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

Re: more for less, 8/~10

[maos22]

Llegué a este fic sin saber que no estaba terminado, y lo leí hasta el final y ahora todo duele, porque es hermoso y no hay un cierre, pero está bien porque al menos tuve la grata experiencia de poder leerlo. Y si algún día esto llega tener un final, Dios, podría morir feliz, estoy segura.

Fill: you know what they say, the wicked get no rest [1/3]

[(Anonymous)]

[I got really inspired by this prompt, but while I wrote a fill, it turned out very different than I had originally intended. It basically became the not-very-welcome backdoor-Grant-Ward-stealing-the-show kind of thing (at least to some degree), BUT I figured that this prompt is more than (5) years old & since my fill still contains the "trashy Russian Roulette" & "Bucky gets shot in the face" part, I decided to post it here anyway. If you want to jump right into the gun stuff, please go to part 3.]

*

Grant Ward was the kind of guy who liked to play his cards close to the chest, but he couldn’t hide the surprise on his face when he found himself in front of Brock Rumlow, STRIKE Team Alpha commander himself.

“You look a little star-struck, kid”, Rumlow said after they’d shaken hands, an amused grin on his face.

“Sorry, Sir. I just didn’t expect to meet you here, of all people. It’s a great honor.”

“You have no idea how many people are just as surprised as you when they find out. Hydra is going places, and those SHIELD morons have no clue.” He laughed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ward had notices a small movement in the cell, and he immediately turned his head to inspect it. The cell only had one of those invisible walls – it could be turned black or opaque, but otherwise it was see-through, making him feel like he was in the same room as the prisoner, only a yellow line on the ground and a faint shimmer in the air indicating the wall’s position. He was still a little uncomfortable with this technology, because it made him feel vulnerable, but he was good enough not to show it.

“Step closer. Take a look at this beauty”, Rumlow encouraged.

Ward did, getting as close to the yellow line as possible, until he could already feel the friction radiating from the invisible wall. The Asset was lying on a cot, back turned to them, showing nothing more than dark brown hair and a muscular back restrained by a tight black jacket, and strong legs in tight black pants. Only the rising and falling of its body indicated that it was breathing, that it might be human. Ward had only ever heard stories and seen pictures, and the Winter Soldier’s expression had never seemed human.

“What a shame when you go to the zoo to see the lion, and then the lion says fuck you and curls up in a corner”, Rumlow said as he stepped up next to him. “Ever seen him in combat?”

“No, Sir”, Ward replied, making a mental note of Rumlow referring to the Asset as he.

“Drop the Sir, kid. No one can hear you in here.”

It almost sounded like a threat – but if you’re a STRIKE team commander and your every word doesn’t sound like a threat, you’re probably doing it wrong.

Ward knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance. He would spend the next few hours with a high-ranking agent, and if he could bring Rumlow to like him, to respect him, his career could only benefit from that.

When they sat down on a bench at the opposite wall, Ward asked, “What exactly are we supposed to do here? With all due respect, I don’t think you’re someone who just gets detailed to stand guard.”

Rumlow smiled. Apparently, he was just as susceptible to flattery as anyone else.

“Don’t underestimate the Asset, kid. Might appear sleepy and obedient, and, yeah, he is – but, let’s just say, he has bad days. And there’s only a handful of people who can handle him on bad days.”

“How do you know if he has a bad day?”

“If he breaks through the wall and snaps your neck, he has a bad day.”

Ward suppressed the urge to swallow. He looked over to the Asset which was still lying in the same spot as before, but he suddenly felt cornered. There were lots of stories, the Asset losing its cool after a mission, attacking maintenance staff, doctors, agents. Physically speaking, the Asset could probably break out of here in no time. The only thing keeping it in place was its programming, its compliance. It was safe, he tried to convince himself – Hydra never handled anyone with kid gloves, not even at the Academy, but they wouldn’t risk a young cadet’s life for a meet-and-greet with the Winter Soldier. Still, there was an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Rumlow laughed. “I’m just fucking with you, kid. No hard feelings. For now, we’re just here to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep. He’s been awake for one hell of an unhealthy time, but natural sleep fucks with his programming or whatever, I don’t get all that science gibberish. So whenever his vitals say that he’s about to play sleeping beauty, I’ll give him a little push.”

He showed Ward a tablet that displayed the Asset’s vitals, and pressed a red button. A hard twitch went through the Asset’s body, it let out a pained groan, and its vitals on the screen spiked.

“See?”, Rumlow said with a satisfied grin. “Wide awake again.”

“Impressive”, Ward confirmed and watched the Asset lying still again.

“So”, Rumlow said after a moment of silence, inspecting him from head to toe. “You’re Garrett’s boy?”

His gaze suddenly almost felt predatory, but Ward was good at hiding his discomfort.

“Yes”, he answered, swallowing down the Sir before it could leave his mouth, “Garrett is my S.O.”

“Word about his protégé is spreading, even to my team. And that’s something, I usually don’t give a shit about what the kids do at the Academy.”

“Thank you, I’m flattered to hear that. I’m working really hard.”

“I bet you do”, Rumlow said, and Ward didn’t know if he’d heard a faint spark of sarcasm in his words.

“Can I ask you something?”, Ward asked to draw attention away from himself. Rumlow stroke him as a guy who liked to hear himself talk and would gladly answer any rookie question he had – as long the knowledge wasn’t classified –, but he preferred to be polite and ask for permission before he went into it.

“Sure, go ahead. Cryo team will only show up five hours from now, so we have some time to kill.”

Good. So he had five hours to convince Rumlow that he was worth his attention.

“Have you been on missions with him? I assume you have, since you’re one of Hydra’s best.”

Again, he could see Rumlow eating up the flattery.

“Yeah. They don’t change teams that often, so as long as there are no urgent scheduling conflicts with SHIELD missions, it’s my team going out there with him. Working with him is … something else. But we’re used to him, and he’s used to us, so it works out.”

Rumlow gave him that predatory look again, and Ward felt even more vulnerable, as if Rumlow looked right through him, recognizing what he was trying to do here.

“I also heard that you’re not a fan of teamwork yourself”, he said, a sly gleam in his eyes.

Ward was on high alert. This was a trap.

“I just think that the only person I can fully trust is myself”, he explained. “If I make a mistake, that’s on me, and I’ll learn how to fix it. But I can’t control other people’s mistakes, and I certainly don’t want them putting my life at risk.”

“So you have trust issues.”

It dawned on Ward that he wasn’t the only one who was trying to manipulate his way through this conversation. Rumlow was an elite soldier, a man used to doing the dirty work, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know spy tactics.

“I just believe that one highly trained person can achieve more than a bunch of people who have to rely on each other.”

He looked over at the Asset which still hadn’t changed its position.

Rumlow laughed. “And you see yourself becoming that one guy? Let me give you some advice, kid. If you don’t trust anyone, you won’t make it very far in here. See, not even the Asset works alone. Sure, he’s the one who pulls the trigger and snaps the necks, but we have his back. Provide him with weapons and all that good shit. He relies on a few handful of people, from the guy who oils his arm so it doesn’t squeak when he’s creeping down the enemy’s hallways, to the guy who makes sure that the getaway car is in good shape and parked where it’s supposed to be – if one of those people doesn’t do their job, the Asset fails. And I get that this bugs you, but, news flash, people fuck up all the time. It’s human nature, you better get used to it. Yeah, even my team makes mistakes. And it’s my job as a commander to keep the fuck-up rate as low as possible.”

“How do you do that?”

“By making sure that everyone is in their best possible shape and working at their highest capacity. We’re not BFFs, but we know each other pretty well. Strengths and weaknesses, so we can balance it out in the field, get the most fitting job for everyone. We go for drinks every once in a while, talk about what bothers us, keep each other updated about what’s going on in our lives – well, most of us do.” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice, and Ward suspected that there was something personal to it, but before he could think about it any further, Rumlow went on, “So we know who could be vulnerable or distracted by which issue out there. And, of course, team bonding activities.”

“What does a STRIKE team do for team bonding activities?”

Rumlow smiled. A filthy smile. Instead of answering, he looked over to the Asset.

Of course Ward knew the rumors, but he was still surprised about Rumlow hinting so openly at the possibility that there might be more to it than just a bunch of dirty jokes.

“So … it’s true?”

“Is what true?”

“That the Asset is used … recreationally?”

Rumlow laughed. “Interesting choice of words. Why don’t we find out?”

And he tapped the RELEASE button on his tablet.

Fill: you know what they say, the wicked get no rest [2/3]

[(Anonymous)]

Rumlow hated babysitting duty.

Asset-sitting itself wasn’t too bad – they weren’t allowed to hurt him just before he had to go back into cryo, but with the right person by his side, it could still be fun. Unfortunately, the right person by the name of Jack Rollins wasn’t here. He was on a different mission, but it wasn’t just some mission, it was a goddamn honeypot. Rumlow wasn’t jealous, of course not, what right did he have to claim ownership of his second-in-command? It was just that he, as a commander, deserved to be told about the absence of his right-hand man earlier than on the day of his fucking departure. And, damn, did it hurt thinking about Rollins sticking his dick up another man’s ass.

So not only had he been robbed of the fun part, he’d also been paired up with a rookie from the Academy, and if that wasn’t enough, it was also smart-mouthed, slippery Grant Ward. Rumlow respected John Garrett as a fellow agent, but that didn’t mean that he had to like his protégé. All those kids were the same: Some good grades at school went to their tiny heads and made them think that they could take over the world, even though they had zero experience and no fucking clue how the world even worked.

Sure, that kid seemed to have talent, otherwise he wouldn’t have already heard of him – but that was actually the part that bothered him the most. Rumlow had never had the status of young, promising agent, no S.O. who carried him around like his goddamn golden boy. It’d actually been the other way around, his S.O. had been an asshole, always talking shit about him, always trying to put him down, never had a friendly word to spare. And when he'd finally drowned in a river of all places, Rumlow didn’t try too hard to shut down the rumors of him being involved in the man's death somehow.

He’d worked hard for this position, bringing his mind and body in the best possible shape, being honest and loyal and giving credit where credit was due – and also sucking the right people’s dicks once or twice, because that’s how things worked here.

And now Garrett’s kid very obviously tried to win his affection, probably even thought he wouldn’t notice, it was almost adorable. Rumlow thought about taking advantage of Ward’s eagerness, and if it was just so he could say, I don’t need you, Jack, I found another fucktoy. On the other hand, this would be a one-time thing, because Rumlow very rarely visited the Academy, and rookies very rarely visited the Triskelion, let alone went on missions with his team. Also, he suspected that Ward was one of those guys who’d try to blackmail him later, and that shit was just exhausting. He wasn’t in the mood for being sucked off anyway, he just wanted to destroy something beautiful, he wanted to wipe that smug, overly confident expression off the kid’s face. And how could he get there better than with the help of the Asset.

He tried not to pay too much obvious attention to Ward’s reaction when he opened the cell, but he heard him taking a shaky breath, so he could imagine that he was at least a little uncomfortable – and he had every right to feel this way. Rumlow could still remember his first face-to-face encounter with the Asset, that’d been one hell of a day.

Now there was no wall between them and the mighty Winter Soldier anymore, uh-oh.

“Soldier, come here”, Rumlow commanded.

Very slowly, the Asset got up from his cot and walked over to them, trying to stand upright and walk as steadily as possible, but it still seemed like he was sleepwalking. He looked like the most tired person Rumlow had ever seen (and he’d seen lots of tired people), unshaven and with greasy bangs hanging in his face and dark shadows under his eyes and that washed-out gaze, steel-blue eyes staring into nothing. He approached Rumlow, but Rumlow shook his head and pointed at Ward.

“Over there. He’s your man.”

The Asset got in front of Ward, and Rumlow noticed that Ward already reached for a gun that wasn't there, unable to hide his nervousness.

Rumlow chuckled darkly. “Relax, kid. If he was going to swing that metal fist in your face, you’d never be fast enough. Get down, Soldier.”

The Asset got on his knees while Ward visibly tried to relax.

“What does he want?”, he asked, putting too much effort into sounding confident.

Rumlow gave him a dirty smile. “You wanted to know if the rumors were true. Now is your chance to find out. Soldier, follow Agent Ward’s commands.”

Rumlow watched Ward as he could see his smart little brain working intensely, and then he made a face as if he’d just taken a bite from a lemon.

“I’m not gay”, he said, barely concealed disgust in his voice.

Rumlow sighed internally. So he was one of those guys. Could have guessed that though.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve already heard that, kid. But the Asset gives head like a whore, and I had men straight as an arrow begging for it.”

Ward eyeballed the Asset suspiciously, as if he was afraid that he’d suddenly develop a will of his own and jump onto him.

“Sorry, but no.”

The tremor in his voice was subtle, but Rumlow heard it. The tension grew until it was almost painful, and Rumlow was delighted watching the kid squirm, desperately trying to think of a way to get out of this, to keep the Asset from sucking his dick.

Finally, he sighed. “Shame”, he just said, and waved the Asset over to him. “Heel”, he commanded and spread his legs, and the Soldier got on his knees between them, looking straight ahead, waiting for further instructions. Ward suddenly seemed to be very interested in the texture of the floor; it almost made Rumlow laugh. If he pulled out his dick and made the Asset swallow him down, he’d probably be responsible for the most uncomfortable moment in the kid’s life. But he suddenly had a better idea. After all, Ward was here to learn something.

He reached out and started stroking the Asset’s hair, caressing his face, gently running his fingers along his cheekbones, his jaw and neck. The Asset let out a shaky breath, eyelids fluttering. Rumlow smiled. The Asset really loved that shit.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you, pretty thing?”

The Asset looked up shyly, cheeks flushed, and nodded.

“Hey, I know you’re tired. And you’ll get to sleep soon. Just a few more hours, okay?”

Rumlow touched the sensitive spot behind the Asset’s ears, and the Asset made a needy whimpering noise.

“It’s okay”, Rumlow shushed him. “You can rest your head – if you don’t fall asleep.”

The Asset leaned his head against Rumlow’s thigh, and Rumlow could feel his body reacting to the sudden contact. He always got at least half-hard, like a fucking Pavlovian response, whenever the Asset got on his knees in front of him, but feeling his face brushing against his thigh almost made his boner show through the thick material of his tactical pants.

He continued stroking the Asset’s hair as he turned to Ward. “Hey, if you won’t let him suck your dick, you could at least pet his head.”

The kid hesitated, visibly trapped between If I refuse, he’s never going to like me and I really, really do not want to touch that thing. Truly adorable.

“What is it? Are you scared?”

That was all it took, because after all, all those kids were the same, always wanting to prove that they’re not scared of anything.

“I’m not scared”, Ward said, almost offended, and leaned forward to touch the Asset’s head.

The Asset stayed perfectly still while Ward cautiously started stroking his hair, just like Rumlow had, careful not to accidentally touch Rumlow’s thigh. He was visibly weirded out, probably because he was disgusted with touching the Asset’s greasy hair, or touching the Asset in general, or almost touching Rumlow. Or because he was scared, or because the situation was just too absurd – the most dangerous assassin in the world kneeling between a STRIKE team commander’s legs and enjoying getting his head massaged. But Ward continued stroking his hair, and Rumlow started running his fingertips over the Asset’s neck and face again until a soft moan escaped the Asset’s mouth. Three hands on his head seemed to be too much for his touch-starved body to handle.

“He really likes that”, Rumlow explained. “And he deserves a small reward after a successful mission.” He turned to the Asset. “You’ve done so well, did such a good job.”

It was ridiculously easy to make the Asset blush, and Rumlow enjoyed the sight every single time.

After a while, he took his hands off the Asset’s face, and Ward did the same, visibly relieved. For a split second, the Asset seemed to follow his hand, to cling to the touch for a little longer, but he eventually stayed put.

Rumlow gave Ward another filthy smile when he said, “I’ll show you something else.”

He could see badly concealed fear in Ward’s face when he reached for his gun.

Fill: you know what they say, the wicked get no rest [2,5/3]

[(Anonymous)]

Outside of combat, Rumlow carried a Glock 19, 9 mm, standard SHIELD issue. Nothing special, kind of boring, but got the job done.

Rumlow released the magazine and laid it down on the bench next to him, then he pulled the slide back, caught the round still left in the chamber, and neatly placed it next to the magazine. Checked again, decocked the gun, nothing more than muscle memory, gun safety 101.

“Soldier, look up.”

Sleepily, the Asset looked up to Rumlow, head still resting against his thigh.

“Open your mouth.”

The Asset complied, and Rumlow slowly slid the barrel of the gun into it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ward tensing up.

“Relax, it’s empty,” he said and turned back to the Asset, reading nothing more in his face than utter exhaustion. “Now suck,” he commanded.

The Asset started sucking the barrel, tiredly, sloppily, without breaking eye contact. Rumlow watched him until saliva was running down his chin, then he started moving the gun, pushing it deeper, down his throat until he gagged. God, he loved that sound, he loved how it always came with a glimpse of panic showing in the Asset’s otherwise blank gaze.

“A little more effort, honey,” Rumlow hummed, and the Asset visibly tried to pull himself out of his sleepy haze, working the barrel intensely, and if it had been Rumlow’s cock instead, he’d probably already come in his mouth.

“Yeah. Good.”

Rumlow started stroking his hair again, and the Asset put even more effort into it, bright red lips shimmering with saliva, wrapped tight around the black polymer. Rumlow again realized that his pants were getting a little too tight, and that this was way fucking hotter than he’d anticipated. He secretly wished that Rollins was here, he’d be into that kind of stuff too. But Rollins wasn’t here, that bastard was probably getting down and dirty with the target at this very moment.

Well that thought was one hell of a mood killer.

He turned back to Ward, who was probably more weirded out by this than he’d be by Rumlow pulling his dick out and making the Asset blow him.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, an underlying threat in his voice. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“I’ve learned that I have to treat every firearm like it’s loaded,” Ward said as if he was reading from a script.

Rumlow exhaled sharply and laughed. “And if it was loaded? What difference would that make, huh? Afraid that I’d pierce his tongue with a bullet? He’s been through worse. And he has borderline-magical healing powers, would close any gap in no time. But you’re giving me ideas, kid.”

He pulled the gun out of the Asset’s mouth; the Asset gasped for air, and did it again as Rumlow used the spit-shiny muzzle to put a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Then he wiped the barrel dry on the Asset’s jacket, put the magazine back into the gun, pulled the slide back and forth again to get a round in the chamber, and put the weapon back into his holster, just to pull out another gun. Ward’s eyes went wide.

Kids. So impressionable.

“Yeah, I know. Not exactly standard SHIELD issue.”

“Is that a Smith & Wesson 29, .44 Magnum, 6 ½ inches?” Ward asked, visibly trying to hold back his excitement.

“You really have an eye for those things, huh?” Rumlow scoffed. Damn smart-mouth. “But yeah, that’s it. Really hard to get your hands on since the Dirty Harry hype. And that’s a damn shame, thinking about these beauties gathering dust in the basements of some fucking Clint Eastwood nerds.”

He held the weapon in his hand so that Ward could marvel at it for a moment, a classic masterpiece made of cold steel and worn-out wood, then he opened the cylinder and dropped all six rounds into his hand.

“A true classic. .44 still had power. And look at this beauty, so much better than the plastic shit nowadays.”

He gently ran his finger along the barrel, then he took one bullet, pushed it into the chamber and closed the cylinder until it clicked back into place.

“But I get why they’re not using it anymore. Who are you gonna catch with only six shots? Also wouldn’t want to carry it through the mud, that shit is heavy.”

He weighed the revolver in his hand, thinking about making the Asset sit in his lap and sliding the barrel into his ass, watching and feeling him squirm and make these pained noises that always got Rumlow going. But he wasn’t ready for that conversation with the medical staff, and he also wasn’t ready for the clean-up afterwards. He really loved that gun.

“Okay, round two,” he announced and spun the cylinder. “Open your mouth, Soldier.”

The Asset complied, and Rumlow slid the much slimmer barrel into his mouth.

“Suck,” he commanded.

The Asset complied, but it was nothing more than a weak effort to do the bare minimum.

“We really need to watch out for you. Don’t want you to fall asleep,” Rumlow said softly, and then, with a dangerous undertone, “Suck a little harder. Don’t want me to pull that trigger, do you?”

The Asset lazily shook his head, almost looking like he actually was about to drift off to sleep on the spot, but he complied anyway, bright red lips wrapped around the metal. There was no efficiency in his movements, only sloppiness, and Rumlow cocked the hammer. That was all it took to make Ward jump.

“What are you doing?” he almost yelled, his voice trembling.

“Relax, kid. Sit down.”

Ward opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything, eventually sitting down on the bench again. Rumlow turned back to the Asset who had his head resting against his thigh again, eyes closed, barrel still in his mouth.

“Hey!” he shouted, patting the Asset’s cheek. The Asset flinched and immediately opened his eyes, startled and confused. “I didn’t tell you to stop!”

And then Rumlow pulled the trigger.

Click.

He heard Ward gasp and saw the Asset’s eyes went wide.

“Suck,” he repeated, and the Asset seemed to be collecting every single spark of strength he still had left in his body and sucked off the gun as if his life depended on it – well, technically, that was true. It was still sloppy, but in a scared way this time; the Asset was shaking now, because he knew that Rumlow meant business. Smart boy.

“Agent Rumlow,” Ward said, very quietly and cautiously, as if he was trying to be the voice of reason for someone who had gone insane.

Rumlow almost laughed at the thought and cocked the hammer again.

“Please don’t.” Ward’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Rumlow turned around, very slowly, letting Ward’s expression sink in: The panic in his eyes; the face that clearly said, fuck fuck fuck, what should I do, who should I call ---

“You better stay put, kid,” he warned, turning back to the Asset who was still working the barrel, spit-shiny again. Rumlow pushed the muzzle deeper, until he reached the back of his throat and made him gag. He slid it back and forth, and the Asset gagged again.

“If you make that noise one more time, I’ll pull the trigger again,” Rumlow threatened, very well aware that the Asset couldn’t suppress his gag reflex, no matter how hard he tried – which was fascinating, given all the times he got cocks and medical swabs and feeding tubes pushed down his throat, should have been desensitized by now, but no.

The Asset tried hard, but eventually gagged again as the muzzle touched the back of his throat, and Rumlow pulled the trigger again.

Click.

“Please stop.” Ward sounded almost desperate.

Rumlow cocked the hammer again.

“Make me,” he said and pulled the trigger again after the next gag.

Click.

And again.

Click.

The Asset made a pained noise. Rumlow didn’t care.

Click.

“Stop it!”

Ward was on his feet, he was shaking, and he was looking as if he was ready to take Rumlow down with his bare hands.

Rumlow frowned. “What are you gonna do, kid? Hit me in the jaw?”

All the confidence had vanished from Ward’s face and body language, and Rumlow knew that he had him in a place where he had no idea what to do anymore. Absolutely desperate and alone and unable to do anything about it. Sucks to be a rookie, huh?

Rumlow ignored Ward and focused on the Asset, who was now sobbing and shaking between his knees, all bloodshot eyes and cheeks wet with tears, from strain and from fear.

“Hey,” Rumlow said softly and ran his hand through his damp hair. “There’s one bullet left. If you’re good for me, I won’t have to fire it, okay?”

The Asset nodded frantically and hiccupped with a heartbreaking sob.

“Good. We’re trying this one more time.” Rumlow cocked the hammer.

The Asset’s eyes widened as he realized that he would have to do this again, and they both knew that he wouldn’t make it. Rumlow could see how hard he tried to focus, how hard he tried to stay still and not move a muscle – but when the muzzle hit the back of his throat, he had to gag again.

A moment passed without anything happening; Rumlow just wanted to cherish this for a second, the incredible expression of fear in the Asset’s eyes, and Ward’s tension, who probably by now thought that there was some trick behind it, that he’d known where the last bullet was, that he wouldn’t fire it – but, oh, had he been wrong.

He pulled the trigger one last time.

Click.

Everything seemed to be frozen in time for a moment, then the Asset’s eyes widened in horror, and Rumlow briefly feared that he might pass out.

“What ---“ Ward didn’t even seem to know what he wanted to ask.

Rumlow laughed and pulled the barrel out of the Asset’s mouth, what a great show.

“Ever heard of dummy rounds? Don’t they teach that at the Academy?” He opened the cylinder, pushed out the round and held it in front of Ward’s face.

“They’re usually … orange,” Ward managed to say.

Rumlow scoffed and turned back to the Asset. Head resting against his thigh again, shaking, gasping for air, sobbing. Probably didn’t even realize what was going on, the poor thing.

Rumlow softly petted his hair. “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re fine. We were just playing a game, you hear me?”

He seemingly didn’t, because he didn’t even look up, too busy gasping for air.

“Hey,” Rumlow said, more harshly this time, and pulled his hair a little. “You hear me?”

Now the Asset looked up, pale, with red-rimmed eyes and a runny nose, and managed to nod. God, what a fucking sight – Rumlow needed to fuck his face so badly, to drive the Asset to the point of utter despair, where he thought he really couldn’t take it anymore, making him squirm and sob and whimper around his cock. But that wasn’t the plan for today. He still had to teach Ward a lesson.

“Good,” he said and skillfully put the cartridges back into the cylinder, then he pushed it back into place. “Now it’s your turn.”

He handed the revolver over to Ward. Ward just stared at it in confusion.

“What do you … “

Rumlow chuckled. “I’m about to offer you a chance, kid. Put in a good word for you, open some doors. Ever shot someone?”

Ward shook his head. “No.”

“What they teach you at the Academy, that’s for beginners. And I’m not saying it’s not important, don’t point your gun at things you don’t want to shoot and all that jazz, but that’s the 101. If you want to make it to the top, you have to mean business. You think it’s easy, you’ve pulled the trigger a million times on the shooting range, but when you’re face-to-face with your target for the first time, you suddenly hesitate. Except if you’re some sort of psychopath, but I know those guys. Never make it very far in here. So, maybe you hesitate just for a second, but that’s enough to get yourself killed. You have to get over that. That’s why we practice with dummy rounds.”

He handed the revolver over to Ward again, and this time, Ward took it, very carefully, as if he was handling delicate porcelain.

“Soldier, get over to Agent Ward,” Rumlow commanded, and the Asset, still shaking, but at least not crying anymore, got to his feet, took one step over to Ward, and got on his knees next to him.

Ward stared at the gun, then at the Asset.

“Go ahead,” Rumlow encouraged.

He could almost see the fight that was going on in Ward’s brain: He wanted that chance, he wanted to prove himself, but he was also absolutely not comfortable pointing a gun at Hydra’s most valuable weapon. But Rumlow knew this type of overachieving kids well enough to know which side would win.

“Open your mouth, Soldier,” he commanded, to make Ward’s choice a little easier, and after another moment of hesitation, Ward slid the barrel into the Asset’s mouth, watching him close his lips around it.

Ward looked over at him, as if he wanted to ask, Should I make him suck it off too?, so Rumlow ordered, “Go ahead, pull the trigger.”

Ward cocked the hammer and did.

Click.

“See? Wasn’t so hard.”

“No, it … wasn’t.”

Ward seemed a little more relaxed now, just like the Asset – they both knew that it was just a game, a test.

“Do it again.”

Without hesitation, he cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger again.

Click.

“And again.”

Hammer down. Trigger pulled.

Bang.

The Asset screamed as the bullet pierced his throat and made his blood spill; the sheer force pushed him off his knees, making his head hit the concrete ground, while the unexpected recoil slammed Ward backwards, making him hit his own head on the concrete wall. There was a moment of shock, a moment of silence, the gunshot still echoing in Rumlow’s ears – and then the Asset started screaming again, screams of pain, Rumlow recognized those. His face and neck were covered in blood really quickly, but even in his agony, the Asset managed to put his metal hand on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Good boy, very efficient.

“Stop screaming!” Rumlow yelled, and the Asset immediately stopped, probably not even aware that he’d been screaming in the first place. Instead, he curled up into a ball and whimpered, not even looking up to him to silently ask for help, because he knew that he sure as hell wouldn’t get any.

“W… What the …,” Ward stuttered as he had recovered from the worst part of his shock.

Rumlow almost laughed at the sight; now the kid just looked utterly devastated.

“Important lesson, kid: Always check your ammo. Don’t just trust some rando who promises you pie in the sky.”

When Ward didn’t say anything anymore, Rumlow frowned while still smiling. “You got something to say?”

“Should … Should we call someone?”

Ward was was using his smart mind, even in overwhelming situations, Rumlow had to give him credit for that; he was probably currently wracking his brain over how much trouble he was in, whether he had damaged the Asset irreversibly, whether someone would fire him for that, or even worse ---

“Nah, we’re good. Like I said, borderline-magical healing powers. Give him a few hours, and he’ll be fine.”

He leaned back and watched the Asset rocking back and forth on the ground, trying to find the least painful position, and he also noticed that the gun was still in Ward’s hand. Even after this, he hadn’t dropped it.

Fill: you know what they say, the wicked get no rest [3/3]

[(Anonymous)]

Ward didn’t say a word for a very long time, and Rumlow also stayed silent, ready to intervene if the Asset lost too much blood, but after a few minutes, the bleeding had already stopped. He hadn’t lied about a few hours; the Asset had been shot before, mostly on purpose – he was too good to get shot in the field –, and given the entry wound, it would take four, maybe five hours until the worst was over.

When he got tired of just watching the Asset, he ordered, “Get over here, Soldier.”

It took the Asset a moment until he understood the order, and he really tried to get up, while still pressing his left hand on the wound, shiny metal stained by drying blood, and when he realized that it wouldn’t work, he started crawling, until he was kneeling between Rumlow’s thighs again, shaking and whimpering and pale and bloodstained and so fucking beautiful.

“Give it back,” Rumlow said and put out his hand without averting his gaze from the Asset.

Ward immediately put the gun in his hand, and the Asset instinctively pressed his lips together, whimpering, new tears glistening in his eyes.

“Open up, babe,” Rumlow said softly.

The Asset sobbed, but complied eventually, and Rumlow slid the barrel into his mouth again. He didn’t even have to tell him to suck, because he already did it unprompted, whimpering even louder while he was at it, because that shit sure as hell hurt with a bullet wound in his neck.

Rumlow started petting his hair. “Yeah, just like this. Don’t even have to tell you anything, you know what to do. Good boy.”

Even in so much pain, even after having lost so much blood – the puddle on the floor wasn’t insignificant, and his suit was already soaked –, he still blushed.

Jesus.

“You’re doing so well. Keep going. Yeah, that’s it.”

Rumlow knew that the Asset would have cried, if he had any tears left. But he was drained and hurt and so fucking vulnerable; he loved to see him like this, absolutely devastated.

He was enjoying every second of it, when all of a sudden, his phone buzzed. Initially, he intended to ignore it, but he knew that people didn’t try to reach him unless it was urgent, so he pulled out his phone while keeping the gun in the Asset’s mouth – and immediately wanted to put it back again. Because the first thing he saw was a message from Jack Rollins. His heart skipped a beat.

missed me?

At first, he didn’t want to respond at all, but, damn, did he miss him.

what do you think? asshole, he replied and stared at the screen for what seemed to be an eternity, heart racing, like he was some fucking teenage boy waiting for his crush to respond, distracted only by the Asset’s whimpers. Hadn’t even stopped working the barrel when he didn’t look.

And then the answer finally came: go outside, your shift’s over.

i have another four hours, Rumlow replied.

not anymore. matthews will take over.

Rumlow exhaled sharply. Rollins had actually dared to come here and lure him outside. But who was he to deny that man anything.

“So,” he said, let the gun slip out of the Asset’s mouth, and stood up, turning to Ward, “it was a pleasure meeting you. Lived up to your reputation, I’m impressed.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you too.” Ward seemed calm now, and his voice wasn’t even shaking in the slightest as he looked over to the Asset, all bloody and sweaty, and asked, “What are we doing about him?”

“Don’t worry about that. They’ll take him to medical, and you’ll just have to explain to Director Pierce why you shot him in the face. I’ve got faith in you, kid. I’m sure you’ll come up with a good story.”

He gave him a quick pat on the back, and then he turned around and walked out, ignoring Ward’s “Hey! What? The Director?” – and really found Agent Matthews in the hallway, ready to take over his shift.

“It’s a bit of a mess in there,” he warned. “You’ll probably need medical.”

Then he walked out into a cold evening, sun about to set, painting the barracks and the few trees around them in shades of orange. And there was Rollins in sunglasses, leaning against his car, arms crossed, face so stoic as if he was about to attend another mission briefing. But when he saw Rumlow, he smiled.

Rumlow could feel his heart beating faster, but he kept a straight face when he said, “You’re back early.”

“Yeah, well,” Rollins took off his sunglasses, “Target turned out to be a real chatterbox. Didn’t require much work to make him talk.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re really good at that,” Rumlow said sarcastically.

Rollins shrugged. “Looks good in my résumé. So, what have you been up to?”

“Fun stuff. Shame you weren’t around.”

“Like what?”

“The usual. Getting the Asset shot, ruining a kid’s career.”

Rollins frowned. “I can’t leave you alone for one month, can I.”

Now Rumlow grinned. “Nope,” he said and got in the car on the passenger side, and when Rollins didn’t immediately follow, he complained, “Hey, you’re gonna take me for a disgustingly romantic dinner or not?”

Rollins scoffed and got behind the wheel. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

He started the engine, and Rumlow reveled in the memory of the Asset sucking off his gun while crying his eyes out, and all bloody and whimpering and beautiful.

“Romantic dinner, huh?” Rollins teased as he looked over at him.

“Eyes on the road, asshole.”

Rollins chuckled, but he didn’t say anything anymore, and so they silently drove off into the sunset.

Re: more for less, 8/~10

[(Anonymous)]

It's 2022 here and still mesmerized by this heart wrenching fic. I'm so grateful for Katie