hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Unholy hell-miracle achieved! Welcome to Bad Guys Do Bad Things To Your Faves 2: Electric Boogaloo. AKA the seamy sexual-violence-and-violent-sex underbelly of Captain America fandom, AKA the Hydra Trash Party kinkmeme. As usual, BLANKET NON-CON AND NSFW WARNINGS apply: just assume going in that everything in this landfill is unfit for human consumption.

Rules in brief: don't be a jerk except to fictional characters, warnings for particularly fucked-up garbage are nice but not required, thou shalt not judge the trashiness of thy neighbor's kinks unless thy neighbor is trying to pass off their rotting banana peels and half-eaten pizza crusts as a healthy romantic dinner for two, off-topic comments may be chucked out of the dumpster at management's discretion, management's discretion decrees that omegaverse, soulbond AUs, D/s-verse, non-superpowered AUs, and dark!good guys AUs are off-topic.

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Round 2 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 3.

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[additional warnings for mentioning of food issues in this and the next chapter. nothing explicit, but at some point bucky's starting to get really hungry.]

04 Bucky

Steve shoves him through the door. "Sit."

Bucky sinks down on the edge of the bed, Steve crosses his arms and leans against the wall. "Why’d you do that?"

To his own annoyance, Bucky is still not adept at reading his new handlers. Right now, Steve seems equally angry and sad. Bucky’d take the risk and lie, if he had the slightest idea what to say to placate him.

The frantic beating of Bucky’s heart might be loud enough for Steve to hear, he realizes with a sour pang of disgust. He hates when they know that he’s afraid. He forces himself to meet Steve’s eyes.

"I didn’t want to say it. Wilson asked, and I should have answered, but…" He sets his jaw. “If I’d really meant to hurt him, he’d not be on his feet right now."

"Bucky! If you don’t wanna say something, then don’t, but that’s no reason to attack someone!"

"No," Bucky repeats grimly. "It’s not. I made a mistake. I’m sorry."

Steve urges him on the bed and lies down next to him. Bucky realizes that he missed the right point to undress, and he’s not allowed clothes in bed.

(Unless. But that’s another memory that resurfaced recently and he’s been trying to forget it again ever since.)

Steve’s not complaining about Bucky’s pants and t-shirt, instead he gives the racism talk again. At least that’s something they’ve been through enough times that Bucky knows exactly when which reaction is desired. He nods and shakes his head at all the right times, in between echoing things Steve’s said previously, again and again, until Steve seems satisfied.

"I get it," Bucky says. "It’s not about Wilson personally. If Barton dies first, that’s just as well."

"Bucky," Steve groans and smacks his shoulder. "These people want to be your friends! If warming up to them takes time, that’s absolutely okay, but can you stop wishing death upon them?"

"No harming my friends," Bucky recites, "I know that. I won’t do it again. I could help you protect them, if you’d let me. But I can’t, you know… from here."

Steve’s lips tilt up in a lopsided smile. "Not attacking them is more than enough for now."

"Right," Bucky sighs.

"C’mere" Steve says and Bucky forces his fingers to detangle from the sheets. He rolls overs, lets himself be pulled into Steve’s arms. Up close he can smell Steve, not only his shirt – his skin, faint traces of sweat on his neck, and it jogs his memory, fragmented and blurry. Steve has been his friend before, he’s admitted as much. Bucky remembers scraps, remembers the scent, he… he knows what that skin tastes like.

He swallows down the bile in his throat. Of course Steve lied, he never expected otherwise, did he? Right. They always lie.

It’s not painful per se, Steve’s hand threading through his hair, unsticking wet strands from his neck. Skidding lower. Lower, lower. Rubbing his back. It’s just the apprehension that doesn’t sit well in Bucky’s guts, he wishes they could just get it over with.

Besides, it doesn’t make sense, and Bucky assumes Steve’s trying to wear him out, confuse him to test his limits. He’s all mockingly gentle touches sometimes, like now, but when Bucky asked him in the bathroom earlier if he was supposed to pretend that he was into it, Steve had said no.

It goes on and on, but Bucky doesn’t walk into the trap. He can’t zone out, not just yet, he needs to stay concentrated and brace himself, in case the pain comes sudden and sharp. Steve’s strong, stronger than any of his latest handlers. He was able to deal enough damage when Bucky was allowed to defend himself. All the things he could do now.

Bucky’s head is pressed against Steve’s t-shirt, fabric stained from when he knocked over the casserole. Bucky doesn’t need to eat yet, not that desperately, so he’s surprised that even in a situation like this, his mind threatens to wander off. Food.

Yet again, his body betrays him. It does not take super-soldier ears to hear the loud grumbling of Bucky’s stomach. It’s been latently hurting for days, but not enough to let it show. He needs to prove how strong he is, how valuable, that even on minimum rations he can deliver peak performance.

Steve laughs at him. "Your fault dinner fell through."

"I know."

"You want me to whip up a snack?"

"I’m not hungry, you know I’m not." Another humiliating grumble.

"Yeah? Doesn’t sound like –"

"Stop it!" Bucky sits up sharply. "It’s a physical reaction, nothing more! It does not mean that I actually want food!" He makes a sweeping gesture with his hands and gnashes his teeth. "It’s like… like when they rub you the right way and you get all hard and twitchy even though you just wanna rip their heads off?"

Steve does not know. At least, he looks pretty baffled. Right, none of this has probably ever happened to him. Steve repeats the usual lies and Bucky pretends to fall for it. He seems to get away with it, until it happens again. Bucky feels his cheeks heat up at the next drawn-out rumble of his stomach.

"Listen," Steve says carefully. "I’m gonna bring some sandwiches, and you can take them or leave them as you please."

God I love how awful this Bucky is - he's both trying to prove his value and hates that he has to. Would love to see Clint and Natasha's take on this behavior.

Thanks! <3

One of the next chapters is from Sam's POV - something I've never tried before. If that works out, maybe the others are next!

Aw man I hope he eats the sandwiches. BABY. this is too much. and he remembers that he had sex with Steve but he doesn't remember the emotions attached and is just like "oh guess he raped me too, what a liar."

Yeah, that's basically what he's thinking, only that he doesn't realize it would have been rape. He does not regard himself as a person in the same way the others are, and he feels that to justify his continuing existence, he has to have an assigned purpose. So he'll either be a master assassin/soldier/fighter or, if it can't be avoided, the other thing.

OH BUCKY. :((((

Aww, I know, I know.

Oh, this is beautiful and hurts so very, very good! You are writing this wonderfully, and I love how messed up Bucky is, it's like they are speaking a different language. Fantastic work, and I'll be camping out here behind the trashcans.

*brings you coffee and a warm blanket*

Thank you! "Hurting so very good" is exactly what I aim for with this! xD

"Steve’s strong, stronger than any of his latest handlers. He was able to deal enough damage when Bucky was allowed to defend himself. All the things he could do now." D:

Dumpster #2: ...'Cause a Hydra Trash Party don't stop

Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)

Re: Windmills, Fill 4/? (aka Bucky's sense of tmi is faulty)