#when I was in my binge eating era I could eat three full combo meals at once

[anxietytriangles]

I want to order food so bad but I’m dirt poor, and also if I did eat I would then cry myself to sleep because I hate myself so there’s really no winning here.

[avelera]

*emerges from their grace* a chubby Newt that stress eats???? Also hi it's been a while :v

aaaah, babe it’s been too long!! Thank you for the prompt!

This one’s gonna combine a few Anon prompts too including: 

Chubby Newt never manages to lose his lovehandles even in the middle of the war, his eating habits aren’t always the best and there’s always junk food wrappers in his room but he’s always comfortable and soft and friend-shaped.

&Newton’s one of those kids that stacked on the puppy fat as a teenager but assumed he’d grow more and even out but he just… didn’t? Like, he’s taller than he was which is nice but he’s also still got chipmunk cheeks and a few stretch marks on his thighs and for all his talk of being a “rock star” he can actually be quite sensitive about these things, especially when it comes to being intimate with someone (he’s had a few bad experiences). But he’s still got a rockin bod! 

And mostly:

sickfic type thing with (a lil chubby) newt who ate too much and hermann taking care of him—

On the Risks (and Benefits) of Stress Eating

Also available on Ao3

Words: 2,682 (I knooow)

Ship:Newt/Hermann

Timeline: Shatterdome era

Man I just remembered I was thinking of tying my SFW Shatterdome era prompt combo one into the tattoo prompt but then sickfic took over. OH WELL. I’ll get to that one soon cuz it’s amazing.

This ficlet is proooobably gonna lead into my NSFW prompt combo, just FYI ;3

—-

“Newton, maybe you should slow down?”

Newt grunted in acknowledgement of Hermann’s point, whatever it was, and went back to summarily ignoring it. The LiDAR mapping of the latest Kaiju attack had just come in and he needed to square them with the video as well since there was almost zero chance he’d get any live samples from this one. He’d have to make do without. He crunched on another potato chip without tasting it and when the bag was empty tossed it on the ground with the pile of others. His brain hummed, streamlined and focused from taking his medication twice today and if he stayed focused he could ride this wave to getting a week’s worth of work done in an evening. And if he could manage just a few, oh, thousand more nights like that then maybe they’d have a shot at winning this war.

“…Newton, that’s your fifth bag of junk food, this is getting obscene. At least let me fetch you a meal from the cafeteria before it closes? Perhaps something with a vitamin buried in it somewhere?”

“No thanks,” Newt muttered. Could the guy not see he was busy? Cafeteria food meant knife and fork which meant freeing up his hands which meant breaking his concentration and he was on a roll. Achieving this level of focus was a once in a blue moon thing for him, usually he needed to bounce between three projects to finish any and sure, that meant three projects got done in the time it took most people to do one, but he wasn’t going to stop now when hyperfixation was helping him out for once. Just to make the point he blindly reached over and grabbed another bag of snacks, tearing it open with his teeth and burying his hand inside to stuff his mouth full before returning his hands to the keyboard.

“… Newton, I…”

Newt snarled and spun in his chair. “What is it, Hermann? Can’t you see I’m working, or at least I’m trying to if you wouldn’t interrupt every five minutes?!”

Hermann recoiled, his hand snatching back from where it had presumably hovered at Newt’s shoulder. He drew himself up, expression growing pinched and severe. His suit jacket was tossed over one arm and he gripped his cane hard in the other hand. “It’s been three hours since I last interrupted you and before that it was another two. I only interrupted this time to tell you I’m retiring for the evening, so do remember to switch the lights off this time,” he said stiffly.

Newt blinked then his eyes drifted to the clock blinking military time on the wall. 2300 hours. Oh. His vision swam now that it broke from the screen and he realized he didn’t feel so great. Like, not great at all, maaaybe more than a little nauseous.

Then he spotted the pile of junk food bags and wrappers in a halo around his chair. His lap was encrusted with crumbs and his keyboard wasn’t much better. He prided himself in his total lack of squeamishness but this was…kinda more than a little disgusting.

About as disgusting as he felt right now.

Hermann’s wide lips thinned to a line. “I did try to warn you.”

Newt groaned and flopped back in his chair, which was a big mistake because the accidental stretch sent a pang through his belly and he doubled over, heaving shallow breaths and trying to swallow back the nausea.

“And don’t throw up on my shoes, if you would be so kind.”

“No promises,” Newt wheezed. Hermann took a careful step back out of the “blast radius.” Newt swallowed a few more times, fumbled for water bottle on his desk and took a swig. His medication left him dry-mouthed so he always had one handy. After a tense moment, the wave of nausea passed which only reminded him of the other gross part of his hyperfixation bouts.

Stress eating. His whole body felt bloated and gross and his stomach distended to just this side of pain. The buttons on his shirt were tight and if Hermann would just take off already so he could unbutton his pants and breathe he’d feel much better. His stupid, tight pants were only a fashion statement when he wasn’t spilling out of them like an over-ambitious muffin in front of the guy he’d been hopelessly dreaming about boning since he were twenty-fucking-three, and right now he couldn’t imagine feeling any less sexy. Newt buried his face in his hands with a groan.

“You can go. Don’t worry, I’ll get the damn lights,” Newt muttered into his hands, then scraped them back through his hair as he sat up. Hermann was still standing there looking, if anything, kinda… worried.

“Are you certain you don’t need help returning to your quarters?” Hermann said. “I know how it can be with your… your mind the way it is, and it does you no favors when you lose track of your surroundings, and worse, your own wellbeing like this.”

“You say “lose track” like it was something I had control over,” Newt said dryly.

“My apologies, I know it’s not as simple as that, I merely meant…”

Newt waved him off. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Thanks for trying earlier, sorry I was a dick about it.”

“Well, I won’t contradict you on that point.”

Newt snorted. On any other night it would be way too embarrassing to let Hermann walk him back, people might get ideas. They might get the exact idea that Newt was really hoping someone would get, and that someone was Hermann, when Newt went through waves of getting handsy with the guy when the crush got too bad and then scrambling away again when another fight flared. Usually because Hermann had a stupid opinion about Newt’s research, or Newt had an opinion about Hermann’s stupid research. It was just how they were, and fighting was almost as good as fucking when it came to breaking up the very one-sided sexual tension.

Ugh, sexual tension. No fucking chance of breaking that tonight. Maybe it was for the best.

“Actually, y’know what? I think I could use that hand,” Newt winced.

He wasn’t sure if he should expect another exasperated retort or jibe for that one, but Hermann said nothing, only offered his arm to Newt the way he’d done countless times in return.

Hermann must have deemed this episode to be on the no-insults side of the line that existed between them, where dwelled the topics Never To Be Discussed, mostly stuff they had no control over. Newt never brought up the leg unless it was logistically necessary and Hermann never brought up Newt’s weird brain except for similar reasons (one time Newt heard that Hermann tripped a J-tech with his cane for calling Newt that spastic freak in the dungeon but try as he might Newt couldn’t get anyone to verify that crowning moment of awesome). Their insults always stayed in the realm of the other’s stupid research, or stupid clothes, or stupid hair/tattoos, stuff that they had control over (and god if only Hermann would take control of that wardrobe). For whatever reason, Newt stuffing himself with junk food on a work binge counted as “stuff they couldn’t control” and for that he was endlessly grateful.

The floor swayed beneath Newt’s feet and he had to swallow back another wave of nausea as he stood. He leaned on Hermann’s arm more than he’d really meant to when he’d accepted, he didn’t want to hurt the guy, but while their progress was slow out the lab (Newt got the lights on the way) and down the hall to their rooms. Hermann hesitated outside Newt’s door.

“Would you like me to come in…?” Hermann said hesitantly.

God, yes, Newt thought, not that he could ever say it.

“God, yes.”

Crap.

“… and see you settled?” Hermann finished.

Double-crap. Just play it cool, Newtster.

“Sure, I feel like total shit. Maybe you could rub my tummy or something?” he winked.

That wasn’t cool at all.

Newt grimaced. It’s not like he cared what Hermann-stick-up-his-arse-Gottlieb thought about him (ok he did care, a lot, way too much) but even his not caring was more about hoping that attitude came across in a reckless, devil-may-care, sexy bad boy kind of way. Not because he was too nauseous and bloated to give a shit that he was covered in crumbs instead of engine oil or alien guts, and just generally gross.

Instead of waiting for Hermann’s inevitable exasperated huff and retort about Newt’s talking nonsense, he opted for spinning the industrial-grade lock on his door and going inside. He stumbled through the doorway and only then turned to see Hermann still standing there, his cheeks lit up like Christmas.

“Is it something I said?” Newt hazarded.

Hermann shook himself. “Your… stomach, is it really hurting that much? All jests aside, Newton, the medical bay is closed but I’d be happy to help however I may. Your health is a serious matter.”

Newt’s eyes narrowed. Since when was Hermann helpful about anything? “You want to rub my stomach?”

Hermann’s face turned crimson and for once it was definitely not with anger.

“I…” Hermann said in a strangled tone.

“Look, I’m gonna get ready for bed,” Newt said and jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder at his rumpled pile of comforters. Godzilla sheets poked out at the corners, it wasn’t exactly a love nest. “You can do whatever you want.”

Newt turned and back to unbutton his shirt. The iron door clanged shut behind him and he sighed, exhaling to allow his gut to hang over his pants and sighing with deeper pleasure when his fingers reached the top button of his pants. He’d have to file that blush away for later, because for now if he was going to take another stab at seducing the human personification of a sweater-vest (why did he crush on that guy so hard, why?) it would have to wait until he felt human again at all.

There was a polite cough from behind him.

Newt shrieked and whipped around, his hands flying to cover himself since the pants had slid halfway down his thighs. Hermann stared, his fist covered his mouth until he slowly lowered it. “I… you said whatever I… I’d feel better if I knew you were…” Hermann cleared his throat. “I’ll just see myself out, then.”

“Wait,” Newt blurted. Seriously, Hermann was still here? Newt had said he could do whatever he wanted and he’d stayed? “Was that offer serious?”

Hermann turned back and the blush was there again, heating up to his ears. “I… I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t,” he said stiffly.

“I, well… sure? Hell, why not? It’s not like I was going to get any sleep without it,” Newt said. Right, they were just pals here. Pals who were mostly rivals, pals who definitely didn’t have crackling sexual tension filling the room like a Tesla coil gone haywire. That was only in Newt’s head. He tentatively finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it over the back of his desk chair before bending to shuck his trousers. “Thanks, man, I guess that means I owe you.”

“What are you doing?” Hermann squawked.

“Getting ready for bed?” Newt said with a raised eyebrow. “Dude, you stayed, sorry if that means you get the whole package because I am not wearing anything except boxers to bed.” He paused, and it couldn’t get much worse anyway so he added with a wink, “And even that’s a concession.”

He snickered under his breath as Hermann sputtered but then, the guy had volunteered and there was something going on with that blush that had the wheels in Newt’s brain turning. It’s not like he could do anything more to sabotage his future chances with Hermann anyway, so might as well not worry about it. He flopped down on the bed, then winced and curled in on himself as the pangs returned with a vengeance. Yeah, it hadn’t been a total joke about the not being able to sleep. The first time he’d had a night like this was when he started undergrad as a teen and back then he’d averaged at least one night like this a month.

“Here, just let me,” Hermann huffed as he sat down beside Newt on the bed. He was still wearing the shirt and sweater-vest, which made Newt feel a little underdressed for the occasion until he reminded himself that Hermann was overdressed which instantly made him feel better. Hermann’s fingers were cold but it was nice, kinda soothing as they began to massage slow circles around his belly. His soft, protruding belly with its gaping Kaiju maw and airbrushed flame abs that definitely weren’t fooling anyone at this point.

It was only a few minutes before the pain began to ease and even with a double dose of meds, Newt found relaxation taking the place of the manic energy that had powered him through the night and probably would have gotten him to the morning just in time for a spectacular crash if he’d kept riding it.

“Dude, you’re really good at this,” Newt murmured and let his eyes slide shut.

“I…ermm, I’ve watched some videos on the matter,” Hermann coughed.

Newt’s brow furrowed and he cracked an eye open. The blush was back. Interesting. Hypothesis time. “Sorry I’m so gross right now,” he said. “I know this is more up-close-and-personal you wanted to get with me, especially with the whole swollen tummy and over-eating thing.” Hermann’s blush spread. “It’s not like I plan it or anything, I just lose track of time. It’s been like this for ages, I was never a skinny kid or anything, but the freshmen fifteen hit pretty hard especially when my dads weren’t around to keep healthy food out and, uh, I grew out of a few wardrobes…”

Hermann gave a muffled squeak and his fingers dug a little too hard into Newt’s stomach so that he winced. “That’s… interesting,” Hermann said faintly. “Hrm. That is… you should be more careful in the future. I’d be happy to keep you well stocked in food of some nutritional value if it will spare you another night like this.”

“You’d feed me? That’s sweet of you, Herms,” Newt said. Jackpot. Hermann looked like he was going to start sweating if he blushed any harder, he might have already. “I’d eat from your fingers if it meant not feeling this cruddy again any time soon.”

Hermann released a deep, slow breath that shivered at the end. “D-Don’t be absurd.”

“I’m not.”

Hermann jerked to stare down at him and Newt looked back up frankly. Forget gross, he was starting to think he’d stumbled upon being quite the opposite.

He yawned hugely. “…But not tonight. I’m wiped and I need to let a little of this to go down before I think of eating anything more,” he said and patted his stomach, rubbing it once for good measure. Hermann’s eyes widened. Yup. “You can stay here if you want.”

“Why would I stay here when my quarters are next door?” Hermann said and sounded like he was trying to be offended but the words came out breathless.

Newt shrugged. “Why not? I don’t mind,” he said and curled over on his side and shut his eyes. “It’s up to you.”

He didn’t open them, just waited to hear the heavy iron door open and shut.

It didn’t.

—