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the-elusive-libbin · 2 years

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When desperation calls - (A Hubert hunger/stuffing fic - FETH)

Description: Almost two years after the great war, Linhardt is unexpectedly reunited with a man he previously thought to be dead. Under some unusual circumstances, the poor man’s malnutrition becomes clear.

This took me a few hours and I’m rarely in the mood to write nowadays. It’s very self indulgent and involves my favourite Fire Emblem character. I hope you enjoy.

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It was market day. Outside of Garreg Mach monastery sat a small market square that, once a month, welcomed merchants and traders to its land. Tiny stalls popped up across the square in higgledy piggledy placements, each boasting an array of peculiar and not so peculiar items. These stalls, stacked, wooden frames with tent-like coverings of differing colours, sprouted up like flowered foliage and their numbers were impressive. Cobblestone roads bustled with people seeking new and unique wares whilst the sky tinted itself a light blue, allowing for the sun to gasconade. Ever since the fall of the Adrestian Empire not two years prior, the monastery had learned to thrive once more, its walls had been reconstructed and the building stood dignified, as for The Leicester Alliance, that had disbanded and in the place of these once large powers ruled The Kingdom of Faerghus. King Dimitri lorded over Fodlan and ruled generously, those few that had defected from the Empire now stood with him, Linhardt was one such person.

Hearing of all the fascinating trinkets that would often materialise at the Garreg Mach market had finally become too much of a lure and after months and months of hearing about it, the crest researcher halted his laziness, grabbed a satchel, which within contained a monogrammed coin purse and headed out. It was not a long journey, for Linhardt lived his days within the monastery walls as he had done for many a year, the beginning of which had occurred during his days as a student - Long before the great war.

In a typically Linhardt fashion, the man “just hadn’t the time or effort” for such ventures. But once Caspar had ceased being his annoying self and set off travelling with Ashe, the green haired mage found himself feeling ever so slightly lonely, not lonely enough that he would immediately seek to find companionship mind you, but lonely enough to feel the need to decisively take a short venture of his own. So many things to see, so many weird and wonderful things! Though thus far nothing had caught his eye and that was rather a disappointment. At an interval, Linhardt had stopped to caress the cover of a book on Crestological findings only to find that upon peeking inside, those findings were antiquated and moreover, factually incorrect. The bookseller had not appreciated the mage’s input and found himself angered when he was evenly and loudly outed to be selling irrelevant and wrong information. Had the green haired man not dodged the same book he had been holding moments before, it should have left a nasty bump on his forehead. “Do not get mad at your own misgivings.” Linhardt had shrugged. “You would do well to not waste good stock with neither your ‘talent’ nor your tantrums. It will get you nowhere”

No, there was nothing to see worth seeing and Linhardt was becoming rapidly disinterested.

Surely something would reveal itself if it wanted to be found.

Lurking around a corner, keeping to the shadowed areas of the stalls and structures, a caped figure tailed the wealthy looking mage. A noble was always an easy mark and the figure could always tell a noble from a commoner, no matter how they dressed. Linhardt certainly had not been making an effort to cloak his status and had in fact, entered the market wearing some of his most regal, blue robes; the common folk could not take cognizance of the fact that the mage had actually been wearing them for three days straight due to being lost within his own musings and research. Not that it mattered. This figure had seen the green haired mage before. He had seen him on many occasions. He knew exactly who he was. His name, his status and that he had to be carrying with him a pouch of gold. Dressed in black, the man as the figure licked his teeth, following with a discreet smirk. Finally, he would be getting what he deserved, what he needed.

Linhardt had just about resigned himself to leave when he stumbled upon a dated, silver trinket, possibly a bookmark, that despite being in need of a good polish, bore an unusual resemblance to the crest of Cethleann. A crest that the mage himself bore as a brand-like, black image above his left shoulder blade. A minor crest though it was, Linhardt had once known someone who had been blessed with a major crest of the same type. He thought of her for a moment until flashes of her stern older brother replaced them and Linhardt decided that now was not the time to reminisce. Deeming the find fascinating and worthy of purchase, he did just that; popping the trinket into his satchel, he smiled to himself, at least he would not return empty handed. Glad that the venture was not for naught, the mage turned to walk away but bumped promptly into something. “Ouch, hey.” Mumbled the mage as he tripped but did not fall. He gazed upwards and met the blackness of the inside of a hooded robe where there surely would be a face hidden away. “My apologies, I did not see you.” Nodded the mage as he sidestepped the figure and proceeded onward without looking back. “I must be going. Good evening.”

A few steps had been taken before a cold sharpness prodded his back. It felt as though it could pierce should more force be applied. The feeling was not pleasant.

“A knife? That old trick?”

“...” Only silence returned his words.

“Oh, are we playing the silent game then? I shall go first and walk away.”

Linhard set himself to leave but the blade followed and this time, slightly more pressure was applied. He sighed. This was irritating and the green haired male was becoming increasingly more tired of this marketplace.

“Look, can we just get this over with please? Lower the knife and let us speak like adults. What do you want from me?”

“Not here…..there.” Came a low, eerie voice that sounded almost familiar. The figure, who Linhardt had correctly assumed was the one he had bumped into prior, motioned to an alley with a movement from his knife. The blade passed the mage’s face stretched ahead toward the darkness of the area that the figure wanted them to move to.

“Why? Afraid these people will hear you try and mug me?” Scoffed Linhardt. This earned a low snarl from the cloaked figure.

“Get moving.” “Okay, I will do as you ask, just remove the toy please, there is no need for such a drastic thing with a compliant victim.”

The pair found themselves alone in the depths of the alley, shaded and sheltered from the busy chatter of the common folk behind. The figure loomed tall over Linhardt, who in turn was no pipsqueak, and growled low once more. “Give me all of your money.”

“No.”

“I said, give me all of your money.” He repeated no less sternly.

“Why should I?”

“Do you not realise the dire weight of the situation you are in right now? Or the danger that will follow from your declining of my simple request?”

“Obviously not. Look, I am very tired, very busy and I would very much like to take my leave.”

The knife was reproduced and placed against the mage’s chest. Meanwhile, the figure was seemingly starting to lose his composure; Linhardt swore he could feel a sense of urgent desperation in his intonation.

“You are testing my patience. I need- Urk, I demand you hand over your gold.”

“What if I do not have a gold pouch on my person?”

“What noble would be without one in a busy market place?”

“Maybe I left mine at home, is it not rude to think all nobles of the same ilk?”

“I saw you purchase an item with the money from a pouch.” He let the tip of the knife gently lift up the flap of Linhardt’s satchel momentarily before replacing it at his collarbone.

“Did I? I think I would remember doing something like that.”

“You’re trying my patience.”

“And you are trying mine with this farce.”

The figure made a noise that sounded rather like a moan of sudden pain and clutched his free hand to his stomach.

“J-just give, urgh…Give me the money.” He hunched over slightly and moved the blade to the neck of the victim. “I-I need it.”

“I assure you, I do too. What reason do you have for wanting it so badly?”

“I….I-” The figure groaned as the knife blade wavered and a deep, gurgling, rumble came out from beneath the thick, black cloak.

There was a pause.

“Was…that your stomach?” Linhardt raised an eyebrow. He had seen the figure clutching at his midsection and previously assumed him to be hurt, incorrectly so. It appeared that after putting two and two together, the green haired researcher concluded that the man was very hungry.

“I see. You need the money for a decent meal don’t you?”

Taking a step back, the figure stuttered. “Y-you would do well to keep quiet if you know what’s good for you. You know nothing.” “I know that stomachs don’t tend to growl like that unless they are empty and in need of food.”

At his words, a similar groaning rumble could be heard, this time louder than before.

“Shut up!” Snarled the figure, his hand rubbing circles into his groaning belly.

“Are you talking to me or your stomach?”

Without warning, the man used some force to push the mage into the wall, knife to throat and hand against the stonewall, encompassing him to prevent any attempt at escape. From this angle, Linhardt could see the gaunt cheeks and dry lips of a malnourished man and he could smell him too. A foul mix of body odour and dirt, a scent accumulated no doubt by rough sleeping and lack of water to bathe in.

“Quickly, give me your money….before I….Starve…” The force of the knife loosened as the figure wobbled in place, his energy fading and his words trailing off softly. Seconds later, he had collapsed onto Linhardt and was now being held up with his head resting on the mage’s shoulder. “Oh dear, now what am I to do with-...” The crest researcher paused his words and gazed upon the face of the man who had held a knife to his throat. Blue eyes widened. With his hood no longer a cloak for his face, the mugger had been easily recognised as a man Linhardt once knew very well, a man who had betrayed he and his friends years ago, even going to war with them as enemies. This man had studied, ate and trained with Linhardt as a fellow mage until the day of his betrayal. This man was thought to have died on the battlefield years ago after losing a battle in the defence of the empress he once served as retainer.

“It simply cannot be….Hubert?”

Hubert awoke to the groaning of his hollow, empty belly and throbbing head, but more so to the delicious scent that wafted through the air and dared tantalise his starved being. He groaned, as he sat up from the bed he lay in. His tattered, filthy clothing had been removed from his torso so that only his legs and waist remained clothed. Confused, he chanced to look at his surroundings. He was in a small, cluttered bedroom turned study that looked at present to be more like a ransacked library flooded by books. It was a wonder that patches of wooden floor could still be seen. The room was lacking in furnishings and aside from the multitude of books, it contained only a bed, a desk and an assortment of bookshelves- currently half filled of course. The dark mage shook his head, where on earth was he? The last he remembered was threatening that irksome noble Linhardt for money and-

He blanched, his face whitening as he remembered nothing after that. He had quite clearly passed out from hunger. His belly panged and gave a vocal note of its displeasure with a short, saddened ‘gruuuglllllee.’ Hubert gently rubbed his naked belly soothingly as it vibrated onto his hand. It was cramping up, squeezing against itself and trying to digest something, all it got hold of was air. He felt sick. Nowadays, he always feels sick. Shaky, lightheaded and weaker than before, all symptoms of malnutrition. Remembering the smell of food as it reached his nostrils again, the vagabond stood with a shake and made his way towards the door with heavy steps. There was no point in staying alone in the room to waste away and his belly demanded that the delicious smell be identified.

He exited the room into a corridor and followed the scent to yet another room, this one contained a couple of sofas in a sort of lounge-like area and yet also had to one side, a full working kitchen. At the stove stood the man he had tried to mug what could have been a couple just a couple of hours ago.

“I see you are awake.” It was more of a factual observation than a question and the mage did not turn or falter in his actions, instead he just continued to cook.

“Go and take a bath. You stink and Frankly I will not stand for such rankness in my accommodation.”

“E-excuse me?” Offended, Hubert glared at Linhardt, his eyes wanting to bore holes in the back of his green head.

“You heard me, next door on the left. I have run a bath and set you out with more fitting clothes. At least I think they are fitting, I am not actually sure what size robes you wear, but with how much weight you have lost since I last saw you, they should fit fine. You are roughly around the same size as Ferdinand so I borrowed clothing from him at request. Also, if the clothes I picked out are not to your liking then you can go without. I haven’t the patience to pander to any fashion requests.”

“Are you mocking me? I tried to mug you mere hours ago.”

“No, I am strongly advising that you bathe because you smell. I am not mocking you, it is a fact. The longer you take to bathe, the longer it is before you eat. Your poor stomach dared not cease its growling the entire way back here. It rumbled dreadfully onto my back. Despite having the appearance of a skeletal mass, you certainly are not so light.”

“You carried me here?”

“I did.”

“....Thank you.” Hubert’s heart twinged. A mix of guilt and humiliation washed over him as he did as he was told, entered the bathroom and took a bath. The dirt came off in droves and soiled the clean water so much that when Linhardt came in to check on him, much to Hubert’s embarrassment, he had to resupply the bathing water and help to wash the older male’s hair.

“I can do this myself.”

“Not as well as I can Hubert, I want to make sure all of the cobwebs and ash and gods, whatever this stuff is, are out of your hair.” Linhardt grimaced, picking what looked like a dead beetle carcass out of the black strands. The vagabond’s stomach made ripples in the water as it groaned, the liquid doing nothing to muffle the sounds of the aching rumbles.

“Do excuse me. I am rather famished.”

“I am well aware. I assessed the damage for myself earlier.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well who do you think undressed you? That tummy of yours was gurgling up a storm so I used my ears and had a good, long listen to it. Doesn’t make for a comfy pillow but the vibrations do feel good on a weary head.”

“Gods…” Hubert’s face reddened more and more as Linhardt spoke and all he could do to hide his embarrassment was cover a hand to his mouth. The mage smirked in response. It was his own slice of payback for the attempted mugging.

After some complaining and sparse conversation, Hubert smelled fresh and was dressed in some of Ferdinand’s finery, a white, ruffled shirt and black trousers with black boots and a leather belt. Reluctantly.

“I cannot believe you took clothing from that imbecile. His taste always lacked.”

“Oh don’t complain Hubert, at least you have clothing. Take a seat at the table, the food should be just about done.” “Food?” Hubert’s mouth began to salivate and he found himself swallowing it back with an audible ‘Gulp.’ Doing as he was told, he immediately took a seat, secretly awash with shame over his own sudden obedience. Like a dog, he had been coerced to sitting on command at the thought of a tasty treat. Humiliating. But then he had gone without food for so long, living off the scraps provided by the people of the land and scurrying about, homeless like a rat in a sewer. A vagabond. A scavenger.

The black haired male snapped out of his thoughts when an extra large bowl of thickened stew was placed in front of him. His eyes widened. Linhardt took a seat opposite with a smaller bowl of the same stew for himself.

“This….Is for me?”

“No it’s for the fire, of course it’s for you.” Sarcastically Linhardt rolled his eyes before smiling back at his dinner companion. “Eat up, I do not go about making food for just anyone you know.”

“Why would you do this for me?”

“Because you are hungry and I was making myself lunch anyway.”

“I betrayed you all.”

“Bygones are an unnecessary worry.”

“I threatened you.”

“Like I said, bygones. Anyway, you did that all the time during our time as students, threatening us. All were as empty as your stomach by the way.”

“I-....Thank you.” He paused before continuing with a sigh. I am grateful. I fear I may have starved without you.” Hubert’s stomach welled up and roared impatiently earning a blush and a quelling rub from its master. “Quiet, you are to be fed shortly.”

Starting with light mouthfuls, Hubert tried his damndest to eat with decorum rather than let himself be seen scoffing mouthfuls like a greedy piglet. His stomach greedily accepted the first mouthful with an appreciative gurgle but then tensed up queasily. Hubert’s hand flew to his mouth in fear of the food he’d just swallowed coming back up, but luckily it stayed put within the confines of his starving belly.

“Oh my, are you quite alright?”

“I’m fine, my stomach isn’t used to food. It will take some getting used to.”

“I see, eat slower and take your time, it will ease your belly.”

“Urk, duly noted.” Blushed the dark mage.

Mouthful after mouthful passed Hubert’s lips and slowly began filtering into his stomach, which immediately began to attempt to digest its contents. Thick gravy with meat and vegetables began to fill his belly. It felt weird, like every piece of food within his gut could be identified and felt individually.

“There’s finally food in my stomach.” moaned the mage as he smiled for the first time in a while. “How does it feel?” “Hmmm…warm? Filling.” He continued to eat, his concave stomach beginning to stretch outwards with every few mouthfuls. More and more he ate until he was halfway done with his meal. His stomach protruded, pushing out his white shirt and straining against the belt at his waist. Secretly, the mage unfastened the belt and his belly jutted forward slightly, the curve less visible without its restrictions. Hubert sighed happily and continued. He was beginning to feel rather full it seemed.

Eventually, the bowl was empty and his stomach was full, sat rounded and tight like a rock at his abdomen. The dark mage pressed his belly with his hand and hiccuped; it was solid.

“Oh my…What a delectable meal. I feel….stuffed.” He moaned almost indecently, his manners and pride forgotten for the moment due to the lull of his overstuffed belly. It hurt wonderfully. Taking a gloved hand, Hubert patted the bulge under his shirt in contentment and belched softly, faintly behind his other hand.

“Excuse me.”

“Wow…” Linhardt was stunned. He hadn’t expected Hubert, who had been starved for so long, to be able to stomach so much in one go. The human stomach could not usually reach its previous maximum capacity after not having food for that amount of time. Then again, Linhardt had recalled seeing the dark mage positively stuffed after a celebratory banquet in the past (a feat that was very out of character for Hubert.)

“You look so much better filled out like that. Aren’t you glad it was me you decided to mug?”

“I am.” Chuckled the black haired male. “And I would do it again in a heartbeat to be where I am now.”

“How nice of you.” the mage rolled his eyes with a smile. “Now if you would be so kind as to fill me in on where you’ve been as payment for the meal?”

Hubert hiccuped again, his full belly bloating out against his diaphragm, making it spasm. He rubbed his belly in circles as it gurgled underhand, straining to digest its heavy load. The pain was disregarded as it came second to the happily stuffed feeling - Still maybe he should not have gorged himself the way he did.

“Gladly but, I should like to sleep after our conversation. I am full and rather tired.”

“Sure, as long as you do not go collapsing on me again, I cannot carry you to a bed with your newfound weight.”

“Very funny.”

#H/ubert #L/inhardt #Libbinfic #hungerfic #hunger mention #starvation #hunger #stomach growl #Fluff #Nausea #stuffing #fullness #full belly #belly kink

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