hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Holy shitballs, look at us go. Welcome to Captain America fandom's resident wretched hive of scum and villainy: ROUND THREE. AKA Bad Guys Do Dirtybadwrong Things To Your Faves, 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 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

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It woke slowly, feeling dizzy, groggy from its faint. It took a few moments to work things out - that it wasn't hurting. Not hurting that much. It wasn't used to not being in pain. It opened its eyes. Its eyelids were heavy, and for a moment it felt like closing its eyes again. Seeing never helped. Seeing just meant it saw the tortures that were waiting for it.

But this time things were different. As its eyes opened blearily, it saw the angel. The angel was nearby, looking down at it, his face peaceful. The angel smiled when he realised it was awake, reaching out towards it.

The demon tried to sit up, fighting the sudden burst of pain at the movement. It didn't have the strength to move, and its attempt made it horribly aware of the lack of weight at its side. It turned, gagging when it realised the top of its left arm was swathed with bandages. The rest of its left arm was not there.

"Easy Bucky..." The angel murmured, easing him back into a laying position. "It's alright. You are safe now, I promise."
The demon frowned, trying to work it out. It felt almost dizzy from exhaustion. It was so tired, but the fires of hell abated a little. Bucky, Bucky was the name the demon had been given. For now, the angel was offering it kindness. He was taking away some of the pain, and it was grateful for that.

It nodded, dazed, and the angel helped it to lift its head, pressing a cup of water to its lip. The water was cool and refreshing, and the angel was stroking its hair. It relaxed, sipping the water, and soon it fell back into darkness. There was not long before it woke up again, looking up at the angel. He was still here, and he smiled at the demon.

It tried to work out if it was dreaming, if this was some kind of hallucination, or if it had really been this lucky. If it had been so fortunate that it had been taken into the angel's care again. It shivered slightly.

"It's alright Bucky." The angel said, his voice tender. "You are safe now, I promise..."
Bucky seemed like a nice name. It was a gift from the angel, and it held onto that. It wasn't sure what was happening, where it was or why its arm was gone, but it didn't feel like the flames any more. The world was just twisting around it, disorientating it. Maybe it would be allowed to remember the name Bucky when it was back in hell. It knew it probably wouldn’t. It knew they would take its memories away, but it wanted to remember.

The angels arms were so warm around it, and it found itself leaning in. The devil had stroked its hair sometimes, when its mouth was forced open and its body available to all, or when it had killed on command, but that had been pain. This was different. This was so good, and for a moment it leaned into the angel’s gentle touch. For a moment, the pain all fell away. But then it remembered.

It remembered everything. It remembered what it had done. The people it had killed, the people it had hurt, and other things. Disgusting things it had done with its body. That was how hell worked, full of torture to show it how dirty it was, how it deserved to be treated. It had flashes of memory, of guns shoved into its throat and days tied to a post, being punished in a mocking uniform of its killing clothes.

Bucky knew it had no right to curl up close to something so pure. It could still feel its own blood, their filth streaked white against its skin. It had no right to be near this angel, and its presence was tainting him. It started to whimper, trying to move away.

"What's wrong?" The angel asked, but it couldn't speak. The angel stroked its hair again, and put it down. "You don't need to panic, I promise to you..."

It had no words. This was its opportunity, to try and earn a few moments longer away from hell... it realised that it had tubes connected to its body, and it realised that was helping. The tubes were full of liquid, like for the punishments, like for cryo, but this was different. This was to keep it away from hell for a little while, to stop the fire from devouring the demon and dragging it back to where it belonged. Just for a moment, just for a little longer with the angel. This was a chance for confession. This was mercy.

Bucky gasped, opening its mouth.
"Thank you..." He whispered, feeling almost dizzy, tired and as though the room was spinning.
"It's okay Bucky. I'm right here. You're doing great."

"I..." Bucky tried to form words, the effort making its throat bleed. "I'm sorry..." It wasn't a proper confession, but it had no right to ask for forgiveness. It simply wanted to stay here for just another moment, just a few more seconds. Being near the angel was enough.

"It's alright." The angel smiled at it. "You're safe now. I'm here, I'll look after you. Whatever you need..."
But it couldn't explain what happened. It didn't have the words, and darkness swept over it. It realised at that moment that it was unable to continue, and it fell back, unconscious.

The next few days were full of confusion, reality fading in and out. But the angel was always there, watching the demon, awaiting its confession. It tried to start, but it was unable to speak.

The angel was always there. Every time it opened its eyes, even for a moment, the angel was there to tell it that everything was alright, that it was safe. Before it could reply, it fell asleep once more.

One day, it opened its eyes and saw another angel there again - the one whose wings it had ripped away, another sin on an infinite list. It flinched, looking away, afraid of what would happen next. But darkness returned again, leaving it alone in the blackness, and the angel was alone when it woke again. It would have to act. The angel had shown its mercy for so long, but that patience would not last forever. The devil had taught it not to keep people waiting. Now, it would have to confess.

I just love how sweet and patient Steve is in this, and Bucky just doesn't see it for what it is.

OP here: I love this. Everything is so nice for Bucky (I'm guessing he's on a lotta painkiller), and he's got Steve watching over him, but the memory of pain and torture is this great looming constant at the back of his mind. I love how the thought of his time in "hell" is always there, never quite letting him feel peace, and driving him to a need to confess everything to Steve so that he might get the chance to feel clean again, eventually.

I'm so glad you are liking it. Bucky is on so much painkiller here, and Steve is looking after him constantly throughout it all. He's worried for Bucky, but has no real idea about what's going on. Which unfortunately he's about to find out.

This is really good. Just my thing and my insides are squeezing up into a little ball.

Aw yes, do confess. *rolls around happily*

This is so great! So excited for Bucky's confession.

Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

Fill: Guide Me Safely Through The Night (1/6)

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Re: Fill: Guide Me Safely Through The Night (1/6)

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