy body thudded against the bed beside me. I set aside my hairbrush and fix my gaze on them, my lips involuntarily spreading into a smile.

"I think you're making my bed squeak louder," — I decided to tease a little before I suggested a topic for the evening. I didn't care that my bed wasn't made of wood but of iron, I could hear the mattress creaking.

"Just send in a request for a new bed, that's all."

The sheer calmness on their part alarms me, and also the fact that they don't take their wrist away from their eyes or look at me. Maybe their eyes are just tired. Anything's possible.

"How easy you have it. It didn't squeak like that before you started sleeping with me," — I chuckle, but decide to stay out of their way. I can tell by their voice that they're tired, so I just lie back on the pillow, spreading my arms out. My feet stay in my slippers on the floor, and we both end up taking up almost the entire bed in different positions.

"It's like I sleep with you every day."

It's true. Some nights they stay in my bed, and some nights I can't even wait a week to sleep together-who predicted an easy job all the time? Mercuria certainly won't predict anything easy.

"I'm not so heavy."

Oh, yeah? You'll be about 70 pounds if you're tall. I'm just saying:

"The bed doesn't care whether you're heavy or not. It'll bend without any external force."

Medicine finally sigh, and turns to face me. The look in their eyes is so... Mocking, after the fatigue. I guess I shouldn't have started this.

"Why so wistful? Like you want it to be an outside influence," — I press my lips together. Depends on whether they mean dumping a rather heavy Lucy or one of their adult dogs onto my bed. Or them.

I don't really feel like asking someone to take money out of the Laplace budget for me to buy a new bed. Just to give me money, I'm all for that.

"Don't count on being able to wreak chaos in my room."

"I was counting on it from the moment I walked in here."

"Thinking five moves ahead?"

"Always."

The corners of their lips twitch, but it doesn't come to a smile. Instead, they stare at the ceiling and make a indefinite hand gesture toward the rest of the room.

They're kind of pensive today.

"You've got this place so clean and tidy it's rippling in my eyes. Why do you like cleaning so much?"

I don't understand. I raise up on my elbows and look around. The table is littered with papers and Picrasma candies, a toy ball from the last walk is lying in the corner, clothes are hanging (trying hard) on the chair, and that in a crumpled state. On the floor are stacks of books from Laplace's library. Oh, right, need to give them away sometime.

"Is this a joke? Is my place in order?" — I stare at they like Christmas paraphernalia in a midsummer store window.

If order to them is my room, then... No, I know what chaos is. They're smiling through their teeth, staring at me now. It would have been better if they had kept their eyes under their arm and lay still further.

"The question is over. I'll assume I'm in order," — I sigh and lie back down on the soft pillow. I'll never take my head off it again.

There is silence between us for a while. I stare at the ceiling, and so do they. We're both in a state of boketto. It's been a long time since I've seen Medicine Pocket so... Pensive or something. Regulus would call it the calm before the storm.

Suddenly, they sigh loudly and beat their hands on the blanket, then sit up and move closer to me. Their looks are somber and clearly do not bode well as their head falls on my chest, and then they are relatively calm again. Sometimes I wonder if they have mental problems with expressing emotions, but no, during the experiments they show their full range of emotions.

My only question is, why do they have such a sour look on their faces lately?

Throughout the week, almost every night we spend together, they are like this. They just lie like that for a while, and then suddenly they go into the state of a child who didn't get candy.

And I decide to voice the question, also frowning:

"Did fleas bite you?"

Oh, I should have been softer. As it is.

Medicine Pocket shot me an angry glance and lowered his head again. Was that too rude? I'll never know how to talk to them. Their mood is like an arrow on a compass: one way or the other.

I put the back of my hand to their cheek. I don't know, maybe they're having another attack of love for me, and the energy is pouring out of them, and they're afraid to say so.

But their cheeks are just warm, even cool. Mentally I spread my hands apart and give up.

I'm used to it, but sometimes it's not just me who gets alarmed, so I had to be sure.

I slowly run my hand through their snow-white hair, spiritually rolling on the floor again from how soft and manageable it is. Why can't I have one of those?

"Sorry. Is something wrong?" — I soften, so as not to scare them. I'll still fight them to share their worries with me, it's too early to give up.

For a few seconds they are silent. But not their face. Medicine is the kind of person whose face is subtitled, and so it's not hard to tell what they're thinking even if they're silent.

First displeasure. Then disgust. Shame. Doubt and decision. Drum roll...

And...

Silence, eyes lowered into the blanket. Only their arms come around my waist and hug me tightly. I run my hands over their white strands, finally accepting defeat.

This goes on for a few minutes until I decide to turn off the light. Clap-clap and the lights go out, leaving only the faint glow of the nightlight on the nightstand. I love Laplace for its technology, honestly.

I suspect I'm not going to have a heart-to-heart to them. And just when I was getting comfortable, lightly covering my tired eyes with my lashes...

"Have you ever wanted to fuck me?"

And I open my five-kopeck eyes. Incomprehensible, surprised, I look at them through the darkness, and they stare at me point-blank. It's not sickening or unpleasant, but rather incomprehensible. The surprise on my face is not worth describing.

I'm just shocked.

"B-be specific. Why the question?"

"I should have asked at some point. Did you want it or not?" — you'd think they'd have no brakes at all. Just like that, head-on, like a truck, flying in and asking. But I can see in the nightlight the soft blush on their cheeks. Only now the meaning of the question reaches me, and I feel embarrassment rush to my fingertips.

"N-no, well, not that I want to..."

"Anyway, yes or no?"

"No," — I decide to be honest. "At least I hadn't thought about it until now."

To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it. It hadn't occurred to me since the moment I found out they didn't have reproductive organs. There were oh-so-many questions in my head at the time, but I had to keep them all quiet out of respect for them. And now they are so successfully (or not) resurfacing.

It doesn't seem to be the answer they were expecting. Their expression softens a little, but they're still scowling. Resting their chins on my chest and pouting pale lips.

"Would you like to try it?"

At this point, I just stare at them like I'm seeing them for the first time.

What do you mean, "Would you like to try it?"

I stare into the yellow eyes, but I see nothing but genuine interest. And insolence. Damn the fact that they were scientists, and they had to feed their demons, too.

So, what, now it's me?

And now he's gonna feed me to them.

I don't want to be eaten.

I lift my head and stare aimlessly at the iron ceiling, as if to avoid the conversation. Would I want to have sex with them? On the one hand, like yes, but on the other... Because of the fact that they, uh. As if to say, there's "nothing" for them to do with me. Would that be fair?

"How do you envision it?" — no, really, how?

"Do you want me to explain it to you in detail or can you figure it out for yourself, hm?"

"Medicine, damnit. Since when do you want to discuss this topic?"

They're silent now. They must have swallowed their tongue. No, seriously, it's... It's so weird to discuss this topic so abruptly when there wasn't even any premise! I sigh and spread my hands.

"I mean, not that I don't want to, it's an optional part of a relationship, but... of course I do, don't you think?" — honesty is kind of my forte, but in this thread, I'm a little... Ugh. Not embarrassed, but it's really embarrassing.

They continue to stare at me, and then rise and now hover over me without taking their eyes off me. Have I mentioned how serious they can be when they don't want to miss an opportunity to get results anytime soon?

Uh-oh... W-what are their actions implying?

"You mean you're okay with it? Great."

I dull my gaze somewhere down at their white T-shirt, stained with whatever it is. Nice stains, colorful. I think for only a couple seconds.

"I think that's what I need to ask you."

The expression on their faces changes to more confused, but in a mocking sort of way. They pout their lips slightly, and use one hand to lift strands of my hair up.

"Pfff, don't tell me you're too embarrassed about all this. It's not like you're five years old to have a topic like sex hidden from you."

Sometimes I really want to push them away to get them to back off, but it's such a situation that the topic will come up again sooner or later. Tomorrow, while we grab something for breakfast at the Laplace Cafeteria. Medicine Pocket and tact will clearly never cross paths. Only sometimes when Ezra or the other kids are around. Mesmer has warned they more than once about filtering they vocabulary in the presence of others, but it's like they listen to her.

"That's not the point."

I glance sideways, toward the window. It's well past midnight, and we're still awake. I'd give anything right now to be able to fall asleep in seconds like my mom.

"So fucking explain to me what's wrong?"

They glare at me expectantly. Inhale, exhale.

"I'm the only one who's going to enjoy sex. I don't like that," — I clapped them on the shoulder, not sure what I was trying to say. Comforting? That's so stupid. "You said yourself what bullshit it is and that you don't even need sex. So you're only going to fuck me, and I don't want to feel guilty that you won't have a good time either."

I'm expecting a flood of judgment in my direction. Come on, no pause. I'm really curious as to what made them want to sleep with me. No, well, I'm certainly not a beauty to be given a Miss Universe award, but actually...

They snort. Before I can prepare myself for a wave of anything, they beat me to it.

I stare at them again, uncomprehending. They don't hide their mockery now, just pout their lips, as if they'd foreseen this result before...

"Medicine Pocket," — I cross my arms over my chest in annoyance. "You knew I'd think that, didn't you?"

They make a gesture like it's "fifty-fifty", and I want to strangle them.

"That's not fair."

"Hm-m?"

"I'm actually concerned about your pleasure too! And you... You..."

"Bastard. Asshole. Come on darling, I like it, keep going," — they burst out laughing as I use a good amount of force to slap them on the shoulder with the palm of my hand. It's really not fair!

I sulked, shooting them a lightning-fast glance from under my hair. So they've thought this through from the very beginning, long before this conversation. Sometimes I think they'd punch the panzer of anyone's heart and make it beat to their previously thought-out rhythm.

Oh, that's me. I mean, they're testing it on me.

"I don't mind."

The rules of this game they're playing are starting to become clearer and clearer in my mind.

"You mean?.."

"If you're going to enjoy yourself physically while I fuck you, that's fine with me. Especially since who says I won't enjoy the process at all, hm-m-m?"

It's the end. I felt my heart break, beating so fast, so fast, like it was scared of something. Of course it's scared of something, damn it. Medicine Pocket deftly guides his fingertips down my thigh, scuffing up my t-shirt.

"Just imagine how much you're going to moan under me while I-"

I don't even want to know what expression I have on my face, I cover their mouth with my hand and stare away. Out of embarrassment. I try not to pay attention to the sudden sensations in my body from their actions. I probably look really stupid in Medicine Pocket opinion, but that's not what I care about.

My concern is that conversation is conversation and they're seriously offering to fuck me... Right now?

And in that snide tone of voice. And they're giving me something to think about.

Mommy, I'm going crazy. My ears are throbbing.

"Are you suggesting to me right now...?"

When they start smiling through my hand, I'm suddenly released.

This dog will drive me to the pen before old age or paperwork.

I take my hand away. Mine and theirs off my stomach. I wonder what they'll say.

"Why not? Especially since..."

"No."

"Hey, why not?"

Because the cancer on the mountain didn't whistle and the sky didn't burst into rainbows.

Forcibly, by the back of my head, I put them back on top of me. They pout, but they don't say anything. Still hoping their game will continue a little longer than my firm no.

"If I talked to you about dying now, and then offered to let you die, would you accept?"

"Ha-a, you're being dramatic again."

"Not at all."

I finger the white strands as Medicine intertwines our fingers. They're not sulking, no, not offended or disappointed by this conversation. Rather, all the accumulated stuff that was keeping them from thinking properly has come out of their soul.

When later they put their arms around my waist, pulling up my T-shirt, I don't protest, either. I just feel my fever rising again. We're both very tired, and I don't think anything good will come out of the business they suggests we try.

I chase thoughts of the conversation around in circles, staring out the darkness of the window. Their cold hands gradually warm against my skin, the fresh air from the ajar window mixing with our scents.

I don't feel disappointed by the conversation, but its abruptness doesn't let me go, nor does the warmth in my cheeks. I'm probably still red in the face.

And when their hints of what they're about to turn me into come into my head, I feel even worse.

I tuck us in with the blanket and close my eyes with the thought that someday this will come true until the knot in my stomach lets go.

"Good night."

Someday I'll answer them in the same coin.

I wanted to write this part faster, but there was no way the text wanted to flow until I wrote it in first person... It was something of a mess, and for the first few hours I was completely annoyed with how it turned out, until I sat down to edit. It came out well enough, it turns out. I also kept thinking I'd written too little, and when I sat down to edit, I realized I'd become my own enemy.

Anyway, there will be one more installment in this series (???) and then I'll be writing something separate. Hopefully the text will flow better there.

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

Would you consider making a continuation to your headcanons about MedPoc having a feelings for someone? Perhaps with how they'd "confess" (if they would ever outright tell y/n 😪) along with how Medicine Pocket would act in a relationship :3

Retribution shot

Part 1; part 2.

Warning: comfort, evasion, nervousness, profanity, denial/hurt, ooc Medicine Pocket, ooc X, relatively gn reader, Medicine Pocket - they/them.

Synopsis: the realization of unplanned feelings is followed by acceptance, and then... And recognition. Also unplanned.

Word count: 2000≈

From the author: it was complicated. No kidding. Medicine Pocket is kind of like that "guess what I'll throw out" type of character. I have at least more than 3 ideas lying around for the gn reader, including headcanons about how Medicine Pocket would behave in a relationship, so that's not all.

I'm trying in gn reader, but it's very difficult for me, so I'm sorry if sometimes the strong bias will be towards the feminine. It's easier for me. I will most likely lean into a female reader in future writings.

I also don't know how to write dialog. I'm a tired, but it came out well. I'd publish a sequel anyway.

English not my first language!

Enjoy reading!

Chances are, you won't even know they're confessing their love to you, because they're not.

They do it in such an indirect and aloof way that you might think you are a little less annoying to them than others. But there's nothing wrong with that, after all Doggo aren't savages (only to their own people) and they have friends, so it's hard to draw any conclusions here.

Actions aimed at least some outpouring of feelings for you are chaotic and indirect. They withdraw and spend a lot of time working, or they spend almost all of their free time trying to have a moment with you.

It's hard to understand the line of thinking.

When Medicine Pocket emotions run high, they swear more. Their vocabulary is vast, but it slips more often when they feel they're at their limit.

But they're rude in a way that seems so much gentler. As a joke, you know? That's the first thing you notice.

"Medicine Pocket, you okay? Your flask is smoking."

"I fucking see. That's the way it's supposed to be, it's just overdosed on goddamn copper."

"...The bottom's cracking."

"Why, you wanna hold it? I doubt your delicate hands can handle-."

"Watch out!"

All their actions are very "invisible" to them, to you, to others, but the most attentive will notice that something is wrong. For example, X. (Yes, I also believe that he will be indirectly involved in this).

For X, it would be like another Goldberg machine, only more complicated. And that's what he wants to see!

How Medicine Pocket do a bunch of different things, like tell you more about yourself or share new discoveries, just to come to a simple and open action and tell you "I love you".

Well, and the Laplace is very boring lately, so the boy is looking for something to amuse himself.

"Medicine Pocket, are you planning to call y/n over and go get those Laplace-derived biological materials together?"

"Who cares? It takes two minutes to get them, why do I need y/n?"

"That's very good to hear, because I've asked them to help with my new experiment at this time."

"... So?"

"Thought it would be really nice if they helped me more often."

"And have you tried helping them with their work? Like they have time for you."

"Oh, do you know their schedules so good?"

"What the fuck are you getting at? It's not that secret, even kids can memorize it."

"That's great. So my conclusions are correct. I know everything, Medicine Pocket."

"What do you know? That you're an idiot for asking such questions?"

"I've known everything for a long time, Medicine Pocket."

"..."

"... You little asshole."

It's over. This is crossing all boundaries. Medicine mind blows and they brain starts brainstorming, and that's only just X. And the researcher could imagine how ambiguous he'd be talking to you about it. Not just you.

Why do they need everyone around them to know about their crush but you?

Now they are backed into a corner and left with no signposts to choose from, only one single choice: confess. And they stubbornly hit the "re-save" or "exit" button. Because confession was not in their immediate future. AT ALL.

After this conversation with X, they have a panic attack, though they won't admit it. They keep working, but it's more as if they're looking through their fingers and making monotonous motions. And that pisses them off, too. And the best solution comes to mind - get away from work to get some fresh air. Somewhere to let out the energy and just calm down.

Even as they walk through Laplace's corridors, their thoughts do not let them go. The dominant thought is of anger at X. Should he have pushed them to the edge of the cliff?

Confess? That's... That's not part of they plan. You don't make fantastic gestures to them about how much you love them and want to go out with them. Why should they have to do absolutely everything to win this relationship? Isn't 50/50 usually what a relationship needs?.. Or are they confused about something?

They are hopeless in a relationship because there was no relationship.

But... keep quiet? Keep quiet, pretend the conversation with X didn't happen, pretend he doesn't know about Pocket feelings, and go on with life as usual? X is their friend, of course, and not a rat or a bastard who would interfere in any of this, but they're sure he'll sniff out the information discreetly out of curiosity. Do they need more trouble?

So they just go to their training field where they can shamelessly blow off steam and engage in various activities: running, jumping, biting toys, etc. It doesn't take long really, and behold - they're already on the edge of their spirit. They've really let it all out.

Their carcass fall to the ground with a clatter, Medicine breathe loudly and sprawls in a starfish pose on the sand. At least their head are clean now, and they can close their eyes and lie in the dust, dirt, and tiredness.

If it worked that way.

"Medicine Pocket?"

When your voice, loud enough, reaches their ears, the thought occurs that they are imagining it. Oh, come on, it's not true.

"Sleeping? X said you haven't been feeling well lately," you continue, not even realizing what is going on in someone else's head right now. The researchers aren't ready to meet you right now. They can imagine them ghosting you away with whatever they can, like a pesky butterfly you don't really want to chase off.

Just when they think things have normalized, your presence turns everything upside down. They feel bad and good all at once. Bad - because X is an asshole for sending you here, and good - because you came and worrying about them.

So the explorers decide to pretend to be asleep. No, they don't have the strength or courage to confess right now (as if they would). And guess what, they'd rather have a heart attack than get up and confess.

"Are you asleep already? You don't usually get tired that fast," you sit down next to them, or rather behind their heads, so that you can see their lithe bodies upside down. Even in dust, dirt and sweat, they are still attractive. Is it possible to be like that? Maybe it's just that the sun is too bright today and the wind is so cool that it makes your hands shiver?

You reach for their blond hair. Slightly damp with sweat, still soft. There's a type of person who grows gorgeous hair even without maintenance, while others spend half their paycheck on it and still get straw. Whether it's side effects from all those drugs and medications they're experiencing on themselves is unknown. You comb they quiff lightly with your hand and pass it between your fingers.

Such a routine action for you and a heart attack for Medicine Pocket. Seriously, stop. If they die here on this earth from all this romance crap, it will be the most miserable death ever. Considering how often you've done it out of self-interest lately.

And despite this, not a single muscle in their bodies moved.

"X sent me to follow you and get some fresh air. So I pushed things back for another half hour. Or an hour," they're almost ready to smile. You always make time for them, and they are so happy! But the mention of X neutralizes that happiness by wanting to bite him off something so he doesn't stick his nose in other people's businesses.

"You need more rest. The bags under your eyes look like you haven't slept in decades," for days on end, they are distracted by everything they can to avoid thinking about it all and arousing the suspicion of others. A very easy mission on the face of it, but to see the details, you have to hold the microscope close.

You remain silent for a while, before considering what to do next. If Medicine Pocket are asleep, you don't want to wake them up right now, let them rest. Sitting here in silence is more than comfortable.

But things... You've put them off so many times already. You're a slacker.

Then...

Then you decide to take a bold step that you would never have allowed yourself if you hadn't been sure of your suspicions for the past couple of weeks. A little mischief, and you can hop off to work.

Medicine is breathing evenly, blood humming in they ears and the shadows above them blocking out the sun's rays. That combination knocks it down even more, especially the silence for a few minutes now. Will you leave? Will you stay? This is the only time they would prefer the first option.

And before they can come up with several escape plans, ranging from sudden sleepwalkers to death (after all, the situation was tense), they freeze and lose what remains of their composure.

Because they feel your hot lips on their cold forehead.

Just a few seconds. Those tiny seconds are enough time to rethink all the plans and throw them in the trash. Medicine opened her eyes in shock to see your calm face, which immediately becomes agitated.

You don't have time to pull away, clenched by your own shock, before they abruptly waking up, sit down, turn their whole bodies toward you, and grab you by the shoulders with gloves covered in dust and dirt. Not hard, but enough to hold you in place.

"Why you did it," their voices are clear and even, with a touch of hoarseness after the long silence.

"What? Medicine, you-"

"Why. You. Did it." more clearly now, loudly, but brokenly.

They freeze.

And they're looking right into your eyes with a kind of hope. The hope is that you did so not out of an impulse that they're cute or whatever, but out of an impulse of the same kind of crush. And while your shock wears off, their fingers dig into your shoulders. It doesn't hurt, but you feel every emotion that stuns their bodies.

They are simultaneously scared, excited, and hoping for a positive answer. They're really scared. Why the fuck would you make such a big deal out of nothing? What do you mean by that? That they're just cute and that's why you can kiss them on the forehead? That's bullshit.

Yes, this simple act breaks down all their already tenuous walls and makes them demand answers here and now.

Because then it might be too late. And when can they catch the moment?

The grip on your shoulders remains as strong as ever, and it's worth realizing that there's no escape. They won't let go without answers.

"..." you're silent, gazing into the yellow ripples in their eyes. Everything is purposely frozen, like in those romantic movies. How cliché, right?

You clench your hands, casually grab the fabric of your clothes, and inhale the cold air through your nose.

What else is there to say in that situation? Why deny it if the truth is going to come out one day anyway? Especially when you have felt and seen that you are not a "friend" to them for quite some time. And the instant reaction to such a small gesture makes the situation weird, if not confirming.

"I love you."

And you both don't say a word. That's the first time you've ever seen that look on Medicine Pocket face.

Shocked. Inspired, stunned by your words, as if you were someone intangible, they continued to squeeze your shoulders with their fingers. Their mouth opened slightly, and they abruptly took a deep breath.

"You really mean it."

"Who says words like that for nothing?" you say on automatic, frowning slightly.

Medicine Pocket can hear their heart beating. The way it thumps against their chest and pumps blood painfully, as if they've been having heart trouble for a long time. The fatigue is so damn strong for some reason, the muscles are breaking a little. The sweat made the explorer freeze, the wind enveloping the unprotected areas of their bodies with clothing.

"Damn it, you're serious," they lower their heads and take a steadying breath. Their voice is tired, and so hoarse, like they have a chronic cough and haven't been treated for a long time. How annoying is this condition.

They're happy. Excited.

You look at the reaction to the confession with confusion, and you don't know how to interpret it. Do their feelings for you have nothing to do with what you've been noticing? Are you wrong? Or are they nonetheless...

"If you don't feel anything in return, it's okay-" you began, but Pocket raised his head in surprise and interrupted you.

"You're nothing... Oh, you.... You'd know how much I've been through!" Medicine Pocket huffed loudly, gritting his teeth and shaking his head.

Their brows furrowed, their yellow eyes burning in venomous fire, they pressed their lips together. I swear you're looking at a resentful, betrayed puppy. The only thing missing was the drooping ears and tail.

"You're not lying?"

"Do you think it's my hobby to trick people into feeling that way?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I love you. Really."

You say the coveted phrase again, more insistently. You need to know what Medicine Pocket thinks about it. Let them move their tongue instead of sitting around accusing you of something.

Now the researcher are sulking.

They're finally taking a desperate step or they'll go crazy.

Their hands, like a silk ribbon, move weightlessly and lightly to your cheeks. They dusty and dry dirt, cold but gentle. Their fingers sweep strands of your hair away from your face and yield forward slightly to your surprised gaze.

And their lips gently touch yours.

Ineptly, apparently for the first time, they savor your lips, not caring at all how bad they look from the outside. Their hands squeeze your warming cheeks, keeping your head back and guiding you closer to them. How lucky it is that no one can see this right now.

And their heart is beating an even faster rhythm.

You place your palms on their wrists, hold them, and pull away with difficulty for a deep sigh. Medicine Pocket open their eyes and stare at you with rapt attention, not even thinking about letting go.

And they kiss you again, more freely and without thinking, not shy and looking directly into your eyes. They move closer, take a deep breath.

And kiss again.

And another. And more.

Until the kisses turn to joy, to simply pressing their face against yours. The excited smile doesn't leave their faces, and soon you're laughing in their wake, falling lightly to the dusty, dry ground.

"All right, all right, that's enough for the first time!" you accept defeat and just press your forehead against theirs as they put their arms around the your neck and throw half their body over you. Medicine look at you blankly, in one spot, and don't stop smiling.

They worried too much. How foolish. All their thoughts confirmed, all the irrefutable evidence in front of them. Isn't that a blessing?

"There was no stop command, darling," Medicine said with a toothy grin.

"Now I have to re-train you? Isn't that too much you to ask now?" typical socializing with them in such a joyous setting.

"Enough to get back at you for all the times I've suffered," they whined, and dramatically closed their eyes and put a hand to their still aching hearts. It's calmed down a little, but put your hand to their chest and you can tell without a doctor's examination that it's fast to the point of insanity.

You laugh, placing your hands on their shoulders. They're finally relaxed. You could even see from afar, as you walked, that they were tense even in their "sleep."

"I was expecting something more romantic," you admit, though deep down you realize that biochemist and romance go down completely different paths.

"Mm-hmm, yeah? And what's that? Dinner on the Eiffel Tower and a moonlit confession?" Medicine Pocket makes theyself comfortable, resting their chin on your shoulder. You could swear there's a tail behind their lab coat.

"Well, certainly not in the dirt and dust."

"This is my typical habitat, you'll have to put up with it. It'll be easy. You love me, don't you?"

"Yes?" you're ordering eyes, but decide to take the initiative and kiss them briefly on the corner of the lips. "I don't hide it."

HOW HARD IT WAS- ahem. It's really hard to write something like that to be honest, I don't want to be trite. I also pay a lot of attention to detail, so if there's anything that's overly focused on, that's my bzz.

I've enjoyed working on this. I'll try to write something else once I've digested everything above.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

Just want to leave this sketch here, which I didn't originally plan to finish in a sketchbook, but then I decided to convert it to digital... I'm pleased.

If anything, I'm working on continuing my headcanons and other small (and not so small) plots, and once I teach myself how to write dialog it'll go faster (I don't like any of it, it'll be long). I love writing these plots, but sometimes I get too caught up in the moment and... I'm too much of a perfectionist ಥ_ಥ

I'll just say I like the result and go to work from there 😺

[paulinet]

A premonition of love

Warning: comfort/pain, nerve-wracking, headcanons, genderless y/n, ooc, partially own oc(?), understatement, ambiguity, profanity, Medicine Pocket — they/them.

Synopsis: A sudden change in behavior, habits, everything... Why? Another side effect of a drug trial or a crush? A hypothesis whose confirmation will divide Medicine Pocket life into before and after.

Word count: 1000 ≈

From the author: I'm writing about a relatively genderless reader, not a oc for the first time, so this was a bit difficult. I don't know if I'll ever post something specifically about oc here, since the oc isn't quite ready yet and... It's complicated. I wanted to write more, but then it would be a mess. I don't know if I'll write anything else...

English is not my first language, sorry. I tried not to lose the meaning of some points.

Enjoy reading!

I don't think that Medicine Pocket is the kind of person who shouts their crush to every friend or acquaintance until they are sure they have the right to do so. At the very least, it's important to them that you don't think badly of them, but they're not going to do anything to look good in your eyes.

They won't give you flowers or candy, give you secret gifts, or keep you guessing if they're in love with you or if flirt is the new way of communicating. They act as explorers and beyond - exploring the territory. Like dogs.

"This experiment... It will be exciting! Let's see what I can be surprised with!"

At first they won't even realize the fact that they want to see you, almost as dumb as everyone in Laplace, more often. Somewhere close by. They'll just visit you more often, whether you work at Laplace in their department or another department, or whether you're just a member of the St. Pavlov Foundation. They just miss your presence somewhere in the room, whether it's right next to them or at the other end of the lab.

And that's why they've started dropping by so often and just sit down somewhere nearby, at a table or on the couch, or even on the floor. Their notebook and pen are always in their pocket, which means they can work (unless it's an experiment that requires working with reagents).

"What? My lab is noisy. These idiots don't know how to work quietly. By the way, give me a spare pen, I've seen you have one."

They really do act like dogs. They sometimes follow you around, put their head on your shoulder from behind and watch what you are doing, making sure that all sorts of unpleasant personalities do not spoil your mood.

"Got any hands? Got crumbs of brain? Here do your fucking work yourself," notes found on folders or the like at work that your coworkers ask you to do for them.

Suddenly you have more free time, isn't that cool? Now you can spend it on them! Aren't you glad?

Get ready for Medicine Pocket to start looking at you more often. At a random moment you can turn your head at them and see - their gaze either instantly goes in the other direction, just a little bit, or they continue to stare at you. The latter happens almost always, and the former only when they have somewhere to look behind you.

They are just watching you. They just watch how your day goes, what you do after hours, how many times you take breaks, what you read or watch, what music you like, how many spoonfuls of sugar you put in your tea, and how many centimeters your heels are if you wear them. It's not stalking, no, it's just that they tend to pick up on the details while continuing to go about their work.

"You're staring."

"I'm watching the puppy behind you."

"... He's already run away."

"I can see his shadow from here. That's enough."

And curiosity just eats them up. You are a special experiment, repeat, special! Medicine Pocket want to know everything. Their cheeks redden and their lips stretch into a smile as they make a list in their heads of what they've learned about you! Even if it's something insignificant. Even if you find it unpleasant about yourself - they just love getting to know you from every angle.

"How can you like tea without sugar? It's just empty water with leaves. Although, if you compensate it with sweets... Well, it's not bad."

Sometimes they share with you what they are researching or working on. Clever words fly out of your poor head. If you don't know anything at all about their work, that's okay, they'll explain it more clearly. They enjoy the fact that you listen to them, talk to them, give them your time. They like all of this and are willing to tell you much more about their work if it means spending more time with you. Talk about your work following them, it will mean you don't mind initiating them into your work - and that's cool too! They'll be happy to comment on it all in their own style.

"I didn't understand a word you said."

"We're on break for another two hours, and I'll tell you what I'm doing in paragraphs. Now, don't interrupt. Now, alcindoromycin..."

But at the same time, Medicine Pocket acting completely normal. They don't show any signs that they have fallen in love with you, that they are interested in you as more than just a friend. They treat you as usual - they really try, but every day it becomes more and more unbearable. You just won't realize that they are in love with you, no matter how hard you try. They act small and careful.

How can they not just give you a hug when you have your back to them and are doing something? How not to bring you the sweets you liked at Laplace's coffee shop? How can they not cover you with their lab coat when you're overworking and fall asleep on your own desk or couch? Well how do you not pull you out of yet another of X's experiments that he's gotten you into for like 2 hours now? (They don't care if it's safe for you, he's taking up your time too).

"Hey, alphabet boy! Find someone else to experiment on!"

"But I don't mind..."

"You're BUSY. You've got a LOT of work to do. You hear them, X? So find someone else."

They feel simultaneously so joyful, so overexcited, so good about everything they feel!

But when they realize in an instant that they've actually fallen in love with you? They're fucking shocked at themselves. And in what way they don't understand.

"Uh-huh... And that's why these calculations are completely unwarranted, how could I even think of that... Oh. Damn it."

Can Medicine Pocket fall in love? They can, who's stopping them? But... They've never thought about it until now. No, they don't know what to do in this situation. They suddenly don't know what to do next. What to do?

And the realization hits them with a heavy stone of several tons.

They're just living their lives, and suddenly you show up in their lives and abruptly force them to do something else different from their normal behavior. They get angry. They're gritting their teeth and they're annoyed. At you, at themselves, at everything around them.

Poor Laplace.

"I'll deduct it from your funding for next month, Medicine Pocket."

"Damn it, why are the wires chewed up?! They're reinforced, for crying out loud!"

"Who let those dogs in here?! They're going to ruin our jobs, and I'm allergic to them too... AAPPCHH!"

And then they calm down and act normal when they friends start to worry about they. When you start to worry. Everyone hears something like "Lucy sent off to re-fill the report" or "Didn't get funding" and etc. They just try to let the situation go.

"I'm fine, dammit! Will you stop wasting my time and get on with it, or does no one understand in words?!"

It hurts, yes. They clench their teeth, but they've stopped emotionally biting.

Now there's the occasional sad-eyed puppy in that spot.

Just notice them already. Give some sign to make them realize you're interested in them for who they are!

Please.

They're not mad at you anymore. No, no, no, they're not! They're just-

"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Get your ass up and deal with these papers before I shove them up your-"

They take their anger out on their coworkers.

And...

They're just afraid of a bad result for this time. Compare that to the experiment. Only now the Medicine Pocket won't be angry, annoyed that what they studied didn't live up to their expectations - they'll be broken.

That's why they're waiting. If you don't take the first steps - then their hypothesis was wrong all along. Understand, they are already not appreciated by many people in Laplace because of their behavior, character, appearance, manner of communication and etc, they are just used to being rejected by society.

And they don't care about it, they don't give a fuck, honestly. But here. Yeah, they're cowards, all right?! There are things that make them squirm on the spot. There's nothing wrong with that, they're human, they just act like a dog half the time.

They can chicken out too. They're smart, no, geniuses, but they're not devoid of humanity and emotion. It's just that they've never felt something like this before this moment, they've reviewed all the options, check their notebook, there's a plethora of scenarios in there, and almost all of them aren't happy with them. They're stuck in a dead end.

"Why is this not working?! Where did I miscalculate... Why the fuck try to figure it out if the result is the same? This experiment is a failure from the start... Shit!"

And yet the people they like are their best friends. Among all these dumbasses, there are those who know how to use this thing called a brain. And they're willing to fight for them, to help them in any way they can. But you mean more than "best friends".

So go ahead. They'll be happy if the experiment is successful.

"One condition only: if they make another move, I'll follow them. I've already started all this, but doing it alone just doesn't make sense. I'm tired, damn it. I need to get some sleep."

Come on. They're always bold in everything, they're sharp, they're loud, they go forward no matter what. But here they will cede the main action to you. If you're attentive enough, you think well enough and you know how to use your head, you'll give them the green light.

And believe me, Medicine Pocket will repay you for this step.

I feel like I have a very different understanding of Medicine Pocket compared to other people, and it's very, very satisfying and frightening (well, I may not understand the character at all and am writing at random). Still, I spent some time on it, so...

With too few fanfics on the vastness of the internet with Medicine Pocket, I thought I'd do my part (つ･･)つ

I hope you enjoyed it.

Thanks for reading!

[paulinet]

liar