KINGDOM HEARTS

The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy

Pairing: Greaser!Bucky Barnes x Uptown Girl!Reader Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

A.N. - Here's a long awaited request from one of my dearest readers @oneofstarkskids, it definitely strayed a little from that initial request but i hope you enjoy! "just reread this and it's still so amazing 😭 do you take requests? if so, would you be inclined to writing a grease themed bucky au one shot?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Picture this... he's from the wrong side of the tracks. He's everything every mother in your neighborhood warned you about. His hands perpetually stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his lips, scuffed leather jacket snug around his broad shoulders.

You're none of those things, the complete opposite. Pearls strung around your neck. Perfectly done up, lips painted the perfect rouge. You're as educated as a woman could be in your day and age. You're an Uptown girl. Capital O - Old Money.

Your friends are enamored with Bucky Barnes and his friends - though you all know they'll never do anything about. Not as long as their parents had anything to say about it. And none of them are prepared to give up their high class life. It's just fun for them. A way to sow some wild oats before their parents introduce them to their future husbands.

Every chance they get, they pester you to take the long way home. To walk by that mechanic shop where Bucky and his friends hang out.

They never approach those Brooklyn boys. No, they never offer more than a coy smile and a languid, flirty twinkle of their manicured fingers. They just relish in the attention they get from walking past them.

You hate it. You hate their arrogance. You hate the smell of nicotine that hangs around him. You hate everything about them, down to those oddly charming Brooklyn accents.

"Hey," a blonde boy calls as you and your best friend walk past their mechanic shop one day. "Hey!"

"I told you this was a bad idea," you hiss at your friend, locking your arm with hers. "Now, look."

"I think they want to talk to us," she squeals under her breath.

He picks up his stride, doing a half jog until he reaches where your friend holds you hostage on the pavement. "We see you ladies passin' through every once in a while. Thought we could be friends or somethin'."

Your friend is immediately entranced with the blonde boy. Her face flushes as she beams at him, "We would love that!"

"We have enough friends," you simultaneously reply.

"She's kidding," your friend nervously chuckles, elbowing you in your ribs.

The blonde boy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I'm Steve. My friend there is Bucky."

As if on cue, Bucky saunters up beside Steve with an equally arrogant grin. He tips his head at each of you. "Hello, ladies."

Your friend nods at the two of them, an ear to ear grin taking up her entire face. "It's nice to meet you, Steve, Bucky."

The brunette's eyes flash over to you, speaking through that infuriating smirk, "Pleasure's ours."

"Would you ladies like to join us for a Coke?" Steve offers.

"We'd love to!" she immediately replies.

You shoot your friend an intense, incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure thing." Steve nods, ambling away from you and your friend to give you a moment of privacy.

Bucky doesn't move an inch. He stands before you with that same arrogant smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I'm good right here."

"Fine," you scoff, speaking as bluntly as you can. Despite your polite upbringing, you you find don't care about offending him in the slightest. "We are not staying here!"

"Come on," she pleads. "What's the harm?"

"Where's the good in staying?" you shoot back.

"They're just so handsome," she fawns, looking over her shoulder to give a coy wave to the blonde boy. "And there's one for the both of us, it's fate!"

"It's not fate. They're nothing but trouble."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You remember that I'm still right here, right?"

You shoot a glare at Bucky. "I know."

He playfully clutches his chest. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Doll."

You can feel the anger raising your blood's temperature. You don't like how quickly he's gotten underneath your skin. "I'm not your Doll."

"Princess?" he suggests with an infuriating wag of his eyebrows.

There's an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to stamp your foot at him and yell at him to stop teasing you. You keep it together just enough to contain that visceral reaction you're having to Bucky Barnes. Mostly. "I'm not your anything!"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I ever do to you, Princess?"

Your eyes narrow in accusation. "I know your type."

"Charming? Irresistibly handsome?"

"Horrendously arrogant," you seethe at him. You turn back to your friend, only to find her missing, "Now, can we please go-"

"Your friend ran off the second you were focused on me."

Your eyes flicker to behind Bucky to your friend, who sure enough is enthralled in a conversation with Steve. "I was not focused on you!"

"Then why didn't you notice your friend runnin' away from you?"

"You're incorrigible."

The corner of Bucky's lips twitch up. "Didn't they teach you in that finishing school that it's not polite to insult people who are tryin' to be your friend?"

"And how would you know that I went to finishing school?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you like the answer is obvious. His eyes rake over you. From the way you hold yourself. To the dresses that oozed quiet luxury. You and Bucky were as different as night and day. "I know an uptown girl when I see one."

"And I know trouble when I see it," you shoot back. "And you Brooklyn boys are nothing but trouble."

It only gets worse from there. After that first interaction, your friend in fully infatuated with Steve Rogers. There is no tearing her away from him.

And that means, as your friend's dutiful alibi, you were dragged down to Brooklyn far more than you ever wanted.

And worst of all, it meant you spent most of your free time in the presence of Bucky Barnes.

"Please, just be nice," your friend begs as you trudge up to their garage. "I'd settle for polite even."

You scoff at her, rolling your eyes, "I'm always polite - just like I'm always nice."

"Not to Bucky, you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumble, walking into the garage. Your friend takes off, immediately falling into the arms of Steve Rogers. Leaving you with Bucky Barnes to sit with him on the the couch that's become your most constant companion on days like today. As you walk past Bucky, you snipe, "James."

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking at you, "Oh, so now I'm James?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

He walks away from the bike he spends most of his time working on, snatching a rag from his tool bench and wiping his hands of motor grease. Your eyes involuntarily wander to his hands, the care he puts into wiping each and every one of his fingers.

You stare for a second too long for Bucky not to notice you staring at his hands. "Remind me to thank Steve for tellin' ya that."

You roll your eyes, finally snapping out of it. "It's far better than the alternative."

He flicks the rag over, resting it on his shoulder. "So you like my name?"

You softly snort as you settle onto the couch. "I didn't say that. I said it was better than the alternative."

That smirk only gets even bigger. "What else do ya like about me?"

You roll your eyes. "Not a thing."

He settles into the couch beside you. Far too close for your liking. You can almost feel the rough denim of his jeans through your skirt. "I just love these conversations of ours."

"I don't."

His entire torso turns towards you, mischief and amusement gleaming in those blue eyes, "I mean, why would I want warmth and affection when I could have blind hatred?"

"It's not blind hatred." In spite of easily Bucky gets under your skin, you can't deny just how unfairly handsome he is. Even now, you find yourself lost in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. "It's perfectly reasonable contempt."

He gently runs a finger down your cheek. "I love when you talk smart to me."

You swat his hand away from your face. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" Bucky insists. "I really love it! I know it's just your way of flirting with me!"

You scoff, making no attempt to hide your offense, "I am not flirting with you!"

He tilts his head at you, that arrogant smirk once again tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, just admit it, Doll. You're a little sweet on me."

"I am not your Doll!" You fly up out of your seat with an indignant huff. "And I most certainly am not sweet on you!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when I walk around here without a shirt. Or the way you were staring at my hands just now. What exactly were you picturin' my hands doin'?"

"I was not picturing anything." Your cheeks flame as you continue to bicker back and forth with him. Sure, he was possibly the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on. And yes, he could be incredibly charming. And sometimes, you found yourself staring at him in an not so innocent way. But you hated him. He infuriated you to no end. "And I was not staring!"

The grin is practically splitting his face. "And you've definitely thought about kissin' me."

"I would rather walk from here to Jersey than kiss you."

He slides up off the couch, taking a long step towards you. "You've got a hell of a temper, you know that?"

You refuse to back down. You press an accusing finger into his chest. You can't help but notice just how firm the muscles underneath that white t-shirt are. "I just think you're real good at pushing my buttons."

"Real good?" Bucky teases. "I think Brooklyn is startin' to rub off on you."

"You know what I think?" Your chest starts to heave with the anger and frustration you feel towards Bucky Barnes. "I think that you're the last person I would ever let rub off on me. I think that you're an arrogant smart ass that likes to spend his day running his mouth."

"And I think you're a repressed priss that couldn't take what she wanted 'less it's handed to her on a silver platter."

"You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I want."

"You wanna know what I think..." He leans closer, lowering himself to your eye level. "I think that you're pissed off because you know deep down those punk ass rich boys will never make ya happy, I think you're pissed off 'cause you're bored, and I think you're pissed off 'cause you want me - even if you'll never admit it."

You don't have a response to that. There's not a single word that comes to mind. You don't think you've ever been this mad before.

And because you can't think of a single word to assuage your heaving chest and boiling blood, you do something that a polite, good girl like you would never even dreaming of doing. Before you can think, you find your hand opening and winding back.

Before you can even make contact with his cheek, he catches your hand, gripping your wrist between his warm, calloused hand. He hauls you forward until you stumble into his chest.

For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop. The tension is so thick the only air in the room Bucky's breath dancing across your lips. "I think I'm gonna kiss you."

A soft breath stutters from your lips. "And I think I'm gonna let you."

You weren't sure what it was, but after that first kiss, you couldn't get enough of your Brooklyn boy. Even after your friend and Steve had mostly fizzled out, you couldn't get enough of him.

You waited for the moment that they all talked about, the moment when you had your fill of the boy from the wrong side of tracks, when your wild oats were sufficiently sowed, but it never came.

Every time you laid eyes on him, the seal on your fate only solidified more and more. The more you saw him, the more you wanted him. And the more sure you were that you would never be able to let him go.

You weren't a stranger to the boredom and monotony of your upper echelon life, but this was different. This wasn't boredom, he wasn't a distraction. From the moment you met Bucky, you lost all interest in the upper echelon of it all.

Suddenly, you don't care what your friends think, what your parents would think. Suddenly, you were throughly repulsed by the thought of marrying one of those repressed, trust fund babies that littered your street.

And even your friends, the same ones that lived off their fleeting attention, didn't understand.

Your friend rolls her eyes again, a sigh of irritation leaving her lips as you ready to go meet Bucky, "Are you really going back up there?"

"You're the reason I met him in the first place!"

"I know. I know," she groans, clearly disappointed that you hadn't lost interest in Bucky like she had with Steve. "And I'm happy for you! I am! I just I want to make sure..."

Her tone finally gets your full attention. You put your bag down on the table, your eyebrow pulled together, "Make sure what?"

"You're just sowing wild oats, right?"

Your entire face puckers with distaste, "What?"

"That sounded bad," she backtracks, a guilty look painting her face. She takes a deep breath, resting a condescending hand on your shoulder. "You just - you know your future isn't with Bucky, right?"

You shake her hand off your shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"He's from a different world than we are. You know that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," you scoff. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Come on, he's not exactly the sort of guy you can bring home to your parents."

You snort, turning away from her, "I have to go."

"You know I'm right!" she calls after you.

You didn't know that. In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw why he was exactly the right person to bring home to your parents. He was everything you could ever bring yourself to hope for and more. Sure, he was different than you and your family, but he was a good man. He was perfect for you.

Surely, your parents could see that. Surely, they could see how good he was for you.

So that's exactly what you were going to do.

Bucky sighs against your lips, "I missed ya."

You don't know when that happened, but you've come to find a comfort in the scent of the faded leather of his jacket, in the feeling of his calloused fingertips trailing dangerously high on your upper thigh.

In the backseat of his beloved car, you curl closer into his side, resting your head on his chest, "Me too."

He kisses the top of your head, watching as you stare off into the distance, "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

You pull back slightly, lifting your head off his chest. With a furrowed brow, you ask him, "How serious are you about me?"

"Dead serious," he replies in an instant.

You lightly swat his chest. "Quit playing."

"'M not playin'," he swears. He does an 'x' over his heart, "Cross my heart."

His answer gives you all the reassurance you need. All there was to do was ask him. Still, there was a hesitancy. You worry that this will just make him realize that you two might just be insurmountably, irreconcilably different. You decide that the best way to ask is just ask. "Then what would you say about meeting my parents?"

"I'd love to," Bucky coolly answers.

You can't help the way your face lights up with hope. "Really?"

"Of course. Anything for my girl."

You really like the way that sounds. His girl. You could get used to being his girl.

The look on your face is worth it all to Bucky. He only hopes you don't see the anxiety in his expression.

He wasn't oblivious to how different your worlds were. He knew there was a good chance that this wouldn't last forever. It didn't really matter what he wanted or how much he was willing to fight for you, he knew the reality of it all.

He couldn't offer you half of what someone in your neighborhood could. Your worlds couldn't be more different.

And he's never been more aware of it than on the eve of meeting your parents.

Steve smirks at Bucky as he fiddles with his tie again. "You're really seein' this through, aren't you?"

Bucky smacks Steve upside his head. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm just sayin'," Steve shrugs, settled into the couch of Bucky's family home. "I'm happy for ya, Buck. You really like this girl."

"I wouldn't be dressed like this for anyone else. Are you sure this is right?" Bucky tugs at his tie again. Maybe it was that the suit hadn't seen the light of day in a few years and was a little more snug than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that he'd only dressed like this for funerals and weddings, but everything about his getup today made him feel like a fraud. He was sure if your parents saw him like this, they'd see right through him. "I feel like I'm goin' to a school dance."

"Where does she live again?"

Bucky tries his best to hide his wince. He'd never been to your side of town, but he'd heard stories. Sure, most of them were made up, but there had to be some truth buried in the tall tales. "Upper West Side."

Steve pats his shoulder. "Stick with the tie, Buck."

He listens to Steve's advice and sticks with the tie. As he walks through your neighborhood, seeing houses bigger than entire apartment buildings on his block that line your street, he's pretty confident in trusting Steve up until the moment he sees you.

Your smile stutters as you see him waiting outside the gate of your home. It was just his luck that your house was one of the biggest on the block. Your eyes trail up and down Bucky's uncharacteristic attire. "What are you wearing?"

His heart sinks. He looks down, patting his blazer and tie. "Am I - Am I not this thing right? I knew it - I told Steve -"

"No, no," you quickly interject. "You look great! I've just never seen you... like this."

"What's wrong with this?" Bucky hedges.

Your soft smile up at him is the only thing soothing his knotted stomach. "Nothing, I - I just wanted them to meet you, to meet the Bucky that I know and - and I want them to know you. Not whoever this is."

"I - I didn't think they would like that Bucky very much," Bucky confesses.

It doesn't escape you that he's nervous, especially as he fiddles with this tie over and over again. You're well aware of how intimidating this all is. Even as someone who grew up in this social circle, in the thick of the upper echelon, you still found yourself scared of doing and saying the wrong thing.

You knew he was only trying to fit in as best as he could. Still, you missed the smell of his leather jacket, the waft of motor oil that often clung to his skin. "Well, I like you the way you are. Greaser and all."

"Thanks." It's comforting to him. Still, as his eyes rove over your house, he can't help but be glad he listened to both Steve and his mother. He holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "My Ma told me to bring these for your Ma."

An endeared smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He was really trying to win over your parents. He really was serious about this - about you. "My mother will love this."

"Your mother," Bucky corrects himself, doing his best to tame his Brooklyn twang.

"Just be yourself," you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you make your way up the long driveway. "No one else, just you."

"Any other tips?"

"If you run out of things to talk about ask my father about his cars. He collects them."

It takes everything in Bucky not to gape like a fish out of water. "He collects... cars?"

You ignore his question, continuing to fill Bucky in on your parents, "And my mother, well, she's a terrible gossip. If you can get her talking about her friends, you've won her over."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Just relax. They'll love you."

As he walks into your home, greeted by a man wearing a nicer suit than he is who offered to take his coat from him, Bucky's not quite sure he believes you.

Your heels click against the sleek marble flooring as you guide him through your home. He holds on tight to your hand, half afraid that you'll let go and he'll get lost in the labyrinth of pristine beige hallways.

Your father is the first to greet Bucky in your living room. He extends a hand out to Bucky. "You must be the boy we've heard so much about."

"It's nice to meet you both," Bucky returns the firm handshake before turning to your mother with the warmest smile he can muster through his anxiety. "You have a lovely home, ma'am. I brought these for you."

She takes the bouquet from Bucky's hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you..."

"Oh, it's Bucky," he supplies.

"Bucky?" your mother dubiously repeats. "How unique..."

"It's James, actually," Bucky corrects himself, already feeling himself getting flustered. "James Buchanan Barnes. 's where Bucky comes from."

Your mother nods, offering a tight smile, "How lovely."

As your mother hands off the flowers to one of the wait staff, he can't help but already feel like he's already made that dreaded bad first impression.

As though you can see the despair forming in the pit of his stomach and dampening the glimmer in his blue eyes, you give his hand a squeeze along with a smile.

"Dinner is ready," your mother announces. "Why don't we make our way to the dining room?"

"That sounds wonderful," you beam, leading Bucky into the next room. You stutter to a stop just before the dining table. You look at the table as you take your seat, your eyebrows furrowed at something that Bucky hasn't quite caught on to. "Mother? I thought we agreed on a more simple menu tonight."

As you speak you reach under the table, giving Bucky's hand an apologetic squeeze. Just from your inflection, Bucky can tell what awaits him will not be pleasant.

"Nonsense." She dismissively waves you off. "We have a guest."

"We talked about this," you admonish. "You promised."

"Bucky?" your mother calls. "Do you mind having a more formal dinner? I know it might be a tad unusual for you."

"Mother," you sharply warn.

"Um, no, ma'am," Bucky awkwardly lilts. "That sounds lovely."

A self satisfied smirk settles on your mother's face. "See? It's fine."

"Why are there so many forks?" Bucky whispers under his breath.

"Just work your way in," you reply as quietly as you can.

"Do you change forks every bite or somethin'?" It's half an attempt at a joke, half an honest question.

"In between courses."

"Courses?"

Before you can answer Bucky's question, your mother is already beginning her interrogation. "So, James, tell us about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," Bucky replies. "I was born and raised down in Brooklyn."

Your father snorts, "Really?"

You're not quite sure if Bucky catches the sarcastic lilt to your father's question or if he really does just try to rise above it. It's hard to tell with how he rolls with the punches. "Yes, sir."

"Any siblings?" your mother asks.

"I'm the oldest of four, ma'am."

"Any plans for your life?" your father finally pipes in.

"Dad," you hiss.

Your father shrugs, "It's an honest question."

Once again, it rolls off of Bucky's back. "Well, I'm workin' at a garage right now. Me and my friend, Steve, we're hopin' to buy it out. We've just about saved enough between the two of us to buy it from the ol' man when he's ready to retire."

"A man with a plan. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." You're sure that you hear Bucky's sigh of relief as he finds his footing. You can practically see his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your daughter tells me that you have an impressive collection yourself."

You weren't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but by the end of the night, Bucky is talking to your parents like they're old friends.

You're not even sure why you're that surprised, you hated him up until the moment you succumbed to his charm.

As the evening comes to a close, he stands in the doorway, shaking your father's hand again, offering your mother that charming grin once more, "Thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious."

"You're welcome back anytime, James."

"Thank you." You're almost shocked at your mother's open invitation. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. "I'll see ya later."

The three of you stand in the foyer of your house as Bucky walks down the steps and down the driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets. You look up to your father, face filled with hope. "So?"

"He's a nice boy."

You're not sure your grin can get any bigger. "I really like him."

"You'll grow out of it."

Your heart sinks the moment the words leave your father's mouth. "What?"

"It can't come soon enough," your mother groans. "You're far too good for him."

"You don't know him."

"We know his type, dear," your mother condescendingly sighs. "And good girls like you don't belong with boys like that, but I do think it was sweet of you to invite your little infatuation to dinner."

You feel like all the air has been knocked out of you. For a moment tonight, you really thought they were coming around. You truly thought it would all work out for the best. "Infatuation?"

"That's what this is, right?" your father asks, concern painting his expression when he sees the furiously determined look in your face. "You're just... rebelling?"

You look up at your father, shaking your head. "No, no, I'm not just rebelling."

You fought with them the whole night before you went to find him the very next day. They threatened you with everything they could think of. When that didn't work, they bribed you with everything they could think of. You didn't care for any of it.

The moment you see him, you know he knows. You're not sure if he realized it the moment he walked out of your door or if it took him a quick recollection of the night to realize it, but he knows all the same. It looks like he hasn't slept a wink. A deep frown replaces his usual grin. He looks entirely and totally distraught.

He notices you the moment you walk up to his garage just like you did all those times before.

This time, it's obvious is different. There aren't barbed words or verbal jabs. You don't bound into his arms. Even Steve offers you a sad twitch of his lips.

Bucky watches you for a long moment before you break the silence. He reaches into his pocket, lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. "Hi."

"They hated me, right?" He doesn't waste words. Your lips press together in a tight line. He takes a large drag from his cigarette. You can't remember the last time you saw him smoking. He shakes his head, hissing under his breath, "Damn it..."

"Bucky?"

He takes another large pull from his cigarette. Even from feet away, you can smell the nicotine in the air. "Just do it. I understand."

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? Just get it over with."

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand."

"I'm not an idiot, alright?" he spits. "I know I didn't pass their little test, so just call it already."

"Is that really what you thought last night was?"

"What else would you call last night? 'Cause I think I was the butt of the joke from beginnin' to end."

"You were not the butt of the joke, Bucky."

"Oh, please, I fell face first into their punchline."

You suck in a shaky breath, both your own hurt and the cloud of smoke around Bucky burning at your throat, "Is that what you think of me? That I was tryin' to set you up?"

"Yes! No- No! I just - I - Don't you see it?"

"See what?" you demand.

"That I'm not good enough for you!" he desperately exclaims, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. "And everyone else already knows it! Last night proved that!"

"My parents are assholes, Bucky. I came here to apologize for them, to tell you that I don't care what they think."

His voice quiets, the anger melts off his words until all that's left is a heartbreaking sincerity, "You should. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"They don't know you, but I do." You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "And I think you've got everything I want. I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word."

"What did I do to deserve you? My perfect girl." He kisses the back of the hand he hods, using it to tug you closer to him. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him. "What?"

You wrinkle your nose at him. "I hate the smell of smoke."

"I'll quit," he immediately replies.

"You'll quit smoking? Just like that?"

"That surprise you?"

"It's just - Maybe you Brooklyn boys aren't as tough as you think you are," you tease.

He smirks. "Maybe we're not. Maybe I'm not - but I think it's because I'm in love with an Uptown girl."

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

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⭐Vitamin Cheat Sheet⭐

Vitamin A: Vision, immune system, skin health.

Vitamin B1 (Thiamine): Energy metabolism, nerve function.

Vitamin B2 (Riboflavin): Energy production, skin health.

Vitamin B3 (Niacin): Cellular energy production, skin health.

Vitamin B5 (Pantothenic Acid): Metabolism, hormone production.

Vitamin B6: Brain function, mood regulation.

Vitamin B7 (Biotin): Healthy hair, skin, and nails.

Vitamin B9 (Folate): Cell division, DNA synthesis.

Vitamin B12: Nervous system, red blood cells.

Vitamin C: Immune system, collagen synthesis.

Vitamin D: Bone health, immune function.

Vitamin E: Antioxidant, skin health.

Vitamin K: Blood clotting, bone health.

Calcium: Bone and teeth health, muscle function.

Iron: Oxygen transport, energy production.

Magnesium: Nerve function, muscle relaxation.

Zinc: Immune system, wound healing.

Potassium: Fluid balance, nerve function.

Iodine: Thyroid function, metabolism.

Selenium: Antioxidant, thyroid health.

Being a woman holds value. Know your worth and don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise, ladies. 💕✨

“What a terrible mistake to let go of something wonderful for something real.”

— Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You

OS PEÕES

masterlist da fic

Avisos: Menção a guerra, sangue e morte, como a fic é "medieval" tem umas noções bem machistas e coisas do tipo mas deixo claro que eu NÃO COMPACTUO com essa visão, apenas tentei adequar a escrita a época que eu tinha em mente. é também a primeira vez que eu escrevo algo assim então peço perdão se não estiver tão bomkkkkk

Notas: Oie! e veio aí, minha segunda fic e essa eu to SUPER animada. finalmente prince!enzo aparecendo nesse perfil. já adianto que os capítulos vão sair beeem devagarinho então peço muita paciência. to bem ansiosa e feliz com esse projeto e espero que vocês gostem muito!

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O dia do xeque-mate. O nome surgiu como piadinha entre todos da nobreza, dia este que é tradicional durante anos, tornando a piada antiga. Hoje era o grande dia que o príncipe escolheria sua esposa, algo que era comum e era na verdade um dos eventos mais aguardados da realeza sempre que surgia um novo príncipe, afinal, é graças ao dia do xeque-mate que surgia todas as novas fofocas. Ninguém nunca pensou que o dia do xeque-mate do Príncipe Vogrincic chegaria, apesar de ser o sucessor do trono, muitos acreditavam que ele não teria uma rainha. Mas algo mudou, ninguém sabe o que e isso que tornava o dia do xeque-mate mais interessante ainda. Toda a nobreza queria saber o que fez o príncipe mudar de ideia, foi o rei que mandou? Foi o próprio príncipe que decidiu sair da vida de bordéis e finalmente sossegar em um casamento? Ou é apenas um casamento qualquer apenas para gerar um herdeiro? Será que tudo não passava de uma jogada política? Ou será que o príncipe já tinha alguém em mente e o dia do xeque-mate era apenas para disfarçar o fato de que ele já fez sua escolha? As perguntas não tinham respostas, mas talvez o dia de hoje mudaria tudo. No dia do xeque-mate, diversas filhas de duques, marqueses, condes e até mesmo de antigos guerreiros do reino eram selecionadas a dedo pela rainha. Todas as filhas eram convidadas a ir até o palácio real se apresentar ao rei e a rainha e logo em seguida ter um jantar com o príncipe. Apenas o príncipe e todas as suas pretedentes, e, se passado 24 horas após o jantar, o príncipe não tivesse feito sua escolha, a rainha, sua mãe, o faria. É por isso também que o dia do xeque-mate é tão importante, pois marca o início de uma nova dinastia, o início de uma nova era, além de que todo o povo adora um casamento real.

Você é filha de um ex guerreiro do reino, seu pai por muitos anos comandou as tropas das batalhas de uma das guerras mais importantes da história: a Guerra dos Amantes, entre o reino Vogrincic e o reino Kukuriczka. Segundo a história, como contava seu pai todas as noites antes de te colocar para dormir, O rei Kukuriczka se casou escondido com a filha do antigo rei Vogrincic, irmã do atual rei, e aparentemente isso foi suficiente para se iniciar uma guerra. Você sempre achou a história esquisita, achava que um casamento deveria unir os dois reinos e não os fazer entrar em guerra, mas como sua mãe dizia: homens são bobos e entram em guerra por qualquer motivo. Apesar de, graças ao seu pai, o reino Vogrincic ter vencido a guerra, os reinos permanecem inimigos até hoje. Não lembra muito da guerra em si pois era muito nova, mas lembra quando seu pai teve que ir pessoalmente em uma batalha. Geralmente seu pai ficava só no comando, montando estratégias de guerra, mas conforme os soldados iam morrendo, ele precisou participar da briga sangrenta. Isso infelizmente causou a morte dele.

Por seu pai ter sido uma figura importante na guerra, você e sua mãe sempre foram consideradas nobreza, moravam em um castelo, tinham uma quantidade considerável de riquezas e claro, mantinham o status social. Sua mãe nunca se casou novamente, além de nunca ter amado nenhum homem além do seu pai, sempre deixou claro que nunca botaria um homem dentro de casa para que ele pudesse controlar toda a vida dela. Sempre viu sua mãe como um modelo a ser seguido, não só por ela ser uma mulher independente e que comandava tudo no castelo, sempre sendo uma figura forte até mesmo quando seu pai era vivo, mas por tudo o que ela fez por você: Naquela época, mulheres não podiam estudar, leitura só se for de romances, romances estes escritos por homens, visto que mulheres nem sequer sabiam escrever. Mulheres deveriam ser comportadas, recatadas, deviam saber como administrar uma casa, costurar, tocar o piano, ter a mão delicada para as artes e ir para as missas de domingo. Você sabia de tudo isso, cresceu aprendendo tudo sobre postura, sobre como organizar jantares, sobre como bordar decorações de mesas lindas, sobre como tocar as mais complexas músicas não só no piano, mas também no violino, sobre como pintar os quadros mais belos, além de ser bastante dedicada a sua religião. Mas além disso, sua mãe fez questão que você estudasse: Sabia ler os mais diversos livros de filósofos, cientistas e sacerdotes, sabia caçar, sabia técnicas de guerra, golpes de autodefesa, basicamente, sabia como sobreviver em qualquer lugar, sabia como pensar, como falar, como se portar, como impressionar as pessoas certas. Você sabe como ser esperta em mais sentidos do que as pessoas imaginam.

Em seu lar, era você, sua mãe e seu tio, irmão de sua mãe. Precisavam de um homem para comandar as finanças, já que sua mãe era viúva, mas seu tio estava ali simples e puramente de fachada, afinal, sua mãe que tomava conta de tudo. Administração do lar, do dinheiro, da educação, tudo era sob o controle da mulher mais velha. Sua mãe também recebeu uma educação diferenciada e ela sabe o quanto isso foi importante para vida dela, por isso quis te fornecer o mesmo, e graças a Deus por isso. No entanto, nenhuma educação no mundo permitiria que ela impedisse o inevitável: Você precisava se casar. Não há horror maior na alta sociedade do que uma mulher sem marido, afinal, uma mulher só era algo quando vinha acompanhada de algum homem. Ela tentava amenizar as coisas para você, claro, nunca te forçaria a casar, mas rezava todas as noites que você achasse um amor genuíno da mesma forma que ela achou com seu pai e você pudesse satisfazer as demandas sociais sem sofrimento.

Por ser filha de um ex guerreiro, nova e solteira, foi convocada para o dia do xeque-mate. Achava tudo aquilo uma grande besteira, mas não tinha escolha. Não tinha esperança nenhuma para tal dia, mesmo que estivesse usando seu melhor vestido (e só o usava pois sua mãe o demandou). Sabia que havia muitas outras mulheres desesperadas pelo posto de princesa e futura rainha e estava mais do que feliz em ceder lugar a elas. Compareceria, se apresentaria ao rei e a rainha, jantaria com o príncipe e depois voltaria a sua vida normal, esse era o plano.

"Ouvi dizer que o príncipe anda estressado." Sua amiga Erica diz conforme atravessam o jardim, se encaminhando para dentro do castelo real. "Talvez eu possa ser a que vai ajudar ele a desestressar." Ela dá uma piscadinha na sua direção, te arrancando um risinho.

Erica é sua amiga de infância, seus pais lutaram juntos na Guerra dos Amantes, mas infelizmente o pai de Erica voltou sozinho. Erica também foi convocada para o dia do xeque-mate e você admite que era reconfortante ver pelo menos um rosto famíliar. Diferente de você, Erica estava muito animada com o dia do xeque-mate. Enquanto você nunca sequer se preocupou em arrumar um marido, Erica sempre dizia que o dia do casamento e o dia que concebesse o primeiro filho seriam os dias mais felizes da vida dela. Naturalmente e de acordo com seus sonhos, Erica tinha grandes expectativas para o xeque-mate e realmente acha que a melhor coisa que poderia acontecer com ela seria ser nomeada como a mais nova princesa do reino Vogrincic. Erica é graciosa, é tudo o que você não é, mas isso não é motivo de inveja ou ciúmes, na verdade, era o contraste entre vocês duas que tornava a amizade tão interessante.

"Você é tão indecente." Você brinca, um sorrisinho travesso no rosto.

"O que foi? Vai me dizer que sua mãe nunca te contou sobre as noites de núpcias?" Ela diz, provocando de volta.

"Sim... mas não com detalhes." Você diz, Erica te lança um olhar. "Quê?"

"Nada. Só acho que você está perdendo a melhor parte." Ela dá uma piscadinha. Erica pode ser bela, recatada e do lar, mas por dentro ela é uma garotinha bastante travessa.

Quando entram no castelo, são encaminhadas para uma sala e ao invés de entrarem em forma desordenada, são colocadas em fila pelos funcionários do castelo. Fica logo atrás de Erica, que te lança um olhar como quem diz "A coisa é séria." que só faz te revirar o olho, sabe o quanto ela está amando tudo aquilo. As mulheres entram aos poucos, mas você nunca as vê saindo, talvez estivessem sido encaminhada para uma outra sala. Não sabe exatamente o motivo, mas se sente meio ansiosa e precisa limpar as mãos suadas na saia do vestido mesmo que estas estejam cobertas por uma luva branca delicada. Quando Erica entra, você sussurra um "boa sorte" e o sorriso no rosto dela é tão majestoso que você não consegue evitar em pensar que o príncipe seria doido se não a escolhesse.

Pouco tempo depois, o guarda permite sua entrada e você dá o seu máximo para dar seu melhor sorriso. Não é porque não estava interessada que não precisava jogar conforme o jogo, certo? Mas seu sorriso se desmancha assim que entra. Há dois tronos no final da sala, nos quais o rei e a rainha estão sentados, mas algo está esquisito. O rei tem um balde perto do rosto, tosse de forma bruta e a rainha tenta o confortar ao passar a mão pelas costas dele. Pensa que é apenas uma gripe, mas quando o rei se afasta do balde e limpa a boca com um pano, consegue ver o rastro de sangue manchando o pedaço de tecido branco. Assim que o rei devolve o balde e os dois monarcas retomam sua postura, seu sorriso volta ao seu rosto, age como se não tivesse visto nada.

"Peço perdão, Milady." A rainha diz.

"Vossa Majestade." Cumprimenta primeiro o rei, se curvando lentamente e logo em seguida cumprimenta a rainha.

"Qual seu nome, minha jovem?" O rei pergunta, dando mais algumas tosses, cobrindo a boca com o pano ao fazer.

"Sou Lady Belfort, filha de..."

"Alexander Belfort." O rei te interrompe, você dá um sorriso simpático e concorda. "Eu lembro dele, um dos guerreiros mais nobres do reino." Ele diz, olhando pra rainha, que mantém um sorriso no rosto. "Seu pai era um grande homem, querida."

"Obrigada, Vossa Majestade."

"É uma honra ter a filha de um homem tão bom se apresentando hoje." O rei diz. "Seu pai estaria muito orgulhoso." Ele diz, você sorri e não consegue evitar de abaixar o olhar, a saudades do pai atingindo seu peito com um forte golpe.

"Agradecemos por ter aceitado o convite." A rainha diz.

Não é como se eu tivesse escolha né... pensa.

"Agradeço pelo convite, Vossa Majestade. Boa noite." Diz e os cumprimenta novamente, deixando que um guarda real te guie para a próxima sala.

É encaminhada para uma porta diferente da que entrou, e assim que passa, sente que pode respirar novamente, relaxar a postura e as bochechas que forçavam um sorriso. Não evita de dar um suspiro, que é cortado ao ser levada para uma sala com todas as mulheres que se apresentaram antes de você. O guarda te deixa por conta própria e volta para a sala principal, fechando as grandes portas atrás de você. Tenta olhar pela sala a procura de Erica e dá um sorriso aliviado ao encontrar a amiga no canto, olhando pela sala desinteressada. Vai diretamente em direção a ela, levantando um pouco o vestido no processo para poder andar mais rápido. Erica sorri ao te ver indo na direção dela.

"Como foi?" Ela pergunta logo de cara.

"Muito esquisito." Você diz, Erica dá risada. "É sério!"

"Você acha tudo esquisito, principalmente quando se trata da realeza." Ela diz. "Eu acho que eles gostaram de mim, agora só preciso conquistar o coraçãozinho do nosso querido príncipe."

"Não, Erica, você não ta entendendo, eu vi uma coisa esquisita." Você diz e apenas isso é necessário para Erica te dar atenção.

Antes que você pudesse abrir a boca, todas as damas que estavam na sala vazia são chamadas para o jantar. Você sabe que não poderia contar o que queria para Erica em qualquer lugar, afinal, se tal informação fosse vazada, poderia causar um caos. Lança um olhar para a amiga como quem diz "depois a gente conversa", a deixando curiosa. Se encaminham para a sala de jantar, mas conforme anda, não consegue tirar a imagem do rei tossindo da sua cabeça.

Normalmente veria isto como uma cena comum, afinal, o reino estava passando por uma série de gripes, mas a imagem do sangue no pano não abandona sua memória. Tinha lido sobre aquilo em algum lugar, uma doença com um nome esquisito que por algum motivo você não consegue lembrar agora, mas lembra que é mortal. Sua cabeça dá voltas e voltas. Todos do reino estavam curiosos para saber o motivo do xeque-mate repentino, e talvez você tenha o achado sem nem mesmo o ter procurado. Mas não poderia ser só isso, certo? Quer dizer, reis morrem a todo momento e apenas isso não sustentaria o desespero do príncipe de achar uma esposa. Começa a pensar o que poderia haver por trás disso, talvez uma esposa apenas para dar ao trono um herdeiro? Mas pra que a pressa se ainda temos um príncipe perfeitamente saudável para assumir o trono? Por mais esperta que você seja, esse é um enigma que você não consegue resolver. Pensa nisso durante todos os seus movimentos, quando um funcionário indica seu lugar e puxa a cadeira para você, quando você se ajeita no assento equanto coloca as mãos por cima da mesa, estava tão imersa em pensamento que nem sequer nota os olhares que Erica te lança do outro lado da mesa. A única coisa que te tira de dentro da própria mente é quando a porta principal é aberta bruscamente, causando um barulho tão alto que você chega a dar um pulinho na cadeira devido ao susto.

Quando olha em direção ao barulho, vê um príncipe afobado andando em direção a mesa, se posicionando perto da cadeira na ponta da mesa. Havia um homem do lado dele que segurava um livro pesado, conversavam entre si algo que você não conseguia entender, mesmo que os sussurros ecoassem pela grande sala de jantar. Olha para o príncipe atentamente, já havia o visto anteriormente, em bailes da nobreza, mas hoje ele parecia diferente, menos posturado. Enquanto nos bailes ele sempre era visto com uma vestimenta extravagante que exibia algumas poucas medalhas, hoje ele estava mais casual, o cabelo levemente bagunçado, provavelmente por ele tanto passar a mão, como fazia enquanto conversava com o homem do seu lado, jogando as madeixas negras para que saíssem do seu campo de visão. Enzo Vogrincic era um dos príncipes mais belos da história do reino, mas também o menos acessível. Quer dizer, pelo menos quando ele se encontra no castelo ou em bailes reais, mas você facilmente poderia o achar em tavernas ou em bordéis do reino, vivendo o melhor que a vida poderia oferecer a um homem. Enzo era muito mal olhado por pessoas mais velhas da nobreza, achavam que o rapaz não tinha culhões para ser o sucessor. Mas outros, inclusive você, sabe que ele está prometido para ser um dos melhores reis que esse reino já teve. Ele pode ter seus momentos irresponsáveis, claro, mas a empatia que ele tem pelo seu povo e sua inteligência são únicas. Enzo termina de cochichar com o homem e ajeita sua postura, assim como seu companheiro, que fecha o livro e se ajeita. Todas tomam como uma deixa para se levantar, típico da etiqueta real.

"Peço perdão pela minha entrada afobada, Senhoritas." O Príncipe começa. "Acredito que todas aqui me conheçam, mas ainda sim vou me apresentar, afinal, o rei odiaria saber que criou um homem mal educado." Ele brinca e dá um sorriso tão charmoso que você consegue ouvir alguns suspiros apaixonados pelo ambiente. "Sou o Príncipe Vogrincic, mas vocês podem me chamar somente de Enzo. Eu não faço nenhuma questão de toda essa baboseira de Vossa Alteza, mas podem me chamar do que for conveniente e confortável para cada uma." Ele diz e olha pro homem do lado dele. "Esse é meu fiel escudeiro, Soldado Pardella, se as senhoritas não se incomodarem, ele se juntará a nós essa noite pois estamos tratando de... assuntos importantes para a coroa." Enzo diz, Pardella concorda. "Creio que a presença do nosso soldado não irá interferir no objetivo dessa noite." Enzo sorri. "Então... Vamos jantar?"

Todos se sentam e no mesmo instante os empregados chegam com os pratos, posicionando-os perfeitamente na frente de cada um que se encontra a mesa. A comida cheirava de forma deliciosa e o visual era tão bonito que você sente sua boca salivar.

"Espero que gostem da comida, é meu prato preferido." Enzo diz, você sobre o olhar do seu prato para ele e já o encontra te olhando, se sente esquisita por uns segundos e por isso desvia o olhar rapidamente.

Começa a comer sua comida junto com todos e as conversas começam a acontecer. Mulheres conversando entre si enquanto o príncipe divide sua atenção entre seu guarda e algumas pretendentes que puxam assunto com ele. Você olha para Erica, que estava tão vidrada no príncipe que você precisa tampar sua boca com o guardanapo para não rir, faz a nota mental de a zoar posteriormente por isso. O jantar é tranquilo, muita comida é ofertada e você sente seu espartilho te apertar cada vez mais. Tenta conversar com as mulheres que estão sentadas do seu lado, mas não consegue se aprofundar muito em assuntos que não sejam o príncipe, casamento e filhos. Bem, a situação é apropriada, mas não torna tudo menos entediante. Desvia o olhar para o príncipe novamente, o vê concentrado conversando com seu guarda, o cenho franzido conforme o guarda explica algo. O Príncipe não diz nada, apenas escuta atentamente e você não consegue deixar de notar como ele parece intimidador na posição que está: levemente inclinado na cadeira, uma mão no queixo na típica posição reflexiva e o olhar tão concentrado em um ponto fixo que ele poderia atear fogo em algo com apenas o poder da visão.

"Príncipe Enzo." Uma das mulheres na mesa o chama, estava consideravelmente longe do príncipe então a atenção de todos são voltadas a ela. "Se Vossa Alteza não se importa que eu pergunte... Eu não pude conter minha curiosidade e gostaria de saber o que você e o Soldado Pardella tanto discutem." Ela diz, o silêncio na sala é mortal e os olhares desviam entre ela e o príncipe.

Todos achavam que o príncipe iria dar alguma resposta grosseira, afinal, era o momento propício para isso. Esperava tudo, que ele dissesse algo como "Temo não ser do seu interesse" ou até mesmo um "Isso é um assunto real e, portanto, confidencial", mas o que Enzo faz pega todos de surpresa. O Príncipe toma um gole de seu vinho, limpa a boca com o guardanapo rapidamente e abre um sorriso.

"Estamos discutindo estratégias de guerra." Ele simplesmente responde.

"Estamos em guerra?" Uma outra pergunta.

"Não, de forma alguma." Ele sorri. "Não há motivo para pânico, podem ficar em paz." Ele garante, arrancando um suspiro de alívio de todas. "Mas o reino anda tendo algumas dificuldades com o reino vizinho. Os Kukuriczka." Ele explica. "E temo que se tais dificuldades não forem resolvidas, teremos que nos preparar para mais uma guerra. Mas não se preocupem, podemos dar conta."

Você não segura a risadinha que te escapa, mas, para ser justa, achava que haveria um bafafá e os sussurros fossem fazer com que sua risada passasse despercebida. Nada disso acontece. Você ri enquanto olha para sua taça, sem notar que agora a atenção está em você. Só nota quando percebe o silêncio fatal que se instala no salão e quando levanta o olhar, se depara com todos te olhando, inclusive o príncipe.

"Perdão." É rápida em pedir desculpa.

"Algo sobre uma possível guerra soa engraçado para você, Lady...?"

"Belfort. Lady Belfort."

"Belfort?" O Príncipe pergunta, um sorrisinho sacana em seu rosto. "Bem, estou surpreso que de todas logo você acha graça em um assunto tão sério, visto que você, mais do que qualquer outra mulher dessa sala, sabe as consequências que esta pode causar a uma família." O clima era péssimo, você desvia o olhar rapidamente para Erica, que te olha apreensiva, mas logo volta a olhar para o príncipe.

"Sim, Vossa Alteza." Responde. "De forma alguma eu estava rindo de algo tão..."

"Então do que você estava rindo?" Ele te interrompe.

Você olha em volta, incerta se deveria responder. Todos estão esperando, inclusive o príncipe. Poderia facilmente dar uma desculpa qualquer e prosseguir com o jantar, mas não o faz.

"Eu ri pois achei engraçado a forma como Vossa Alteza fala de uma guerra com os Kukuriczka de modo tão confiante." Responde. Todas as mulheres te olham como se você fosse louca, mas o príncipe está interessado no que você tem a dizer.

"Não acha que eu devo ficar confiante? Nós vencemos eles uma vez."

"Mas talvez não podemos vencer novamente." Diz. "Os Kukuriczka tiveram um desenvolvimento significante após a Guerra dos Amantes."

"Eles se afogaram em dívidas, seu povo passava fome." O Príncipe argumenta.

"Passava... Há talvez anos atrás." Diz. "Eles tiveram tempo o suficiente para se recuperar e, permita-me dizer, o fizeram de forma majestosa."

"Está dizendo que eles são melhores que nós?"

"De forma alguma." Nega rapidamente. "Mas é inegável que eles têm mais preparo para uma próxima guerra, caso esta aconteça." Diz e olha em volta, o olhar medroso e julgador das outras não te acanha. "Eles já perderam a primeira vez, não se dariam a desonra de perder novamente. Eles vão se aproveitar dos nossos sentimentos de triunfo e confiança para nos atacar." Respira fundo. "Temos a vitória, o poder, mas até mesmo nestes podemos encontrar a vulnerabilidade."

O Príncipe te olha por um momento, reflexivo, analisa seu rosto, repara em você. Nota a forma como seu cabelo está preso, alguns fios rebeldes se desprendendo do penteado que foi feito com tanta delicadeza. Nota como não há nenhum sinal de nervosismo na sua expressão facial, não há hesitação. Sua postura o deixa dividido se ele a ama ou odeia, por um lado, admira sua coragem, por outro, acha um absurdo sua petulância.

"E o que você acha?" Ele pergunta.

"O que eu acho?"

"É."

"Eu acho que iniciar uma guerra seria muita burrice da sua parte." Solta sem querer e na mesma hora suspiros de horror são ecoados pelas outras mulheres da sala.

Você mesma fica horrorizada com o que te escapa. Como você ousa falar com um príncipe dessa forma? Mas mesmo assim, não perde a postura, falou besteira e agora precisa arcar com as consequências, como uma mulher justa e virtuosa. Pardella olha para você e logo em seguida para Enzo, mas o príncipe não desvia o olhar de você. A expressão dele é inelegível. Não sabe se ele está se divertindo com a situação ou se está irritado, pois ao mesmo tempo que seu cenho está franzido, um pequeno sorriso é formado no canto da sua boca.

"Obrigado por nos fornecer seu ponto de vista, Lady Belfort..." Abre a boca para pedir desculpas, mas antes que pudesse emitir qualquer som, o príncipe continua. "Mas eu acho que o jantar chegou ao fim para você."

Sua expressão cai, se sente envergonhada, e por mais que Pardella te ofereça um sorriso empático, não consegue evitar a humilhação que te domina. Se levanta lentamente da cadeira, deixa o guardanapo que antes estava posicionado em seu colo na mesa e dá um último cumprimento ao príncipe antes de um funcionário te guiar para fora do salão. Não tem coragem de olhar para trás e assim que sai do castelo e o vento gelado da noite te atinge, se permite chorar. Chora durante toda a viagem de carruagem, mas antes de chegar em casa tenta se recompor. Não ligava para o xeque-mate, mas também não queria que sua família soubesse do mico que você pagou em cima do nome dela. Só queria poder esquecer e sabe que provavelmente todas àquelas mulheres esqueceriam, afinal, a notícia do novo casório abafaria qualquer outro escândalo. Mas também sabe que a vergonha que te domina voltará em outros momentos, talvez quando estivesse em um baile e visse o príncipe, ou antes de dormir, quando estivesse pensando demais. Era uma situação péssima e seu pai, independente de onde esteja agora, com certeza está muito decepcionado com você.

"Voltou cedo." Sua mãe te pega de surpresa pelos corredores assim que você volta para casa. "Como foi?"

"Bem. Mas sinto em dizer que eu muito possivelmente não serei a próxima princesa." Diz, um sorrisinho fraco em seu rosto.

"Você sabe que eu não ligo pra isso." Ela diz e te puxa para um abraço, você relaxa nos braços de sua mãe. "Pelo menos se divertiu?" Ela rompe o abraço, te segurando pelos ombros, olhando bem para o seu rosto

"Acho que sim." Dá de ombros.

"Isso que importa."

@GOT7Official: 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝟕 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐲 💚

I love you Ahgase 🐣

i messed up...

pairings:  bucky barnes x pregnant!reader

summary: you go against what you and bucky agreed, how will he react?

warnings: angst, pregnant reader, asshole bucky, none more i think?

word count: 1219

a/n: Bucky's a major ass in this but i have part two started if anyone is interested :)

Feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) 

I do not give permission for my work to be copied, reposted or translated on any other platform.

part 2

masterlist

You didn’t mean to mess up this bad, you just wanted a normal day, a day where you could leave the tower alone without an Avenger there to protect you. 

You knew what you signed up for when you and Bucky became official. He had told you so many times that being with him put you at risk but you didn’t care, you loved him too much to be without him. He had insisted that since that day you would have someone there to protect you at all times, you knew it was in a loving way it was a lot to handle, and ever since you and Bucky discovered you were pregnant it had only gotten more intense. You knew it was for the better but it was suffocating you, which is why you went to the store alone this morning. It wasn’t far from the tower and you would be back within the hour, surely nothing could happen in that time?

On your walk home your phone started to buzz, and not just once but it kept buzzing until you opened the chat and the messages started loading in. They were from Sam, the first was a picture of you, from just 15 minutes earlier, you were reaching up to the top shelf in the store and your shirt had risen up, making your bump slightly more visible. How someone noticed that you have no idea. The rest of the text messages were fairly calm but the last one made you panic.

Sam

where are you? let me know you’re okay please Y/n are you safe?  He doesn’t know yet. 

Shit. Bucky was going to be furious at you, he had told you so many times not to go out alone because of this very reason. Now everyone was going to know that you and Bucky had a baby coming. You and Bucky had both agreed that you would keep your pregnancy between as few people as possible, for the baby’s safety and now you’ve compromised that. Only the other Avengers, your family and a couple of friends knew about it. 

Unintentionally you slowed your pace for the rest of your walk, sending Sam a quick text to let him know you were safe and on your way back.  You were scared to face Bucky but at least you could tell him yourself before he found out online or by Sam. 

It doesn’t take long even with your slow pace to get back, you hesitantly push the button for your floor, mentally preparing yourself for facing Bucky. He had been especially insistent on keeping your baby away from the public because of his long list of enemies and being a part of the Avengers meant that list was forever growing. 

When the lift dings and the doors open you pause for a second before stepping out, first you check yours and Bucky’s bedroom but it’s empty so you head for the common room. When you walk in Bucky’s there, as well as Sam, Tony, Natasha and Steve. At first glance things look normal, and no one notices you walking in until you speak. “Hi..”

That’s when Bucky turns around, his jaw was clenched together, brows furrowed, anger practically seeping out of him. He knew. You want to apologise but you can’t manage to get any words out. A few seconds pass before Nat’s voice breaks the silence. “Are you okay Y/n?” You nod towards her, fidgeting with your fingers trying to distract yourself from the shouting match you knew was about to begin. You’d seen Bucky angry before but never this much and never because of you. 

“Bucky, I’m so-“ You couldn’t finish your sentence before he interrupted you 

“Did you not listen to anything I said to you? Did you really just ignore everything? I told you this would happen but what? You just did it anyway?“ 

“Buc-“ He wouldn’t listen, his words were spilling out of him. He didn’t even know what he was really saying. He was just so scared and angry at himself for not protecting you and your baby. 

“You’ve seen what the people we deal with can do and you still acted like a complete idiot.” You could hear muffled sounds of Sam and Nat trying to stop him from going any further but all you could focus on was Bucky’s words.  

“No. How could you make such a careless mistake?” 

Your eyes were growing wetter with each word he said but you tried to keep yourself composed. You didn’t feel as if you had any right to be upset, you were the one who messed up. 

“I wasn’t trying to..” You attempt to interrupt him and defend yourself but at this point you knew that was pointless. 

“I mean seriously,” He pauses for a moment, contemplating his next words, “it’s like you don’t care about our baby at all.”

Oh. That one hurt. He had to know you cared right? Your baby was everything to you. Could he really think you didn’t care?

Tony had stayed quiet up until now. “Enough James!” He screeched from behind Bucky, “I won’t let you talk to Y/n like that, either calm down or leave my tower.” 

You knew he was going to be angry at you but you were not prepared for this much of it. Bucky stares at you for a few seconds before he walks out, dropping his head down to your stomach and scoffing as he does so. Now it wasn’t just anger you felt from him, it was disappointment too. 

You can’t bring yourself to move from the spot you’ve been standing in since you arrived, the only thing breaking you out of your trance was someone’s hand on your shoulder. You weren’t sure who until they spoke. “Y/n? Are you alright?” 

It was Sam, you manage to turn to him and stutter out, “I‘m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He brings his hand up to your head and pulls you gently towards him for a much needed hug. “He’s not angry with you, he’s just scared. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“I just wanted to do something for myself, I don’t want to have to rely on an Avenger everytime I want to go to the store.” 

“I know, he shouldn’t have gotten angry like that. I’m not making any excuses for him but he’s never felt love like he does for you. You and this baby are everything to him, he’s scared to lose you.” 

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet but Sam can just hear you.

“I know he will, he just needs some time to cool down.” You nod your head against Sam’s chest, part of you knew Bucky would forgive you but an even bigger part of you believed you had messed up too bad. 

You reach into your bag and take out the small white teddy you bought, when you read the words printed on its tiny outfit you start to cry harder. It read, “Best Dad Ever”, you just hoped Bucky would forgive you so you could give it to him. 

If you could go back to this morning and change your decision you would. You just want things back the way they were. 

não importa o quão bom você pense que alguém é sempre proteja seu coração.

“We cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever. We must stand up and move on to the next action.”

— Haruki Murakami, 1Q84