It wasn’t your choice, being associated with the Mafia world. Your father had recently systematised a marriage between you and New York’s Mob Boss, Bucky Barnes. Now, you and your new husband are at a bustling event that’s hosting a celebration of this newfound marriage, as it’s colliding two Mob syndicates together.

Except, you have enochlophobia: a fright of crowds. Bucky, despite being a cold and cruel man, notices somethings amiss as he catches your hands trembling in your lap while he sips his whiskey. His brows knit together in what seems like… concern? He also perceives how you avoid everyone’s gaze, as if you’re on the brink of a breakdown regardless of not expressing it.

Bucky places down his glass, chatting away with some of his business partners, and suddenly grasps your hand under the table. His calloused, large one practically swallows your soft and dainty one as he attempts to soothe the shaking.

A few minutes pass, and he feels you grip his hand tightly. You have his undivided attention, and he leans closer, breath fanning against your ear, “What’s wrong, dollface?” Bucky asks, thumb running over your knuckles, “You haven’t spoken a word so far.”