Coriolanus Snow Shirt Novels & Stories

“Now take off your armor, big man. Metal steals heat.” They stripped. Not out of lust, but out of desperate, primal survival. They left their wet and freezing under-tunics on, and huddled together under the pile of furs and cloaks. It was awkward at first. Kornel was stiff, conscious of the assassin pressed against him. But the cold was a cruel master. He had to wrap his arms around her. He had to pull her back against his chest, tangling their legs together to share every scrap of warmth.

Slowly, we emerged from the cave into the chilly evening air, light snow flickered around us, it was the first snow of the year. On noticing how I shivered, Soren threw his coat over me. “Aren't you cold too?” I asked, about to hand him back the coat when I saw that he was just wearing a black tight polo underneath. He shook his head. “Thank you sweetie, I appreciate, I am warm enough already, alpha genes” My cheeks turned red when I remembered. “Oh” I tightened the coat around me, following them into the pack hall. Immediately we walked into the pack hall, I noticed the small crowd that was gathered around, Indeed, Soren was right… a drama was about to unfold.

Through the burning gap, the freezing mountain storm howled into the base, carrying the stench of wet fur, cheap gasoline, and fresh blood. "Form a line on the secondary barricade!" Korr roared. His voice was a blunt instrument over the blare of the klaxons. He stood behind a crushed concrete barrier, his rifle tucked into his shoulder, firing steady, rhythmic bursts into the blinding white snow outside. "Tyson! Get those heavy shields up! Don't let them split the center!" "I'm on it, Commander!" Tyson shouted back. The massive Nullifier lunged forward, slamming a six-foot steel riot shield into the debris, his heavy boots skidding through the frozen slush.

But he didn't say anything, at least not right away. "No, you're not." "Clothes," Corwin finally said, holding out the pile to me. "Figured you'd need something less..." he gestured vaguely to the oversized shirt hanging off my frame and the dangerously short shorts. "Scandelous." Oh. I blinked, trying my best to piece the rest of my composure back together. "I didn't choose this wardrobe, Corwin." "I know. Got these from Brant’s old storage. Nothing really fancy, so it is just the basic stuff. Joggers, shirts, a hoodie. This is way better than making the ladies in the pack lose their mind."

The officer's mouth opened and closed like a fish before he walked away and radioed in to dispatch. I walked back to the room with Rebecca and baby Johnathan and made a call to my command center. “ Yes, this is SMSGT Snow, I need an immediate evac. on Rebecca Lorane Robins and Johnathan Anthony Robins. I also need an MPS to go to the house and grab all the necessary items, clothing, food, etc. for both baby and mom, I need protective custody with them at all times. Yes. Right, that is correct. I need MPs to take a military coroner to the house as well. We have a fallen commarad…

When he returned victorious, while his comrades drank and celebrated around a bonfire in the snow, he would retreat to his tent and gather his woman in his arms, sharing in endless tenderness. She would warm him a pot of wine, whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and he would wrap his fox-fur cloak over her delicate shoulders... Aron’s gaze landed on Rachel’s shoulder. There was no fur cloak, only the worn collar of her shirt—frayed and pitiful. “You don’t have other clothes?” Rachel froze, then looked up, her cheeks flushing red. She reached for her neck, as if to hide it with her hair, but her hair was too short—it couldn’t cover that shabby collar.

His golden curls fell loosely over his forehead, and he was dressed simply in a maroon play shirt, sweatpants, and white clogs that crunched softly against the snow. I forced a small smile as I took the coat. “Happy New Year to you too.” I slipped it on over my leather jacket. “Thank you, Julius,” I said, meeting his gaze. “That was very thoughtful of you. Now I see where Alfredo gets it from.” He chuckled, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Do you mind if I sit?” “Of course not.” He sat beside me, leaving a respectful distance between us. For a while, we said nothing, just watched the fireworks. Alfredo ran around in the snow nearby, laughing and playing with his new toys.

Every piece named after something meaningful: “Liora Dress,” flowing, soft, in sage and oatmeal. “Elara Top,” simple, elegant, with subtle embroidery. “Marcus Jacket,” tailored, strong, with hidden pockets for secrets. “Lucy Shawl,” warm, knitted texture, timeless. And at the top: “Proceeds support the Lior Foundation, families healing from abuse, separation, and trauma.” Sloane looked up, met Ophelia’s eyes.

"If you are sensitive to the cold, do not stand out here in the snow. Get in the snowcrawler." A man sat inside a snowcrawler, dressed in a bluish-gray robe. His features bore a striking resemblance to Isolde's, as though they had been shaped from the same mold.

When I get downstairs, I find the men waiting near the entrance. “You said ‘get ready, but how is this getting ready?” Moran teases. I glare at him. “Not everyone is used to wearing a shirt and not feeling cold,” I grumble, shoving my hands inside my hoodie’s pockets. The pair of black jeans I have teamed with it will keep my legs from going numb and my boots are good to ward off cold. I have another sweater inside because Ruelle is being an ass once again. How did I land a wolf counterpart like her? Why?