nishimura-writes

[nishimura-writes]

it lowkey pisses me off when people say Snow hates Katniss just because she reminds him of Lucy Gray

cause like.. no. he hates her because everything she does is a painful reminder that he had a choice.

when she pulled out those berries, he hated that she would rather die with Peeta than leave him behind for a life of glory and wealth.

whilst he was prepared to kill Lucy Gray for the same result.

when she volunteered in her sisters place at the reaping, he hated that she would rather die than leave her sister behind.

because he’d never do the same for Tigris, even though he arguably “owed” Tigris more than Katniss did Primrose.

when she stepped in to stop commander Thread during Gale’s whipping, he hated that she would rather put herself in the crossfire than let him die.

because he had every opportunity to, but he would never do the same for Sejanus. instead he sent him to his grave.

throughout the entire book Snow keeps choosing money and power over love, and throughout the entire book he tries to gaslight himself into thinking he didn’t have a choice.

Katniss’s actions to some extent forced him to confront his own choices. they forced him to realise that if he hadn’t acted the way he did, he could’ve still had the people he loved by his side.

then there’s the obvious thing with her you know, making the gamemakers and the regime look stupid and well, becoming the unwilling symbol of a rebellion but shh

thank you for coming to my TED talk pookies

[nishimura-writes]

FINALS finished! part 5 soon

[nishimura-writes]

finals is taking longer than it should IM SO SORRY

[nishimura-writes]

Fanfics that I recommend: Tom Riddle

Just a reminder: I do not own any of these fanfics. All credits go to their respective authors. I simply wish to share them so that these fantastic works can receive all the love and appreciation they deserve!

T.R x OC fanfic Series: by: Not Enough Answers "An ordinary witch stumbles upon a Time-Turner and sends herself seventy years into the past. But will she return completely unchanged?" An Exquisite Pain Dancing With Time The Fate's Illusion (Will update soon!)

[nishimura-writes]

my goal is to one day make readers feel loved the same way i felt with la la land

[nishimura-writes]

thinking about making a tom riddle and coriolanus oneshots fic on here or wattpad (maybe during break)

[nishimura-writes]

Coriolanus x Reader

Echoes of Fate: PART 4

Paring: Coriolanus x Reader

Warning: Slow burn... REALLY SLOW BURN

Summary: In a surprising turn of events, you find yourself teamed up with Coriolanus Snow as a mentor for Lucy Gray. Although you seek change, your immediate task is to ensure her victory. As you and Snow strive for Lucy's safety, you both embark on a journey of understanding each other, for better or worse…

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

The L/N clan's residence radiated with a festive aura, bathed in a celebratory glow. Laughter and a vivid array of colours filled the air, creating a lively mosaic. The room buzzed with high-spirited energy as guests mingled in a jubilant dance of celebration. Under the gentle embrace of the bright lights, well-dressed elites added to the vibrant tapestry. Men in sharp, tailored blazers and women in flowing silks moved gracefully, their attire shimmering like jewels against the backdrop of the daylight.

These figures of elegance stood in stark contrast to your own attire – a uniform from the Academy, now dust-covered and wrinkled from the day's endeavours.

There, at the heart of the celebration, stood your family, always the flawless hosts. They raised their glasses, toasting to the Capitol's latest victories. Watching this scene of splendour, you felt a wave of disgust rise within you. It was a quiet rebellion, a silent scream against the extravagant merriment that seemed so detached from the stark realities that you know.

As you approach, the guards open the doors, revealing the elegant interior of your family's residence.

Immediately, you're greeted by the grandeur of the foyer. Overhead, chandeliers hang like clusters of stars, casting a warm, inviting glow. The pillars that support the high ceiling are majestic, each one intricately carved and holding up the sparkling lights.

Walking through the hallway, lined with portraits of ancestors, your eyes are drawn to one painting in particular. It stands out with its vivid colours and the lifelike depiction of a familiar face from your family's history.

A portrait capturing your uncle, President Ravinstill, and your mother draws your gaze, their painted eyes following your every move. Their painted eyes seem to follow you, compelling you to pause and look up. 

Just then, you hear the familiar sound of footsteps approaching – heavy, decisive steps that break the hushed silence of the corridor.

“(Y/N), my dear,” comes the voice you recognize instantly. 

Turning, you see your father, a lit cigar clamped between his lips. Despite your mother’s repeated pleas for him to give up his cigars, he never does.

“Father,” you greet him, a note of surprise in your voice. “Aren’t you supposed to be at mother's gathering?”

With an amused shake of his head, your father steps toward you, his gaze briefly caught by the portrait as well. He seems to dismiss your earlier question, focusing instead on a different topic.

“That Coriolanus Snow, the son of Crassus?” he asks, removing the cigar from his mouth to speak more clearly.

 “I’m not entirely sure,” you reply, your curiosity piqued as you tilt your head slightly. “Do you know him?” 

“Only by reputation. His father and I were business associates; our paths crossed often in those days. A pity about his death,” he muses, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “The Snow family, they’ve always been known for their intellect.”

"I could tell that much," you respond, absently scratching your nose, a gesture betraying your mild dissatisfaction. 

“Do you think your partnership with him in the games will go smoothly?” he inquires, his tone making you feel somewhat belittled. “I saw him on the news with your tribute. The songbird, they called her.” 

“I hope it does. He seems calculated, always strategizing,” you reply, noticing a flicker of amusement in your father’s eyes at your observation.

 “Well then,” he says, casually strolling towards the bar area to your right, at the end of the hallway. “It seems the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Abruptly, the doors swung open, and your mother burst into the room, a ray of sunshine personified, her energy instantly brightening the space. She was dressed in a flowing gown of bright purple that almost dazzled the eyes, yet the intricate designs on the fabric perfectly complemented the bold colour. The hues and patterns accentuated her features, making her stand out like a true gem of the Capitol.

Spotting the two of you, she exclaimed with infectious enthusiasm, “Oh, my dear (Y/N)!” 

Without a moment's hesitation, she wrapped you in a warm, exuberant hug. As she drew close, the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, but it was clear she was still very much sober.

Your grin broadens into a chuckle as your mother finally releases you from the hug, though her hands linger on your shoulders. 

“It was alright,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug, finding it the simplest way to sum up the experience. 

In the background, the unmistakable sound of whiskey being poured echoes from the bar where your father stands.

 “Just alright!” she exclaims with a playful pout. “Oh dear, I thought I taught you to be more expressive than that.” 

You can't help but snicker.  “You did, Mother, and I’m thankful for it. But really, it was just... alright.”

Changing the subject, she asks, “And how is that boy, Coriolanus, was it?”

From across the room, your father chimes in, “Snow’s boy.”

Internally, you roll your eyes. Back to this topic again. It seems that since you seldom speak to anyone other than Senjaus, your parents are eager for you to forge more connections within high society.

"Snow's boy, yes!" she responds, her voice bubbling with cheerfulness. "Is he kind to you?" 

As you make your way to the sofa and settle down, you're within earshot of your father, who's still by the bar. "He's alright, I suppose. Not as approachable as Sejanus, though." 

Meanwhile, your mother, still lively in her conversation, gracefully moves to join your father at the bar. She casually takes his glass and sips from it. He gives her a look that's part amusement, part annoyance. 

"He's a bit of an enigma," you continue, capturing their attention. "One moment, he's all charm and grace, and the next, he's distant, almost cold. It's hard to figure him out." Your words tumble out in a ramble. 

Sinking back into the sofa, you lounge comfortably, unconcerned about formalities. This is, after all, your home, your sanctuary.

"You've only just met him, haven't you? Give the boy a chance," Your father leans over to take a sip from the glass still firmly held by your mother, offering his advice with a tone of experience. She playfully refuses to let go, adding a touch of humour to the moment.

 Laughing, she adds, “Your father's right. He was quite the reserved one when we first met. Look at us now!” Her voice is bright, filled with mirth. 

You gaze up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Maybe there's a way to use Snow's position to your advantage, possibly to ease the harsh treatments of the tributes. 

“I’ll give him a chance,” you murmur, more to yourself than to them. 

The sound of the glass being set down breaks your reverie, though you’re not sure who did it. 

“Wonderful! Maybe we should invite him over one day. It'd be delightful to meet such a reputedly charming young man,” your mother exclaims, clearly excited by the idea. 

Your father snorts in amusement. “As if she'd want that. She doesn’t seem too fond of him.” 

“Clearly,” you echo dryly. But then, considering your mother’s suggestion, you add, “It might not be a bad idea. It could help me understand him better. He’s as guarded as a fortress – doesn't reveal much about himself.”

 “There’s the spirit! A green light from our very own general, our daughter, (Y/N),” she says, her words tinged with her smooth Capitol accent.

 Rising from her seat, she concludes, “I must return to our guests now, my dears. We’ll talk more about this later.”

You give your mother a lazy wave from the sofa, sprawled out like a ragdoll in the plush cushions. 

Moments later, you sense the sofa dip slightly as your father takes a seat at the other end. 

"Building connections isn't all bad, you know. Just be cautious," he advises in a low, thoughtful tone. "Watch your back and choose your allies wisely. But ruffle the wrong feathers, and you could find yourself in trouble." 

His words echo in your mind, urging you to ponder their weight. He might have a point. Is that the scent of change in the air, or just the lingering aroma of your father’s strong whiskey? 

A gentle kiss on your forehead from your father pulls you from your thoughts. You glance up briefly as he stands and walks away, his footsteps echoing softly into the distance.

As the day fades to night, you're left with a quiet hope, a yearning for a brighter tomorrow.

PART 3 II MASTERLIST II PART 5 (SOON)

[nishimura-writes]

i was going to learn 12 languages, read 250 books and learn 75 new skills this year what happened

[nishimura-writes]

brb for 2 weeks it’s finals 😓😓😓😓

[nishimura-writes]

They need to stop making the villains so fine

[nishimura-writes]

Coriolanus x Reader

Echoes of Fate: PART 3

Paring: Coriolanus x Reader

Warning: Slow burn... REALLY SLOW BURN

Summary: In a surprising turn of events, you find yourself teamed up with Coriolanus Snow as a mentor for Lucy Gray. Although you seek change, your immediate task is to ensure her victory. As you and Snow strive for Lucy's safety, you both embark on a journey of understanding each other, for better or worse…

WORD COUNT: 1.5k

You burst through the doors of the academy, your loafers echoing against the stark, silent hallways with each hurried step. The corridors, usually bustling with the chatter and energy of students, now lay eerily deserted, their usual vibrancy drained away as if in anticipation of some unspeakable event. Shadows cling to the corners, deepened by the feeble light filtering in from high, narrow windows.

A single nagging thought claws at your mind: 'Could they have arrested Coriolanus Snow?' The walls themselves seem to hold their breath, echoing the tension tightening in your chest.

You quicken your pace down the corridor, feeling the silence around you deepen, almost as if it's pressing in from all sides. Ahead, the registrar's desk stands out, an isolated beacon in a sea of quiet. Above, a clock marches time onward, each tick echoing unsettlingly in the hollow space. Drawing nearer to the glass barrier, a tangle of hope and unease grips you, the pulse of uncertainty heavy in the air.

“Excuse me?" Your voice, tinged with urgency, barely pierces the silence as you lean towards the glass.

Peering over, you spot an older woman in a crisp grey uniform, her pencil skirt and matching coat forming a sharp silhouette against the backdrop of scattered papers. You tap the glass more insistently. 

She glances up, her annoyance palpable. Slowly rising, she arches an eyebrow, her lips pressing into a tight line that deepens the wrinkles around her mouth. 

"What is it?" she inquires, her tone flat and uninterested, as if your presence is barely more than a minor disturbance in her orderly world.

"Is Coriolanus Snow here, by any chance?" you ask, each word heavy with worry.

 The woman responds with a languid sigh, easing back into her chair with deliberate slowness, her disinterest palpable as she inches toward the computer.

 "And how would you spell that?" Her voice is as dry as the papers on her desk. 

"Corio-la-nus," you spell out with a hint of desperation creeping into your tone. "Coriolanus. C-O-R-I-O-L-A-N-U-S. Snow."

Leaning against the glass, the relentless ticking of the clock infiltrates your thoughts. Tick, tick, tick. Each sound seems to amplify your growing unease.

Meanwhile, she languidly navigates the computer, seemingly unaffected by your mounting anxiety.

 "Any news?" you ask, your voice barely concealing the worry.

 She turns, her gaze flat and unyielding. "Don't rush me. If you're here to find him, then wait quietly over there," she says, nodding dismissively towards the wall opposite her desk.

Biting back a retort, you force yourself to comply, your steps heavy as you move towards the wall. There, you rest your back against the cool surface, its firmness a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts. All the while, the clock's ticking swells to a thunderous roar, mirroring the tumult inside you.

Why are you worried about Snow? You've never particularly liked him. Yet, the image of Sejanus, anxious and troubled, lingers in your mind, stubbornly persistent. And what about Snow's family? The possibility that they might hold you responsible for not preventing him from taking that risk sends a shiver down your spine. Perhaps encouraging him to lead wasn't the wisest decision.

Your breaths come in short, ragged gasps, each one slicing through the thickening air. The walls seem to pulse and constrict around you, embodying the relentless grip of guilt and anxiety. Every heartbeat echoes loudly, a drumbeat in the claustrophobic silence of your own mind.

Half an hour, maybe more, drags by, each minute an agonising eternity. A nagging thought itches at your mind: Is she stalling on purpose? Exhaustion claims your legs, leaving you sitting on the cold floor, shrouded in worry.

 But then, a sudden surge of frustration and anxiety propelled you to your feet. You were teetering on the edge, ready to confront the woman, when a sound arrested your attention. 

Footsteps – hurried, echoing – were approaching from the far end of the hall. Driven by a mix of hope and dread, you found yourself moving towards the noise almost instinctively, as if on autopilot. Your anxiety morphed into a throbbing headache, each step fueled by the desperate need for any shred of news.

The first thing you saw was the familiar shock of blonde hair.

 Every fibre of your being screamed to smack him for the turmoil he'd caused, but instead, you found yourself locked in a stare. His eyes met yours, and in that moment, the world seemed to pause, your gazes intertwined. 

"I can explain," Coriolanus started, his voice barely a whisper, but you cut him off, enveloping him in a sudden, tight hug. 

You felt him tense at the unexpected contact. His eyes widened in surprise, unprepared for this show of emotion. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen, before his arms, moving with hesitant awkwardness, wrapped around you, returning the embrace in a clumsy, yet earnest manner.

Abruptly, you release him and jab his upper arm, your actions a tangle of relief and frustration. He winces and steps back, a flash of surprise in his eyes.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was, Snow? We’re supposed to be a team," you exclaimed, your voice rising with each word. "It feels like you're abandoning our promise, which, by the way, includes not getting yourself hurt. Think about your family, Sejanus, and mine!" 

He remained silent, absorbing your words, his expression sombre. 

"And what if they had hurt you? You're a prime target, straight from the Capitol. They could have beaten you—" Your voice breaks, tears escaping despite your efforts to hold them back, overwhelmed by a tide of fear and relief.

At that, he stepped closer, his demeanour shifting to one of comfort.

"They didn't. I'm fine. You're fine. We're okay," he said, his voice soft, soothing. Gently, he lifted your chin with his finger, his gaze meeting your tear-glistened eyes.

Your eyes locked with his, a silent conversation passing between you in that brief glance. Taking a step back, you brushed away the tears, using the cuff of your sleeve in a feeble attempt to regain composure.

"Why did you come back to the academy?" you asked, your voice tinged with confusion and concern.

He looked down, a hint of regret shadowing his features. "I got caught, Flickerman saw me in the cage." he admitted, his voice low.

The revelation drew a sigh from you.

"I need to go to the lab, to explain myself," he continued, his eyes cautiously meeting yours again, searching for understanding. "But you should know, everything I did, it was for her, for us. I think she has the potential to really win the audience over."

You remained still, his words sinking in, stirring a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions within you.

"Will you join me?" he asks, his voice laced with a subtle hope.

His invitation hangs in the air, his eyes earnest, waiting for your reply. 

As you lock eyes with him, an unexpected warmth blossoms inside you. His gaze holds a depth that seems to see right through you, touching a place deep within. It's bewildering – this sudden, intense connection, so new and yet so familiar, like a forgotten melody rediscovered.

Silently, you place your hand in his, letting this simple gesture convey your answer. 

Side by side, you start walking towards the high biology lab. Your arms are interlocked, each step in sync, creating a rhythm of unspoken understanding.

"Listen, Snow,” You pause, “I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have raised my voice," you say, a hint of regret colouring your words as you follow his lead. 

He gives a soft, understanding sigh, pausing momentarily.

"It's okay, really. I understand why you were upset." He looks at you, his eyes reflecting sincerity. "I owe you an apology as well. I acted impulsively. I should have let you in on my plans." 

As he resumes walking, his lips press together in a thoughtful line, a subtle shift in his demeanour suggesting a lowering of his usual defences. 

Every so often, he casts a brief glance back at you. 

"We both made mistakes. But that's okay. We'll learn from this and move forward, together as partners."

You both come to a stop at the door. As you gently withdraw your arm from his, he surprises you by taking your hand instead.

"I need you to leave this to me," he says softly, yet firmly. "This is my issue to handle, not yours. It shouldn't become your burden."

You open your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off.

"(Y/N), trust me. It's better if your parents don't get wind of you being mixed up in this. Stepping in there with me will only make the situation more complicated for you."

Meeting his gaze, you lose yourself momentarily in the depth of his oceanic blue eyes. Collecting your thoughts, you give a tentative nod.

“But are you going to be okay?” you ask, worry lacing your voice.

The question seems to touch him unexpectedly, a flicker of surprise lighting up his eyes. It's a rare glimpse of vulnerability that he quickly masks with a composed smile.

"Of course," he responds with a soft chuckle, the sound more comforting than you'd expect. 

"Don't worry, I’ll see you tomorrow." he assures you and lifts the hand he's been holding and gently presses a kiss to it. 

You blink, and just like that, he's gone, leaving you standing there, a whirlpool of emotions and unanswered questions swirling inside you.

PART 2 II MASTERLIST II PART 4

[nishimura-writes]

Coriolanus x Reader

Echoes of Fate: PART 2

Paring: Coriolanus x Reader

Warning: Slow burn... REALLY SLOW BURN

Summary: In a surprising turn of events, you find yourself teamed up with Coriolanus Snow as a mentor for Lucy Gray. Although you seek change, your immediate task is to ensure her victory. As you and Snow strive for Lucy's safety, you both embark on a journey of understanding each other, for better or worse…

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

Two sweltering days have lingered since the grim spectacle of the Reaping. The city lies trapped under a stifling heatwave, the oppressive air thick with tension. As the first light of dawn breaks on the horizon, you and Coriolanus Snow stand together, a duo on the expansive, nearly deserted platform of the train station. An air of anxious anticipation hung between you, punctuated by the shimmering heat haze rising from the tracks below.

The only scrap of information you had managed to gather came from Coriolanus' downstairs neighbour, Remus Dolittle, a Gamemaker-in-Training: the train was expected to arrive on Wednesday.

There was a possibility of seeking more details through the Academy, but the etiquette of greeting the train was murky. No guidelines were provided, and as the hours ticked by without the sight of any other mentors, a sense of unease crept over you.

As the morning wears on, boredom starts to gnaw at you. You sat nonchalantly on the platform, uncaring about the dust smudging your uniform. "I'm starting to doubt the train will turn up," you mused aloud, shifting your weight from side to side.

Coriolanus, his brow furrowed in a mix of annoyance and determination, responds firmly.

“Giving up isn't an option. She's relying on us. We’re her mentors. She'll be here, eventually."

His optimism catches you off guard. 

"Staying cool under pressure, eh Coriolanus?" you quip, though a part of you questions his actual intentions.

As you watch Snow, a realisation gently settles in your mind. His actions, you surmised, might be less about altruism and more about gaining personal glory and bolstering his reputation. This wasn't unusual among your peers, so part of you understood his motives. Your understanding of Snow had gradually deepened, especially after discussing him with Senjaus, helping to paint a clearer picture of the man since your first encounter at the reaping.

Catching your gaze, Snow's brow furrows slightly, a silent question in his eyes. You knew that beneath this momentary perplexity was a sharp and calculating mind, capable of deciphering subtleties and unspoken cues. You decide to let him ponder, confident that he could navigate the undercurrents of your unvoiced thoughts.

Your banter with Coriolanus came to an abrupt halt as you stood up and leaned precariously over the tracks, straining your eyes for any sign of the train. In that perilous moment, your balance faltered, threatening to send you tumbling. Quick as a flash, Coriolanus reacted, his firm grip encircling your arm and yanking you back to the safety of the platform. 

If it weren’t for Snow's timely intervention, your natural clumsiness would have had the last laugh. Luckily, he was right there behind you, his arms unexpectedly breaking your fall.

Though his touch brought a sense of safety, it also stirred an awkward tension. Each time your skin brushed against his, it felt less like an accident and more like a sly strategy to close the distance between you. 

This sparked a flicker of annoyance within you, especially as memories of your last encounter, at the Reaping, surfaced. Back then, you were exposed, vulnerable, and his presence now seemed to pry open that old wound, leaving you raw and exposed once more. 

Murmuring a brief thanks, you quickly regained your footing, eager to put some distance between you and Snow.

Suddenly, a train's whistle cut through the quiet, growing louder as it neared. It echoed through the tunnel, a sharp, clear sound that announced its arrival. The train rushes into the station, its brakes squealing as it slows to a jarring stop. It was a small train, just an engine and a couple of cars, but it loomed large, a reminder of the journey that lay ahead. 

Coriolanus starts moving towards the train cars, prompting you to reach out. A sense of weariness washes over you – everything feels more prolonged and taxing than it should be. Usually, it's Snow who's at the helm, dictating the next move, not exactly keen on team efforts. You're struck by the need for clarity in this moment, to avoid any potential mix-up.

He turns, his face etching confusion. Sensing the need for a quieter conversation amidst the surrounding din, you subtly motion for him to come closer, allowing for words to be exchanged without the need to shout.

“Snow, you should lead. She might find your approach more trustworthy.” 

Inside, though, a ripple of distaste lurks beneath your calm exterior. Watching Snow's intense focus on the screen during the Reaping uncomfortably reminded you of a child's greedy gaze upon sweets. Deciphering his thoughts is like navigating a maze.

Nonetheless, your suggestion seems to touch something in him, perhaps flattering his ego. You don't show it, but the idea irks you. Yet, if it helps him connect with Lucy Gray, you're willing to overlook it. 

Snow contemplates for a moment before replying with a hint of formality, ”Isn't it better for you to talk to her, woman to woman? Strangely enough, you two could establish a stronger bond.” 

You respond with a simple shake of your head, your expression carefully neutral, masking the undercurrent of irritation inside. Didn’t he want the glory for himself? Strange man. 

You watch him closely before finally speaking, "I've noticed the way you look at her. It simply makes more sense for you to have a conversation with her – you seem to understand her in a way I don't.”

He pauses, mulling it over. You ease your grip on his arm as he makes up his mind.

“Right,”' he says, a note of urgency in his voice, “Quickly.”

You and Coriolanus walk towards the train cars, scanning for any sign of Lucy Gray. But Snow soon realises the cars have no windows – they're meant for cargo, not people. Heavy chains and padlocks secure their contents.

 A sigh escapes you. 'Wrong train,' you think, ready to give up.

But then a human cry echoes from a cargo car, freezing Snow in his tracks. He heads towards the sound, and a knot forms in your stomach, hoping it's not Lucy Gray. 

The Peacekeeper takes his time reaching the car, flipping through his keys. He unlocks the padlock, and the chains fall with a clank. He slides the heavy door open, revealing the car's interior. 

It looks empty at first, but then he bangs his baton against the frame, shouting, 

“All right, let’s move!”

Tributes shuffle out, but Lucy Gray isn’t among them. A tall boy with dark skin and patched clothes appears first, followed by a thin girl with a cough. Both are barefoot and handcuffed. They sit on the car's edge before jumping down awkwardly. A small girl in a striped dress hesitates at the door.

 The Peacekeeper yanks her down, and she lands hard. Then, a young boy follows, hauled out roughly by the Peacekeeper. 

Your heart aches for them – they look scared, tired, some even angry. They're treated like livestock, and you wonder if they've even been fed properly.

 The Peacekeeper moves to the second car. When the door opens, Jessup, the male tribute from District 12, steps out, squinting in the light. Coriolanus perks up, straightening his uniform and gripping his rose. You're close enough to see sweat on his neck. 

'This must be it,' you think. 

Then Lucy Gray steps out, her eyes adjusting to the light. Jessup helps her down gracefully, and she pauses to soak in the sunlight, combing her fingers through her hair.

Watching Snow, it's as if the world pauses for him. He's spellbound, like those old stories of love at first sight. It feels surreal, a rare moment of connection that seems so far from your own experiences. 

As the moment passes, you nudge Snow forward. He approaches Lucy Gray, an offering of a rose in his hand, his nod a subtle dance of formality and intrigue.

“Welcome to the Capitol,” he said. His voice was slightly gravelly. You choose to stay silent, letting him do the talking.

She came forward and took a petal from his hand. 

“When I was little, they used to bathe me in buttermilk and rose petals,” she said in a manner that, despite the unlikeliness of her claim, seemed totally believable. She ran her thumb over the glossy, white surface and slipped the petal into her mouth, closing her eyes to savour the flavour. “Tastes like bedtime.”

You watch her, intrigued and slightly puzzled. She's a mystery, an enigma. You take a moment to really see her, beyond the Capitol's broadcast version. Without the layers of makeup, she looks much younger, more vulnerable. The bruise on her face, likely from a Peacekeeper, stands out starkly. It's a reminder of the harsh reality behind her ethereal presence.

 “You two probably shouldn’t be here,' Lucy Gray says, eyeing both of you with a hint of suspicion. 

He hesitated, his voice laced with a mix of formality and caution.

 “We probably shouldn’t be here,” he admitted, his gaze briefly faltering. “Yet, as your mentors, it's essential that we... I mean, I initially thought it should be just me, but we both wanted to meet you on our terms, away from the Gamemakers' influence.” 

Snow's quick self-correction hinted at a brief oversight of your presence, revealing the careful balance he maintained between confidence and the weight of the role he played.

Eager to make a good impression, you step forward.

 “Lucy Gray, it's a pleasure to meet you.” Your voice comes out louder than intended, but Lucy doesn’t seem to mind. She's smiling.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N), another mentor of yours.”

“A chipper, oh I like you!” 

Lucy’s response is warm, her smile genuine. 

You can feel Snow’s gaze on you as you and Lucy share this brief, friendly exchange. 

“And you are?” Lucy turns her attention to Snow. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” he replies, his voice carrying a blend of formality and a touch of softness. 

“And what do my mentors do besides welcoming me with a single rose?” Lucy asks, her tone playful yet curious.

 "I do my best to take care of you,” Snow answers sincerely.

Lucy Gray's gaze momentarily drifted to where the Peacekeepers were handling the children. The girl, frail and thin, hit the platform with such force that she broke a front tooth, while the boy was met with unwarranted kicks as he landed.

 Then, turning back to Coriolanus, her smile was a complex mix of jest and earnest.

 “Well, good luck, Gorgeous,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of playful challenge. 

With that, she walks back to Jessup, leaving Coriolanus alone, still holding the rose, his expression a complex blend of surprise and deep contemplation. 

You give Coriolanus a subtle nudge to the side.

“She seems to have a soft spot for you, loverboy,” you remark, a light tease in your tone. 

From the corner of your eye, you notice him roll his eyes, a characteristic blend of his pride and discomfort, as he readjusts his pristine uniform.

After the Peacekeepers begin leading the tributes towards the station's main entrance, Coriolanus's demeanour shifts subtly. His eyes narrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. Without a word, he suddenly breaks from you, his pace quickening. This unexpected move, uncharacteristic and abrupt, sends a ripple of alarm through you.

He moved with a sudden urgency, his figure slicing through the sparse, eerie quiet of the station. Each of his steps seemed to echo, amplifying the growing sense of urgency.

You're jolted by his abrupt movement, a stark deviation from any discussed plan. Your eyes widen, a mix of shock and disbelief coursing through you as he vanishes into the dim light of the station's exit.

"Coriolanus! Where are you going?" Your voice rises, tinged with both confusion and concern. His sudden dash, unpredictable and rash, leaves you scrambling to understand his intentions.

The air feels heavier, charged with a mix of confusion and apprehension. In your haste, you collided with a Peacekeeper and found yourself knocked to the ground. 

As you scrambled to your feet, the guard barked at you, “Watch it! Don’t stir trouble here.”

His scent was unsettling, a sharp, unsettling scent invades your nostrils – a metallic tang of dried blood that sends a shiver down your spine.

You shied away from thinking whose blood it might be and quickly nodded, your eyes scanning the area for any sign of the tall, blond figure of Coriolanus. 

'Where could he have gone?' you wonder, a flicker of frustration crossing your mind about your partner. 

Your gaze landed on some Peacekeepers gathered near a truck that was starting to pull away. 

Out of breath, you manage to ask, “Is that... Where the tributes are? Where are they being taken? I'm with the academy.”

 The Peacekeeper in charge gave you a weary look. 

“Oh, another one from the academy, huh? They're being taken to the zoo. Your friend went along with them.”

The information hit you like a wave of cold water. 

Coriolanus had followed the tributes all the way to their unexpected destination. PART 1 II MASTERLIST II PART 3 (SOON)

[nishimura-writes]

part 3 maybe tomorrow cause i’m bored and procrastinating on schoolwork……..

[nishimura-writes]

Coriolanus x Reader

Echoes of Fate: PART 2

Paring: Coriolanus x Reader

Warning: Slow burn... REALLY SLOW BURN

Summary: In a surprising turn of events, you find yourself teamed up with Coriolanus Snow as a mentor for Lucy Gray. Although you seek change, your immediate task is to ensure her victory. As you and Snow strive for Lucy's safety, you both embark on a journey of understanding each other, for better or worse…

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

Two sweltering days have lingered since the grim spectacle of the Reaping. The city lies trapped under a stifling heatwave, the oppressive air thick with tension. As the first light of dawn breaks on the horizon, you and Coriolanus Snow stand together, a duo on the expansive, nearly deserted platform of the train station. An air of anxious anticipation hung between you, punctuated by the shimmering heat haze rising from the tracks below.

The only scrap of information you had managed to gather came from Coriolanus' downstairs neighbour, Remus Dolittle, a Gamemaker-in-Training: the train was expected to arrive on Wednesday.

There was a possibility of seeking more details through the Academy, but the etiquette of greeting the train was murky. No guidelines were provided, and as the hours ticked by without the sight of any other mentors, a sense of unease crept over you.

As the morning wears on, boredom starts to gnaw at you. You sat nonchalantly on the platform, uncaring about the dust smudging your uniform. "I'm starting to doubt the train will turn up," you mused aloud, shifting your weight from side to side.

Coriolanus, his brow furrowed in a mix of annoyance and determination, responds firmly.

“Giving up isn't an option. She's relying on us. We’re her mentors. She'll be here, eventually."

His optimism catches you off guard. 

"Staying cool under pressure, eh Coriolanus?" you quip, though a part of you questions his actual intentions.

As you watch Snow, a realisation gently settles in your mind. His actions, you surmised, might be less about altruism and more about gaining personal glory and bolstering his reputation. This wasn't unusual among your peers, so part of you understood his motives. Your understanding of Snow had gradually deepened, especially after discussing him with Senjaus, helping to paint a clearer picture of the man since your first encounter at the reaping.

Catching your gaze, Snow's brow furrows slightly, a silent question in his eyes. You knew that beneath this momentary perplexity was a sharp and calculating mind, capable of deciphering subtleties and unspoken cues. You decide to let him ponder, confident that he could navigate the undercurrents of your unvoiced thoughts.

Your banter with Coriolanus came to an abrupt halt as you stood up and leaned precariously over the tracks, straining your eyes for any sign of the train. In that perilous moment, your balance faltered, threatening to send you tumbling. Quick as a flash, Coriolanus reacted, his firm grip encircling your arm and yanking you back to the safety of the platform. 

If it weren’t for Snow's timely intervention, your natural clumsiness would have had the last laugh. Luckily, he was right there behind you, his arms unexpectedly breaking your fall.

Though his touch brought a sense of safety, it also stirred an awkward tension. Each time your skin brushed against his, it felt less like an accident and more like a sly strategy to close the distance between you. 

This sparked a flicker of annoyance within you, especially as memories of your last encounter, at the Reaping, surfaced. Back then, you were exposed, vulnerable, and his presence now seemed to pry open that old wound, leaving you raw and exposed once more. 

Murmuring a brief thanks, you quickly regained your footing, eager to put some distance between you and Snow.

Suddenly, a train's whistle cut through the quiet, growing louder as it neared. It echoed through the tunnel, a sharp, clear sound that announced its arrival. The train rushes into the station, its brakes squealing as it slows to a jarring stop. It was a small train, just an engine and a couple of cars, but it loomed large, a reminder of the journey that lay ahead. 

Coriolanus starts moving towards the train cars, prompting you to reach out. A sense of weariness washes over you – everything feels more prolonged and taxing than it should be. Usually, it's Snow who's at the helm, dictating the next move, not exactly keen on team efforts. You're struck by the need for clarity in this moment, to avoid any potential mix-up.

He turns, his face etching confusion. Sensing the need for a quieter conversation amidst the surrounding din, you subtly motion for him to come closer, allowing for words to be exchanged without the need to shout.

“Snow, you should lead. She might find your approach more trustworthy.” 

Inside, though, a ripple of distaste lurks beneath your calm exterior. Watching Snow's intense focus on the screen during the Reaping uncomfortably reminded you of a child's greedy gaze upon sweets. Deciphering his thoughts is like navigating a maze.

Nonetheless, your suggestion seems to touch something in him, perhaps flattering his ego. You don't show it, but the idea irks you. Yet, if it helps him connect with Lucy Gray, you're willing to overlook it. 

Snow contemplates for a moment before replying with a hint of formality, ”Isn't it better for you to talk to her, woman to woman? Strangely enough, you two could establish a stronger bond.” 

You respond with a simple shake of your head, your expression carefully neutral, masking the undercurrent of irritation inside. Didn’t he want the glory for himself? Strange man. 

You watch him closely before finally speaking, "I've noticed the way you look at her. It simply makes more sense for you to have a conversation with her – you seem to understand her in a way I don't.”

He pauses, mulling it over. You ease your grip on his arm as he makes up his mind.

“Right,”' he says, a note of urgency in his voice, “Quickly.”

You and Coriolanus walk towards the train cars, scanning for any sign of Lucy Gray. But Snow soon realises the cars have no windows – they're meant for cargo, not people. Heavy chains and padlocks secure their contents.

 A sigh escapes you. 'Wrong train,' you think, ready to give up.

But then a human cry echoes from a cargo car, freezing Snow in his tracks. He heads towards the sound, and a knot forms in your stomach, hoping it's not Lucy Gray. 

The Peacekeeper takes his time reaching the car, flipping through his keys. He unlocks the padlock, and the chains fall with a clank. He slides the heavy door open, revealing the car's interior. 

It looks empty at first, but then he bangs his baton against the frame, shouting, 

“All right, let’s move!”

Tributes shuffle out, but Lucy Gray isn’t among them. A tall boy with dark skin and patched clothes appears first, followed by a thin girl with a cough. Both are barefoot and handcuffed. They sit on the car's edge before jumping down awkwardly. A small girl in a striped dress hesitates at the door.

 The Peacekeeper yanks her down, and she lands hard. Then, a young boy follows, hauled out roughly by the Peacekeeper. 

Your heart aches for them – they look scared, tired, some even angry. They're treated like livestock, and you wonder if they've even been fed properly.

 The Peacekeeper moves to the second car. When the door opens, Jessup, the male tribute from District 12, steps out, squinting in the light. Coriolanus perks up, straightening his uniform and gripping his rose. You're close enough to see sweat on his neck. 

'This must be it,' you think. 

Then Lucy Gray steps out, her eyes adjusting to the light. Jessup helps her down gracefully, and she pauses to soak in the sunlight, combing her fingers through her hair.

Watching Snow, it's as if the world pauses for him. He's spellbound, like those old stories of love at first sight. It feels surreal, a rare moment of connection that seems so far from your own experiences. 

As the moment passes, you nudge Snow forward. He approaches Lucy Gray, an offering of a rose in his hand, his nod a subtle dance of formality and intrigue.

“Welcome to the Capitol,” he said. His voice was slightly gravelly. You choose to stay silent, letting him do the talking.

She came forward and took a petal from his hand. 

“When I was little, they used to bathe me in buttermilk and rose petals,” she said in a manner that, despite the unlikeliness of her claim, seemed totally believable. She ran her thumb over the glossy, white surface and slipped the petal into her mouth, closing her eyes to savour the flavour. “Tastes like bedtime.”

You watch her, intrigued and slightly puzzled. She's a mystery, an enigma. You take a moment to really see her, beyond the Capitol's broadcast version. Without the layers of makeup, she looks much younger, more vulnerable. The bruise on her face, likely from a Peacekeeper, stands out starkly. It's a reminder of the harsh reality behind her ethereal presence.

 “You two probably shouldn’t be here,' Lucy Gray says, eyeing both of you with a hint of suspicion. 

He hesitated, his voice laced with a mix of formality and caution.

 “We probably shouldn’t be here,” he admitted, his gaze briefly faltering. “Yet, as your mentors, it's essential that we... I mean, I initially thought it should be just me, but we both wanted to meet you on our terms, away from the Gamemakers' influence.” 

Snow's quick self-correction hinted at a brief oversight of your presence, revealing the careful balance he maintained between confidence and the weight of the role he played.

Eager to make a good impression, you step forward.

 “Lucy Gray, it's a pleasure to meet you.” Your voice comes out louder than intended, but Lucy doesn’t seem to mind. She's smiling.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N), another mentor of yours.”

“A chipper, oh I like you!” 

Lucy’s response is warm, her smile genuine. 

You can feel Snow’s gaze on you as you and Lucy share this brief, friendly exchange. 

“And you are?” Lucy turns her attention to Snow. 

“Coriolanus Snow,” he replies, his voice carrying a blend of formality and a touch of softness. 

“And what do my mentors do besides welcoming me with a single rose?” Lucy asks, her tone playful yet curious.

 "I do my best to take care of you,” Snow answers sincerely.

Lucy Gray's gaze momentarily drifted to where the Peacekeepers were handling the children. The girl, frail and thin, hit the platform with such force that she broke a front tooth, while the boy was met with unwarranted kicks as he landed.

 Then, turning back to Coriolanus, her smile was a complex mix of jest and earnest.

 “Well, good luck, Gorgeous,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of playful challenge. 

With that, she walks back to Jessup, leaving Coriolanus alone, still holding the rose, his expression a complex blend of surprise and deep contemplation. 

You give Coriolanus a subtle nudge to the side.

“She seems to have a soft spot for you, loverboy,” you remark, a light tease in your tone. 

From the corner of your eye, you notice him roll his eyes, a characteristic blend of his pride and discomfort, as he readjusts his pristine uniform.

After the Peacekeepers begin leading the tributes towards the station's main entrance, Coriolanus's demeanour shifts subtly. His eyes narrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. Without a word, he suddenly breaks from you, his pace quickening. This unexpected move, uncharacteristic and abrupt, sends a ripple of alarm through you.

He moved with a sudden urgency, his figure slicing through the sparse, eerie quiet of the station. Each of his steps seemed to echo, amplifying the growing sense of urgency.

You're jolted by his abrupt movement, a stark deviation from any discussed plan. Your eyes widen, a mix of shock and disbelief coursing through you as he vanishes into the dim light of the station's exit.

"Coriolanus! Where are you going?" Your voice rises, tinged with both confusion and concern. His sudden dash, unpredictable and rash, leaves you scrambling to understand his intentions.

The air feels heavier, charged with a mix of confusion and apprehension. In your haste, you collided with a Peacekeeper and found yourself knocked to the ground. 

As you scrambled to your feet, the guard barked at you, “Watch it! Don’t stir trouble here.”

His scent was unsettling, a sharp, unsettling scent invades your nostrils – a metallic tang of dried blood that sends a shiver down your spine.

You shied away from thinking whose blood it might be and quickly nodded, your eyes scanning the area for any sign of the tall, blond figure of Coriolanus. 

'Where could he have gone?' you wonder, a flicker of frustration crossing your mind about your partner. 

Your gaze landed on some Peacekeepers gathered near a truck that was starting to pull away. 

Out of breath, you manage to ask, “Is that... Where the tributes are? Where are they being taken? I'm with the academy.”

 The Peacekeeper in charge gave you a weary look. 

“Oh, another one from the academy, huh? They're being taken to the zoo. Your friend went along with them.”

The information hit you like a wave of cold water. 

Coriolanus had followed the tributes all the way to their unexpected destination. PART 1 II MASTERLIST II PART 3

[nishimura-writes]

Trying to get my friend to watch Good Omens. Knowing full well this is how I’m internally feeling after season 2

[nishimura-writes]

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Coriolanus Snow in TBOSAS a summary:

[nishimura-writes]

You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now