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A shiver runs down your spine as you peruse the selection of the ice cream tucked away in the freezer section, but you can’t help but smile to yourself at the welcome sight.

Yes, it was that time again, that familiar time in every college student’s life, the time to eat away your feelings after struggling your way through midterms.

Fuck midterms.

And fuck proper societal conventions as well.

Because here you are, in your pajamas, doing a late night grocery run and regretting it with every strange look served your way.

Sometimes you forget that you aren’t in America anymore, and your people-of-Walmart activities will inevitably lead to your downfall, but at least that day isn’t today.

Well, it was a small mercy that no matter where you were in the world, whether in Germany or America, that at least ice cream was a true constant that remained in your life.

You analyze the see-through fridges with slight disappointment as you realize the selection you have to work with is slightly smaller than what you’re used to, although maybe upon further inspection you’d find it refreshing not being swung at visually by 15 brands in one shelf, all desperately vying for your attention.

Either way, you find yourself drawn to the same flavor you always pick, a true creature of habit, and you pull open the fridge door to grasp at the item of your choosing.

At least you are until you find your hand colliding with another, a silent gasp parting your lips before you pull your hand back in surprise.

“Sorry!” You blurt out before realizing your mistake. “...err, I mean– entschuldigung!”

(Your German is hardly passable to be frank, but you figure you should at least try speaking the language of the country hosting you for the semester.)

Anyway, the sound of your stilted dialect is enough to bring out a light chuckle from the person, the man judging by the timbre of the voice, next to you and you finally look over to see…

Holy shit.

Is that Micheal fucking Kaiser?

You stare shell shocked at the blond superstar soccer (football, you correct in your head) player next to you, as he begins to speak.

“Kein Problem.” He says smoothly, and you have to make a conscious effort to shut your slightly parted mouth as you continue to stare at him with widened eyes.

At this point, the best thing you could do for yourself would be to grab your ice cream, pay and leave before you embarrassed yourself, but unfortunately for you, your mouth didn’t catch the memo.

“S–Sind Sie Michael Kaiser?” You blurt out, before mentally face palming at the stupidity of your own question.

He laughs again, a slightly smug look on his face at being recognized before responding. “Ja, ich bin Michael Kaiser.”

You feel your cheeks start to burn in embarrassment as the realization dawns on you that you’re standing in front of a world class athlete in the middle of a grocery store in a wrinkly, old, oversized t-shirt and shorts.

“Sie möchte ein Autogramm?” He asks amusedly, giving you a subtle once over that you normally would have missed had you not been so self conscious.

“Ja, bitte.” You say, fishing for a pen and paper in your bag.

“...I don’t normally look like this, I swear.” You can’t help but add as you find your paper and pen, switching over to English out of a combination of embarrassment and lack of language knowledge.

“You don’t?” He asks lightly, humoring you and switching over to English before taking the pen and paper out of your hands. “I would have thought you looked like this everyday.”

“What, messy?” You ask in a light tone despite being slightly offended as he scribbles his name on the paper.

“No.” He says with a smirk as he finishes, handing you the paper. “Gorgeous.”

You blink at him for a moment before you feel your cheeks warm up again, averting your eyes to the side to avoid his gaze as you try to process the fact that a celebrity, more importantly, an attractive celebrity is flirting with you.

“Ah– um, well I– uh, thank you.” You eventually get out before willing yourself to look back at him, your stomach doing a flip as you see the same smirk on his lips that you’re used to seeing on TV.

“Kein Problem.” He repeats again, that same amused lilt in his voice. 

“I mean–” You start again and you feel yourself regretting the fact that you decided to speak again. “For both uhm, the autograph and the compliment.”

You pause for a bit, unbelievably flustered, before you blurt out. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I’m so awkward, I’m just gonna leave now.”

He laughs at this, his eyes seeming to soften a bit before he speaks in a quieter tone, almost as if he’s afraid to scare you off. “No you’re fine… it’s cute.”

Your heart thumps in your chest rapidly, like you’ve just gotten done running a marathon, and you feel the heat rush to your face along with a fluttering feeling in your stomach. All these sensations combine to force a rather undignified sound from deep within yourself, sounding equivalent to a mouse caught in a glue trap.

You feel your face heat up further from the strangled sound that emitted from your very being and scrunch your eyes shut for just a moment away from Kaiser’s prying gaze.

When he laughs, you feel the embarrassment return tenfold, although the fluttering feeling in your heart might just be also because of the rich timbre of his chuckle.

“Hey, look at me.” He says after a few seconds, and despite your longing to keep your eyes closed you can’t help but obey his command.

So, slowly you open your eyes, taking in the sight of his handsome visage, his lips quirked up in a smile and it almost feels painful how your heart thuds.

“...what?” You question weakly.

“Just needed your eyes on me for a second while I do this.” He says before leaning over ever so slightly to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at the apex of where your ear meets your cheek before finally pulling away.

“...” You can’t help the way you gape at him, momentarily speechless as he takes in your facial expression with his signature smirk.

“Sorry Liebling, your hair was bothering me.” He offers up as an explanation, but you can tell from the delighted gleam in his eye that he’s lying.

“Y–yeah, right.” You stutter out despite your best efforts to remain unphased and straighten up. “Anyways, it was nice meeting you, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

“No, it was a pleasure.” He says smoothly, and you can’t help the twinge of jealousy that runs through you at his composed demeanor. “Take care, would you?”

“Of course, y-you too.” You manage to get out, and he smirks at you one last time before confidently striding away from you, leaving you slightly shell shocked in the ice cream aisle.

It would be a while before you fully collected your thoughts after you paid and exited the store, and that’s why perhaps you didn’t notice three things in particular.

One, that you forgot to pick up the goddamn ice cream that you were so looking forward to getting. 

Two, that your beloved celebrity had also forgotten to get his ice cream that he was reaching for because he was also that flustered despite his confident demeanor.

And three, the little number written next to your autograph with the small written letters next to it “Ruf mich an <3”.

---

Oh, she looked so proud of you this morning. Her little darling in his father's old clothes, looking almost regal. You both knew that the Plinth prize would definitely not fall into your hands, not with Coriolanus Snow as a competitor. But she was ecstatic to see you dressed so modishly for once nonetheless.

Speaking of Snow, you catch a glimpse of his silvery blond locks peeking above the countless other heads in the glittering, shimmery crowd. Like a little island in a sea of gold, posca and vanity.

Now, you're not close with Snow by any means, or at least not in a way you'd consider meaningful. Of course, you'd love to get to know the star pupil a little better, but he seems to be a very closed-off person.

Maybe he just doesn't like you because Sejanus Plinth himself and Clemensia have apparently managed to break through his standoffish exterior. Only in small ways, of course, since emotional vulnerability and genuine friendship aren't common things among these student circles.

It's a constant competition to see who can be the bigger bully; there's never any real substance to your conversations. It's all just backhanded compliments and snobbery.

Play the game, or remain an outsider without connections for the rest of your life. If you want to survive among the Capitol's elite, you have to act like them. It's a dog-eat-dog world, but you're smart enough not to wallow in self-pity because at least you're not starving or killing off friends in the arena.

But alas, your classmates are the closest thing to friends you'll ever have, so you decide to weave your way through the crowd towards Snow's head. Because wherever Coriolanus Snow stood, students were sure to gather around him.

Sure enough, you're right. You're greeted by a few disgruntled expressions and a gentle smile from Sejanus.

Arachne glares at you as you greet everyone quietly, coming to stand in the gap between Coriolanus and Sejanus. She chuckles dryly, her lips fixed in a petty scowl, while she drags her disapproving gaze up and down your figure. 

You exchange a confused glance with Coriolanus, who gives your outfit a once-over as well, but with a puzzled demeanor. As if he's trying to figure out your mistake to avoid making the same one.

"Something wrong with my pants, Arachne?" You furrow your brows in discomfort, trying not to let her obvious distaste for your get-up affect you.

She scoffs in response, quirking her brow as if you'd committed some obvious fashion crime you're stupidly oblivious to.

"I don't know. Did you mean to wear pants that make your hips look that feminine, or do you just look like that?" The words ooze out from behind her teeth like venom. "Nice try, though. People can still tell, but whatever, right?"

Ow.

"Wooow." Festus whispers; even he is stunned by her callousness.

It affects you more than you'd like. She's lying, obviously, but the words still manage to cut away at you like blades. You literally just arrived and said hi. Why is she already out for blood?

You let out a deep sigh of frustration and embarrassment. Today really isn't the day, you think.

Usually, you're pretty good at ignoring your classmates' jabs, but you woke up with thin skin this morning. You're not sure why; maybe you're just fed up with everyone's bullshit.

"I see." You deadpan, giving everyone a curt nod before swiftly grabbing a glass of posca off one of the small tables and walking off. "I'll see you later, everyone."

There's no point in throwing insults back at her; you'd just be stooping to her level, and that's the last thing you want.

So, you just remove yourself from the situation. You clearly stumbled into an already tense conversation and presented yourself as the perfect target for Arachne to let her anger out on. You won't miss anything important by leaving, either.

You hear Coriolanus and Sejanus' voices as they scold her behind you. Their words unintelligible as they bleed into the general chatter of attending guests, but they don't seem happy. 

You continue to down the entire glass of posca in one swift motion before bluntly placing it back on a tray. It must've looked clumsy and uncouth, but you couldn't care less right now.

As much as you try to bottle up your emotions, a necessary skill at the academy, you can't help but feel like throwing something at the wall. Something big and loud that'll shatter and spill everywhere when it hits the ground.

Whatever. You need to calm down; it's not like you ever really cared about Arachne's opinion. So, why start now? 

You push past a group of upper-class men into the empty hallways. Thank God nobody is in here; you probably would've imploded. You take multiple deep breaths, holding them in for a few seconds to cherish the cool air.

No wonder so many of the adults in the Capitol 'self-medicate' to deal with this shit. It's just a constant bombardment of gossip and malice; there's no room for goodwill.

You don't even realize how your breathing continues to pick up in pace, trying desperately not to let the bitterness spill over the tip of your tongue.

A thick, suffocating silence settles around you.

"Don't let her get to you."

His voice startles you. You swivel around to see Coriolanus standing near the same doorway you'd dashed through a few moments ago. A sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I'm not." You huff. "Just fed up with all the comments. It gets old real fast."

He hums in agreement, moving closer to lean against the wall next to you without ever taking his gaze off you. His eyes are such an intense blue color, it almost makes you feel uneasy.

"She didn't mean it, by the way. She was just riled up because of what Sejanus said to her." He crosses his arms. "You look fantastic."

"Yeah?" You can't help but smile at him, nervously fixing the cuff of your sleeve to avoid making eye contact.

"Yeah. Better than the others." A small, friendly smirk plays on his lips as he watches you fiddle with the fabric, amused by your flustered expression.

"Thank you, Coriolanus. Truly."

"Oh, don't mention it. I get tired of their shit as well." He sighs in a disdainful tone.

You chuckle, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to another. Having a one-on-one conversation with Coriolanus Snow is not a common occurrence, especially not for you. Yes, there've been some small exchanges between the two of you, but never something like this. It's a small, surface-level chat, but it still manages to make your palms sweat.

"How do you deal with it?"

"I don't know." He shrugs. "In a way, knowing I'll never be that moronic or absurd makes me feel better."

"Wow." You raise your brows at his brazenness. Not that you disagree; there's a certain accuracy to that remark, but at the same time, knowing you never stood up to their hatefulness before sparks guilt within you.

Nonetheless, it's good to know that Coriolanus doesn't quite hold the same sentiments as the rest of your class. So far, only Sejanus has proven to actually possess any sort of humanity. Growing up in one of the districts, he's the only one to ever directly fall victim to the Capitol's cruelty. The rest of you just benefit from it.

You befriended Sejanus early on, but have never quite reached the same best friend status as Coriolanus. So, you've always just assumed that he despises the system as much as you and Sej do. He's not very vocal about it, not like Sej, but maybe there's some shame in him as the founder of the Hunger Games' son.

Plus, Coriolanus is an observant person, not one to talk much. Thinking about it, you don't think he's ever really spoken unless spoken to. It's heartwarming that he decided to run after you like this, considering his reserved nature.

You feel your cheeks heat up at the thought. Maybe he's fonder of you than you assumed. Or, at the very least, you've managed to capture his attention in some way.

"So, does that mean you think I'm smarter than them?" You joke, tilting your head in a playful manner. You're not serious about the question. Intelligence doesn't really mean anything if you don't have a heart; you know that.

"Yes." But his response is sincere and humorless. "You're smart, you're creative, and most of them are just scared of you and your name. I see your work and your intelligence. You have real potential, you know?"

"Oh." You murmur, taken aback by his candor. "That-... That means a lot coming from you. I mean, you're quite literally the star pupil here. No one even comes close to your dedication or brilliance. You're sure to win the Plinth Prize, I know it."

And you're incredibly handsome, you almost add. That would make it awkward, though, so you press your lips together to keep it from slipping out.

He really is. Tall, with broad shoulders and gorgeous blond locks, not to mention his insanely beautiful eyes. But something about the way he carries himself tells you he's well aware of that fact already. His confidence is possibly one of the most alluring things about him.

A strangely relieved smile tugs at the corners of his mouth at your last sentence, and you suddenly realize you completely forgot what you were so upset about mere moments ago. The sight of Coriolanus Snow genuinely smiling sends shivers down your spine—the good variety.

You did that.

"Thank you." He mumbles quietly, smoothing his hands over the fabric of his waistcoat. "You know, I really mean it when I say you look good. Not just today. You somehow always manage to stand out from the other boys, even in the uniform."

You watch him tremble ever so slightly as he says it. Coriolanus Snow, out of all people, nervously complimenting you multiple times?

Is this a dream? Are you going insane?

You can feel your cheeks getting embarrassingly hot, and you hope he doesn't notice. "That means a lot. I genuinely don't know what to say." You huff a small, awkward laugh, your mind truly rendered blank by his praise.

He continues to stare at you with a strange, pensive sort of glint in his eyes. "You know, I think most of them are just mad you're actually handsome, and they're not. They hoped transitioning would make you less of a threat."

"I know. It's strangely validating to know someone else noticed as well. I thought I was being egocentric or something." A lump forms in your throat. The realization that your fears and anxiety are actually warranted causes your heart to sink.

"No. They're just being childish." He pushes himself off the wall and takes a few steps towards you to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. "They're scared of you."

"Scared?" You glance up at him, the warmth of his touch causing your skin to buzz.

"It's all about winning for us. They were counting on your coming out to hold you back, I suppose, when it doesn't really matter. You've only grown more confident, and the elite like self-assured people."

It's all about winning for us. You nod slowly, letting his words sink in.

He leans in closer, the proximity causing your breath to hitch. "They're all slowly realizing that only some of us are meant to be victors. People like you and I, who have the dedication and drive to change things for the better."

As an icy, uncomfortable kind of pride settles in your gut, the lump in your throat grows larger. You don't consider yourself superior to anyone, but Coriolanus' near-vicious assurance has a way of enthralling you.

He wipes your brain clean with his mesmerizing eyes and plays you like some sort of instrument. Always saying the right things at the right time.

"You need to realize that we're meant for bigger things than them."

"I don't think I-..." He cuts you off with a brisk, gentle kiss. It's so unexpected it takes you a second to fully register what just happened.

You blink, opening your mouth to ask about the kiss but he interrupts again.

"Don't let those mutts get to you. Ever." Placing both his hands on your arms, he shakes you lightly to emphasize his words. Then, as if your lips hadn't just made acquaintance, he smiles at you and promptly strolls back into the hall. "I'll see you at the announcement."

"Yeah..." You breathe, unsure if he even heard it.

You're left standing there with what can only be described as a flabbergasted face while you wonder what all of this even means. He just strolled up to you, told you that you were better than the rest of your class, gave you an unexpected kiss, and then dipped.

It's completely out of character for Coriolanus.  Nevertheless, the interaction leaves you feeling fuzzy and weak in the knees, despite the utter bewilderment.

Well, it appears as though he is indeed fonder of you than you thought. And he is, just not quite in the way you think.

He recognizes your intelligence and that you are well-liked by teachers and adults. You have a certain influence that others just don't. And he sees it as a genuine opportunity. For now, he'll just ignore the butterflies in his stomach and continue to convince himself that he's just making an ally.

A valuable connection, nothing else.

He wants you around him at all times because you're useful, not because you make his heart flutter or because you're cute. There's nothing weird about that, right?

He'll make you fall for him, so you'll never hesitate to help him out or take his side in conflicts. Not because the thought of being with you causes him to burst into a giddy, euphoric grin. He's totally not obsessed with you.

He's above such silly things, of course.

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✎ poser | blue lock v! x gn! reader | Quotev

✧.* gender neutral reader: able to be read by male readers, female readers, or other genders

✧.* page count: 340

✧.* follows: manga

✧.* plot progress: phase one of blue lock - completed, phase two of blue lock - just begun/on hold

✧.* word count: 120,362

✧.* reads/views: 324,034 [increases daily]

✧.* current platform: quotev [considering posting to tumblr]

synopsis; as a host of the radio station, hyperbloom, you loved your job. the problem? it was going bankrupt. but not all was lost yet, for the actor, scaramouche, snarky and unsociable as he was, signs a contract for a 4 week collab! with him as an added face at the station, your job is most certainly saved. except... why does he remind you so much of a friend you used to have years and years ago — and why the hell is he nothing like the papers say?!?!