Stucky One Shots

Number Seventeen- Make Them Stop

"'Night, Steve." Bucky murmurs, yawning and rolling over in bed. The two shared an apartment and shared a bed, because they couldn't afford another and they didn't really care what people thought. It was warm, anyway.

"Night, Buck." The other replies, sitting up by the window and sketching quietly, as usual. Bucky loved his sketches; they were so perfect, so detailed that sometimes they looked better than the real thing. He was drawing Bucky, as usual; he was the perfect candidate because he just had that naturally photogenic face. He loved to draw Bucky.

Pretty soon Bucky's asleep. He rolls over and sprawls out on the bed, snoring just slightly. Steve smiles a little to himself; Bucky was cute, he had to admit.

The brunette shifts a little and a small frown appears on his features, he murmurs something and Steve lifts his head. He'd heard him have nightmares before; since he had been the Winter Soldier, Bucky always had some type of nightmare every two days or so. But not like this.

Bucky screamed as the whip came down on his back again, blood trailed down his spine, making him shiver. He was shirtless and kneeling on the floor, his own blood running between the cobblestones, underneath his fingers. He felt everything; the pain, the cold of the stone and the sting of the air on his bare back, the nauseating smell of his blood, he remembered hating the way he could feel it slowly going from warm to cold as it ran from his body.

"Learn to respect, Winter Soldier." His handler growled and he remembered shivering, just imagining the intensity of his gaze.

"Buck? Bucky, wake up!" Steve whispers, moving over to sit beside him. The brunette was shifting around a lot now, sweat broke out on his brow and he let out a pained gasp, then a whimper. His metal hand dug into the blankets and clutched them tightly, his other balled into a tight fist.

"Седелать их остановить." Bucky whimpers in his sleep and Steve shakes his shoulder. The brunette instantly reacts. His left arm shoots up and his hand wraps around Steve's throat before the blonde has time to react.

"Finish him, Winter." His handler growled and he didn't answer. He saw the man tied there to the chair, blood leaking down his face. He was unconscious so he wouldn't know of his death. Good. It was easier that way. Bucky loaded his gun and clicked it into place before aiming. This man was going to die. He squeezes the trigger slightly before pausing. But... why? Why did he have to die? He thought of questioning his handler about this but the fear of failure, and therefore punishment, shoved his questions down. He fired.

"B-buck, it's Steve." The blonde gasps, prying at the cold metal hand that remained still, unwavering. The brunette had gone still but occasionally cried out, sweat prominent on him. He spoke Russian, and Steve didn't, so he didn't know what he was saying.

"Bucky." Steve chokes out, gasping weakly for air as he felt the brunette slowly crushing his windpipe, making it harder to breathe. He was starting to get dizzy and light-headed.

Two level six agents. Dead in seventy-two hours. Bucky grabbed his gun and sauntered into the street to see a redhead and the blonde man. Something nagged at him, something in the back of his head, but he shook it off as he stormed after the redhead. She needed to go first.

He found himself facing the blonde man later after a fight. He'd dropped his mask but it didn't matter to him. It was hard to breathe through anyway. The man froze and stared at him for a second or two before asking in a quiet voice something he never thought he'd hear.

"Bucky?"

No

No

Make it stop, make it stop, make them stop...

"W-wake up..." Steve tries, struggling
less as he gets weaker from lack of oxygen. Bucky was still now and it was as if he was holding his breath, it was eerie and the blonde didn't know if Bucky was okay or not. Steve started seeing black edge into his vision but he saw Bucky stir out of the corner of his eye.

"Buck..." Steve chokes before his head falls forward, passed out.

A minute passes, then two, before Bucky jerks awake, heart racing. He was vaguely aware that he was holding something and looks over. He gasps in horror and quickly loosens his left hand from Steve's throat. The blonde slumps forward and Bucky starts panicking.

"No, no, no, no, Steve, I'm sorry!" He panics, rolling the blonde over onto his back. He doesn't know what to do and simply wraps his arms around his knees which were tucked up to his chest. He rocks a little to try to calm down. Back when he was just coming back to be Bucky, Steve would rock him on occasion. It just made him feel safe.

Steve coughs a little and drags in rough breaths, it sounded ragged but at least he was breathing. Bucky's head jerks up, his eyes wide and filled with fear. The blonde sits up, rubbing his very bruised throat and coughing harshly. The brunette lets out a sob and hugs the blonde tightly, crying.

"Can we make it stop? I want it to stop, Steve, I need them to stop." He sobs shamelessly into his shoulder. The blonde carefully hugs him back, still a little dizzy.

"We'll make them stop. We'll find a way." Steve assures, his voice scratchy and rough, making him cough. Bucky just hugs him closer. He knew he needed Steve and was grateful to have him. The blonde just wanted Bucky to be okay.

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Weeks later, they went to a psychiatrist and he got helped. He was grateful, and so was Steve. Bucky didn't have any nightmares after that. He felt so ashamed though whenever he looked at Steve and saw the dark bruise that seemed to linger forever. Steve forgave him so many times but Bucky just couldn't accept it. He vowed never to hurt Steve again.

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A/N: the Russian means 'make them stop'.