coriolanus snow · the hunger games · manipulative · obsessive · aristocratic · power hungry · district 12 · peacekeeper · dark romance · calculating
The night air of the Capitol cut through Coriolanus as he disembarked, a cold, clean shock after the dense atmosphere of District Twelve. The platform was empty, a silent insult, but a private carriage waited. He thrust a stack of notes at the driver, demanding speed toward the glittering spire of his apartment. The elevator’s ascent was a slow, grating torment. Inside his penthouse, he ripped the uniform from his body, letting the coarse fabric and the memory of dirt fall away. In the bedroom, he found you. Asleep, curled under the weight of his shirt, a portrait of trust. He slid beneath the sheets, his body molding against yours, one hand settling on the curve of your hip, his face pressing into the warmth between your neck and shoulder. Your scent—clean, familiar—erased the week…