#reblogging this drabble because I'm still thinking about this dance and *this photo* my gods

[inkedbybarnes]

be your date

bodyguard!bucky barnes x actress!fem!reader

summary: you are invited to this year's met gala, and your bodyguard is against the idea of letting you go alone.

word count: 500+

warnings: 18+ mdni. nothing sexual, but still. some banters. hints of fluff. a sprinkle of tension. grumpy but protective bucky (yes, that is a warning!) sort of bratty reader? lack of met gala knowledge probably. usage of petnames such as princess. lowercase writing.

photos used are only for aesthetic and not to describe or visualise the reader!

note: just a little drabble to the story/plot i've been writing! since there was recently a met gala, i thought this would be a great tease for this story. i hope you enjoy this one!

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you shouldn't go.”

as a celebrity, privacy was a rare luxury, and having your personal life being constantly invaded became your new norm.

it also meant having a personal bodyguard to keep you safe, but no one ever warned you about having a bodyguard who was both relentlessly protective and unbelievably attractive with a permanent frown on his face.

god, would it be so bad to have a crush on your bodyguard?

“you can't tell me what to do, you know that right?” you shot him a defiant look, although you knew he wasn't trying to control you, just keeping you safe.

getting a reaction other than a grunt from him was your favourite hobby, anyway.

a delivery was found on your doorstep this morning, containing an invitation and a bouquet of flowers. bucky was beside you as you opened the envelope, and immediately, he was against the idea.

“what even is the met gala?” he eyed the invitation you were holding, brow furrowed while he looked offended by the piece of paper. “it doesn't sound safe.”

bucky had learned about the letters that you would constantly receive, and how half of them were unusual and even concerning. you could still remember the frown he had kept all day when you received a marriage certificate in need of your signature.

he made sure to burn it by the fireplace.

and grunted at it one more time.

“nothing sounds safe to you, jamie.” you argued, rolling your eyes at his protectiveness. you slipped the card back into its envelope, unaware of the faint flush that spread across his face as he heard you call him by the nickname you've given him.

“it's a ball that a bunch of celebrities go to every year, but i don't really find it that special. my manager thinks otherwise though.” you explained. “and i do have to go alone if i'm attending it since it's really private. they even prohibited phones inside, so it should be safe.”

“i don't buy it.” bucky pursed his lips, remaining unconvinced. “i'm coming with you.”

“they won't let you inside. they treat this ball as a highly exclusive event. even bodyguards are off the list. i find it silly as well, don't worry.” you sighed, recalling how uncomfortable it was every time. you had no choice since your manager called it good publicity and a necessity for your career. “oh, unless i bring a date. i could probably sneak them in as a plus one. they love seeing a new pair to spark conversation. do you have anyone you trust enough to be with me so you can calm down?”

you waited for his response, but instead of answering, bucky took a step towards you, his gaze intense and unwavering. he looked at you with such intensity, making butterflies flutter in your stomach that none of your co-stars could do to you.

“i'll be your date.”

your eyes widened in surprise. was he serious? “what?"

"you asked me who i trust enough to be with you." he repeated, his face now inches away from yours, a faint smile dancing across his face. “well, princess. that person would be me."

i may have changed reader from sunshine to confident/bratty because i genuinely can't write a sunshine character without giving up... i'm not the best with jolly emotions. i think it still worked out tho!

oh, and here's a silly lil instagram post. thank you for reading!

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

[sky-blue-pantaloons]

Blindfold Dance

It’s almost eleven pm by the time Xiao Zhan gets to Yibo’s apartment. He pauses in front of the door, one hand just short of knocking, the other hand holding chicken soup take out. He had gulped down a shot of espresso to stay awake, gone to a neighbourhood restaurant for the take out and hailed a cab straight here after landing at PEK. He wore a mask, a cap pulled really low and a baggy hoodie, but who knows if anyone recognized him. It was definitely not one of the more prudent things he’s done. Now that he’s here, it suddenly seems like too much. Something about that video of Wang Yibo dancing with a blindfold on got to him. Always thriving in less than ideal situations; accepting all criticism quietly and just working and working hard, like a flower blooming quietly in the dark. The miming of a gunshot to the heart at the end of the performance should have been melodramatic and showy, but it was sincere. It made something in Xiao Zhan’s chest feel too tight. In his haste, he didn’t even think to text to see if Yibo was even at home. Maybe he shouldn’t —

The door swings open when Xiao Zhan is still mid-thought. A sleepy-looking Wang Yibo stumbles out in an oversized Avengers t-shirt, mailbox keys in hand. His eyes widen when he sees Xiao Zhan. “Zhan Ge!” Yibo exclaims a little too loudly, and Xiao Zhan has to cover his mouth and get Yibo back into the apartment before he announces to the entire corridor that Xiao Zhan is here. Security may be good and discreet here, but one can never be too careful.

With the door closed behind them, Yibo reaches forward to give Xiao Zhan a big hug. Xiao Zhan melts into the warmth of that contact though he tries not to. Yibo’s hair is still damp from the shower; his shampoo smells faintly sweet, and underneath that lingers the scent of his cologne.

“What are you doing here Zhan Ge? I thought you were still filming in Changsha” Yibo asks a little breathlessly when they finally pull apart. “Are you okay?” He asks suddenly serious, his eyes giving Xiao Zhan a careful once over.

“Yes, yes. I just got back tonight.” How does he explain to Yibo why he is here when he doesn’t even fully understand himself? It is impossible. Instead he opts for, “I brought you chicken soup.”

He didn’t answer the question, but Yibo doesn’t push it. “It smells great Zhan Lang~” Yibo beams as he takes the lid off the take out container, “if you do sweet things like this for some cute girl, they’ll fall at your feet.”

Xiao Zhan gives him a level look. Wang Yibo is fishing, but Xiao Zhan lets him have it. “There isn’t some cute girl I want to do this for,” he says. “And don’t call me that!”

Wang Yibo beams, a smile of utter satisfaction spreads across his face. Xiao Zhan immediately feels a smile tugging at his lips as well. One whole year after the CQL filming, one whole year of only sporadic meet ups sandwiched between crazy filming schedules and Wang Yibo still has this effect on him. Yibo gets up to fetch two bowls from the kitchen, and Xiao Zhan watches from the couch. He looks so young walking around barefooted in his baggy tshirt, unstyled hair sticking out a little in all directions. He spends time digging through the utensil drawer, and Xiao Zhan knows he’s looking for the two leggo spoons. Isn’t it cool? Zhan-Ge, it looks like someone made these spoons from tiny Lego building blocks? Wang Yibo had said when he first got them. When Yibo turns back to the living room with the bowls and leggo spoons, he’s still smiling. God, I’ve missed this, Xiao Zhan thinks to himself. All these recent weeks spent in anonymous hotel rooms. He’s missed this easy domesticity. Missed knowing what spoon Wang Yibo is looking for.

Yibo climbs back onto the couch and sticks his barefeet between Xiao Zhan’s thighs and the couch.

“Wang Yibo.. What are you doing?”

“My kitchen floor’s cold,” Yibo replies matter-of-factly, and pours out the soup into bowls.

“So wear some slippers. It’s the dead of winter,” Xiao Zhan grumbles, but does nothing to move Yibo’s feet.

They drink the soup together in silence. The fragrance of the warm broth fills the living room, Xiao Zhan realises he’s famished. He had pretty much been traveling non-stop since morning and only had to time for a cold sandwich between leaving his hotel in Changsha and now. Xiao Zhan steals a few glances at Yibo, who is slurping the soup with an expression of focus and contentment. Has he lost a little weight? Xiao Zhan can imagine how grueling the rehearsals leading up the Yue Hua family concert must be. Or rather he can imagine how hard Wang Yibo has been working himself.

“Was it difficult to dance with the blindfold on?” Xiao Zhan asks.

Yibo blinks, momentarily confused. Then he grins. “You watched the dance video I sent you!”

Xiao Zhan suppresses the urge to roll eyes. He watches every video that Wang Yibo sends him.

More drabbles

The dance