Omg hi!! I love your works, they’re all so nicely made 😽😽!! (Don’t die to a blender pls ur too awesome sauce😋)
Anyways, I have a request (I came up with it late at night so hear me out PLEASE) I was thinking of bllk x reader, where the two get caught hanging out/on a date when the public doesn’t know that they are dating you. I understand if this is not worded correctly and sounds weird, but anywho thank you!!
a/n: dw! it sounded totally fine, thank you so much for requesting, and i hope you have an awesome day!
getting caught when your relationship is still private - h.chigiri, r.itoshi, m.kaiser, y.isagi, s.barou
One date in a public place couldn’t hurt. You two even chose a remote location for it. Hell, he wore some disguise too. (If you can call sunglasses indoors that.)
You tell him he dressed up like he is about to rob this place. He just pouts.
His fans immediately recognize him tho. Doesn’t even take a full 15 minutes.
“Oh my god, is that him?” whispers someone, followed by the unmistakable click of a camera.
He just lets out a sigh and shrugs “Guess we are trending tonight.”
He grabs your hand boldly, not hiding it, but also not making a big scene, and walks you back to the car with calm confidence.
When a fan asks him: “Who’s your date?” he cheekily replies:
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
then winks and shuts the car door behind you.
Social media explodes. Fans are divided between mourning the loss of their!!!! Princess and zooming in to ID you.
He arrives at the restaurant wearing a baseball cap pulled low, a dark coat, and a stupid mask. He’s not trying to be seen; in fact, he dreads it.
You tease him about being so dramatic: “You act like the paparazzi are waiting behind every menu.”His reply? A low, dry, “They usually are.”
The dinner actually went pretty well, no fans, no media, no nothing, but then came the walk back to the car.
He immediately hears a camera clicking, and, lets go of your hand by instinct.
You start to step away, but he grabs your wrist. Not aggressively, but like he needs you close.
As flashes start to go off, he turns away from the cameras and mutters a cold, “Unbelievable.”
When asked, “Is that your partner?”, he doesn’t answer. Just shoots a piercing glare that shuts the question down instantly.
A week later, he posts a single photo on his, rarely used Instagram story: a picture of your linked hands resting on his lap, no faces, just a caption: “Mine.”
It’s been almost a month since you two last saw each other, so when he asked you for a date, he kinda forgot you two haven’t announced your relationship yet.
He greets you with a huge smile and an even bigger hug, the kind that lifts you a little off the ground.
A fan across the street spots him mid-laugh, leaning in close to you. They try to be subtle, but the flash goes off. And then another.
He visibly panics for a split second. “Oh nooo,” he mutters, half-laughing, half-dying inside.
His first instinct is to apologize:
“I’m so sorry are you okay with this? I can ask them to delete it! I’m sure they will.”
He knows it’s a lost cause.
You just laugh it off and tell him you don’t mind.
Later that night, he's pacing while scrolling social media, muttering, “Okay, it’s not that bad. I only panicked a little. That’s fine. That’s totally fine.”
You tell him he was cute. He blushes, but replies confidently: “Yeah? Well… I’ve got more moves where that came from.” (Immediately trips over a shoe afterward. Still cute.)
A few days later, he posts a selfie of you both with half your faces cropped out, captioned: “About time I got caught. Not mad.”
He doesn’t wear a disguise. He wears designer sunglasses at night, his hair perfect, jawline immaculate a walking PR headline.
You ask him whether he really thinks this won’t earn him attention, but he just smirks and shrugs his shoulders.
Shameless. hand on your lower back, arm around your shoulder, brushes your hair behind your ear. he doesn’t hide a damn thing.
“Careful. You keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget we’re in public.” You just look at him with a deadpan expression. “Seems to me you already forgot.”
You get caught almost immediately by paparazzi hanging across the street, and fans whispering excitedly nearby.
He kisses you on the cheek right in front of the cameras, then adds “Get my good side, yeah?”
He does an interview a few days later and casually mentions you like it’s common knowledge. “Yeah, they’re amazing. Gorgeous, and smart, makes better coffee than my nutritionist. Don’t know how I landed them, honestly. Actually- no. I do. Look at me.”
You just roll your eyes when you watch it later.
He picks a secluded restaurant with private dining options and tinted windows. The kind of place you have to know someone to get into.
When you show up, his whole face melts, his shoulders drop, and his lips quirked up just a little. “There you are.”
You’re leaving the restaurant, walking toward the car, when someone spots him. “Holy shit, that’s Barou!”
Cameras click. Fans whisper. Then one of the braver ones asks: “Is that your partner?”
He steps in front of you immediately. Instinctively protective.
He doesn’t say a word. Just glares so hard that the nearest phone lowers itself.
A few days later, his team’s official social media posts a picture of him post-game. You in the background, holding his water bottle. Fans lose it.
He finally gives in and posts a blurry photo of you wearing his hoodie, with a caption: “Yeah. They’re mine. Stay out of it.”
