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lucysgraybird · 7 days ago

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this isnt funny im following u home

Corio with a reader that struggles with an ED? I’m going through recovery currently and would love a little comfort fic or even an angsty thing. If you are uncomfortable talking about this though please don’t feel pressured to write about it!! I totally understand boundaries and I would never want to push somebody into talking and or writing about something they are uncomfortable with 💙🪼

౨ৎ꣑ৎPerfection౨ৎ꣑ৎ

tw: eating disorder, body image/self worth issues PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS IS TRIGGERING I MEAN IT 🩷🩷🩷 fem reader x coriolanus snow anon, you sent this a long, long time ago lovey but I hope you're doing better and sending you much love on your journey 🩷🩷 thank you my darling @phantomamour for proofing <3

It was easy for Coriolanus to notice things about you since you were his whole world.

Every habit was familiar, every like and dislike logged in his memory. He didn't think of it as obsessive, more a natural progression that came along with love. It was something he'd learned. All his life he'd had to keep an eye on his circumstances for survival, but this time it was somehow natural. His guard was down. And still he noticed.

He noticed the way you'd hold your wrist when you were uncomfortable, the way your smile became secret when somebody said something you couldn't laugh at but wanted to. Capitol manners came naturally to you, but your little quirks were still his to observe. It was a secret code only he was privy to.

Your plate was half full still. You'd excused yourself a few minutes ago, making your way upstairs to prepare for bed, and he'd promised to join you after he finished. But this little detail was irking him. He stared at it until a servant took it away, causing him to focus back on his own food. It was true that you usually left a bite or two on your plate, but never this much.

Perhaps you weren't feeling well. You'd grown up similarly to himself in that you didn't like to waste food, even when you could afford it. It was something you'd confessed to him after marriage. Your family could hardly afford to put food on the table even now, which was one of the reasons they'd pushed you into Capitol society. Using their only daughter as a means to make money was low, but unfortunately not uncommon.

You were in the closet when he made his way to the bedroom, and when you emerged, his eyebrow lifted without him thinking. Your pajamas were in the pretty silk you favored, but they covered down to your ankles and wrists, hanging loose on your body. It wasn't that you didn't look pretty- he'd never thought that before. The room you both slept in had a tendency to get hot during the night no matter what the season was. He slept shirtless as a consequence, and your cute little lace edged silk sets and nightdresses were the highlight of his day.

He didn't comment until he was in bed, pulling the lightweight covers over his legs and reaching over to stroke your covered elbow. You were lying flat on your back, arms folded over your chest as you stared at the ceiling.

Coriolanus watched you for a moment, trying to detect reasoning. You were quiet, which wasn't unusual. The strange thing was that you weren't rolling over to snuggle into him, a habit you'd slowly adapted over a little under a year of marriage. Finally, he slid his arm under you, tapping your side with his thumb. You remained still.

"Are you cold?" he asked, breaking the silence. You pulled your sleeves over your hands, shaking your head. He stared at you for a moment, noticed you'd only pulled covers over your waist, not up to your chest like usual. Frowning, he brushed his fingers under your sleep shirt, just above the waist of your bottoms. Your skin was warm, too warm to be sleeping comfortably in his opinion.

"Goodnight," you said softly, turning on your side and closing your eyes. He settled next to you, arm still around your waist, a mass of tangled questions still sitting heavy in his head.

The occurrences became a pattern. He noticed your dresses never hit above your knees, that you spent far longer getting ready both for the day and for bed than before. Your plates remained half empty and you always sweat through your pajamas. Coriolanus inquired one day about your habits during the day while he was at work and discovered the long walks you went on like clockwork, how the only 'full' meal you took was dinner. According to his source, you'd been doing this for more than a month.

That night, he did more watching than eating, studying your every move with careful eyes. You were taking bites slowly, methodically. He lowered his eyes when you lifted yours, but you put your fork down, tilting your head. "Is something wrong?"

Coriolanus folded his arms on the table, looking pointedly at you. "Is the food to your liking?"

Your brow furrowed in that adorable way. If he was closer, he would reach out and thumb it smooth. "It's good."

He nodded once, tapping his finger on the table. "You haven't been eating."

Your eyes widened just slightly, and you looked back at your plate, setting your fork down. "The food is just fine."

"Is it?" He reached for your hand, grasping your fingers. "Sweetheart, if something's wrong-"

"No. Nothing's wrong," you promised, shaking your head to emphasize. "I'm fine. It's fine."

"You're going to starve to death, sweetheart," he said, lifting his chin. "If you're trying to be dainty-"

"Coryo," you interrupted again, sounding sharper. "I'm fine. I just-" you swallowed, meeting his eyes again. "I just want to lose a little weight. That's all."

He took in your thinning face, the way your cheeks were more sunken than he'd seen them before. The full effect of the littler changes over time was hitting him hard, and he could feel the emotion rising in his throat. "Darling-"

"Don't. Please." You stood abruptly, and he watched you take in a breath, swaying slightly.

Coriolanus stood too, crossing around the table. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm...I'm fine..." you muttered, holding onto the table. Your lashes fluttered, and he moved quickly, gathering you into his arms before you began to slump, his chest catching your cheek as you fell forward. "Mm."

"I've got you," he whispered, reaching down to scoop you up. As Coriolanus moved upstairs, he made plans in his head to call the doctor, figure out what could be done.

He'd spent so much of his life starving in every way and he'd thought it would be worth it if the ones he loved didn't have to. The mere idea of you taking such drastic measures to lose weight had him questioning everything.

Getting you situated in your bed, he phoned the doctor, hand clasped in yours. Coriolanus' heart was racing, and he tried to take deep breaths. It wouldn't do either of you any good if he fell off the deep end.

Once the doctor was informed, he was frozen sitting by your bed, trying to grasp the concept of your insecurity. His girl, his beautiful girl. It put a lump in his throat, and he tried to swallow the tears that threatened to rise. He'd be lying if he said he understood it.

Coriolanus had known hunger of all kinds, but what stood out in his mind were the pangs in his stomach, the way his mouth had watered when he'd seen the elaborate meals his classmates brought to school that his family couldn't afford. When he had food, he finished it, savored it, made it stretch so he could try to live off the memory until he could get more. Everyone had known the feeling of hunger during the war, and you were no exception. Your situation afterward had not been as extreme as his, but still.

Why would you revert back to those tendencies when you didn't have to? Why would you starve yourself, and as a result, starve him of you?

He was unable to tear his eyes away from you as you slept, tracing every contour of you with his eyes. The shadow of your eyelashes on your cheeks, the bony fingers of one hand folded into their palm, positioned above your head. Your breathing was soft, and had it not been for the fresh memory of what had happened earlier splattered across his mind like blood, he'd have thought you were at peace. You were angelic, the very picture of perfection.

Had he inadvertently made you feel this way? Coriolanus searched his memory for a cross word over your appearance and came up empty. You'd never given him a single thing to complain about- flawless in every possible way. However, he didn't know what may have seemed fine to him and rubbed you the wrong way. The question tortured him as he prepared for bed, carefully hanging up his shirt and folding his pants.

Draping one of your light nightdresses over his arm, he staggered to the bed where you still lay, sitting down carefully. Coriolanus tried not to wake you, but as he slowly worked your nearly shapeless dress up your body, you mumbled something, resisting him weakly as he discarded the garment.

"Shh," he soothed, slipping your nightdress over your head and laying you back down. "I know, I know. I've got you, sweetheart." You sniffled, curling into his body when he flattened himself on the mattress next to you. He relished the feeling of you lying back on his chest, something he'd gone far too long without.

Right now, he didn't want to think of what he'd do when you woke again. For now, it was enough to hold you, to know you were safe.

He rang for a plate of fruit, a few slices of bread and crackers. Something light on your stomach, technically nutritious. The hope was that you would eat it without struggle, but he was prepared to help you see reason.

The doctor came and went, leaving a string of instructions and advising Coriolanus to keep a close eye on you. That was the easy part. There wasn’t any way he was letting you out of his sight for the next while.

When you woke, he had the plate ready, setting it promptly on your lap. You sat up, looking down. “I don’t-” “Eat.” It wasn’t a question. Your lower lip began to tremble, and he thumbed the tear that trickled down your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You can do it. You don’t have to eat it all. Just eat something.”

Coriolanus watched, with bated breath, as you lifted a cracker to your mouth, looking as though you might cry again. But you took a little bite, then another, and he suppressed a sigh of relief. You ate a few crackers, then a strawberry, and he handed you the glass of water when you requested it once more.

“You scared me,” he whispered once you’d pushed the plate aside. Although you’d eaten much less than he’d hoped, it was still something.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, staring at your hands in your lap.

Coriolanus had a million questions he wanted to ask, but he held his tongue, trying to figure out how to phrase them. He must have waited too long, because you said, “I didn’t mean to make anyone worry.”

“Darling,” he whispered, lifting a hand to your cheek. “What happened?” He didn’t want to let on how much you had scared him, but it was nearly impossible. “I don’t know.” Your tone was frustrated, and you clenched one of your fists. “I just…I can’t stand how I look right now. I’ve gained so much weight in the past little bit and I don’t…I can’t…”

“Yes?”

Your eyes were filling with tears again. “I don’t feel pretty anymore.”

It was so unthinkable he could have laughed. Coriolanus only stared at you, hoping his expression didn’t make it seem like he thought it true. He shook his head, reaching for your hand. “Sweetheart-”

You buried your face in your hands, chest shaking as you cried. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do any of it.”

When he reached for you, you complied, leaning into his chest. He ignored how scarily thin you felt, holding you tight to him. Coriolanus’ nose hid in the top of your head, and he smoothed his hand down your hair. You stayed like that for a long while, the sun streaming through the curtains and promising the hope of a new day.

“If you knew how beautiful you are,” he whispered, starting to rock back and forth, still holding you, “How beautiful you’ve always been…”

“It feels awful,” you choked, trembling in his arms. “What I’ve been doing. I don’t want to do it anymore but I can’t stop.”

“I won’t let you suffer anymore,” he vowed, smoothing your hair. “We’re going to get you help.” You only nodded into his chest as you slowly grew tired again from your efforts. It was only once you were fast asleep on him that he let his own tears fall.

You were his light, his only true love. It broke what was left of his heart to know you felt this way about yourself. He was the thorn to your rose, and if the petals wilted, the whole flower began to die.

Coriolanus held you tighter at the thought. He wouldn’t lose you if it was the last thing he did. Hunger had nearly taken everything from him in the course of his life. It would not take you too.

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