Marvel Imagines

Run Away With Me ('40s Bucky Barnes X Reader)

A/N: Sorta sad? I'm tired. This is too long for how late it is. Ugh. But I wanted to write. This was the result. Sorry if it makes no sense. Anyways...

Warnings: Mentions of past abuse. Verbal abuse?

****

"Would you please just stop it!" You plead, tears pricking your eyes, your voice wavering as you stand in your family's living room, your Father staring you down, rage evident on his features.

"Stop what?" He booms, eyes narrowing before a strangled attempt of a laugh bubbles in his throat. "Don't make me the villain here - you're the one who's already dug yourself into this mess! All because you fail to see how ignorant to the world around you, you truly are!"

"Dad, please," You beg softly, the tears threatening to spill over any minute now, though you will them to stay at bay.

You can't show your vulnerability here.

Not now.

Not with him.

"All I'm trying to do is help you!" Your Father continues to ramble, voice on the verge of screaming. "And you have the audacity to just huff and roll your eyes at me!"

"I haven't-"

"Don't interrupt me. I thought you said you hate it when I do that to you, hm?"

"Please would you just stop it!" You finally break, jaw clenched, gaze blurred from unshed tears. "All I did was try and talk to you about how my day went, only to find you completely ignoring me! It's no wonder I left the table! I wasn't being listened to! And then you tell me to come back? Why would I do that if I left for good reason?"

"In the real world, if you just get up and leave mid-conversation, you'll be fired - on the spot!"

"Maybe that'd be a good thing," You mutter lowly, eyeing the front door, your jacket and your shoes before taking over the angry man in front of you.

Wordlessly, you take off toward the exit at a speed you didn't even know you had - your shoes somehow managing to slide onto your feet effortlessly, your jacket not even putting up a fuss as you dash out the door and down the steps of the front porch, your Father's shouts echoing after you.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" His enraged voice follows as you sprint down the sidewalk, the cool night air a welcome relief upon your clamy skin.

To talk to someone who will actually listen to me.

Without even bothering to reply, you simply continue on your way, splashing through puddles that had formed from the rain throughout the day, only one thought on your mind:

His embrace.

****

Weary eyes rest heavy on the all too familiar front door - the same front door that you usually seem to find yourself at whenever things like this occur.

Raising your fist to the smooth wooden surface in front of you, you knock gently three times, pausing, before knocking much harder three times once more.

And as if he had been expecting your arrival on this overcast, cloudy night, the door in front of you is whisked open to reveal a comforting set of steely blue eyes - and a head of messy brown hair to match.

"Y/N? Oh my..." Bucky Barnes trails off as he takes in your most likely disheveled mess of a form, no likely shaking and shivering like mad.

Still wide eyed, he instantly nears you, slipping an arm around your waist and guides you inside, the door shutting softly behind you both.