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redhairedfeistynerd · 4 years

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Twelve Days

For @daffodilsbucky 1k Writing Challenge.Congrats to you and here’s to many more followers <3

I chose ‘they were roommates’

This has a bit of a spin on The Twelve Days of Christmas. I will hopefully get a chapter out each week, 12 in total plus a ‘behind the scenes’ sort of deal.

Bucky Barnes X Reader, Steve Rogers, other Avengers popping in and out

Warnings: Angst, swearing, drinking, mild sexual content

I’ll update warnings as I post each chapter

word count: 1500+

Twelve Days: Part 1

Catching one last snowflake on your tongue, you pushed open the gate to your yard, walking down the snow-covered path to the porch. Stomping the snow off your boots as you walked up each stair, you noticed a small box sitting on your door mat. One individual box, nothing more, nothing less. The package was wrapped perfectly, folded paper, twine twisted around, a pine clipping attached to a small card, and a bow tied on top. Reaching down, you flipped the tag over with your gloved hand and read what was written; the card was addressed to you. An unrecognizable script stating it was from a secret admirer. A secret admirer?

You took a second look at the card, thinking that you had misread the fancy handwriting, it was definitely addressed to you. Your name, the curves and arches flowing together so beautifully. Someone had taken the time to write each letter with care, delicately. Flipping the tag over to see if there are any other clues as to where this box came from, you find several lines written in the same black lettering.

Twelve days of gifts

To keep you merry,

Twelve days of poetry,

On handmade stationary,

Twelve days to show you,

What you mean to me,

Twelve days to figure out

Who I may be,

Twelve days …

Your cheeks begin to warm once you finish reading the tag and you read it again to make sense of what it says. You had to laugh, how silly was this? Someone was going to give YOU a gift for the next twelve days. Who in their right mind would spend twelve days (after all the holiday chaos that was only starting to wrap up) sending you gifts? This had to be your roommates pulling a fast one on you; trying to get some sort of rise out of you.

The box in one hand and your house key in the other, you unlock the front door to your place, toeing off your wet boots before stepping into the entryway and shutting the door behind you. Silence. The guys must be finishing up with their families, brunches for each, followed by a quick gift exchange and home to spend the evening with you.

The evening before the three of you attended a holiday party – dinner, drinks, and dancing late into the night. Each guest brought a gift under $20, you had to draw a number and whoever had the same, exchanged gifts with you. You went home with a beautiful handmade mug, the lines of the mountains that sat behind your house scratched into it, the green trees reached up high, and wildlife ran across the bottom of the mug. Wanda’s artistic talent always took your breath away – you hugged her so hard she had squealed, the party-goers turning over to look at the two of you during your moment of thanks.

Wanda’s gift in hand and coffee to the rim, you carried the gift into the living room where you were finishing up New Year’s cards for your family and friends. Each card had a positive comment written, you wanted to end this year on a good note and spread the love to those you cared about.

Placing the box on the coffee table, you sit down on the pillow you had placed on the floor and stare at the gift. Bending down further, now eye level with the perfectly wrapped cube, you spin the box around, checking out each of its sides. You sit and contemplate whether to open it or wait until your roommates return home from work. Taking a quick photo, knowing that your friends will want to see what was left for you on the porch today and for the days to follow. Pulling at the twine running the rough strands between your fingers, the knot loosens and you pull the bow, the twine falling to the table. You run your eyes over the script on the small card, reassuring yourself that it was addressed to you before sliding it to your left and pulling back the first piece of tape from the bottom of the box. The paper is thick, the same paper you would wrap a parcel in to ship off to your grandmother. It’s incredibly hard not to tear everything off and throw the paper on the floor but the mystery of what’s inside keeps you grounded. The paper off and a beautiful gold box sits before you, opening the lid with the utmost care, your eyes widen; nestled in between sparkly sheets of tissue paper lay a pair of earrings. Gold hoops, the size of a dollar coin stare up at you and trigger a not so recent memory. You remember these hoops; you had a pair a few years back and you know that you lost one somewhere in the house but you never found the missing one. But who knew about that or remembered it for that matter? Running your hand over the hoops, you smile, your grandmother had given you hoops one year for your birthday; the thought of her, warmed your heart. Pulling the backing off each hoop, you pushed one through your right lobe and then your left, securely fastening them, cautious that you could lose one again. This gift was thoughtful, meaningful, but who knew about the memories the original earrings held?

Your heart full, you took another sip of coffee and continued on with the cards, the gratitude in your heart stronger now and waiting to be spilled onto the card stock.

Steve walks in the door that evening, freshly showered, gym bag slung over his right shoulder. He smiles at you from down the hallway. “Something smells good, is that...”

“Yes Steve, my special lasagna, I thought I would treat you boys to a good meal tonight. Should I pour you a glass of wine, handsome?” You ask, holding up the bottle of red of him to see.

“My my, aren’t we fancy this evening. I’m in.” You hear him drop his bag in his room before he steps into the kitchen. “Is Buck around?” Steve asks and makes his way to the counter, picking a piece of cucumber out of the salad you had prepared and popping it in his mouth. Shooting him a look, he winks and gives you one of his charming smiles.

Pouring a glass for Steve, you sliding it across the counter to him, “You know, I haven’t crossed paths with him today but I have been in my own little world. I finished up a bunch of chores around the house and then the strangest thing happened earlier today-

You’re cut off by the back-door slamming shut, rattling the dishes in the cabinet, cursing follows immediately after. You shake your head, knowing that it could be no other than Bucky Barnes, roommate extraordinaire. You look back to Steve, his eyebrows raised, and wine glass halfway to his lips.

“I guess his day didn’t go exactly as planned.”

“What do you mean? He seems as happy as a can be,” you joke and take a sip of your wine.

Steve smiles back at you, but you know deep down he’s worrying about Bucky. For as long as you have known the duo, they have been inseparable. They made each other laugh and they were there for each other when one needed to be consoled. You admired their friendship, the honesty and compassion that they had for each other.

Steve looked to you, concern crossing his face. “You better not be thinking about knocking on his door. I know you; you’re always trying to pull him out of his moods and he does nothing but shit on you. “

“Why not? You do it all the time,” you say scooping a noodle into your mouth.

“It’s different, no matter what we say to each other, we can always fix it, there’s an understanding between us. I feel like you keep pushing yourself to help him and I’m not sure why. He doesn’t always treat you the way I think you want to be treated. You know I care about both of you and I don’t want either of you to explode.”

Steve keeps shoveling food into his mouth, finally silencing his big mouth. You had heard it all before and he would probably say it 1000 more times.

You couldn’t help it, you had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes, even if he had broken your heart years earlier. No, no, you shouldn’t underplay what happened, he did more than break your heart, he ripped it out of your chest, tossed it to the dirty floor and stomped on it, twice for good measure. You let out a sigh, Steve catching your gaze before you dropped your eyes back to the food on your plate. Dinner is a silent affair tonight, Steve finishes up, thanks you and heads to his room, claiming that the holidays had worn him out and sleep was calling.

You knock, gently at first and wait a minute. Nothing. No sound coming from within, so you reach up and knock again, this time louder. The door to Bucky’s room swings open, darkness behind him as he steps out in front of you. “What?”

You hold out the plate you had made him for dinner, lasagna and salad with the homemade dressing he loved so much. “I saved dinner for you,” you said, holding the plate out to him, an offering, something to hopefully cheer him up.

“I’m really not hungry and I’d really appreciate it if you stopped coming by my room every time you think there is some sort of issue.” He stares at you, eyes cold, waiting for you to leave.

Pulling the plate back and taking a deep breath in, you try to compose yourself, you cannot let Bucky Barnes draw tears from your eyes again. “I want you to know that I care about you and I’m here if you want to talk,” you say, your voice wavering, the tears starting to form in your eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” spat Bucky, slamming the door in your face, the force blowing stands of your hair across your nose.

You freeze, shocked at Bucky’s actions, the look of hatred on his face, the anger in his voice. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe he didn’t want you near him at all; you really weren’t sure. In the last few months, something had changed within Bucky. He avoided you when possible, your conversations had gone from friendly to nonexistent. For two years you had coexisted peacefully and now, whatever was going on with Bucky, was a mystery to you.

You carry the lasagna back into the kitchen and packed it up into a Tupperware container, there was always a chance that he would want a late evening meal. There you go, still thinking about him and trying to please him; Steve was right. You sighed, placing the leftovers in the fridge. Pouring yourself another glass of wine, you cleaned up the rest of the mess from dinner, wondering what you had done recently to set off Bucky Barnes.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes roommate #steve rogers #daffodilsbucky1k

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