❝ It annoyed me that I could act like such a carefree child, and it made me want to lash out at the weeds, who knew nothing but to grow taller. I wanted to try to be a good girl.
coriolanus snow x fem!oc
academic rivals to lovers
She held him secretly, possessively, in her heart with such a strength of passion that at times it was hard to believe that he was a separate person with other concerns who knew and cared nothing about how she felt.
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Coriolanus was consumed by a seething anger that seemed to radiate from the depths of his being. It was a fiery rage that threatened to consume him whole, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes in its wake. He desperately tried to convince himself that this anger was solely directed towards the possibility of Tempest emerging victorious in the mentorship project, a thought that filled him with a bitter resentment.
But as much as he tried to deny it, deep down, Coriolanus knew the truth. It was not just the fear of Tempest's triumph that fueled his anger, but a festering jealousy that gnawed at his very core. It was a repulsive, unattractive emotion that permeated every single one of his thoughts, poisoning his mind and distorting his perception of the world around him.
Who was Reaper, a lowly boy from the district, to step onto the stage and express such kind words about a girl he hardly knew? How did he manage to gain the sympathy of the Capitol by reciting a poem? Did Tempest truly appreciate poetry, or did he invent that to win her over and steal her from Coriolanus?
He was trespassing on territory that was clearly marked. Tempest has always been the rightful possession of Coriolanus, and this fact has never changed.
Tempest was his.
She was his rival, constantly pushing him to be better. At times, she could be a thorn in his side, challenging his ideas and beliefs. But amidst the competition, she became his confidant, someone he could trust and share his deepest thoughts with. She was not just a friend, but a muse, inspiring him to create and explore new possibilities. She was the reason he looked forward to going to the academy every day. And above all, she was his girl, his Tempest, the one who stirred up a storm of emotions within him.
She was always his.
He was determined to get rid of anyone who dared to snatch that away from him. Filled with a repulsive envy, he managed to manipulate all the mentors into sending their remaining tributes after Reaper in the arena.
He posed Reaper as a threat—- one that their tributes would need to eliminate immediately should they want to win. He believed Reaper would be dead within the first day. Then Tempest could finally erase his existence from her memory and return to Coriolanus' clutches.
That was how it should've been anyway. It was law. It was life. So he didn't feel one ounce of regret in playing executioner should it mean that what was rightfully his had returned to him.
Throughout the long night that followed the interviews, he restlessly traversed the confines of his bedroom, his footsteps echoing in the silence. This continuous movement served as a cathartic release, granting him the freedom to delve into the depths of his thoughts and contemplate the myriad of possibilities that lay before him.
He desired to press her against the wall, not out of aggression, but out of a desperate need to connect with her on a primal level. His hands, though firm, would grip her neck gently, a paradoxical gesture that conveyed both power and tenderness. In that moment, he wanted to express himself in any way possible, to persuade her that she was his, and his alone.
His craving extended beyond mere physical possession. He yearned to hold her wrists delicately, his touch conveying not just ownership, but also a sense of safeguarding. With each gentle caress, he wanted to assure her that he would protect her, cherish her, and keep her safe from harm.
And it wasn't just his touch that he wanted to use to convey his feelings. With a soft voice, he longed to reassure her of her significance in his life. He would whisper the words "Mine, mine, mine" repeatedly, like a mantra, until she could sense it resonating deep within her soul. It was a declaration of his love, a way to imprint his devotion upon her heart.
In this moment, he wanted to transcend the boundaries of language and logic, to communicate his love and desire in a way that went beyond words. He wanted her to feel his passion, his intensity, and his unwavering commitment to her. It was a primal, raw expression of love, a desperate attempt to make her understand the depth of his feelings.
He desired to possess her.
His most prized possession.
With a violent thud, he slammed his forehead into the wall, desperate for a breath of air. The stifling heat in his room was unbearable, like being trapped in an inferno. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets, drenching his skin. Coriolanus desperately tried to rationalize it as a result of his raging teenage hormones, but the haunting memories of Tempest refused to release their grip on his mind.
She exuded the scent of sweet vanilla, constantly enveloping the air around her with its intoxicating aroma. It was as if a cloud of warmth and sweetness followed her wherever she went, leaving a trail of desire in its wake. Her hair, a cascade of luscious ringlets, framed her face in a way that seemed almost ethereal. Each curl seemed to have a life of its own, bouncing and swaying with every movement she made.
But it was her eyes that truly captivated Coriolanus. They were a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of hues, a blend of colors that seemed to defy any attempt at description. One moment they shimmered with the deepest shades of emerald green, reflecting a hidden depth that Coriolanus couldn't even fathom. The next, they transformed into a vibrant sapphire blue, sparkling with a mischievous glint that hinted at secrets yet to be discovered.
And then there were her lips, so supple and inviting. They held a natural allure, always on the verge of a smile or a smirk that could ensnare anyone's attention. Coriolanus found himself unable to tear his gaze away from those lips, their softness and subtle curve drawing him in like a moth to a flame. It was as if they possessed a magnetic pull, leaving him yearning for a taste of their sweetness.
Even her uniform, a simple garment that clung to her figure, seemed to enhance her allure. It accentuated her curves in all the right places, hinting at the hidden sensuality that lay beneath her composed exterior. The way it hugged her body, emphasizing her feminine grace, only added to the magnetic pull she had on Coriolanus.
In her presence, Coriolanus felt himself drawn into a world of enchantment. Every aspect of her being seemed to exude an irresistible charm, leaving him spellbound and unable to resist her allure. She was a captivating force, a symphony of scent, sight, and touch that left him longing for more.
