hydratrashmeme | Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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.

[Round 1] [Round 2] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by

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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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A calculated swing knocks Rumlow off his feet, and then Steve dives for the shield. As soon as he’s wrenched it out of Harrison’s grip, he flings it to Bucky, who has Rumlow pinned with a boot on his throat. Bucky catches the shield with a magnetized gauntlet and slams the edge against the floor, making a horrible clang in the small room that shuts up the other Hydra soldiers. Steve has the metal arm in a chokehold around Harrison’s neck, but the others have their weapons pointed at Bucky—Captain America.

“Drop your weapons,” Bucky says in an uncanny imitation of Steve’s command voice. “Surrender now, your CO lives and you’ll be turned over to the authorities.”

Bryant glances at Park, who gives a quick shake of his head, but Bryant purses his lips and starts to lower his weapon. Three quick shots ring out from the center of the room, and then all three men are slumping to the ground with perfect round holes in the middle of their foreheads.

Bucky lowers Rumlow’s Sig—the Sig that had recently been in Steve’s mouth-- then looks to Steve. “Soldier,” he snaps. “Did they wipe you?”

“What?” Steve frowns. “No.”

“Good.” Bucky rakes his eyes over Steve. A frown mars Bucky’s face—Steve’s face, still recognizable behind the helmet, then gives a quick shake of his head. “That’s… good.”

The man Steve’s holding tries to kick and Steve tightens his grip without taking his eyes off Bucky. He’s still replaying in his mind everything he said and did since they hauled Bucky into the room, wondering if the little signals he thought he was giving had not been received the way he’d meant.

“We only need one of them alive,” Bucky says and turns back to Rumlow.

The man Steve’s holding whimpers. Steve tightens his grip, cutting off the man’s air. With the metal arm, he has to concentrate not to apply too much pressure and crush the trachea. He holds on until the man slumps into unconsciousness, and then Steve drops him to the floor before returning his attention to Bucky.

Bucky has Rumlow disarmed and standing, with Bryant’s knife pressed to his throat. Somehow he’s refastened his pants. Bucky nods to the discarded pile of the Winter Soldier’s uniform.

“Put those on. It’s better armor than the Hydra uniforms.” He drags Rumlow around until his back is to Steve, giving him at least the illusion of privacy.

Steve hobbles over to the clothes and starts dressing himself as quickly as he can with one eye on Bucky.

“Tell me where you keep the conditioning equipment.”

“You won’t kill me,” Rumlow sneers. Steve can’t see his face, but he knows the tone by heart. “You don’t have the stones, Cap.”

A snap echoes off the bare walls as Bucky breaks two of Rumlow’s fingers. His scream is gratifying. “Where?”

“Bu—“ Steve cuts himself off. “Cap. Don’t.”

“Stay out of this,” Bucky says without looking at Steve. “Tell me where the chair is, or your knee is next.”

“What the fuck happened to you?” Rumlow pants.

Bucky flips his knife in his hand and raises it.

“Okay, okay!” There’s real fear in his voice, something he’d never come close to when talking to the Soldier. “It’s on Sublevel Two. North wing.”

Bucky pulls Rumlow in even closer and bares Steve’s perfectly-straight teeth, smeared red with blood. “If you are lying to me, I’m going to come back here and cut off your hand, and we’ll try again.”

“You’re not…” Rumlow twists in Bucky’s grip to look up at Bucky’s face, and then his eyes flick to Steve. “Wait…”

Bucky throws a punch that drops Rumlow like so much dead weight. Steve has to kneel and search for a pulse to make sure he’s only unconscious. When he looks up, Bucky’s already stripping weapons off the dead men.

“Can you walk?” Bucky asks as he checks the magazine of an M4.

“Of course I can walk,” Steve says, though there’s a small tremor running through his whole body, and his knees feel like they might dump him onto the floor at any moment.

“Stay behind me.” Bucky finds places on Steve’s uniform to stash at least five guns before handing Steve Rumlow’s Sig with two extra clips on his way to the door. “The others should have drawn away most of the guards, but we could still run into trouble.”

“I’m not hurt.” Steve grits his teeth and hurries to catch Bucky before he storms out into the hallway. When he grabs Bucky’s elbow, Bucky stops but won’t look at him. “We’re doing this together.”

Bucky lets out a slow breath, then says. “Take the shield.” He pulls it free of his gauntlet and offers it to Steve. “You’re more practiced with it.”

“Not in this body.” Steve keeps his voice steady, but he isn’t able to still the shaking in his flesh hand. His skin feels too tight now, with the Soldier’s body armor strapped over it once more. He can stay on his feet until the mission’s done, but holding the shield—being the man the shield belongs to—is more than he can manage at the moment. “I’ll stick to guns.”

Bucky frowns, but he keeps the shield.

The trip to Sublevel Two should be routine. He and Bucky had cleaned out their share of Hydra bases back in the war, but then it had always been Steve in front, charging into danger with shield held high, and Bucky watching his back. Now, Steve holds Rumlow’s gun in his right hand, and keeps the left clenched at his side. His eyes move constantly, checking behind and around and up ahead past Bucky into the deserted, half-lit corridors.

By the time they make it to a door in the north wing marked “Maintenance,” Steve has gotten a better feel for this body’s constant vigilance, its tendency to track even the smallest movement or variation from expected pattern. There’s no sound from behind the door, no sign of movement.

Bucky touches his fingers to the door panel, then sucks in a quick breath. “Let’s get what we came for.” The door slides open at the push of a button, revealing a bright white room with the chair bolted down in the center. There’s a stainless steel examination table, a rack of neatly organized supplies, and a bank of computers, but no Hydra lackeys waiting in ambush.

Bucky strides right in, and Steve follows with a last quick look down the hallway. The door slides closed behind them.

Steve’s seen schematics of the chair and even pictures, but in person it looks even more sinister. It’s bigger than he thought, a monstrous presence anchoring the room. A wave of disorientation makes him stumble, and even though he keeps his feet, he feels the vertiginous sensation of being pushed back, being held down. His breathing and heart rate spike, and when tastes blood he realizes he’s bitten his lip hard enough to break skin.

“Soldier. You with me?” Bucky appears in front of him, and Steve feels his strong hands gripping him by the shoulders. “Hey. Listen. Settle down.”

When that tone of command is in Bucky’s voice, Steve can’t help but focus. He looks Bucky in the eye, and his breath starts to even out.

“Good. Now, I want you to stand outside.” Bucky presses the button that opens the door, and he turns Steve firmly towards the exit. “Stand outside and guard the door. Shout if any guards show up.”

Steve takes up a defensive position outside the door with his gun at the ready. No matter how he strains his sensitive hearing, he can’t hear anything going on inside the room. But that’s fine. Bucky knows what he’s doing. He’d planned to do this part himself. How would he have done it—let Rumlow march him down here naked and hurt, after all the soldiers had sated themselves? Pretend to go quietly to the chair? Would he have signaled the others then, or would he have waited until he was sure they wouldn’t see what had been done to him? Would he have let them wipe him, knowing that he’d come back from that horror once, and could do it again?

Steve’s grip on the Sig has turned white-knuckled and painful by the time Bucky steps out of the room holding a memory stick, which he passes to Steve. “You’re in charge of this.”

Without another word, Bucky strides off down the corridor, and Steve has to jog to keep up. When they reach the relative safety of a fortified guard station, Steve closes the door behind them and watches as Bucky starts flipping switches on the elaborate control board.

“You didn’t tell me,” Steve says.

Bucky stiffens for a moment, then goes right back to dismantling the base’s security system. “That’s right. There was no reason to tell you.”

“Bucky.” Steve walks over to grab Bucky by the shoulder and turn him, make him look at Steve. “You didn’t tell me and you were going to walk right back in here and let it happen to you again.”

“Because I can handle it, Steve. I’ve done it before, plenty of times.” He shakes off Steve’s grip and goes back to the console.

Before Steve can stop himself, he asks, “How many times?”

Bucky’s hand freezes in reaching for a red button, and Steve imagines that sick knot of dread he’d felt earlier being a constant presence, the strain of knowing what the Hydra handlers were capable of and being certain they would hurt him again.

Bucky shakes his head. “It was my decision.” A few more buttons, and a quick command code punched into the computer, and he straightens. “That should do it. We have to get you switched back. Come on.”

Bucky grabs Steve by his wrist and pulls him back toward the hallway, but Steve plants his feet and doesn’t move. “Wait.” He blows out a long breath under Bucky’s watchful eye. “I… You shouldn’t have to feel what I let them do.”

“I can handle pain, Steve.”

“It’s not just—“ Steve clenches his fists, hearing the metal plates of the arm shift and resettle. As terrible as it is, he has to come clean to Bucky. He knows now that it’s worse to be kept in the dark. “Bucky, I… I enjoyed it. It got me off. You saw.”

“You came.” Bucky lets go of his arm and blinks at him, face unreadable behind the Captain America mask. “So what? That’s what they wanted, that’s what they conditioned the Soldier to do, so that’s what you did. It’s my body. I’m fully aware there’s something wrong with it. Doesn’t mean you enjoyed it.”

Steve shakes his head. “You don’t understand. I—“

“No!” Bucky reaches for Steve, then snatches his hand back and drops it to his side. “No. I do understand. Believe me, I do. It was worse for you because you didn’t know what was going to happen. I should have told you. I’m sorry. But we have go keep moving.” He pushes open the door to the guard station and herds Steve through it. “Go on. Wanda will fix this.”

Bucky sets a punishing pace, sprinting down corridors at a speed that makes Steve appreciate Sam’s frustration with their morning runs. Whenever Steve’s lungs start to burn or his knees threaten to buckle, he pats the memory stick secure in the pocket of the Soldier’s tactical gear, and pushes onward. After he’s followed Bucky up yet another flight of stairs in this labyrinthine excuse for a base, he manages to call out to Bucky before he disappears around the corner, “Cap, wait up. Please.”

Bucky jogs back to him, looks him over, then gingerly lays a hand on his left shoulder. “I know it hurts. The sooner we get to Wanda, the sooner it’ll stop hurting.”

“This was an accident.” Steve leans forward, bracing himself against Bucky’s solid chest. “We don’t even know if she can fix it.”

Bucky pushes him back to arm’s length. His eyes look unfathomable and dark in the red emergency lighting. “You’re not staying in that body a second longer than you have to.”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to—“

“Don’t.” His fingers trail down the metal arm until his gloved hand clasps Steve’s. “It was never supposed to touch you. You never should have had to know. I’m gonna take care of it. Your body’s fine. We’ll get you switched back, and you won’t have to deal with it anymore.” He pulls Steve forward, inexorably strong. “Come on.”

Watching them keep up the facade for Rumlow made me realize: this is Bucky!Cap. I am so happy.

I mean, trash, yes, lovely trash, but apparently Bucky!Cap is my bulletproof kink here. Idontevenknow, OK?

Though I find the phrase "won't have to deal with it anymore" terribly ominous, even though Steve probably doesn't.

Sharing the Bucky!Cap love!

This is a non-traditional way to achieve Bucky!Cap, but right you are!

And yeah, Bucky's gonna "take care of it" if you know what I mean. What, no, everything's going to be totally fine and dealt with in a healthy manner, I'm sure ;)

OOOOHHH GOD TBIS WAS SO GOOD FROM START TO FINISH!!!!!

A thousand broken umbrellas drenched in my tears, plus approximately seven empty coffee cups I left on my desk. Some of them have molded!! It's all for you dear nonny!!

OH BUCKY, trying to protect Steve from the pain and triggers and brokenness of his body... these two need to have a serious talk, man.

Agreed, and it could be beautifully tormented!

These two need acres and acres of therapy for sure. But yeah, it all comes from a place of wanting to protect the other. Oh, BOYS!

This is honestly one of my fav stories here!

Eeee! Thank you so much!

I love this story so much and I really want to give you detailed feedback about all the things that make it so great but all I can do is whimper, "Bucky, baby," over and over.

Poor Bucky! He can't catch a break, at least not in this trash heap :D Anyway, I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

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Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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