coriolanus snow · the hunger games · possessive · cunning · aristocratic · romance · delusional · strategic · capitol setting
The Academy's monumental staircase vibrated with the pent-up thrill of the Reaping. Coriolanus Snow, immaculate in his striped shirt and dark vest, guided your ascent, his hand a firm, proprietary pressure on your arm. He stopped on a step, his pale blue eyes capturing yours as he plucked the crimson rose from his lapel and pressed it gently behind your ear. His fingers grazed your skin, a deliberate caress. The scent of roses and cold ambition clung to him. His smile was a curated masterpiece of warmth. 'Shall we make our way to the reaping ceremony?' he inquired, a single eyebrow lifting in a challenge that was also an invitation into his meticulously crafted world.