#The threatening scene is heavily influenced by HxH

[tokoyamisstuff]

Protector - Bucky x Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend Bucky Barnes has his own ways of supporting your musical career.

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Bullying

Words: ~4000

A/N: I think this is a good opportunity to tell you that you can always reach out to me, no matter what. If you guys are experiencing any kind of emotional distress, don't hesitate to text me 24/7!

You are not alone. You are loved. You deserve better!💌

Some mornings, Bucky would feel like a bag of bricks when waking up. Most of the time he’d just laugh it off as being “a hundred year old man, after all.”

And today was no different.

He groaned when he felt the phantom pain kicking in, involuntarily waking him up before the sun even rose. The metal plates in his arm turned as he cracked his bones, trying to get his body to listen to him.

After getting the sand out of his eyes, your boyfriend finally turned around - just to be disappointed when he found your bedplace to be empty again.

He knew exactly where you are.

Well, morning cuddles with you were almost impossible due to the strict training schedule you put upon yourself.

It was kinda sad, since you were the only reason Bucky was able to sleep soundly again, without being interrupted by hellish nightmares. Yet you were already up way earlier than a goddamn elite soldier.

To not disturb you, Bucky would stagger to the bathroom first, taking a shower as he heared the “Moonlight Sonata” echoing through the whole house.

When you were playing, your boyfriend couldn’t help but to at least hum the melody, no matter when. His silent voice turned into a loud whistling as he enjoyed a hot shower, before striding to the kitchen.

His enhanced hearing allowed him to experience music in a whole new way - and goddamn it, the way you produced pure art on this piano was unlike anything he had ever heared.

The pace, the rythm, the fact that you never missed one note let alone emphasize the right tones...

Everything was simply perfection.

Especially the way you gave old classics your own twist. It was admirable to have such talent, he thought.

He used his super-soldier powers to sneak up to you playing way too often, as he did today, leaning to the doorframe which led to the living toom, munching on a cereal bar to reveal himself.

For some reason, you didn’t like him or anyone else to listen to you play, humbly stating that you were still way too bad to have any audience.

And that was the one thing bothering him as he scanned your face: You didn’t seem like you were enjoying it at all.

Quite the opposite, actually. The only thing he could see was a tired, strained musician.

Well, artists were always stressed. They were special persons, after all. It was hard to understand them fully, as they often didn’t even understand themselves.

“Music is the art of self-discovery” you once told him, almost tempting him to learn an instrument himself.

And your music was the most soothing thing that ever graced his ear, so shouldn’t you be enjoying it, too?

Today, you didn’t even seem to notice him, that was just how invested you were in your work.

Well, it wasn’t simply a hobby. It was your dream. And he knew just how hard you were working on it ever since you were a child.

Bucky was eager to support you in any way possible, giving you what you needed and trying not to be all too clingy. You needed space sometimes, no matter how much it pained him.

“Good morning, babycakes” he hummed loving, interrupting your trance. James would put his arms around you from behind, quickly pressing a kiss in your hair. “Up so early again, I see?”

Eventually your stony expression would falter and you gave in to his touch, leaning against his bulky chest as you blinked rapidly between still narrowed eyes. A weak “Hi...” was all that escaped your lips.

“You look tired. How long have you been up?”

Things would only get worse the closer that certain date would come “I’m still not good enough…” you stammered, elbows leaning on the tiles and releasing a horrifying sound. “Far away from acceptable, even…”

You already snapped out of it, forgetting your exhaustion and getting ready to start again - but Bucky would softly grab your wrist, putting his other hand under your chin so you would finally look at him.

“Doll, you know that’s not right. You’re amazing! Everyone says so!”

“What would they know.” You instantly regretting that sentence. He meant your friends, after all. “I-I mean, it’s nice and all, but they aren’t professionals. And Thomas says-”

“Shh.” Bucky began to rub small circles on your back until he got to your stiffened neck, carefully massaging it. Your voice sounded so full of self-hatred that even Bucky had to swallow.

As much as he knew you valued his opinion, Thomas was top notch. Anyone elses opinion meant very little in comparison with the best teacher in New York.

He had trained many of the biggest pianists in the world, and you dreamed so very dearly to become one of them.

Bucky was good at reading people, and he had that feeling from the very beginning: That your teacher was an asshole.

But every time he tried to find out more about your lessons with him you’d completely block his attempts or defend that guy.

“He’s my only chance to become better than myself. And he even planned that gig for me. I owe him!”

James bit his cheek until he felt blood coming- Fuck it. He knew just how important that concert was for you and your career. And he’d be damned if he ruined it by being overly protective.

But it was putting a stroll on his heart, too, seeing you that way even though he thought you to deserve nothing but happiness.  

Since you helped him to accept his past and love himself again - through loving and helping others. Through loving you, to be precize.

And now he was here, helpless at how to assist you in that time of need.

Right now, he didn’t feel like a hero in the slightest.

So he simply shuffled down on the seat next to you, clumsily starting to play a part of “For Elise”.

That whole time through, you wouldn’t move a muscle as you stared at his big hands with an open mouth. It wasn’t really what one would call well played, but it was a surprise nonetheless.

“Where-”

“My parents” he already started explaining, “They were never quite fond of me becoming a soldier. Considering everything that happened, I should’ve probably listened to them.”

He chuckled, shyly and dumbly as he’d always do when he made a joke that dark, and your glare changed into a compassionate one. Buck didn’t like you pitying him, but he knew it was to no avail.

You’d always care about him. And that wasn’t so bad, after all. He was a lucky man.

“Well, they wanted me to learn something else than the way of hurting and killing people. Bringing them joy, you know? Be sophisticated.” He shrugged, then kept on as his fingers ghosted over the tiles, then wandering to your knee to squeeze the flesh of your leg.

“It was great to impress woman, hehe.” You weren’t really fond when he was talking about his time as a womanizer, yet you loved seeing him reminisce in easier, happier times. “I may be a lunk, but I have one or two asses up my sleeve. I never liked playing at all, but now...It’s the only way to feel connected to my parents. My heritage.”

“Darling...” you sniffled, weakly snuggling up to his chest just to feel his fastened heartbeat. When he put his strong arms around you, it was like all the problems of the world couldn’t affect you any more.

You felt safe.

“Never doubt yourself again” he demanded, silently whispering into your ear after an eternity of enjoying this closeness in complete silence.

With him, you were finally able to relax. And it didn’t take you long until your body gave in, falling asleep as he gently stroked your head and covered you in the most tender kisses.

“I love you, Y/N. And I’m very proud of you.”

...

It was already noon when you awokened, much to your surprise in your bed. Seems like Bucky carried you there.

For a moment, a wide smile stretched over your face as you took in his scent that was present in the sheets.

“Fuck!”

Bucky knew what was going on before you even got downstairs.

“I’m way too late!” you yelled at him, running around in only your underwear, carrying a huge pile of clothes and make-up to the bathroom to get ready. “Why didn’t you wake me up?!”

Your boyfriend did nothing but chuckle at how easily irritated you got when you were stressed, then facing the stove again when you locked the bathroom door behind you.

Loud music jammed out of the radio, and before the song was even finished, you took a seat, being all ready. “You cooked?”

“Everything for you, doll.” When he turned around, Buck was wearing a huge ‘Kiss the Cook’-apron, making you almost choke at your drink out of laughter. “Well, if that isn’t a cliché.”

“A man from the 40′s doing the housework is a cliché?” he mocked as he placed your favourite food on the table, gifting you the most heartwarming smile. “Well, I want to help you wherever I can.”

“You’re simply the best!” you told him between munching quickly, “Sorry that we don’t get to spend much time together, lately.”

“I enjoy every minute, doll. Even if I just listen to you play. As long as I fall asleep next to you, I couldn’t be happier.”

God, he was so sweet all the time. It only caused your guilt to skyrocket.

As soon as the concert was over, you would gift him that holiday on Tenerife as you had planned to! Just the two of you, all alone on a romantic trip, sipping drinks at the beach...

You really needed a time off.

“Lost in thoughts again?”

“No. But I need to go now.” You were already standing up after having devoured that lovely prepared meal in record time, putting on your boots and jacket.

“Doll, you know I can simply drop you out the-”

“Never!” you blurted out, then quite embarassed getting a hold of yourself. “I-I mean it’s fine. You have other things to do, right?”

Of course he had not. It wasn’t even a fifteen minute ride from here. But he didn’t want to pry, so he just sat there with crossed arms, sighing deeply.

“Fine. But I get my goodbye-kiss, right?”

Racing towards him to peck his whole face, hoping it would suffer for the time you were away, you murmured “Love you” and rushed out of the door as quickly as always, leaving the love of your life alone with all of his worries.

Little did you know that the master spy had a plan of his own:

Today, he was gonna find out.

...

“Can’t you do anything fucking right?!”

You flinched at Thomas words, but kept on playing the best you knew how. He dramatically threw his hands into the air, cussing under his breath.

It hadn’t even be three minutes until his first outburst, even though you only played “Flight of the Bumblebee” as a warmup - and in a pace that would even make the composer envious.

But after so many months training, you were already quite used to his ragefits.

“You play this as slow as a snail, for fucks sake!” he added, only making you more nervous with every step he came closer.

“Did I allow you to stop?!” your teacher yelled, slamming his balled fists onto the wooden piano. “Can’t you even do the basics? God…”

You quickly rubbed your face and started all over, wondering why he took you as apprentice in the first place.

If you were that bad, why would he make you play in front of a great audience this Saturday?

But well, you were just too kind-hearted and naive. You thought this was just his method of motivating his pupils to become even better.

“You look terrible. Aren’t you embarassed?! How can I present you to my colleagues if you look like a homeless? Shit!”

He was kinda right. You took the firs things in your wardrobe so you wouldn’t get too late. Thomas hated it, and you were afraid of the punishment And then the messy hair and dark rings under your eyes...

“I’m just a litte sleep deprived” you explained calmly. “I trained the whole night, so-”

Thomas bursting laughter interrupted you, and he’d even wipe a tear out of his face while doing so. “You trained yourself?”

His voice became more grim now, and he got so close that the stinging smell of his aftershave tainted your nose. “Do you think you can train on your own? You’re nothing without me! Get that in your head!”

Your eyes widened with fear when he opened your bag, puling out some scribbles. “And this! Don’t think I didn’t notice you were composing on your own.”

“Plea-” The words dissolved into nothing but a whimper when you saw Thomas ripping apart all of your attempts, everything you’ve worked so proudly on. And he didn’t even read or listened to them...

“You think you’re some hot shit, huh? I told you to stick to the fucking notes! No one wants to hear your version to old classics of the greatest!”

Pressing himself against the piano, he said “I heard you even have a boyfriend. What poor being has to spend his time with you? Or is he a freak, like you?”

Right now, the image of Bucky in your head was the only thing that kept you sane.

“Yeah” you sniffled, even managing to crack a smile when you remembered how uplifting and supportive he was all this time. “He is a freak. The best kind of.”

A loud noise snapped you out of it.

It took you a while to realize what had just happened, but the burning sensation on your cheek, heat rising in the skin told the whole story.

Thomas had slapped you.

“Get that stupid grin out of your face!” He wouldn’t even apologize. It never stopped, wouldn’t it? And you were too weak to fight back, the only thing you were able to do was holding back the tears who were already collecting in the rim of your eyes. “We’re not in kindergarden! Get yourself together!”

"Stop. It. Right. Now…” a menacing but familiar voice called out from the back.

Oh no.

It was Bucky.

“Babe!” you blurted out, running right to him as he was nearing your teacher with firm steps. “H-how much di-did you hear?”

“Enough” he muttered under heavy breaths, shooting an icy glare to Thomas who was still ranting on about how your boyfriend got in here and starting to insult both of you.

His mechanical arm was well hidden under his fabric, yet even if he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore, you could feel how he air around him had changed.

This was dangerous.

You needed to de-escaalate this situation - otherwise there’d be a disaster.

“Please.”

Your voice was more than enough to calm him down. But he didn’t understand why you would still protect this cheap excuse of a man.

His eyes wandered down to your shivering from, grabbing on his shirt and whispering “You promised me...Never again.”

Bucky gnarled his teeth, still clenching and unclenching his fists, thinking about how he wouldn’t even need weapons to give that guy what he deserved.

But he couldn’t do this to you.

If that was your wish, it’d be his command.

“Let’s just go home, okay?” You cupped his cheeks in your hands, softly brushing his lips with yours to make him calm down. “Don’t become a monster again. Not because of me. I couldn’t live with that.”

Those words really hit his heart like a bullet never could.

“Allright.” His voice was still dark and gruffed, almost as if he was about to cry at any moment.

He gulped harshly, to remove the lump out of his throat, squeezing your small hand way too hard when the two of you turned around and left - but it was alright. You could bear with it.

Thomas had no idea what kind of wrath he just put on himself, neither what had happened just now. Yet it was in his nature to say more than good for him, so he kept on pouring oil in the fire.

“Yeah, and you never need to come back here, you maniacs!”

One last time, without you noticing because you were too busy crying, Bucky turned around to look at your teacher. And the look in his eyes told him everything he needed to know, pulling shivers down his spine.

This wasn’t over. The last word had not yet been spoken.

…

After the two of you made your way home, you would finally tell him the whole story: About the bullying, the abuse - the violence.

And Bucky felt like the worst partner that had ever been.

How could he not have noticed?

No - it was way worse than that.

He did notice. He knew the entire time, yet he turned a blind eye to the situation at hand.

Why hasn’t he tried to find out?

It was so obvious now. All of your reactions, the excuses. The bruises on your body, telling him you had tripped.

How you cried yourself to sleep sometimes, telling him it was just the stress.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. So sorry...” Tears pattered down his face as he watched your sleeping form, covering you in the blanket.

One last time, he would brush your cheek, placing a kiss on the very same spot before he disappeared.

Because he had a mission that couldn’t be delayed.

It wasn’t all that late, but already dark, due to it being winter. And Bucky couldn’t help to remember how often you ‘forgot your jacket’ after your lessons, walking home in the freezing cold. Was that another one of his punishments?

That man would have to suffer. He’d finish him, take him down for good, he-

No. He promised you: No crimes, no murder - and as tempting as it was, no torture either.

The way to Thomas music school wasn’t that long, but Bucky sure took his time, kicking every stone while pondering just how he could make that bastard pay for what he had done to you.

Not once it came to his mind that you could’ve cheated on him, yet he always wondered why you wouldn’t take him to those piano lessons.

Now he knew, and it was hard to bear with it.

Because you were experiencing horrifying things this whole time, while he was enjoying himself in the safety of your shared home.

That was inexcusable, for him as weil as for Thomas.

Meanwhile, Thomas was the last one in the building, having carefully put together the ripped pages.

“Incredible. Magnificent!” he was talking to himself, playing some of the notes you had written. “One masterpiece after another. If I lable them as my own, that’ll be my second breakthrough after so many years of not producing anything!”

Bucky huffed. It was obvious that your teacher was just envious of you already being more talented than he ever was.

“That stupid bitch is so easily to control. I’ll-”

At that very second, Thomas felt a blade being pressed to his neck, already cutting the first, thin skin layer. He was standing in front of a giant mirror, making him able to see his own blood slowly dripping down his skin.

He began to hyperventilate, trying to grab the arms of his attacker - but to no avail.

While Thomas was struggling, James could see himself in the mirror. It was the first time in years hat he was fully geared, even wearing his muffle again.

You were right. The person in the mirror wasn’t him.

Yet it was a part of him. His dark side.

And he could control it. To do the right thing.

“Move, and I will kill you. Make a sound, and I will kill you. Try to fight or fool me, and I will kill you.”

Oh, he could basically see how that man was almost pissing himself, and he had to keep himself from laughing about it. Yet he kept a straight face, seeing how Thomas listened to every of his commands.

All of a sudden, it was all quiet. Thomas wouldn’t even flinch or cry.

“If you understood what I just said, slowly close your eyes.” And so he did, sweating heavily.

“Not all that mighty now, huh? Do you know who I am? If you do, open them again.”

Thomas was a piece of shit, obviously, but he wasn’t stupid. So he wouldn’t do anything.

“Good” Bucky grumbled, balling a fist in the mans hair. “Since you have no idea just what I am. Now listen: You’ve never seen me. You won’t go to he police. You won’t talk about this at all. No one can help you.”

“Wh-what do you-” Smack. One of his teeth flew as soon as Buckys metal backhand hit his cheek.

“I didn’t allow you to speak, pig. I wanted to wipe that obnoxious grin out of your face, you trash. Or should I cut off your hands, so you can never play again?”

His blade was gliding over Thomas body, leaving marks everywhere. “I should make you as ugly on the outside as you are inside...” He wanted to scream in pure terror, but his survival instinct kicked in, telling him to stay silent. Yet his heart was racing so loudly against his chest that it could be heared from afar.

“Anyway: I promise you, I’ll find you anywhere on this world and make you wish you were dead. Not even god will help you, then.”

Bucky threw the whimpering man to the ground, slamming his combat boot just an inch away from his face, leaving that man a shaking and screaming mess.

“Never show your filthy face to us ever again.”

...

It was the night of your concert, and you were as nervous as never before.

Ever since that day, Thomas had disappeared into nothingness, but Bucky assured you that he was alive. You just knew he had something to do with this - but you trusted him.

He was your protector, after all. And you were already feeling guilty enough for not telling him. It took you forever to convince him that he had done nothing wrong.

Just your luck that the descendants of Buckys old piano teacher were still leading that school, welcoming you with open arms.

Finally, your passion for music was enjoyable again. Life was so much easier after you had opened up to Bucky. Something like that would never happen ever again.

“I am so proud of you, Y/N.”

His words gave you strength and confidence. And when the curtain dropped, you felt as if you had been born ready.

All of your friends were sitting in the first row, with Bucky already clapping before you even started, a giant pack of roses on his lap to throw in your direction later.

He was simply baffled by the way you looked in that formal wear, beautiful as always. But the most important thing: You finally looked happy again. Relaxed, content with yourself and everything else.

Sitting down in front of that magnificent piano, you felt everyones glares being stuck on your every move. Calmly sipping on a glass of water, you cleared your throat.

“The following song I composed myself.”

Everyone was curious about what song you would’ve chosen for your great debut.

“I wrote it for the most important person in my life.” At that moment, Buckys and your eyes met, and you felt yourself melting at his passion.

That was for him. For everything you’ve gone through and experienced together.

And everything that would happen in the future you shared.

“I love you.”

As you began to play your song, fingers dancing over the tiles, you tried to pour all the love you felt for this man into your music, honoring his very existence and the fact that he came into your life.

He was your muse.

And you meant everything to him.

_______

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