#i haven't eaten since..... lunch? yesterday?

[technologyvoid]

Funny how the only time I feel genuinely sleepy is when one of my basic needs is suffering

[satans-knitwear]

What does a takeaway even cost?

I don't think many deliver round here unless you spend at least £20??? Some are more??

[dragonairice]

ADHD is great until you fixate on your work and forget to eat anything until 2pm

[fearsomeandwretched]

I'm soooo miserable. There's so many ppl at the hospital and my jaw has been stuck for over 7 hours at this point like can someone please fucking kill me

[dilfcherricola]

it is getting so bad again i can barely eat when I'm at home

[thebratprincexo]

med pro: my brain hates me less and I can kind of do things

med con: what is appetite and hunger

[lorelune]

braised

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 3.2k  || ao3 || previous + next ->

The Stellaron Hunters and their newest prize settle in and find routine.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: HELLO >:3c this lil story has me gripped!! this piece is meant to be read after "scrap metal" but can be read as a standalone. mind the tags and enjoy 💕

CW: dark content, captive/pet reader, violence, implied/partially depicted physical abuse, force-feeding, general talk about food and eating, thoughts of violence toward the reader

"They didn't eat again."

Silver Wolf tosses the metal bowl on the counter with a frown. It’s full, heaped with eggs, kixi wafers, and some yogurt-based sauce. It’s untouched, sauce gelatinized from being out in the open air.

Kafka clicks her tongue from the cockpit, pausing her scrolling. Her gaze flicks up, "Not a bite?"

"Nope." Silver Wolf frowns and fidgets. "They didn't even look at me when I gave them their lunch either."

"They haven't eaten since the day before yesterday then. That’s no good." Kafka sounds concerned, but there's an edge to it.

Blade feels antsy. Out of his skin. He doesn't know why.

“They haven’t been drinking much either.” Silver Wolf frowns. “They’ll shrivel up and die at this rate." 

Kafka nods, "That’s more than likely their intention, even if it's a long and foolish way to die. That’s a shame. I thought they'd be better than this."

Blade drums his stiff fingers over the hilt of Shard Sword. He hardly remembers summoning it. 

"Bladie, dear? Try and convince them to have a bite or two tonight." Kafka's attention almost drifts back to her phone before she meets his eyes. Her own are clear, pupils intact. "Be careful, though. Hungry pets will still bite the hand that feeds them."

Blade doesn't reply with anything other than a jerky nod. He ferries himself across the ship to a padded training room and shreds two dozen practice dummies until they're nothing more than piles of polymer leather and filler.

...

Kafka had implemented a rotation. A 'feeding schedule' to acclimate you to your new environment, and get you used to your new comrades. You’re pricklier than she originally anticipated, but she doesn't seem concerned.

(If anything, she seems... delighted. She has a spring to her step that she usually doesn't. She leaves your room glowing.)

It’s Blade's turn to bring you dinner. Your meal is piled into the same metal bowl. Heaps of rice, covered in a sticky sauce with chunks of meat and veg. It’s still steaming as he walks silently to your cell— room. cell. He's not sure.

He undoes each lock (seven) and enters your room without any announcement.

The room is... less destroyed than it was yesterday. When Blade brought you lunch the day before, your mattress had been dragged onto the floor, sheets torn to shreds and spread around the room. You’d thrown a book at his head when he'd entered.

(Which he caught and gave back to you. You looked terrified when he got at all close to you.)

Blade didn’t like it. And he isn't sure why.

Today, you're less frantic. Instead, you’re balled up on your mattress, tucked in a corner with your knees up. Your head is down. You only flinch when Blade enters, but don't regard him otherwise.

Blade's frown deepens.

"Dinner," he says, and sets the food on your nightstand. Kafka has replaced the diffuser you broke the day prior. A new one pumps out an herbal-scented mist. "Eat it."

"Just leave it,” you reply, voice scratchy and raw. You rarely speak to him.

"No. Eat it now."

"I will later."

"You won't. You aren't eating."

"And what's it to you?" You unfurl just a fraction and shoot him a glare. It’s angry. vitriolic and guarded. (But a scared stray will bear its teeth and bite, won't they?)

(What is it to Blade? Other than Kafka's order. There’s something there. There has been something there since he saw you muzzled and dead-eyed, and Blade's always half-aware of it. How it refracts and shudders and fills him with such intense unease. He knows the feeling— recognizes it like the scent of an old lover. But he does not like it. It does not feel like it is his.)

He’s struck with the particular urge to throw you against a wall and watch your skull splatter against the metal paneling.

He doesn't. Because his mara isn't that uncontrollable, not now anyway. Instead, he frowns at your scowl.

"You'll die if you don't eat."

"Ah, and if I die, you'll lose an asset, right? I'm not stupid, I know how these things work." You sound... almost petulant. Blade does not know how to approach you, or it, or this attitude.

"You'll die. You shouldn't die. You should eat and live."

"Fuck you." You snap at him, fist balling up in the sheets at your side. You've picked your nails short and raw. "Fuck you."

Blade doesn't know what to do.

He pushes the bowl closer to you on the nightstand before departing.

Kafka catches him as he heads to the training rooms (again, because he needs to shatter a few holograms with his bare fists if he wants to feel close to sane in the next few hours.)

"Any luck, lovely?" Kafka's expression is kind. She must already know.

"No."

Kafka sighs, and shakes her head. "I'll take care of it, Bladie. I suppose we’ll have to do things the hard way.”

...

Kafka is the one to bring you breakfast the next morning. Blade does not normally keep track of Kafka's morning routine, because she is insane, but considering it involves you, he's more keen to it. Kafka prepares a light breakfast of garlic and shash rice, and secondarily, a shake of greens and nutrient powder.

(He... he thinks he knows the substance. Recognizes the acrid, must-driven smell of it, and remembers how awful it tastes. Like bile mixed with metal shavings. Who knows where Kafka acquires it from. He has smudged out memories of choking it down when Kafka first pulled him out of a crater, covered in blood and scarred— but not dead. Never. Never, never dead— )

Blade fractiously goes to your room and waits outside your door. Kafka is still inside when he arrives, speaking to you in that sweet, syrupy tone that drips into muscle and bone like molten metal.

"You need to eat, darling."

"Fuck you—"

"The more you fight, the harder this will be. Why don't you be good and let me help?"

"Don’t fucking touch me—!"

There’s the muffled sound of a struggle, which Blade assumes isn’t much of a struggle because Kafka is far stronger than she looks. Blade leans against the wall, next to your door. He can feel vibrations of a fight in the soles of his shoes through the floor. The thump of a body hitting the wall echoes.

Blade hears crying. You’re crying.

"Oh, tears? I’ve hardly done anything."

"You’re fucking monsters. Just let me go—!"

"You know that won't happen. Play nice.”

"Don't—!"

You sob, probably, and there's another sharp sound of flesh on steel. Blade would've flinched if he wasn’t an abomination.

"Let me take care of you, sweetheart. The sooner you give in, the easier this is. This doesn't need to be difficult."

"Get off of me—!"

More struggling. Blade closes his eyes and tries to imagine it. Kafka is ruthless in getting what she wants. She knows how to pry people apart, pick at their inside, and pull strings until they fracture. It is why Elio is such a fan of hers. It is why Blade keeps her close, as she knows the delicate, bowstring dance of keeping his mara in check.

He wonders what Kafka sees in you.

(He wonders what he sees in you. You're nothing like— like— who? Who are you so different from?)

Blade has a headache.

The sounds echoing from your room dissolve into muffled sobs and the occasional sharp cough. A gag. Inhaling and what must be your fist beating against the metallic paneling of the floor. He hears Kafka hush you, over and over. Quietly praising you after each gag and retch.

Blade's not sure how long it goes on before things feel still and quiet.

The sound of a kiss, audible, "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"... F-fuck you.

"Such a filthy mouth. Do you need me to wash your mouth out with soap? I'm happy too."

"Wait, don’t— no—“

Blade realizes his shoulders have hiked up. He forces them to lower. You scream and fight just feet away, really. All that separates you is seven locks.

Kafka seems to be handling things. The sounds continues, and become dull background noise. Shouts and pants fade into his thoughts as they get sap-sticky.

(Someone beloved, something far away. Bitter liquor on each other’s lips. Blade can’t recall the name.)

(A comet with a tail burning yellow. It is cold. A blade, driven into his chest. A blade stabbed into his eye. A blade put sidelong through his skull. A blade splitting his throat. Cold, cold, cold, cold.)

(Do you know cold? Do you know how frostbite turns flesh black? Do you know necrosis? What pain do you know?)

Blade, startlingly, does not want you to know pain. He wants you to eat your meals.

Kafka exits, almost startling him. She does not look surprised to see him hovering. She rearms the locks and glances at him from the corner of her eye.

“Down, loverboy. A scared dog will bite.”

“Do not call me that.” 

"Alright, alright,” she laughs and her grin grows sharper. “I’ll be taking care of their meals for the next few days. Listen, grab a medkit, the poor thing needs it. Though, I’ll let them hurt for a while first.”

Kafka walks off, and Blade follows at her heels. There are indentations in Kafka's gloves-- half-moon bite marks of teeth.

He decides he is going to break his own fingers, maybe. He can watch them heal back into place.

It’s meditative.

...

Several days pass with your ‘new routine’. Kafka handles each meal. Blade stays away from your room. The entire wing you’re located in feels nuclear. He stays in the training room. Throws himself at matted walls until his shoulders dislocate, only to pop them back into place to repeat the cycle.

He makes a point to check the kitchen after each of your meal times. There’s always an empty dish, a clean plate. A chunky-looking film left on a glass in the sink. Kafka is diligent, Blade doesn’t doubt this. 

The whole thing fills him with unease.

He asks Kafka to wipe his memory, but she denies him. She’s in the cockpit, swiveling in her seat.

“You don’t need that yet, Bladie. Give it some time.”

“But—”

“Discomfort isn’t mara suffocation, dear.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

She sizes him up, sighing, “Listen to me, keep it together. You’re alright. How about this, you can feed your pet starting tomorrow for lunch. Would that make you feel better?”

It would. He’s not sure why.”

“It would.”

Kafka looks pleased with the outcome of the conversation. She tells Blade to get some rest, pats his cheek, which does take the edge off the mara rooting around in his psyche for purchase. 

Blade takes a long route through the ship to his chambers. A deliberate path that brings him in front of your door. He doesn’t dare to enter, only listen. It’s late, you could be sleeping given the hour— but Blade can hear you shuffling around. Grumbling to yourself. One of your feet is dragging on the floor as you walk. Blade wonders how it was injured. 

He departs after hearing the shifting of your sheets, and the light under your door goes out.

(He feels insane. Insane in a way that isn’t mara-ridden, which is more terrifying. He knows the gnawing beast of Abundance that crawls around inside his skull and bones, he doesn’t know madness that has burrowed itself between his ribs. It feels light, like the carbonation bubbles in the bottled soda back on the Luofu. His palms sweat when he becomes aware of it with each thought of you.)

(Maybe he’ll try tearing out his organs again. That could fix it.)

Blade returns to his room and paces, before stripping and climbing into bed.

It’s only when he’s half-asleep that he realizes he’s hard.

He’s not sure why. 

...

Lunch is some takeout. It scalds his hands through the bowl he heaps it into. Braised trelk ribs with scallion and carrot, ladled over a bed of chewy-looking noodles.

"Bladie," Kafka tells him from the cockpit. She glances at him with a curling smile. "Be careful, they're sensitive."

Blade does not know how to be... careful. Not like how Kafka is implying he thinks anyway.

Silver Wolf snorts from her seat, speaking through a bite of noodle, "You’re asking a human-shaped hydrokenia bomb to be 'careful'?"

"Blade's a good boy, I'm sure he'll do great." Kafka's eyes are that spatial, nebula magenta. He feels pleasantly high when she looks at him. "Won’t you?"

"Yes."

Kafka looks pleased, "Listen, take your meal too. Eating with them will get them comfortable."

Silver Wolf raises an eyebrow, "Is that really a good idea?"

"I think so. Blade can handle it if they get testy."

She looks at him with a grin that's collapsed empires and immolated planets. Blade leaves the room with two bowls in his hands.

When he arrives at your cell— room. It's your room. He unlocks the locks methodically and enters without a greeting.

Today, you are not tucked in the corner of your bed. You’re instead perched in the rounded window, gazing at the starscape. Your knees are raised, and your arms are wrapped around yourself. You look small and defeated, eyes darkened and downcast. Blade watches you rub your shoulders.

You look up when he enters. Blade sets the bowl on the ledge next to you, and sets a pair of chopsticks on top, "You will eat."

It's not a command, but a statement of fact.

You scowl, looking so angry. Alive with it. He recognizes vitriol so easily. It's in your eyes and in the way you bare your teeth at him, ready to strike. Maybe you'll bite down on him, into him, until you taste blood. Blade's sure you wouldn't leave a scar— he heals too quickly from the types of flesh wounds to give him a lasting mark.

(There's something enticing about you trying. Blade does not know the floating, filmy part of himself that suggests such a desire.)

You carry Kafka's mark. There are bruises around your throat, the clear shape of hands. There are lumps across your jaw, darkened in color. Scratches of nails over your neck, down to your collarbones. Your eyes are red-rimmed. Your lip is split, barely scabbed over. You're shaking.

You open your mouth, ready to snap. Maybe you'll spit venom— Blade doesn't know your species. You could.

(Blade remembers your expression on different faces from the glitter of your canines. It reminds him— of—? Jingliu was colder. Frigid in her rage. Dan Feng was always so calm with his, Only shattered near the end, like a tide that swelled too high on the shore to swallow the world whole. Your expression is white-hot, like metal pulled fresh from a stoked forge. Desperation and terror make dull teeth sharp. Actions become erratic and desperate.)

(Blade has not remembered so much, so clearly in a long time. He really needs Kafka to wipe his memory again.)

The mara in him writhes. It’s a necrosis, a vitality that has long since sank into his marrow and will not leave. It rolls through him. Blades tips back his head and rolls his shoulders. There's a high to it, followed by an immediate and tumbling withdrawal and dread and clarity—

And it's all interrupted by the little gasp you make. The abrupt jolt you take backward, into the window, closer to the depths of deep space. Your body thumps against the glass. 

('Fragile', Kafka had said.)

Your mouth closes, and your bloody lower lip wobbles. Tears glitter on your lash line as you retreat. Maybe, Kafka broke you. She’s good at that. 

"Fucking— I-I mean, fine. I’ll fucking eat." You stumble over your words with a sniffle. Your voice is raw and strained. You rub your nose on your sleeve and scramble for the bowl and utensils.

Blade stares as you eat your first bite. Then your second. Followed by your third. You start crying after the fourth, sobbing with the fifth, and hiccupping between mouthfuls. You're eating too fast, occasionally looking at him with an expression he recognizes as terror. He's used to seeing a look like that at the end of his blade. Frozen before draining of blood and death.

He frowns. You should not look that way..

"Slow down," he says, sitting next to you.

You look at him and wipe over your mouth, lips parting, but seem to think better of speaking. You take another bite, chewing slower. Blade picks up his own bowl and eats small, meticulous bites.

(He shared a meal all the time. Shoulder to shoulder with Dan Feng, splitting casks of viridian wine in the moonlight. Food tastes better when someone you... like is near.)

You finish before him, and don't stop crying. If anything, you cry harder. It sounds painful.

Blade pauses his meal, idling. searching. There's something there. A feeling coated in the roots of mara, but... perhaps it's a delicious agony. Not so much a memory, but a want. Something other than— than what and why—

Blade stands. He departs to your bathroom (there are blood stains on the counter) and grabs a cloth towel. He dampens it with water, letting the sink run until it's pleasantly warm.

He sits closer to you when he returns. You flinch away in retreat, leer away as he comes close, hands up—

"Please, don't, what are you—"

"Hold still." Blade grabs your wrist and you wince.

With entirely conscious thought and great effort, he loosens his grip. And... gently, Blade brings the cloth to your face. He dabs around your eyes, then your cheek and nose, and lastly your mouth. you're frozen, wide-eyed, and still shaking.

When he's done, he grabs a blanket from the bed. He wraps it around your shoulders. It feels... somewhat right.

"You should rest." He tells you. "You need it."

Blade thumbs over a swollen round on your jaw. You tremble, eyes wide.

But maybe a little less scared.

"... Are you gonna stay while you finish eating?" You eye his half-full bowl.

"Yes."

"... 'kay... and you're not gonna rough me up like Kafka did?"

"No." He has no plans to.

"... Fine."

You cautiously make your way back to your little bed, sitting at the head of it, and half-slipping under the covers. It's... cute.

(Blade has not thought of anything as cute in several centuries.)

Blade wants to break your legs.

When he finishes, he collects both bowls, and looks around your room. It's sparse, though. There are a few books on the nightstand.

"... Are you bored?"

"Huh?" You ask. You'd been lost in thought, eyes lost. "Oh, I mean. yeah? There's not much to do."

"I'll bring some things. Bear it until then."

"Oh! Okay." You wrap the blanket around your shoulders tighter. "You're... Bladie, right?"

"Just Blade."

"Oh, okay. sorry." You wring your hands. "Thank you, Blade."

The thing in his chest blooms. A monstrous flower, mycelium under acres of land in a network that eats and never dies. Undergrowth that does nothing but rot and grow, grow and rot. 

Blade doesn't reply as he leaves the room. He gets halfway to the training wing before he has to pause, withdraw his phone, and send Kafka a frantic text: 'Meet me in the weaponry room.’

He pockets his phone before punching the wall. Clumsy fingers break upon impact, and the indentation of the fist remains in the metal. 

[smashboxgirl26]

hello!! i was wondering if i could request a reader who feels alienated and depressed because she is basically a loner at school and bakugou who goes out of his way to spend time with her, bringing her lunch to share and ends up confessing to her?

the days of the week

contains: fluff word count: 2.1k a/n: yes yes yesss,,, only i changed some things bc thats how it worked out in my head. also it's short and sweet, but i had fun drifting off from my wips and getting to put my mind on something new

monday:

"What're you doing here?" you stared up from your book at Bakugou, who'd plopped himself down beside you.

It was lunchtime, and you'd found yourself outside under the tree near the end of the field, alone, as you'd been since the sports festival.

"Why? M'not allowed to eat lunch here?" he gave you a sneer as he raised his eyebrow.

"No," you rolled your eyes. "I was asking why you were here. You don't normally sit here, you sit inside with everyone else."

"So? Do I need a reason?"

"Nevermind," you shook your head, returning to your book.

"Yer not eating anything?" he started again after a moment of silence, and you looked up at him with despair.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah, it fuckin' does," his eyes narrowed in your direction. "How the fuck am I supposed to beat you at your full power in training if you haven't even eaten anything?"

That's what this is about.

There were going to be one-on-one sparring sessions that day in training, and All Might (very fortunately) had disclosed everyone's partner ahead of time so that everyone had enough time to prepare for their opponent's quirk.

"Listen Bakugou, I'll make sure to put in my all, or whatever. I'm still fine without eating."

You found a part of yourself trying to appease him, despite the weird mind games he was playing. You knew it was just because of what he'd seen your quirk do in the sports festival — and why everyone in your class had practically dumped you, even if they were too scared to admit it — and because he was so obsessed with winning.

A bowl was suddenly nudged in front you, and you had to look up from your book again to see Bakugou giving you another look.

"M'not fighting you if you haven't eaten anything," he announced defiantly.

The look he was giving you made it seem as if you had lost the argument, especially since he was almost gloating as he raised his eyebrows as a way to force you to challenge him.

"Okay," you shrugged before turning back down. "Don't fight me then."

You heard him growl under his breath, and before you could internally celebrate your victory, your book was pulled out of your hands and you looked back up at him in shock.

"Listen here you shitty fuckin' extra," he snarled. "I am not going to miss out on training just because you decided to be a bitch and spite me. So eat yer damn food."

"Give me my book back."

"No."

"Give it back, Bakugou."

"Not gonna happen."

"Ugh! Just give it to me!"

"What are ya gonna do, extra? Fight me?" he taunted, and you quickly realized what he was playing at.

"Fucking fine!" you huffed, grabbing the bowl of ramen and downing it in under a minute. It wasn't hot, thankfully, since it'd been out for a while — and you looked back at Bakugou after finishing and wiping your mouth with the back of your wrist.

"Give. It."

He tossed the book back at you without a second thought, and you shot him a glare before letting out a breath when you realized that the page you were reading was still bookmarked.

Only Bakugou didn't leave after that. He sat there and chewed on his onigiri for the rest of the period before getting up a couple minutes before the bell rang.

Fuckin' weirdo.

. . .

tuesday:

"Yer still not eating anything?" Bakugou said as he placed his lunch tray on the grass next to where you were sitting, again.

After your match yesterday (where Bakugou had still won, obviously), you thought that he would leave you alone, since you weren't friends and he didn't have any reasons to talk to you besides your match.

"Why does it matter?" you looked up from your book, surprised. Why was he back?

"Because you need to eat," he rolled his eyes. "Isn't that fuckin' obvious?"

You resolved his statement with a glare that he didn't acknowledge, watching as he instead pushed half of a sandwich towards you before taking a bite of his curry.

"Why are you here?" you glanced between him and the sandwich.

"To eat. Isn't that obvious?"

"No, asshole. Why are you here?"

"Because I can."

"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should," you raised an eyebrow, watching as a vein popped out of his forehead when he turned to you.

"Listen extra," he dropped his chopsticks to point a finger at you. "I can sit wherever the fuck I want. Now shut the fuck up and eat your sandwich."

You gave him an unimpressed look before grabbing the sandwich and tearing the paper it was wrapped in harshly. You made sure that you bit and chewed into it aggressively, just wanting him to shut up so you could read your book but still let him know that you were angry about him coming and sitting next to you — but you were still a little hungry since you'd skipped breakfast that morning.

You didn't notice the little triumphant look Bakugou gave himself as he watched you from the side — angrily chewing the sandwich while your eyes scanned the page in front of you.

He'd won again.

. . .

wednesday:

"What's this lame ass book you've always got your nose stuck in?" Bakugou announced as he sat down next to you again, only you weren't as bothered by his presence as you'd been the day before.

You still let out an audible groan though when you looked up, watching as Bakugou slid over a plate with sushi before biting into his own salad.

"Why do you keep bringing me lunch?"

"I've told you this already," he rolled his eyes. "Use your fuckin' brain for once."

"No- Let me just.." you put your book down and stared at him. "I meant, why do you keep coming and sitting with me and bringing me lunch and stuff? I'm fine on my own."

"Answer my question first," he looked up from eating. "You didn't answer me."

"Just a romance," you rolled your eyes. "Now why do keep sitting with me?"

"The best friend was super shitty in that one," Bakugou mumbled in passing when he finally found himself noticing the title of the book, but his eyes widened in an instant to find a cat-like grin stretching across your face.

"How do you know that?" you asked him slyly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to seem nonchalant about it, looking back with a glare that was probably supposed to deter you from asking any further — but it seemed to have no weight when you willingly scooched closer to him.

"I clearly heard you Bakugou," you raised an eyebrow, watching as his eyes refused to look back down at the book cover again in definace.

"I didn't say anything."

You stared him down, this time watching as he crumbled, putting down his bowl before he spoke.

"I fuckin' read it before, okay?" he threw his arms up. "What else do you think happened? But if you tell another goddamn soul about this, I'm gonna kill you. Got it?"

"Yeah got it — I won't," you shrugged him off. "But what does she do?"

"Huh?"

"You said the best friend was shitty. What did she do?"

You watched Bakugou roll his his eyes before finally giving in, slumping against the tree trunk you always sat next to like he was letting the weight fall off his shoulders.

"Remember when she told the main character girl about the second guy liking her and all that."

"You mean Ryu?"

"Yeah that idiot — well she did it because she was trying to get the brother mad at the both of them so she could ask the main guy out instead," Bakugou went back to eating his salad smugly, watching as your face twisted into shock.

"Of course she wanted to get with Haru!" you stared at the book now sitting in the grass. "I thought it was so weird when she told her because it was so obvious she was already jealous about Haru not liking her."

"Yeah," Bakugou barely shrugged, taking another bite.

You'd forgotten about your question this time, but he wasn't sure he would be so lucky if you asked him again.

At least it was fun to talk about something he never got to.

.

.

.

thursday:

The fact that you were reading a different book today instantly caught Bakugou's attention as he sat down at your usual spot, two bento boxes in hand.

"What happened to the other one?" he gestured to the thicker, hardcover book.

"You basically spoiled it," you shrugged. "So I'm rereading a different one instead."

Bakugou didn't say anything as he slid a bento box over to you, pulling out his chopsticks as you put your book down.

"I didn't see bento's in the lunch room today. I was hoping for pizza actually."

"I'm not yer damn waiter. Just shut up and appreciate the food you're given," he rolled his eyes.

"Where'd you get them from though?" you asked as you opened the bento, a small smile creeping up at the neatly packed food inside.

"...I made 'em," he almost whispered, eyes strained as you took a bite of the salmon he made.

"It's good!" you looked up at him with wide eyes. "I didn't know you could cook so well."

"Of course I fuckin' can," he sneered, turning back to his box like he wasn't intently watching your reaction. "I'm the best cook in our class."

"I wouldn't be so sure," you raised an eyebrow. "Sato's actually really good at baking."

"That's not the same thing you idiot."

"Aren't they similar though?"

"No."

And it was silent again, the both of you eating under the tree until you finally spoke again.

"Why do you keep sitting with me, Bakugou?"

It was hard for Bakugou to look up after those words came off your lips in a nonchalant manner — how was he supposed to answer with the truth?

"Does it fuckin' matter?" he deflected. "Why're you always sitting alone then?"

"I dunno," you rolled your eyes as if the answer was obvious, your face scrunching when you realized his question was serious.

"You're being serious?" you asked with an almost gaped mouth.

"Does it look like I'm joking?"

"My quirk," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and Bakugou only gave you a look of bewilderment.

"The sports festival?" you reiterated. "How I had that guy from Class B under my control and stuff?"

"So?" he looked away. "You did okay. It's not even like you won or anything."

"Do I really have to spell it out for you? People think my quirk is villainous."

It wasn't like Bakugou didn't notice the change in attitude towards you after the sports festival and the true nature of your quirk was revealed, but he really believed that the people around him were better than that.

He saw how the media was treating his own outbursts, and while in the tiniest way possible he could understand them — your reaction was unwarranted.

"Don't say shit like that," Bakugou looked up to you seriously. "If no one else around you can see that your quirk's good enough to become a hero, fuck 'em. They weren't worth being in your life anyways. Got that?"

You paused, seemingly unable to speak from the weight his words left hanging in the air — but you finally nodded slightly, picking up your book from where it was still open in the grass.

"Thanks."

.

.

.

friday:

You didn't startle today when Bakugou found his place beside you, nonchalantly turning the page without registering his existence. He couldn't help but let the silence linger — you looked peaceful while quietly reading — letting himself start eating his own lunch after pushing a plate in front of you.

Your book snapped shut after a couple moments, suddenly, and he could feel your eyes boring holes into the side of his head.

"Bakugou."

"Hmm?"

"Why do you keep eating lunch with me?"

But as soon as he opened his mouth to deflect, you interrupted him.

"And I know that it's not because you wanna make sure that I'm in top shape or whatever — and you can't deflect the question like every other time I've asked you this, okay?" You were staring at him seriously.

"Okay, you wanna know why?" he started, putting his chopsticks on his plate before turning towards you straight on. "I like you, Y/N — more than as a friend would."

You blinked at him, clearly startled by his response. "Why?"

"Whadd'ya mean why? Does there have to be reason?" He sneered. Were you being serious?

"But... My quirk..."

"Didn't I already tell you? Anyone who thinks that has shit for brains. Now shut up and eat your food."

[thegainingdesk]

Stomach capacity's a weird thing, isn't it? I swear, a couple of weeks ago I thought to myself "I'll never be able to consistently eat enough to consistently gain weight" - itself a somewhat insane thought, since I've gained an average of 1.4 pounds a week this year. I can clearly eat enough to gain weight. However, I also definitely can't "eat like a fat guy" like all the gaining advice tells me to - I cannot binge for the life of me. Once I've hit my limit, that's it. I naturally eat slowly and have, despite developing quite the belly this past year, frequently been unable to eat as much as some much smaller mates. I fundamentally cannot eat like a gainer is supposed to be able to.

But recently, some switch has been flicked. The past two days, I've eaten two dinners on each day, on top of otherwise fairly heavy days.

Yesterday, I had steak and chips with my partner, before going out to meet some mates I hadn't seen in a while. Once I got there, everyone started mentioning they'd not had dinner. Well, I'm not going to just sit there and watch everyone else eat, am I? Here I am, nominally a gainer and skipping a meal? Besides, it'd be rude, wouldn't it. We decide on an Indian restaurant - I order lamb bhuna, portion of rice, two roti. I mean, it's nothing insane, but that's just a regular order - more than a few of my mates ate, and this is my second dinner. I finish it all. I could probably eat more. Two dinners, five pints, sorted.

And today my partner was working from the office instead of from home so I was by myself and I thought, well, got to treat yourself, haven't you? Nipped to the shops - two cinnamon buns for breakfast, big sandwich for lunch, bought a great big sharing swiss roll to just nibble on through the day - a proper, footlong thing that slowly disappears through the day. As my partner texts me he's coming home, I'm feeling like I could eat, quickly polish off a big tub of leftover pasta salad as I get dinner started. Dinner's a roast chicken with vegetables, mashed potatoes, gravy. As we were tidying up the kitchen just now I polished both the wings off too.

What's that? At least 4 thousand calories yesterday, well over 5 thousand today easy (that swiss roll claimed to be 2k by itself). And here's the thing. This isn't just me having a couple of hungry days. I've felt absolutely stuffed the past two days. Woke up stuffed this morning. My gut feels heavy and big and stuffed (looks heavy and big and stuffed, for that matter). I've just... Not cared. Kept on eating. It hasn't even felt like "pushing through it". I've just wanted to eat. Ate like a fat guy.

Here's hoping it keeps up.

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

(Content warnings: SFW, Friendly 141, good feelings)

Reader POV:

The rest of the morning was much calmer. You got to run a few quick errands with König before joining the team again for lunch. First on the list was a quick stop at the grocery store where he grabbed a few essentials and two cold bottles of Gatorade to refuel. As he stopped by the post office to check for mail, you guzzled yours down like it was the first beverage you'd seen in years. And as your thirst was quenched, you could feel your stomach begin to demand similar attention. Luckily, once König returned to your side, he led you back across base for a much needed lunch.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the mess hall that you realized just how hungry you were. That sparring match had taken a lot out of you. But an appetite had been the furthest thing from your mind until the fight was over. Now you were ravenous and felt like you could eat everything in sight! You piled your plate high with hot food. Recalling Soap’s naughty joke from before, you stopped to grab a few hard-boiled eggs for some much needed protein before trailing behind König in search of seating.

As the two of you crossed the room, you were surprised to find that a small crowd had gathered around one table in particular. Almost the entire squad was there! Well, excluding Ghost of course. Ever since that morning, he had been nowhere to be found. And you weren't complaining. Drawing nearer, you spotted a familiar mohawk peeking out above the throng. Soap was seated on the edge of the table, his gestures animated as he held their attention in the palm of his hand.

"You should've seen her," he said, excitedly. "Ghost was furious!"

As you drew nearer, Soap spotted you through the little crowd and beckoned you over. "Here she is now! If it isn't the lass who lived!"

All eyes turned towards you and König as questions flew at you from every direction. It seemed that you had become 141's little celebrity overnight!

"Did you see his face?"

"What did he look like?"

"Serves me right for missing training yesterday. I'd pay to see that."

"Did he really put you in a headlock? That’s fucked up."

"Man, I bet he’ll think twice before messing with you again.”

You gave them all a sheepish wave, quickly sitting down next to König. You hadn't expected to garner so much attention. It was a bit overwhelming. But on the heels of your feud with Ghost, it felt nice to get some friendly attention too.

König raised a protective arm, shielding you as he shooed everyone away. "Autographs and interviews can wait until after she's eaten," he chuckled. "Please, give her some space."

At his order, the crowd gradually began to dissipate. You still earned a few fist bumps and multiple claps on the back though as they all trickled back to their own tables.

You ventured a quick glance around the room to confirm Ghost's continued absence.

"Where is Ghost anyway? I haven't seen him at all since this morning."

"Probably sulking in his room, still patching up his pride," Soap giggled, attacking a heap of french fries with fervor.

"I didn't know this would be such a big deal."

"Big? This is huge!"

For the rest of the meal, Soap and Alejandro both showered you with compliments on your match and gave you a few helpful pointers for general self defense. König chimed in as well, offering to show you a few ways to get out of a headlock. It was a lot of information to absorb all at once, but you still tried to soak up everything that you could. You had no plans to spar with Ghost a second time. But if you ever found yourself in danger after your visit, the knowledge could really come in handy.

After you'd cleaned your plate, you pushed away from the table, ready to head to your room. Your plan was to read a bit or nap until König was done with his tasks for the day. And it would have the added benefit of removing any chance of crossing paths with Ghost for a good while.

"You're leaving?" Alejandro looked up from his plate.

"Well, yeah. I know you guys have more training and stuff to do. I was just going to wait in my room until König was done."

"Stay and tag along! You've earned your stripes. Consider yourself an honorary member of 141! You're one of us now."

Soap nodded in enthusiastic agreement, beaming at you from across the table as you sat back down.

"If this is true," König added. "Then she will need a callsign. A nickname to make it official."

"True, true." Soap leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing you as he thought. "How about Kitten? She's soft and cuddly, but she's still got claws."

He hissed, curling his fingers and swiping at the air.

"No, no. That's not tough enough. Escúchame," Alejandro chimed in, arcing his hand over his head in a flourishing reveal. "Ángel de la muerte. It means 'Angel of Death'! Beautiful, but deadly."

Soap shook his head in clear disagreement, stating that it was too much of a mouthful to be a functional callsign. So both of them began to go back and forth, taking turns ardently explaining why their individual ideas were better. As they bickered, you turned to König.

"What about you?" You said, grinning. "I want to know what you would call me."

After a brief pause, he answered with a smile in his eyes. "You are small and cute. But you can scare an opponent who is big. For me, it is easy. I would call you Maus."

"Mouse, eh?" Soap slowly nodded, mulling it over. "I like it!"

"Our own little field mouse," Alejandro smiled softly. "It’s perfect.”

You beamed. Looking around the table, you felt a sense of belonging. It felt like family, like home. Though König was your boyfriend, the rest of them had no obligation to like you. They could have easily brushed you off and ignored you throughout the entire visit. But they hadn’t. They’d instead wrapped their arms around you, taken you under their wing, and treated you as one of their own. It was a small gesture, but to you it was everything.

“Welcome to the team, Maus.”

[technologyvoid]

I’m not eating!!!! No!!!!!

I’m booping!!!!

Considered eating….

Decided against.

- Z

Awh 🫂 would you consider eating if I also go make food?

[arlathen]

depression canceled i just realized i haven't eaten since lunch yesterday and im treating myself with panera 🫶

I'm honestly thankful that they gave solavellan such an open ending. my world now they're gonna do absolutely whatever I want and what i want is for them to get married and fuck forever.

[gtbutterfly]

Quincy and the forest giant part 9

sorry its been a while since my last writing post, I've haven't been finding the time to sit down and write. usually I write in school when I'm done with work in classes, but since its summer, I've haven't had an excuse to write. anyways, this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two, hope you enjoy it!

previous part:

CW: mentions of death

______________________________________________________________

Ella came back around 8 or so minutes later. She had something balled up in her fist. When she walked inside, she went right past me and into the kitchen, before walking back into the living area to see me.

“What….what did you do?” I asked.

“Kill a deer. Like I said I would.” Ella said.

“You…..you just……went and killed a deer?” I asked.

“Yeah, we'll have it for lunch later,” she said.

“You just….went out, and found and killed a deer?” I asked.

“It's not that complicated, Quincy.” She said, sounding a bit annoyed.

“Oh ….. sorry….but….well….” I looked down, “...why?”

“Hmm…. food.” Ella said. Leaning on the table I was on.

“Um…..ok….” I looked down still, “.....did it have anything to do with…..um…. those people that came…..uh, Dr. Laurier?”

“Call her Amber.” Ella said,

“But….she told me…”

“I know she doesn't want people like you calling her by her first name, that's exactly why I want you to.” Ella said.

“Um….you must….. really not like her,”

“Well…..if she gave me more food than giant loads of stale hard bread, I wouldn't have to hunt for venison.”

“V-venison?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah…. venisons just deer meat.” The giant said. 

“...oh….”

“anyways, you've haven't eaten breakfast, right?” Ella asked, before holding her hand out for me to climb in. I got into her palm, and we went to the kitchen.

“So…..um…..were those your…..the people you work for….out there?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Ella answered briefly.

“....are they with the ….um….lumber company?”

Ella looked down at me in her hands, confused.

“What do you mean lumber company? You mean the wood chopping factory they have at your town?” She asked, placing me down on the kitchen table.

“Yeah….most of the jobs in our town revolve around that lumber company…. everyone either chops down trees, or processes them into usable wood, or drives the wood out of town,” I said, stepping off their palm.

“The lumber company isn't it's own company, it's owned by the company that I work for,” Ella said.

“Oh…..um…..i didn't know that….” I said, rubbing the back of my head. “Um…can I ask…..what that company is? Um…since…. They want me to stay with you….”

“I’m probably going to keep you in the dark just a bit longer, just to be safe,” Ella said. 

“Oh….um, ok,” I said, “so….what can I ask about….?” 

“I dunno…what do you want to ask about?” Ella asked, tearing a bit of the stale bread apart.

“Um…sorry if this is personal…um…” I looked down and gulped, “...who was that person Amber mentioned….um…..Derrick….” Ella paused and stared at me when I said his name. I was a bit scared she would explode at me like she did yesterday. She sighed, and placed the bread on the counter in front of me. 

“I shouldv’e known this was coming,” She said to herself, “...Derrick is…..Derrick was someone who was very important to me, who isn’t around anymore…” the giant said, looking down solemnly.

“Oh….” I said, looking up at her. “i…I’m sorry…..”

“Its fine, kid.” Ella said, look aside. “...eat up,” She gestured towards the bread. I took a chunk off of it and bit into it, shallowing it hardly.

“...um…what was he like…” I asked, “uh…if its ok for me to ask…”

“.....doesn’t matter,” Ell sighed, “he’s gone now.” there was an awkward silence in the room. I took another bite. 

“...so you were….um….” I gulped again, “...together….”

“Yeah….” Ella said, emotionlessly.

“...um…what…h-happened to them….” I asked. Ella sighed again.

“...I don’t want to talk about it.” the giant said sternly. 

“...oh….um….I just thought…..it might help….”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Ella said, her voice vibrating loudly. I flinched when she snapped. She immediately noticed what she did and slouched down to make herself smaller. She looked to her side as if she was embarrassed. “s-sorry….I….didn’t mean to…” she sighed again, leaning on he elbow against the table. “I’m sorry.”

“...its ok,” I said, trying to reassure her. “...um…I’m sorry I brought it up…” 

“Its fine, kid. Of course you’d want to know.” Ella said, looking down. “I’ll tell you, I just….need a moment.” 

“...ok,” I said, “...take as much time as you need….” I went up to her elbow on the table and rubbed it slightly, trying to comfort her. I don’t know if it worked. She seemed kind of surprised by me touching her. She moved her arm and laid it flat on the table.

“Thanks…” she said, lifting her other hand, hesitating a bit, before rubbing my hair slightly with her thumb, before putting her hand back down. She looked to her side.

“So….um….what do you want to do…?” I asked her. She looked down at me.

“...what I want to do?” Ella asked. 

“Um…yeah…” I said. “Um…it seems like….your going through something today….” Ella was silent for a moment.

“Um…..we could…go for a walk…um….well, I’d be walking and carrying you.” the giant suggested. “I know I like…just did that to get the deer…but…um,” 

“A walk would be nice,” I said, looking up at her. Her eyes lit up slightly. She gave a slight smile towards me. 

“Ok….thanks….” Ella said, putting her hand out for me. I climbed into it and she lifted me up to right below her chest. She stood up and walk from the kitchen towards the door outside she held me against her as she opened the door and stepped outside. Her wool shirt was soft and warm. She kept me there as she walked into the woods.

[an-artist-n-shambles]

@gummy-axolotl should I go eat?? I haven't eaten anything since lunch yesterday, but I don't feel hungry :/

[lonely-cats-blog]

I left school and went to my dad's office, hoping he could drop me off at home real quick before getting back to work. He said we could but we can't leave just yet, so I waited. We then left 2 hours later.

When I got home I was fucking starving cause I haven't eaten since 10:00 am, cause my schools lunch is unreasonably early, and I asked my roommate if I could her leftovers from yesterday. I knew she wasn't gonna eat them and that she'd say yes, so I probably didn't even need to ask but I'm not that much of an asshole.

And then she was like "oh I'm actually still kinda hungry from swimming 🥺👉👈" mind you, she got home an hour ago and was swimming hours ago by this point, and so my dad told her to put in the microwave and she did and then I didn't have anything to eat and I've been wanting that good all day cause it's good and I'm starving.

And then my dad got food out of the fridge and was somewhat trying to help me choose something, but I didn't want anything else, I had been hoping for that for hours all day and it was part of my plan. He kept insisting that we have chicken nuggets but I ate those when I was sick and we don't have any left.

And we got into this like, mini argument going back and forth and he was like "well I asked you if you wanted to go to Walmart and get a snack when we left the office" BUT WE DIDN'T. he asked me to go to no frills and get a lasagna, those are not the same thing and I would've gone to Walmart to get a snack if he offered it, except for the fact I wanted the leftovers and I had a whole plan for them.

And he put his food in the microwave but on his way over he fucking feel through a vent on the floor that broke off and hurt his foot and then I had to try to comfort him and fix it but he was crying and kept yelling at me to leave him alone and I just wanted some fucking chicken that my roommate was now eating.

And I had to clean up the food that spilled, took me like 5 minutes but it was gross and annoying.

If I had just eaten it no one would've stopped me or given a fuck.

Anyways now I'm sitting in bed and I'm still fucking hungry with nothing else to eat and I wanna go to Walmart but that's never gonna happen now.

[allemantheias]

Parent triangle. Part 5.

Feeding the Task Force men.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. {Part 5.} Part 6. Part 7. Part 8 coming soon. Word count: 1302. Warnings can be found in part 1. Read Parent triangle on AO3.

"Lauren! It's so good to see you again." Soap gets up from his seat and hugs me, before sitting back down. I take the spot next to Alejandro, on the edge of the soft couch everyone's sitting on. "Why did the two of you arrive this late?"

"They were busy fucking." Rudy laughs, clearly had a few drinks already.

"Fucki- Wait, what? I thought you-" The Scot looks confused at my boyfriends and back to me.

"Rudy didn't wanna join this time because he preferred hanging out with the squad." Alejandro sits back and pulls me back too, makes me relax.

"I still don't get it."

"She's our girlfriend since a few weeks."

"What? Really? That took you this long?" Ghost exclaims. "Over five years! The poor girl."

"Yes, but Ale didn't waste a second to get her pregnant."

The guys' jaws drop while looking at me shocked.

"When did that happen?" Even Price is flustered by the news.

"Eh, six weeks ago. We got crazy drunk and had a threesome. It was good."

"That's enough information, Rudy!" I try to keep him from blurting out more details about that night.

"And here I was, not believing in miracles until now." Ghost pulls his mask up and sips from his drink. We all laugh. "It's my turn to get drinks. What do you want, Bonnie?" Soap stretches his arms before walking around the table.

"Sparkling ice tea." I love a fizzy soda.

"Alejandro?"

"The same."

"Go drink, I'll drive us home." I encourage him.

"I don't mind not drinking, cariño (darling)." He smiles when he sees my serious face. "Fino (Fine), I'll start with a beer then."

"Gotcha." Soap goes to the bar to order all of us a drink.

"Are you sure you're okay with driving?"

"Yes, I wouldn't have offered it if I wasn't. I can't drink anyway." I ensure him with my hand on his thigh. He puts his hand on mine as response. "Where's Kyle?" It took me this long to notice he's not here.

"At base, had a bad jet lag and wanted to sleep it off."

"Poor guy, I'll bring him some breakfast in the morning."

"Us too!" Soap is still close enough to hear me.

"Someone missed my cooking."

"Abso-fucking-lutely! Three months in between each time is way too long!"

"I'll make you plenty of Mexican food the next few weeks, okay?"

"Por favor." He pleas in a clear Scottish accent.

"Anything you want." I take my glass of ice tea from the tray he put on the table. "Thanks." He also has something non-alcoholic, is probably the one driving too. "Kyle!" I'm happy to see him out and about. "How are you feeling now?"

"Great, slept like a baby." His eyes trail to the food that I've been preparing for the past hour. 

"You must be starving." I know he hasn't eaten since arriving here yesterday evening.

"Big time."

"Good, I made lunch for the others too." I lay more of the burritos I just made on a plate on the tray and before I can grab it to take it to the gym, where the others are practicing, Kyle gets a hold of it.

"Let me take it." With a smile on his face he walks away and I follow him with the jug of fruit agua frescas, fresh fruit water, I made earlier. It's ice cold now, the tastiest way to drink it. We enter the gym and everyone looks up to us. Kyle places the tray on the table in the room and I put down the jug of fruitwater.

"Bonnie, you're fuckin' amazing! I'm starvin'!" Soap grabs one of the burritos from the pile on the tray and immediately stuffs his face. "So good. Can't believe these two haven't married you yet." He mumbles with a full mouth while he sits down on one of the benches. Ghost finishes throwing his stack of knives, hitting the dummy a few times in his chest and straight between the eyes on the last throw. Rudy and Alejandro are also done with the target practice and the three men grab their lunch. Price makes his way over from the fitness machines. Soap has already emptied his plate when Price thanks me while he grabs his.

"You're still hungry, aren't you?"

"Uhm, maybe.." The guilt is visible in his eyes.

"I'll make some more for everyone, just in case there are more hungry men."

"You gotta feed six hungry men now, instead of two." Kyle laughs.

"Thank god it's only for a few weeks." I joke back while leaving the room. I don't mind it at all to make food for the six of them. It's great that these weeks of training together have been going on for over four years now. They're staying for three weeks to train and practice together. That happens three times a year. They alternate every four months. So one year 141 comes here in the winter and the next year in the hot summer. Rudy and Alejandro always complain about the cold winters in the UK and the Task Force guys always complain about the hot summers here in Mexico. Besides that, they all look forward for weeks before the collaborations actually happen. I don't know if I will join Rudy and Alejandro in going to the UK in four months. I'll be pregnant for seven months when we return here. But I also don't want to be without them for multiple weeks. What a dilemma, I have to think about that for a while. "Did you already eat something, babygirl?" Rudy asks when I put the tray with more burritos on the table, for everyone to grab more if they want.

"I tasted some of the filling while cooking, but still feel a bit too sick to eat more."

"Take care of yourself, princesa, you already passed out this morning."

"I'll try some bread when I feel less nauseous." Thinking about having to eat something makes me gag and I put a hand on my mouth.

"Take it easy when you need to."

"I will. Don't worry too much about me."

"Go home early today." He kisses my forehead and goes back to the others who are still enjoying the food and drinks. It's a joy to see all these hungry men go to town on the food I prepared.

Soap walks over to me with another three burritos on his plate. "Lauren, will you please cook flautas for me somewhere in the next three weeks? Or maybe posole or carne guisada?"

"I'll make everything you want before you leave, Johnny."

"You're the best, Lau. Those guys are crazy for not marrying you on the spot." He laughs and infects me with it too.

"I'm sure we will be in a few years." "Go have a rest, cariño (darling), you have been showing off your cooking skills way too much today." Alejandro tells me with a smile on his face.

"It tasted good, though."

"Of course, I taught you." He proudly smiles. My jaw drops, I can't believe my ears.

"The audacity! You better be inviting them for dinner tonight."

"Doll, you've passed out twice now. I'm not letting you push yourself even more than you already did today." He sees my facial expression change and sighs. "I'll invite them for tomorrow's dinner if you promise me to take it easy until then."

"Fine, I'll behave."

"Good girl." After a kiss, he walks back to his patrol car but doesn't get in yet. "But without kidding, you need to rest. I'll come check on you later tonight." After waiting for both cars to drive out of the street, I close the front door of the apartment complex and go upstairs, to my house, for a warm shower.