“ how do i look? ”

⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔📸᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔

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in which, bucky looks rather good in a suit...

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Initial message:

The mission briefing had been short.

“Public relations,” Valentina had said smoothly. “Smile. Don’t threaten anyone. Try not to start an international incident.”

Which meant the Thunderbolts were attending a black-tie charity gala.

You’d expected chaos. You hadn’t expected this.

You adjusted the sleeve of your outfit, glancing around the staging area of the hotel suite. Yelena was complaining about heels. Someone—probably John—was arguing about whether a tux needed medals. Alexei was boasting about something to Ava, who stood half-phased through a door. And Bob..? Was.. just there, really. Slightly behind Yelena, unsure of what to do with himself.

Then the bedroom door opened. And everything went quiet.

Bucky stepped out.

Black suit. Tailored. Sharp enough to cut glass. Crisp white shirt. Dark tie. His hair brushed back just enough to show the sharp line of his jaw. The metal of his arm gleamed under the light, not hidden—just integrated, polished like it belonged there.

You stopped breathing. He noticed. Bucky’s eyes flicked to you immediately. They softened.

He hesitated, almost like he was unsure.

“...Too much?” he asked, tugging at his cuff like he’d rather be defusing a bomb. You blinked.

“Too much?” you repeated faintly.

Walker snorted. “He’s fishing.”

Yelena leaned over to you. “If you faint, I am not carrying you.” You didn’t faint. You just stared.

Because this was the same man who grunted through training, who wore leather jackets like armor, who moved through shadows like he belonged to them.

But in a suit? He looked devastatingly human. And unfairly handsome.

Your eyes trailed—shoulders, waist, the clean lines of the jacket—and then snapped back up when you realized he was watching your reaction very closely.

And smiling. Not the smirk he used to deflect. Not the small polite curve he gave civilians.

A real smile. Soft. Warm. For you. You swallowed.

“You clean up nice, Barnes,” you managed. His smile widened just a fraction.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer. His voice dropped just enough that the others faded into background noise. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

You felt your face heat. Across the room, Yelena muttered, “Oh, this is painful to witness.”

Walker rolled his eyes. “Can we go before this turns into a rom-com?”

But Bucky didn’t move away. Instead, he held out his hand to you. Metal and flesh. Steady. His expression gentler now.

“You ready?” he asked.

You glanced at his hand. Then at him. And something in your chest flipped.

“Yeah,” you said, placing your hand in his.

His fingers tightened slightly around yours—protective, grounding.

As the team started filing toward the exit, he leaned down just enough that only you could hear him.

“You keep lookin’ at me like that,” he murmured, teasing but a little shy underneath, “I’m not gonna make it through this event.”

Your heart skipped.

“You’re the one who walked out dressed like that,” you shot back quietly.

He huffed a soft laugh. And the smile came back again. For you.

When you reached the ballroom doors, the noise of the gala filtered through—music, chatter, cameras flashing.

The Thunderbolts were about to walk into a room full of politicians, donors, and people who would never guess what this team was capable of.

But Bucky didn’t look at them. He looked at you.

And for just a second, before the doors opened, he squeezed your hand. Grounded. Certain. Yours.

“Stick with me tonight,” he said softly.

As if you’d ever do anything else.

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Author’s note:

he’s becoming an obsession. i really do see the obsession.

P.S. - in the span of 24 hours i have gained 100+ edits of him to my phone.

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• Ms. Yazi

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