#TEAM?????????? MEANIES?????????????????????

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Between the lines - part 4

CW : meanie sevika, artist reader, hockey player vi and sevika, modern au, highschool shenanigans, cheating, sex, dark themes, love triangle

A/N : very dark chapter.

previous part

THIS FOLLOWING CHAPTER CONTAINS SEX AND MENTIONS OF SELF HARM - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You returned to school for the rest of the day, a bundle of nerves and tension. Sevika didn’t show up, and while part of you felt relief, another part couldn’t stop replaying your last conversation in your head. By the time you got home, you were emotionally drained, retreating to your room to nurse the ache in your chest.

Tears had come and gone, leaving you sprawled on your bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your phone sat on your chest, buzzing occasionally, but you refused to check it. Not now. Not when everything felt so overwhelming.

A sudden knock at your window shattered the quiet. You bolted upright, heart pounding as you turned toward the sound.

Sevika.

Sevika was at your window.

You screamed, flailing backward and tumbling off your bed in a graceless heap.

“Can you let me in? It’s raining,” Sevika called through the glass, her voice muffled but tinged with something softer than her usual tone. Her expression—was that guilt?—made her look uncharacteristically vulnerable.

Groaning, you pushed yourself up and stalked over to the window, sliding it open. “What the hell are you doing here?” you hissed.

She climbed inside with surprising ease, shaking off rain droplets as she straightened up. “I wanted to apologize about earlier,” she muttered, her eyes scanning you. “But you weren’t answering my texts.”

You crossed your arms, suddenly hyper-aware of your fuzzy pink pajama pants and the tank top you’d lazily thrown on. You wished you’d worn something a little less... ridiculous. “Gee, I wonder why,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

Sevika sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she avoided your gaze. After a moment, she reached into her jacket and pulled out a small baggie. “You want to smoke a joint?”

You stared at the bag, then at her, then back at the bag. You smirk softly

You both sat on the floor, backs against opposite sides of the room—yours against the edge of your bed, hers against the closet door. The air between you was hazy, not just from the joint you passed back and forth but from the unspoken weight of earlier conversations.

You took a puff, coughing softly as the smoke burned your throat. “So... what was that ‘she has everything’ shit earlier?” you asked, passing the joint to Sevika.

She took it effortlessly, her inhale smooth and measured compared to your awkward attempt. “I grew up poor,” she admitted, her tone neutral, like she was reading from a grocery list.

Guilt washed over you instantly, and you looked at her, unsure of what to say. Her eyes flicked to yours, and she smirked.

“Don’t worry, crybaby. I’m fine,” she teased, handing the joint back to you.

Your eyes narrowed, your embarrassment quickly turning into annoyance. “I feel sorrow not for your past but for your future,” you shot back, taking another puff, “because one day that mouth is going to get you a black eye.”

Sevika chuckled, rolling her eyes as she reached for the joint. “Fair enough.” A beat of silence settled between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the joint.

“And Vi?” You raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully.

She exhaled, her shoulders sinking slightly. “In freshman year... we were friends,” she muttered, her gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. “But I made the hockey team, and she didn’t.”

You tilted your head, feigning confusion even though you already had a sinking feeling about where this was going. “I don’t understand.”

Sevika hesitated, her lips pressing into a tight line before continuing. “I don’t know if it was her exactly, but... there was this rumor that I was in a gang and smuggling drugs.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god,” you muttered, a soft laugh escaping despite yourself. You quickly clamped a hand over your mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“You can laugh. It’s fine,” she said, her voice lighter than her words. She passed the joint back to you, her expression unreadable. “It wasn’t true, obviously, but it got me temporarily kicked off the hockey team. It was this whole thing. There was a police investigation, they searched my room... you get the picture.”

You stared at her, stunned by how calmly she was recounting something so horrifying. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

She gave a small shrug, her voice softening. “By junior year, I realized I was being racially profiled for most of the police investagations”

Your chest tightened. “I’m so sorry, Sevika,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes scanning her face for any hint of emotion.

She smirked faintly, her walls coming back up. “Vi was right. You really are a sweetheart.”

Your face flushed, and you looked away, muttering, “Thanks.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the joint burning low between Sevika’s fingers. After a moment, she stubbed it out. “So... how’d you meet Vi, anyway?” she asked, her tone curious.

“First day of freshman year,” you said, smiling at the memory. “Vi had to retake Algebra 1, and we ended up in the same class.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk at your dorky face. 

You stop smiling from embarrassment. “She started coming over to my house so I could tutor her. Eventually, I realized she was probably just pretending to need help to talk to me. But... I never called her out on it.”

Sevika took a moment, her smirk softening as she studied you. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Avoiding the conversation instead of telling you like a normal person” she grumbled

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down, fiddling with the frayed hem of your pajama pants. “I guess. It was kind of sweet, in a way.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, the room falling into a quiet stillness. Then she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her voice lower now. “So... you really like her, huh?”

You looked up, startled by the shift in her tone. Her eyes bore into yours, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. “I—I mean, yeah. She’s my girlfriend,” you stammered, the words feeling heavier than they should.

Sevika nodded slowly, her gaze flicking to the floor, her expression unreadable. “She’s lucky, you know. You’re... a good person.”

There was something about the way she said it that made your heart skip. “Thanks,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You glanced at her, hoping to find some trace of the teasing, cocky Sevika you were used to, but instead, her expression was open—vulnerable, even.

“You’re too good for her,” Sevika muttered for the second time that day. 

“What?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

You leaned forward, closing some of the distance between you. “No, tell me. What’s that supposed to mean? Ill stay this time” you joked trying to lighten the mood

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and for a moment, she hesitated. Then, with a small sigh, she said, “You’re the kind of person who deserves... I don’t know. Someone who really gets you. Someone who doesn’t just show up when it’s convenient.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you weren’t entirely sure why. “Vi does get me,” you said, but even to your own ears, it sounded more like a defense than the truth.

Sevika leaned back, her shoulders pressing against the closet door. She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe you just think she does because it’s what you want to believe.”

“Why are you saying this?” you asked, your voice shaking slightly.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached out, brushing her fingers against your hand where it rested on the floor. The touch was fleeting, barely there, but it sent a jolt through you. “Because,” she said finally, her voice low and steady, “I care about you. And I don’t want to see you settle for someone who doesn’t deserve you.”

Your breath hitched, and you pulled your hand away, heart pounding. “Sevika... you can’t just say stuff like that.”

“Why not?” she challenged, leaning closer. Her eyes locked with yours, the intensity in them making it impossible to look away. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid,” you lied, though the trembling in your hands gave you away.

“Yeah, you are,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I see it. You’re scared because maybe... just maybe... I’m right.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The air between you felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly, the space between you was gone. She was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off her, close enough to see the faint scar along her jawline.

“Sevika,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

She tilted her head, her gaze dropping briefly to your lips before flicking back up to your eyes. “Tell me to stop,” she said, her voice low and rough, like she was holding back everything she wanted to say.

But you didn’t tell her to stop. You couldn’t. Instead, you sat frozen, torn between a hundred different emotions, all of them warring for control. And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, she leaned in.

“Don’t leave any marks… please,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned your head back, exposing the delicate curve of your neck. Her lips trailed downward, hot and deliberate, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You felt her smile against your skin before she pulled away just enough to meet your gaze.

“I guess…” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. Her hand rested on your waist, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of your shirt. “Can I take this off?” she asked, her tone softer now, more sincere. It wasn’t a demand—it was a question, one that made your chest tighten with both fear and something else, something warm and unfamiliar.

Your heart skipped. “Uh… can it stay on?” you managed to whisper, eyes dropping to her hands as if they held some kind of answer. She tilted her head, studying you for a moment, before nodding.

“Sure. Don’t worry,” she said, her smile soft but still carrying that edge of mischief that made your stomach flip. She slid down onto her knees, her hands moving to the hem of your pants. “These, though…” she trailed off, tugging lightly at the fabric.

You lifted your hips instinctively, letting her pull them down and off, leaving you in nothing but your shirt and panties. The cool air brushed against your bare thighs, and you shivered, not from the cold, but from the vulnerability of it all. She was looking at you. Really looking at you. And you? You were exposed. Every inch of you felt like an open book, waiting for her to read. Your cheeks burned as you turned your face away, unable to hold her gaze.

“Stop that,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. One hand reached up to tilt your chin back toward her. “Look at me.” When you hesitated, she added, quieter now, “You’re beautiful.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the chest. You weren’t used to this—any of this. Not the way she looked at you, not the way her hands felt against your skin, not the way her voice seemed to wrap around you, pulling you closer even when she wasn’t touching you. But then she did touch you, her fingers brushing over the inside of your thigh, and you gasped softly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed something—a faint mark on your skin. “What’s this?” she asked, her tone sharpening. Concern flickered across her face, but you shook your head quickly.

“Birthmark,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to think about it. The last thing you needed was for her to see the cracks in the facade you’d spent so long building.

She studied you for a moment longer, her expression unreadable, before nodding. “Alright,” she said, though her voice carried a hint of something else—something you couldn’t quite place. Her hands moved again, sliding your panties down and off, leaving you completely bare beneath your shirt.

Your breath caught, and you hesitated, your elbows propping you up as you tried to steady yourself. “Um… I’ve never really done this before…” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. It felt like a confession, like you were handing her a piece of yourself you hadn’t planned to give.

She paused, her hands stilling on your thighs. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. Her thumbs rubbed slow circles into your skin, grounding you, calming you.

You nodded, your breath quickening as you felt her tongue run over your sensitive clit. The sensation was electric, sending sparks shooting through your body. You gasped, bucking your hips involuntarily, but her hands steadied you, holding you in place.

“Oh fuck—” you moaned, arching your back as her tongue pressed harder, exploring every inch of you. Her fingers joined soon after, slipping inside you with ease, and the sound they made—wet and obscene—made your entire body flush with heat. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, could hear it every time she moved.

“Relax, I’ve got you,” she whispered against your folds, her breath hot and uneven. Her fingers curled inside you, hitting a spot that made your vision blur. You threw your head back with a cry, your hands tangling in the sheets as pleasure surged through you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod—the thought repeated itself over and over in your mind, a mantra you couldn’t escape. Your legs trembled, your hips jerking uncontrollably as she worked you closer and closer to the edge. And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, she pulled away, leaving you desperate and aching.

you whimpered, looking down at her, her eyes dark and hungry. Without a word, she replaced her fingers with her mouth, tongue thrusting deep inside you as she pushed you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, dragging you under and pulling you apart. You cried out, your legs seizing as pleasure consumed you. She didn’t stop, didn’t let up, until every last shudder had left your body.

When she finally pulled away, you were a mess—breathless, boneless, and utterly wrecked. She climbed onto the bed beside you, her hand resting lightly on your thigh as she watched you come down from your high

You had been laying there for over an hour, your back pressed against Sevika's chest. The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable; her hand rested on your waist, her thumb drawing slow circles against your skin. Still, your thoughts were far from calm. Guilt gnawed at you, twisting knots in your stomach as you questioned yourself—your choices, your morals, even who you were becoming.

The quiet was shattered by the sound of the front door opening. “I’m home! I brought you your baked salmon!” your mom called out. Both of you shot upright in a panic.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath as Sevika scrambled off your bed, fumbling to her feet in a mad dash for the window. She tripped, landing on the floor before shooting you a sheepish look, which only made you snicker.

“Baked salmon?” Sevika teased, raising an eyebrow as she finally stood, brushing herself off.

“Shut up, bikergirl,” you shot back with a grin, holding the window open for her. She gave you a smirk before crawling out, landing lightly on the grass below. You watched her jog to her motorcycle, her figure disappearing into the twilight as the engine roared to life, speeding off into the neighborhood.

You let out a deep sigh and turned back to face your bedroom door just as your mom called for you again. “I’m coming!” you shouted, shaking your head as you tried to smooth out the mess Sevika had left behind—not just in your room, but in your head.

You jog down the stairs, stopping on the last step as you spot your mom kicking off her shoes. “So, how’d it go? Is he my new daddy?” you tease with a grin.

She shoots you a sharp look—not angry at you, but irritated nonetheless. “Oh god, what happened?” you ask, tilting your head as she heads straight for the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of wine.

“He was an asshole,” she muttered, pouring herself a glass and filling it nearly to the brim with white wine. “Sat on his phone the entire time. My love life is shit,” she huffed, taking a long sip.

You follow her into the kitchen and lean against the island, watching her as you let out a sigh. “You and me both.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you. “I thought you were dating that Violet girl?” she asks, her tone both curious and a little concerned.

You shrug, avoiding her gaze. “I thought that too…” you mutter, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Your mom studies you for a moment before sliding a white takeout box across the counter toward you. “Hopefully, this will cheer you up,” she says, her tone softer.

You give her a small smile, picking up the box. “Thanks, Mom,” you say, heading back upstairs.

Once back in your room, you set the takeout box on your dresser without opening it. Instead, you lower yourself onto the floor, your back against the edge of your bed. You rest your head against the mattress, staring at the wall as your thoughts spiral. 

You sit on the floor, back pressed against the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the carpet. The thoughts in your head spiral faster and faster, suffocating you in their intensity. You mutter under your breath, “I’m a horrible person…” as your hands instinctively move to pick at your nails, the sharp pain grounding you for only a second before the storm in your chest grows stronger.

Your leg bounces uncontrollably, the rhythm erratic and desperate. The voice in your head—your voice, but crueler and louder—echoes: You’re no good anymore. You ruined everything. You’re a slut, a cheater.

The words sting, even as you whisper them aloud, knees pulled tightly to your chest as though curling into yourself could somehow stop the onslaught. “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just—” your voice cracks, and your breathing turns shallow. The air around you feels heavier, like it’s being sucked out of the room.

You clutch your knees tighter, trying to keep yourself together, but your chest tightens painfully. You gasp, unable to pull in a full breath. “I can’t—” you whisper, your voice trembling. Tears blur your vision as you rock slightly, the only thing you can think to do to stop the chaos inside.

The insults keep coming, relentless and sharp, each one dragging you deeper into a pit of guilt and shame. “This is your fault. You’re disgusting. How could you—” The tears fall freely now, hot and stinging as they roll down your cheeks.

Your hands shake as you press your palms against your temples, trying to quiet the noise in your head. “Stop,” you whisper hoarsely. “Please just stop.” But it doesn’t. The silence of the room feels deafening, and every second stretches endlessly, each moment another battle to pull yourself out of the spiraling panic.

Your breath comes in sharp, uneven gasps, your chest rising and falling too quickly. Your vision blurs further, black dots creeping into the edges of your sight as the panic threatens to overwhelm you entirely.

You stare at the lighter sitting on your nightstand, its metallic surface gleaming faintly under the dim light of your room. It feels like it's mocking you, daring you, its presence weighing heavier with each passing second. Your eyes flicker to the door, your heart thudding painfully in your chest as you listen for any sound, any sign that your mom might come up and interrupt this moment.

But it’s quiet. Too quiet.

Your gaze shifts back to the lighter, and the spiral of thoughts in your head tightens. You don’t deserve comfort. You don’t deserve forgiveness. You don’t deserve anything.

The voice in your head whispers cruelly: You need this. You deserve this.

You can feel your hands trembling as you sit up straighter, as if your body is moving on autopilot. The idea takes hold and refuses to let go, anchoring itself to the overwhelming guilt swirling in your chest. You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

And suddenly, you stand up. Your legs feel weak, your movements shaky, but the resolve builds in your mind. You reach for the lighter, gripping it tightly in your hand as if it’s the solution, the only way to silence the storm inside.

You hesitate for a moment, staring down at the small object in your palm. It’s so light, so insignificant, yet the weight of what it represents crushes you. Your thumb brushes against the flint wheel, and the sound of the lighter clicking echoes through the room.

A small flame flickers to life, dancing almost mockingly, its glow reflecting in your tear-filled eyes. It feels warm, deceptively comforting, but you know why you’ve lit it.

You glance back at the door again, the guilt and shame warring with the desperation in your heart. Your breathing is uneven, your hands trembling as the flame continues to burn, waiting.

taglist:

@vyvvycg @drinkdawudda @jiungmcvv @half-of-a-gay

[autoplaysdigimon]

Yeah!! Let's go have a good fun day out th

...hello.

There's an entire building and a mailbox, leave me alone.

Um??????

Why are you telling us this??

What even????????????

Team Meanies.

This team name has haunted me ever since I was twelve.

...Team Meanies.

Because they're meanies, you see.

Team Meanies.

And they're after world domination through... doing small paid favours and rescuing Pidgey from Tiny Woods.

And they're called Team Meanies, and are telling others their plan.

Please send help.

[megatonslater]

Vs Team Meanies

[084392]

:///

[front-facing-pokemon]

[moxielynx]

he's having a bad day

[sincerely-sofie]

Litten Hero doing something reckless that is genuinely getting on necrozma's nerves. So to get him to stop, Necrozma very gently pinches the scruff on his neck. Rendering the litten hero incapable of doing anything besides voicing his irritation.

[pmd-ooc]

HER FACE HERE LMAO

From Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Blue Rescue Team

[rainbow-squirrels-7]

Thank you @totallycorrectpmdquotes

Happy PMD day everybody

[xae-in-a-coat]

“Post four characters that you relate to and let people make assumptions about you.”

Go on. Take your pick.

Part II - Full List

[windydrawallday]

I'd absolutely love to see your take on ES Optimus in any sort of capacity! He's my special guy :] But if you want something more familiar, maybe TFA Prowl chillin in some nature? If I could throw something more specific at you, interacting with some wolves? (Not sure how comfortable you are with animals but figured it's worth a shot 🐺)

AT LAST!!! I managed to draw your request after busy days and playing around with your last idea because GOSH: Prowl + Animals always win me over x'D

Tho... I took a... not very "chill" route that ended... in me drawing another thing that I know many despite about the canon of the character--

Yeah IM SO SORRY but I couldn't find a way to make it work without it orz (and I dont have currently the brain to design an alternative human design hxgcxhgvcgv) and welp :')

Hope is nice enough to the eyes anyways haha I wanted to try something different and challenge myself because-- Because AAA

[viscousneon]

Im literally him you guys dont understand 💔

Also i'm the only team meanies fan in existance

[smuby]

hey guyssss i wanna apologize for the lack of posts, i have been working on a short comic thing!!!! it takes place in the tf2 au i was talking about in my pin and it stars blu scout and spy :3

[magmacavern]

Hero and Partner Week, Day 3: Villains

“Gengar pulls the shadow from beneath each blade of grass and behind the leaves of every tree. Darkness crackles and swells from his fingertips as he prepares his devastating attack.”

@heropartnerweek

AKA the piece in which I realized much too late that there’s no reason Gengar would use shadow ball against two normal types. 🙃

I wasn’t sure which prompt to draw for today, but after I realized that I had never drawn any of the Team Meanies trio before, the choice became obvious! This is the scene where the hero and partner fight Team Meanies after racing them to the end of Sinister Woods to rescue Metapod. I’m pretty pleased with how Gengar and Medicham turned out, and I’m especially happy with Ekans’ posing. If I ever redid this piece, I’d try to give the rest of the characters more dynamic posing like I did for Ekans. My favorite part of this process was drawing the shadow ball effect, and I think it looks fantastic!

[084392]

when i say "rescue team gengar shouldve been worse" what i mean is that he shouldve had a guilt over what happened to gardevoir bc of his own selfishness and cowardice all those years ago. that hes been pushing down for all this time. that he takes it upon himself to take down rt hero bc hes 100% projecting. instead of sending the entire town after them. that hes convinced himself that every human is just as bad as he was. that he tries messing with partner that theyre "just gonna get hurt hanging around a human." that he becomes obsessed with trying to get rid of hero bc of this. to the point that the rest of his team is concerned. that it shouldve been made more clear through subtle cues, until he just outright says that he was the human from the ninetales legend, at some point during the main story.

now when i say "after some events, he realizes that hero isnt the same as him at all and....that theyre more similar to gardevoir if anything. so out of guilt towards gard And hero now. he tries to help hero's team to succeed in whatever way he can...."

[front-facing-pokemon]