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Bonus for waiting

Warnings: fluff, 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.

Thanks for reading!

---

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.

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!

---

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.

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.

And English isn't 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.

Thanks for reading!

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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!

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Yall there's a event in REVERSE:1999 and if you've seen the updates we need friends and other people soo if you are interested feel free to join, here is my invitation code code :YYYYA6X3M4

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could you maybe write something with zima/зима :3? i loved your writings with neuvilette!!!!

“ Now... now I'm going out for a walk... The moonlight is... beautiful... It's good for writing... Maybe... you should try to write a poem too. ” — zima / gn reader

There’s a particular silence in the air in which you have yet to get accustomed to; but for Zima, it was his comfortably preferred state of existence.

He does not speak a word to you in the middle of this cold expanse, the top of his cheeks a snowy pink hue as the bottom half of his face is buried warm under the top of his coat. This old, stone bridge was icy, yet it was glimmering under the brilliant moonlight. A mere simplicity his eyes followed—from the cracks of stone to the sightless ocean, from the ocean to the cloudless sky, and from the sky to the lonely moon. A serenity that encompassed nature; also only a serenity that encompassed you.

You, who encompassed his blanking mind of ethereal solace no poet could ever portray.

Due to his nature of silence, though it does not register to him—perhaps it does not occur to you how lines and lines of the prettiest sentences form in his head just at the sight of you, nor the penmanship inking the inner folds of his sleeves. They were stained with all the words he can think of to describe you, and all the rhyming lines that rivaled you to the royalty and to the heavens. He was quite dramatic at heart… But you didn’t need to know that.

No, not when he can barely form words around you. Not when sometimes, he has too many words to say and he cannot speak a single one of them. Not when you cloud his thoughts with foreign phrases—so admirably, and so helplessly lovestruck in analogy—he can’t even begin to try and translate to English. And so he keeps his mouth shut under his coat, choosing a silence he knows so well.

He sees you stop at the top of the bridge from his peripherals, halting in his steps to join as you stare out into the moonlit ocean. You were just as cold as he was—he could see it in the crinkle of your eyes; but when your head leans to rest on his arm, there’s a beating of his heart that makes him feel warmer than a fire.

“Are you cold?” you ask, gently like the brushing waves below.

“…No.”

It’s so artful, painfully woven like ribbon around his eyes, like he’s blinded by your brilliance in rivalry to the moon. Any poet would kill for a muse like you.

Yet, he still can’t find the words.

Maybe one day, he’ll be able to ink something. Maybe one day, his pen will be able to form something as beautiful as you are. But for now, in this present moment ( from the moon, to the stars, to the ocean, and to the ever-gleaming ice framing perfectly around the Earth ), even all nature were utterly minuscule to the way he thought of you.

🕰️ ;; thankyew anon for liking all my neuvillette fics because i hope they are clear to show how absolutely deranged and delusional i am over him ( insanity )

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