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redwing4life · 13 days

Text

For you

CHAPTER 3 | ASHES TO EMBERS

PAIRING: Firefighter!Neighbor!Bucky x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Mention of night terrors, Bucky being upset, fluff, flashbacks containing the death of a child, plenty of unholy thoughts, half naked bucky, dirty talk???, sexual tension, please let me know if i’ve missed something!!!

SUMMARY: You find Bucky at his most vulnerable when he’s sent home from work at 2 in the morning. While doing everything you can to comfort him, you realise you’re falling for him.

WORD COUNT: 4926

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“James, you home?” You call into the firefighter’s apartment, peeking your head around his front door.

It’s your day off and you want ice cream, and for some reason instead of running to the store, you chose to break into your neighbour’s home to ransack his freezer.

“James?” You shout again, double checking he’s at work as you close the door behind you and make your way to the kitchen.

Alpine greets you with a meow from above the fridge, seemingly unbothered by the sudden intruder. You crouch down to pull open the bottom door, met with a cool rush of air that leaves your arm hairs standing tall.

“Come on, I know you have some…” You mumble to yourself while you rustle through the shelves.

“Bingo!” Your fingers brush ice off the top of the tub before pulling it out of the freezer. You reach beside you to close the door and push yourself to your feet, turning to leave when you finally notice your half naked neighbour.

You jump a mile, throwing the ice cream tub in the midst of your fright. “Fuck me, James!!” You all but scream, right hand now clutched to your chest.

Bucky laughs from his stomach, an raising an amused brow at the sight before him.

“I’ve been trying to for months, doll.” He smirks. “What are you doing in my apartment?”

It’s fair to say your brain is lagging a bit, too focused on the drops of water running down his very bare chest to pay notice to his confession.

Clad in just a white towel, wrapped dangerously low on his hips, your neighbour bends down to pick up the strewn tub of ice cream. You catch the way his free hand clutches the knot of the towel in an attempt to keep it from falling, though you find yourself indifferent to the idea.

Indifferent, my ass. You’re practically begging the gods for a gust of wind. Wait did he just say he’s been trying to fu-

“You stealing my ice cream, sweets?” His teasing voice breaks you out of your rather un-holy thoughts.

“James- I- I thought you were working?”

“Ah-Ah-Ah,” Bucky tuts, stepping closer to you, “you didn’t answer my question, doll. I said are stealing from me?”

Your throat runs dry and you shake your head quickly, “No- I- I was just-“

“Just what, peach? Hm?”

He’s so fucking close to you that your brain has completely checked out; your eyes fall to his broad chest, still dripping from the shower.

“Cat got ya tongue, doll?” Bucky teases you, raising a hand to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, skin ablaze in the path of his touch.

You drag your gaze to meet his, breath hitching at his lust-blown pupils.

“I thought you were at work.” You whisper, clutching onto that as your excuse for being caught.

A hand wraps around your waist and tugs you closer, forcing you to brace yourself against Bucky’s taut torso. With one hand on his chest and the other at the top of his abs, your heart races in your ears as the firefighter leans in closer.

“And I thought you were a good girl.” His voice is low, sultry even, against your ear, “I guess we were both wrong.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, drawing a groan from Bucky’s throat, the vibrations palpable beneath your finger tips.

“I am good, Bucky.” You hate how submissive you sound, but Bucky adores it. All it took was a tub of ice cream and a white towel to have you like putty in his hands.

You gasp when he bites down on your earlobe, feeling his warm tongue reach out to soothe the sting. The sensation runs straight to your pussy, your panties catching your arousal as you look up at your neighbour.

“Good girls don’t call me ‘Bucky’.” His nose trails along your cheek until his mouth is hovering over yours. “Wanna try that again, doll?”

You hold his fiery gaze as you reply, desperate to appease him. “I’m sorry, James. I can be good.”

Eyes falling to his mouth when he rolls his bottom lip between his teeth, you whimper at the sight.

“Fuck, doll.” His lips nearly brush over yours as he speaks. “Lucky for you, I like it when my girl’s got a bad side…”

You’re still watching his pink lips when he takes your hand in his. He revels in the way his hand swallows yours before leading it down to the towel’s knot on his hip.

“Go on, sweets.” Bucky ushers your hand between his skin and the towel, slowly pushing the material until you feel it fall away. With one hand, he tilts your chin up so you look him in the eye, gently leading the other closer to his already hard length.

“Show me how bad you can be.”

You wake up with a startle, body bolting upright in the swarm of your sheets. It takes a few seconds for your heart to stop racing and your ears to stop ringing; you look around you, no longer in Bucky’s kitchen and no longer just moments away from kissing him.

Not just from kissing him though, were you?

As you come to your senses, you notice frustrated grunts coming from the hallway, surely the cause of your sudden wake up. With a frown, you slip out of bed and step into your slippers.

You walk to your living room, flicking on a light as you go, ears honing in on the sounds from the other side of the door.

“For fuck’s sake!” You hear, recognising the voice as your neighbours, the same one you were just dreaming about.

“Stupid piece of shit-“ He grumbles, accompanied by clanging metal.

Quickly unlocking your door, you glance down the hall to see Bucky knelt before his own, desperately trying to push his key into the lock.

“Bucky?”

Your voice passes straight through him, as though you said nothing at all. The metal of his keys clang against the lock, doing everything it can not to go in the key hole. You close your door behind you and slip your own keys into the pocket of your checked pyjama pants.

“Bucky?” You repeat, louder this time. How foolish of you to think your words would settle upon his ears this time around; one may think he’s deaf with the way your calls roll off him like water off a duck’s back.

Tentatively, your feet carry you forward, barely heard over the grunts falling from your neighbours lips.

“James?”

He stills. The new silence hits you like a brick but you’re not sure that you prefer it. No more than a couple of feet of distance and shit ton of apprehension sits between you both.

Bucky wills himself to stay still, though his hands refuse to comply. They tremble in front of him, his grip on the keys turning his knuckles white. Your gaze burns into him yet he can’t find the strength to look at you. To admit that he needs you.

Without a sound, you close the gap and lower yourself to your knees. You don’t touch him yet, you think he needs the space.

He wants you to touch him, he hates the space. If only his vocal cords would listen to his brain and ask.

Your features are blurred in his peripheral, slowly coming into focus when you stretch a hand out in front of him. The pads of your fingers barely brush over his knuckles, they trace the veins leading down to his wrist, leaving a trail of fire behind them. Not a dangerous fire, Bucky thinks; the kind that sits crackling in a fireplace in winter while you read a book, huddled into the couch.

He’s a slave to your touch, his grasp relaxing as you run your fingers over his, urging him to open his palm. His fist peels open like a lily blooming, the silver key a stark contrast to the white tension of his hand.

“That’s it, love.” You whisper, unknowingly causing Bucky to bite back a sob.

Love. The tenderness of your tone is unlike anything he’s heard before and he relishes in it, letting it wrap around him like a blanket.

Plucking the keys from his hand, you gently reach up to push them into the key hole. Bucky’s eyes fall shut in a futile attempt to hold back his tears, tears that you’re ready to swipe away if he needs. You realise in this moment that you’d do anything to ease his pain, a revelation that both terrifies you and makes more sense than anything else in your life.

The click of the door unlocking sounds and you pull the key out.

“Let’s get you out of this hallway, James.” You use his real name, now that you know it’s the most effective, and push yourself to your feet.

It’s of little practical use for you to offer Bucky a hand, yet you do it anyway. He takes it with haste, giving in to his primal need for physical touch.

His knees crack as he stands, a combination of years climbing fire escapes and the last ten minutes he’s spent on the ground fighting a key hole. Letting you push the door open, he keeps hold of your free hand and follows you into his own apartment like a lost puppy.

You string together small praises and lead him to his couch, pressing his shoulders slightly to get him to sit down. Once he eases down on the edge of the seat, your turn to close the door but find yourself being pulled back to Bucky.

“Don’t go,” He pleads, his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist; it’s not painful, but you feel the desperation bleeding into your skin. His eyes are strikingly blue and glistening with unshed tears, begging you to stay. Luckily for him, you would never leave his side when he needs you.

“I’m not going anywhere, Buck. Just gonna close the door and i’ll be right back.”

It dawns on him that he’s acting like a toddler, incapable of being left alone for even a second. He’s almost glad you’ve left to lock the door so you don’t see how his cheeks have burned crimson with shame. There’s so many thoughts swirling around his head that a dull ache is growing at the base of his neck.

Alpine saunters into the living area with sleepy eyes; she meets your gaze as you head back to Bucky, her eyes flitting between your worried stance and the stillness of her owner. She may only be a cat, but she knows when something is wrong. You offer her a sad smile. How do I help him, Alps? What does he need from me?

Releasing a slow breath, you return to your neighbour, crouching down in front of his place on the couch.

“Can I touch you?” You ask gently.

Words fail Bucky for the umpteenth time so he’s forced to nod instead. The warmth of your hands on his thighs is welcomed with a small sigh. His resolve to hold back is weakening with every rise and fall of your chest, his focus on your breathing being the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

You circle your fingers over his navy pants keeping your hands close to his knees. The last thing he needs is to think you’re making a pass at him.

“What happened, James?” Your brows pull together. “Your shift doesn’t finish till six.”

The lump in his throat swells, images of tonight’s events flashing before him like a broken film reel.

You watch his chin tremble as his memories torment him, waiting patiently for his response. You know it takes time for him to talk, but the silence is killing you. Lifting a hand from his left thigh, you reach up and brush the loose strands of chestnut hair away from his eyes.

You finally break the silence, “Bucky, darling, what happened?”

Something inside Bucky’s chest snaps and a sob tears through his whole body. He collapses into your hold, face finding safety in your neck. The wails wrack through him while his tears soak your night shirt and you quickly cradle his head.

“Oh, love, it’s okay.” You clench your eyes shut, trying to hold back your own tears. “I’ve got you.”

Though muffled by your shirt, his cries reverberate around the room. You find yourself pushing up to your feet, separating from the firefighter briefly so you can climb onto his lap. With a leg either side of his, kneeling against the cushion, you pull him near to you once more.

Those strong arms envelop you, bringing you impossibly closer; you wrap your own around his neck, the other holding his head to your chest.

Every sob breaks your heart as broken sentences fall from his lips, barely comprehensible but you pick up the few words you understand.

Fire. Boy. Trapped.

You whisper sweet nothings into his ear while you run your fingers through his hair, praying his body tires so he doesn’t have to endure this much longer. If it doesn’t, if he needs you to hold him till sunrise, then sunset, then sunrise again, you’ll do it. You won’t even lean back to take your slippers off, not unless he’s ready.

It’s funny how time works. How things can feel so quick yet so slow at the same time, with no regard for which you’d prefer. You have no idea how long Bucky has been weeping into your neck; you’ve lost count of how many times it’s seemed like he’d calmed, only for a heart wrenching sob to escape him and the process repeats all over again.

But at some point his wails became whimpers and his tears ran dry, only your shirt and his cheeks holding the remnants of his cries.

“I-“ Bucky’s voice is hoarse, forcing him to pull away from your grasp and clear his throat. “I’m sorry, doll, i’m so fucking sorry.”

You don’t even realise you’re shaking your head at him as he continues to apologise.

“I shouldn’t have made you deal with that-“

“Stop,“

“-you didn’t get a choice I just dumped it all-“

“James, stop!” Your sharp tone shuts him up immediately, a timid expression on his face. You reach behind you to grab his hands and pull them in between you. Your flatten your palms against his and watch his eyes fall to where you meet.

“I don’t know who or what made you feel like you have to apologise the moment you show your pain, but I wish I could slap them seven ways to Sunday.”

Warmth pools in your chest at the tiny upturn of Bucky’s lips.

“As long as you’ll let me, i’ll help you, no matter how long it takes.” You glance down at your tear soaked shirt. “Even if it means soggy shirts.”

Your neighbour groans, “Oh god, at least let me apologise for that.”

A relieved laugh rises from your stomach, glad to see a semblance of normal Bucky. “It’s fine, Buck, washers exist for a reason.”

Comfortable silence falls and you let your fingers pass through his, linking together perfectly. Alpine decides to finally make an appearance and jumps up onto the arm of the couch before stepping onto Bucky’s lap, nestling in the small gap between your bodies.

“Someone’s comfy.” The firefighter mumbles, quietly enjoying the comfort of his cat.

When he raises his head to look at you, he finds your kind eyes already on him.

“What do you need?” You ask, noting the unrest on his face.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it or do you need distracting?”

Bucky ponders for a moment. “I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it.”

You nod, “That’s okay. Distraction it is.”

Feet tapping against the hardwood floor, you wait patiently for Bucky to leave the bathroom. Alpine is oblivious to your unrest, enjoying the head stretches you’ve been giving her for the past twenty minutes.

The firefighter gladly accepted your suggestion of a shower, knowing the hot water would relax him after tonight’s events. You’ve been setting up ready for him to return; two lamps now emit warm light from either end of the apartment while the show you and Bucky have been watching sits on pause. You even laid out his favourite blanket for him, though Alpine has commandeered it for now.

Bucky’s phone, meanwhile, has been buzzing constantly - whether it’s an incoming call or a text - the vibrations against the pine coffee table are beginning to drive you crazy.

Eventually, you decide to check who it is who’s desperate to get in touch with your neighbour. You grab the phone and flip it over gently, faced with several notifications from Steve. Your frown deepens as you skim over his messages, realising how worried the captain is over Bucky’s silence.

Hoping he won’t mind, you pick up Bucky’s phone and walk to the bathroom door before knocking against the wood. The shower turned off a few minutes ago and you were meaning to check on him anyway.

“Hey, Buck, everything okay?” You call into the side of the door. No response.

“James?” You ask again when you hear shuffling on the other side.

Still leaning in close to listen carefully, you raise your fist to knock once more, only for the door to suddenly swing open, revealing a rather disheveled and very shirtless Bucky.

Being as tall as he is, you’re eye level with his pecs, small beads of water resting against his lightly tanned skin; some race down to his abs and you follow their path as they journey through the valleys of his defined muscles.

Bucky looks down at you, adorned with an amused smirk, as he leans an arm above him against the door frame. Your frozen state and peach pink cheeks has him chuckling, glad to see you don’t find him ugly after this evening.

Flashbacks to your dream earlier in the night have you rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. Mere inches separate your bodies, the gap closing briefly each time you take a breath.

A deep blue towel is tied around his hips; it’s slipped just below his waist, the divots of his adonis’ belt screaming to be traced, to follow the happy trail right down to his-

“I’m alright, doll.” Bucky’s gruff voice greets your ears, though it takes you a moment to remember what’s happening. “Sorry, I was just finishing up. You alright? You’re looking a little flushed, sweets.”

No shit, Sherlock.

Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you raise your eyes to meet his. “I- uh- I’m g-good. I was just- um-“

Bucky grins, finding your stuttering cute, before glancing at his phone in your grasp.

“Let me guess, Steve’s been calling?”

You nod quickly. “A lot, yes. I was coming to ask what to do?”

“Would you mind calling him and explaining everything while I go get changed?”

“Yeah, of course.” Fighting to keep your eyes from trailing to his bare chest, you smile reassuringly, hoping you’ve not made a fool of yourself by ogling a man who was bawling his eyes out a half hour ago.

Awkward silence arrives and leaves you with a racing heart. It’s not everyday you see your dreams turn into reality. Well, it would only your dream becoming reality if Bucky were to grab you face and kiss you till your pussy is-

“Doll?”

Shit, you realise you’ve been staring at his pecs. “Yeah?”

“Mind letting me by so I can change?”

Somehow turning a deeper shade of red, you step aside to let Bucky and his shit-eating grin by. You drop your head down to ensure you don’t end up staring at his ass as he heads to his room.

Pull yourself together, Y/n.

You walk to the kitchen, opening Bucky’s phone on the way and dialling Steve’s number. It rings twice before an agitated voice plays from the speakers.

“Jesus, Buck, where have you been? I’ve-“

“Uh- hey, Steve. It’s Y/n.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah, sorry, James asked me to call and explain that he’s had a rough night.” You wince at your own words. ‘Rough’ barely scratches the surface of what tonight has been.

“Shit…” The captain murmurs, and you hum in agreement. “Where- um- where is he now?”

You glance over your shoulder, “He’s just getting changed. It was- well, he’s really struggling, Steve, he was pretty shaken up.”

A small sigh sounds from the other side of the phone. “Yeah, we had a tough call and it triggered him so I sent him home early.”

You nod, despite knowing Steve can’t see you, and he continues.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”

You’re shaking your head now. “No no, Steve, it’s okay, i’m fine, really!” You lower your voice, “I mean, he scared me. I’ve never seen him like that before, i’m just worried for him.”

Eyes fluttering shut as you remember the fear that flooded your muscles when Bucky started crying, Steve replies with a somber tone, “Yeah, me too.”

“Hey,” he chirps, “i’ve already told him that he doesn’t have to come in tonight but he never listens to me. Could you try and convince him to stay home?”

Having already planned on asking him to consider taking a day off, you answer, “Yes, of course. But if he doesn’t listen to you then-“

“Trust me, Y/n” Steve interrupts you, “you’ve got better chance than I do, just let me know how it goes.”

“Will do. Thanks, Steve.”

“Thank you, Y/n. I’m glad he’s got someone who cares about him like we do.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Me too. Good night, Steve.”

“Night!”

You hang up the phone and spin on your heels at the sound of a door closing. Bucky stands just outside his bedroom door, now clad in grey sweatpants and a black t shirt, his hair still a little damp and ruffled from his attempt to dry it.

“Hey…” A small smile stretches across his lips, a far cry from the smirking tease you spoke to a few minutes ago.

“Hey, James.” You step closer. “Would you like a drink?”

“Im alright, thanks doll.”

“I got the TV set up if you wanna watch something? Take your mind off things?”

Bucky sighs constantly at the thought, nodding gently. “That sounds good.”

Settling down onto the couch, you let Alpine sit between you, leaving enough space that you’re not touching without being too far away from each other. The pair of you watch your show for a while, time bringing you closer together until you’re resting your head on Bucky’s shoulder. He runs his fingers up and down your right arm that’s lopped around his left, the tender strokes lulling you to sleep.

You battle to keep your eyes open, grateful that Bucky can’t see your face as you doze off every now and then. I mean, who can blame you when you’re being held so securely, your side pressed against his so close that you can feel his heartbeat?

You feel Bucky twitch beneath you, causing you to blink your eyes open, not realising you’d fallen asleep. Thankfully, Bucky didn’t notice either, and you watch as he stretches to the coffee table to press pause on the TV remote.

With no background noise, you hear your neighbours breath increase before he twists back to face you.

“I meant it earlier.” His voice pins you down and you sit up properly.

“Meant what, Buck?”

“That i’m sorry.” Those sharp blue eyes fall to his lap.

You shake your head for what feels like the thousandth time tonight, “James, please, you don’t need-“

“You were scared of me, doll.”

Cussing yourself mentally for not being quieter on your call with Steve, you scramble words together, desperate to fix the miscommunication.

“That’s not- That’s not what I meant, James.”

Bucky’s brow furrows deeper, head titling up but his eyes remain on his lap. “What else is it supposed to mean? I scared you, Y/n. Plain and simple.”

“I wasn’t scared of you, James.” You place a hand on his, hating the way he doesn’t turn his over to hold yours. “I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to help you, that I’d be useless at calming you down. It wasn’t you, I promise.”

“I- I was so scared that you were in so much pain, Buck, and- and I couldn’t do anything.”

A single tear falls onto his grey sweatpants just as he finally meets your gaze, eyes swarming with vulnerability. You feel his hand turn to press against your palm.

“You weren’t useless, Y/n.” He gestures to your surroundings. “I mean, all of this! You’ve done nothing but care for me since the moment you found me outside. This isn’t useless, doll. You’ve done so fucking much for me already and you don’t even know why I need you in the first place.”

A stray tear escapes you as you reach a hand up to cup his cheek. The scruff of his stubble tickles your skin, swiping a thumb over his cheek bone to catch his fallen tears.

“You don’t need to tell me a-“

“I want to.”

“Okay.” You nod and squeeze his hand. “But if you change your mind at any point, that’s okay too. I’m just here for you, James.”

Bucky doesn’t change his mind.

Once he gets over the initial nerves, his words flow like a broken faucet. Your heart fills with lead, sinking to your stomach as he tells you about that one fire that never leaves his mind. How he was only in his second year, still fresh faced and naïve, so confident in himself that he failed to find the boy trapped under a fallen beam. How he walked out of the house feeling so goddamn proud of himself for saving the little girl, only to find out the next day that her big brother was found dead in that same room.

It’s impossible to blink away your tears, as one falls, three others take its place until your cheeks are as damp as a shower wall. Your death grip on Bucky’s hand anchors him as he confesses his worst secret, the one that haunts his dreams until they fade into nightmares and then into terrors. You realise then that this is what he sees when you’re startled awake to his screams at night; while his physical body is trapped in unconsciousness, his mind it trapped in that house, staring at the little boy.

Words fail you as Bucky talks, so you focus on listening, on holding his hand and wiping away the few tears he has left. The need to reassure him burns in your chest as his words slow, eyes fluttering close when you bring his hand to your lips.

You pepper soft kisses from his fingers to his wrist. “You carry this weight everywhere, James. When was the last time you set it down?”

Bucky’s nostrils flare slightly as he breathes in deeply through his nose; he shakes his head, lips quivering before revealing his glassy eyes.

“I c-can’t… he didn’t deserve to- to die because of me, so I- I don’t deserve to put it down.”

“Oh, Bucky, darling,” You release his hand to hold his face. His pulse throbs under your palm as you slide your hand upwards, slipping your pinky and ring fingers behind his ear.

“Holding this in, letting it control you for so long, it’s blinding you, love. It’s tricked you into thinking you deserve the pain but you don’t. You don’t.”

Bucky leans into your right hand, raising his own to cover yours.

“You don’t have to believe me right now, cause I know you don’t.” A dry chuckle falls from the firefighters mouth. “But can try and trust me on this? Trust me to look after you when you need it?”

Your breathe hitches in your throat when he presses his lips to your palm, all while holding your stare. You’ll never grow old of him looking at you this way.

Bucky smiles gently, “I’ve always trusted you, doll.”

“Good.”

Sitting here, holding each other again with tear stained cheeks and tired eyes, it would be easy for someone to think you’re in love.

Maybe they wouldn’t be wrong, not about you anyway. Though, you’re happy to keep that to yourself for now.

“You should sleep, Barnes.” He huffs a laugh, pulling away from your grasp.

“Had enough of me already, sweets?”

Now you’re the one laughing, “Never,” you push yourself to your feet and offer him your hands, “come on, let’s get you to bed.”

Taking your help, Bucky lets you lead him to his bedroom. You pull back his duvet and step back, letting him climb into his bed, limbs weighed down by his fatigue.

You crouch down beside him. “How’d you feel about staying home tonight? I don’t want you pushing yourself to work when you’re not ready.”

Battling to keep his eyes open, Bucky mumbles a response into his pillow. “Okay, doll. For you.”

While it’s too dark to see, your neighbour knows that you’re blushing. You go to stand up and leave but a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back.

“Stay with me, Y/n.”

You smile. “Okay, love. For you.”

a/n: i really hope this was worth the wait! it’s taken me a long time to get this written properly and in the way it deserves. hope you can tell i was feeling shit when i wrote bucky’s breakdown - you write what you know, ay?

thank you so much for reading, don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed. all the support i’ve received so far has been incredible and it makes me smile like mad when i read your comments.

as always, asks and dms are open - questions, requests, suggestions, whatever you’d like!! love, red ❤️

comment if you’d like to be added to the ashes to embers taglist 🧡

taglist: @armystay89 @rabbitrabbit12321 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @harrystylesandthegoobs @zannemes @noonespecial90 @pank0w @blackbirdwitch22 @wintrsoldrluvr @pingpongfingfong @belleofthebooks @larienjenova @chaosbarelycontained @mostlymarvelgirl @trustworthy-jellyfish @sorenevans @ozwriterchick @nervousnerdwitch @suz7days @bethexo07 @ace-27749 @bellabarnes1378

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