Idk if this is necessarily an xreader but I didn't know what else to call it. I just thought it was a really cute idea so I had to post it lol
Also I know this chapter's reaally long lmao if you have the energy to read this I'm impressed.
The apartment was quiet. There were no lights on except for the small lamp next to the living room couch. Bucky would normally let natural daylight fill most rooms, but now that the sun had nearly set it was once again almost completely dark in the apartment- only faint light from the city prevented it from being completely black. As usual he had only one lamp on, a light source close to him.
His elbows rested on his knees, eyes focused on the black screen in front of him. He did find the modern day television quite interesting when he took the time to watch it, it was so different from how things used to be. As was everything else. Different.
Sitting in the couch he continued to stare at the screen, seeing a mere reflection of himself. The dark gerber knife spun effortlessly between his fingers, the sound of it swiftly slicing through the air was almost silent.
Even though Bucky didn't do this often, it wasn't a rare sight. Sitting in the living room in his dark apartment, a single, small light source to keep him company. To someone unfamiliar it would look like he was waiting for someone. Waiting for someone to bust down the door- or perhaps pick the lock carefully and silently creep into his home to attack. Either way he was tense. Even while lost in thought his body instinctively put itself on auto-pilot. Even after being freed from Hydra he still felt connected, constantly on the look out and never daring to let his guard down. One might think he's finally free, but it's hard to be free- feel free, when you've become used to someone else living in your head and controlling your body. He hated that part of him. It was like they put a completely different person inside him, someone cold and emotionless. Obedient. Merciless. Someone who doesn't hesitate to eliminate a target.
Gripping his knife he plunged the tip of it into the surface of the wooden coffee table with a loud thud. He inhaled a shaky breath, letting his eyes fall closed in an attempt to calm his beating heart.
The memories would never leave his mind. They would always haunt him. Every face of his every victim, still fresh in his mind.
Bucky sighed and let go of the thin handle, leaving it stuck in the table surrounded by dozens of other marks. He got up from the couch and sauntered over to one of the living room windows.
White stars dotted the dark velvet sky, the horizon still an ever so slightly lighter blue. It created a beautiful contrast with the black silhouettes of the city buildings, their structures littered with lights from the apartments that were still awake. He watched the cars and traffic below him, the traffic lights flickering from red to green, over and over. Soon, though, his eyes were drawn to the nearby Avengers Tower. The other New York buildings could simply not compare to its massive size.
In all honesty, he was grateful to be out of that tower. He felt less eyes on him.
The Avengers would always watch him 24/7, their friendly chats and casual conversations attempting to cover up their monitoring duties. They thought he wouldn't notice their cautious glances, but he always did. He often wondered if there was a reason he found this specific apartment, a reason it so happened to be located not far from the tower.
Bucky had a theory that connected to his gut feeling, and his gut feeling told him he was correct. Perhaps they still wanted to be able to monitor him, to still know where he is and keep an eye on him from time to time- or constantly.
Despite the fact most of his actions had been justified and his public records said to have been wiped clean, erased even, he knew they didn't trust him. He knew the Avengers didn't trust him- Steve being an exception, of course. He also knew SHIELD didn't and Tony definitely didn't trust him. Nobody did, really. He'd almost gotten used to that and the fact he'd most likely never have the chance to live a normal life again, if it wasn't because of a very special someone. The only other exception.
