Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

[trashmod]

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 greenkirtle)] [Round 3 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]

Round 3 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 4.

Comments

FILL: I Can't Remember When 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

When Bucky woke up he didn't know where he was, but he could tell well before he opened his eyes that he wasn't gonna like it; he was lying on a very cold floor and his hands were cuffed behind him...which might have been superfluous, because the nagging itch of the metal arm's feedback was gone. They'd taken his arm, leaving him with the wasted flesh he'd lost to Schmidt's goddamn raygun.

Then it dawned on him that the floor was so cold because there was nothing between him and it. He was naked, naked as the day he was born.

Bucky's stomach heaved. He hadn't felt sick since the last of Zola's poison sweated out of his pores, but maybe that gas was related because now he felt like he was gonna puke.

"He's awake," said a voice—Rumlow, the traitorous fuck, not personal Bucky's bare ass—and a boot nudged him in the thigh. "Come on, Cap, rise and shine."

Bucky pried his eyes open and glared. The effect was probably spoiled a bit by the fact that it took him a few seconds to focus, but he gave it the old college try. Rumlow was grinning at him. The room was a cell, maybe twenty feet on a side, not quite crowded with Bucky and six members of STRIKE; one wall was bars, because of fucking course there were bars, and on the other side was a central clear space with other cells lining it.

Bucky opened his mouth but no words came out until he closed it again and worked up some spit. "Barnes, James," he croaked when he could. "Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven-oh-three-eight." Because fuck being a captain and fuck his SHIELD badge number, and fuck SHIELD for that matter.

"You got the wrong idea," Rumlow said cheerfully. "We're not planning to ask you anything."

Bucky's stomach flipped over. He lurched, trying to sit up, and Rumlow stepped out of range—quickly, but not looking like he was panicked about it. It turned out that Bucky's handcuffs were attached to a chain in the floor; he has just enough slack that he could sit up, but even with his hands in front of him he wouldn't have been able to stand straight. "If Pierce wants to know about Fury, this ain't the way to find out," Bucky said.

"Screw Fury," Rumlow said. "This isn't gonna be for information, Cap. This is just for fun."

Bucky must've been more out of it than he thought, because he hadn't heard a door opening, just the sound of Alexander Pierce's voice. "I'm not sure 'fun' is the word, commander. More like just desserts."

Bucky turned his head the little bit he needed to get a square look. Pierce stood on the other side of the bars, his hands casually in his pockets. The Winter Soldier stood at his shoulder at perfect parade rest, a hulking shadow in his black leather. His dark blond hair hung around his face and blue eyes stared over the muzzle-like mask. He wasn't watching Bucky.

Pierce was, a tiny smile playing around his lips. "I told you you'd regret it, Captain," he said affably.

Bucky looked him up and down, turned till he was looking straight ahead again, and repeated, "Barnes, James. Sergeant. Three-two-five-five-seven-oh-three-eight." Out of the corner of his eye, Pierce looked unmoved. The Winter Soldier's attention shifted, however, as if speaking had made Bucky worthy of notice.

"Well," Pierce said, "this should be entertaining to watch. Soldat: Protocol П. Don't kill him."

The Winter Soldier, it seemed, knew the code for the cell door. He advanced on Bucky in unhurried strides.

Re: FILL: I Can't Remember When 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

I'm so here for this yesss.

Re: FILL: I Can't Remember When 1/?

[(Anonymous)]

I am really loving where this is going