Dumpster #3: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

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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 6/6

[(Anonymous)]

By the time STRIKE left, summoned by Pierce, Bucky’s left arm was broken just above the elbow and he had a collection of rapidly-darkening bruises. His eyes were probably black from the broken nose. He carefully didn’t think about any of his other pains.

On the other hand, Rumlow wasn’t going to be walking straight for a week, Hansen had tooth marks in his forearms that went nearly to the bone, and Westfahl’d be lucky if he didn’t lose an eye, so Bucky felt pretty good about himself, all in all.

That lasted until they’d trooped out, leaving him with his hands still chained to the floor. There weren’t a lot of comfortable positions to take and none of them let him support the broken arm. He ended up cross-legged again, hunched over the bolt in the floor and trying to remember the trick of dozing without falling over.

With his arm, he could have ripped the chain out of the eyebolt—Tony had designed the thing, nothing from the hardware store was going to stand up to it. But of course Bucky had told Rumlow the emergency release code for the arm, in case it needed to come off in the field, and of course the traitorous fuck had used it. And without the metal...Bucky was a freak, he was stronger than any person had a right to be, but he wasn’t the goddamn Hulk.

He wondered if they were going to send the Winter Soldier back in the morning to escort him to his death. If not he might have a chance to break free—but what good would that do, with Insight in the air? He had to believe Sam and Natasha would be working on stopping it, he had to believe they’d be able to avoid the Winter Soldier; surely Pierce wouldn’t waste the Soldier on a prisoner just for spite…

That was when Bucky realized he was crying, silently, pain and despair and fear conspiring to overwhelm him. He kept his head down, in case there were cameras in here he couldn’t see, and sniffled as quietly as he could. He really wanted to blow his nose.

He didn’t think about Steve.

He didn’t think about Steve.

In the silent cell block the sound of the door opening and booted feet crossing to his bars was loud. Bucky didn’t look up. There was a pause before the sound of the keypad caught his attention. Bucky raised his head as Rumlow shoved the cell door open with surprising urgency.

“Back for more, you fuck?” Bucky asked, trying to sound bored. “Go on, get where I can reach you. I fucking dare you.”

“Cap, no,” Rumlow said. He swept his hand over his face and a lattice of golden light shimmered over it, revealing darker skin beneath. Bucky gaped. The man’s voice wavered as he said, “It’s me, OK, I’m here to get you out,” and by the time he was done speaking his voice was Sam’s. He dropped into a crouch, his hands spread out, his eyes flicking rapidly over Bucky’s body, assessing. There was no way he wasn’t putting the hints together, but Bucky was too flabbergasted to care. “Cap. Bucky. You hearing me?”

“Sam,” he said dumbly. “Is Nat—"

“In the flesh. Natasha’s fine, she’s meeting us once we’re further out,” Sam said, with a calm that Bucky recognized; that was the calm of a man who was going to fall apart—later, because right now there were things to get done. Sam patted the heavy cuffs. “There keys to these?”

“I don’t think so,” Bucky said, forcing himself to be calm too.

“Well, good thing I brought this,” Sam said, and held up a little gadget that turned out to be a miniature cutting torch.

As they maneuvered so that Sam could get the flame to where it would cut the chain, Bucky said, “They...I saw the Winter Soldier. I saw him without his mask.”

“Yeah?” Sam said, frowning in concentration.

Bucky said, “He’s—I swear I’m not crazy, Sam.”

“Don’t think I said you were,” said Sam. The chain parted. “You want me to try to take these off?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “The Winter Soldier, Sam, he’s Steve.” Sam froze and looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes. Bucky swallowed. “He’s Steve. I’m sure of it.”

Sam breathed out hard. “OK. OK, but right now we need to get out of here. Can you walk?”

Bucky took a deep breath of his own. “Damn right,” he said.

Re: FILL: I Can't Remember When 6/6

[(Anonymous)]

This was soooo good jfc. Poor poor poor Bucky!!!

This killed me: He kept his head down, in case there were cameras in here he couldn’t see, and sniffled as quietly as he could. He really wanted to blow his nose. Trying to hide his tears of despair from the cameras ;(((

Also I loved how defiant he was, despite everything, when he thought Brock was back for more.

This entire fic was a treasure, thanks so much for writing it!!

Re: FILL: I Can't Remember When 6/6

[(Anonymous)]

This was amazing, I loved the entire thing, Bucky is such a fighter, and concerned for Natasha, and this was just...wonderful, so emotional, Bucky trying to hide his tears... great work! *looks around for some extra-mouldy trash for you*