garbage all the way down (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
trashmod) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hydratrashmeme2016-08-20 05:45 pm
trashmod) wrote in hydratrashmeme2016-08-20 05:45 pm
Dumpster #4: I Don't See How That's a Party
Okay, kids, you know the drill. Don't be a jerk except to fictional characters. Warn if you want, but read at your own risk, because hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.
Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.
[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained bygreenkirtle)] [Round 4 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]
All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.
Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.
hydratrashmeme is about as far from a safe space as you can get. Garbage we like: noncon, whump, aftermath, violence, mind control, inappropriate uses of Bucky Barnes' metal arm, bad guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves. Garbage you should find a different trashcan for: a/b/o, D/s-verse, soulbonds, mundane AUs, OOC evil!good guys doing dirtybadwrong things to your faves, rotting leftovers dressed up as a romantic gourmet meal. Nothing wrong with 'em, but this isn't the crowd you should be pitching to if you're trying to sell Brock Rumlow as anything but a human dumpster fire.Link your fills on the fill post, post unprompted fills as replies to a header comment so the wall o' text is collapsible, and let me know if you're interested in helping out with the Pinboard archive.
[Rules in full] [Round 1] [Round 2] [Round 3] [Fill post] [Chatter post] [hydratrashmeme Pinboard archive (maintained by
greenkirtle)] [Round 4 in flat view (comments in non-threaded chronological order, most recent last)]All prompts or fills that contain Infinity War spoilers must go on the Infinity War spoiler post until May 26th. Spoilers in the main dumpsters will be deleted.
Round 4 is closed; comments and fills in existing threads are still welcome, but all new prompts go to Round 5.
Re: 4F tiny Steve trash
(Anonymous) 2016-09-09 03:36 am (UTC)(link)“The hell happened to you?” Dugan says before Bucky can get it together enough to say anything.
“Got in a fight,” Rogers says without breaking stride or looking at them on his way to the showers. He’s a prideful, contrary son of a bitch when he wants to be.
“Tell the MPs he's not here if they show up,” Bucky says to the guys, tossing down his cards to follow Rogers into the showers. Rogers won’t be able to see out of one eye by nightfall, and if there’s one thing Bucky knows about him, it’s that the scrappy little shit at least tried to give as good as he got.
The joke Bucky was going to make about how the other guy looks dies on his lips before he makes it two steps into the showers, Rogers standing there under the cold spray with blood running down his thighs. He’s standing with his head bent under the spray like his strings have been cut, but he stiffens as soon as he hears Bucky’s boots on the tile, and he puts his back to the tile wall when he catches sight of Bucky over his shoulder. The water’s too cold to even give him steam to hide behind, and the white tile’s streaked with blood where he leans against it anyway. There’s a cigarette burn in the crease of his thigh.
“You barge in on Dugan and Jones like this?” Steve demands before Bucky can say anything, the tile floor heaving under his boots like he’s going to be sick.
“If they dragged in bleeding out the ass, yeah, maybe,” Bucky says, one side of hysterical, even he can hear with his voice bouncing back off the tile.
Steve flinches like Bucky slapped him, and when he looks away, Bucky hopes like hell that his eyelashes are wet from the shower because Bucky’s not sure he can handle anything else. Steve’s cheeks are blotchy and red like he’s run a mile despite the cold water. Bucky crosses the room in two steps and turns it off.
“You’re going to the doctor,” he says, rounding on Steve with a towel just as Steve dances away from him.
“I’m clean,” Steve says, the edge of hysteria creeping into his voice too. “They all wore rubbers, I’m clean, I don’t--”
“The fuck do you mean they all wore rubbers?” Bucky snarls, Steve backing himself into a corner blanched white as the tile past the blotchy redness in his cheeks. He’s got no fucking sense in a fight, boxing himself in like it’ll protect his back, and now that Bucky sees that, he can’t not see Steve, fragile, breakable Steve, getting boxed into a corner by fuck knows how many guys, and this happening while Bucky was playing goddamn cards with his thumb up his ass.
“I’m clean, I don’t need an exam, I’m clean,” Steve repeats, full on hysterics now as Bucky grabs him by one clammy cold arm to haul out and wrap in the towel. Steve fights him but Bucky’s stronger and meaner, wrapping arms around him and pulling Steve against his chest until Steve goes limply where Bucky drags him, his wet hair icy against Bucky’s shoulder. He starts shivering as Bucky rubs him dry, wracking, full body shudders that Bucky tells himself is just the icy cold shower.
He stiffens after a second, though, and when Bucky looks down to see why, Rogers is staring at the open door, where Morita is waiting with the first aid kit in hand and the guys waiting for Bucky’s say so behind him. Rogers breathes shallow and fast against Bucky’s pocket like he’s looking at a firing squad, and maybe he is. The guys would hold him down and patch him up if Bucky said so. He’d never win a fight against all of them, that much is painfully clear.
“Leave the iodine and a couple of carlisles,” Bucky says finally. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing, but he can get Rogers calmed down enough to let Morita take a look at him. “And close the fucking door.” Even if it was Bucky who left it open in the first place for all they guys to see.
The guys back off at that, Dugan and Monty giving Bucky a significant look before they leave to go find the assholes who need murdering.
Morita hesitates, but he sets the first aid kit down inside the door and lays a couple of things out from it. “Burn cream, sulfa, aspirin, bismuth subcarbonate. Make him drink water.”
“He doesn’t need a goddamn pharmacy--” Bucky starts.
“He needs to not shit for a couple of days,” Morita snaps back, and Rogers flinches where he’s trying to hide against Bucky’s chest, his knobby bare knees knocking together.
“Close the goddamn door,” Bucky says by way of conceding the argument; Morita does, but not before Dernier sets a bottle of brandy next to the neatly laid out first aid kit.
The drip of the shower and Steve’s ragged breathing against Bucky’s chest is loud with the door closed. Bucky hauls him by the arm to the bench by the door rather than think about it, Steve stumbling on the wet tile so that Bucky has to catch him. Bucky sits heavily before his knees give out on him, but Steve folds to his knees before Bucky can haul him into his lap like he meant to. Steve’s knees crack on the tile, his hands on Bucky’s belt before he knows what’s happening with the towel falling around him, leaving him naked and goosefleshed as he goes to work on Bucky’s belt.
“The fuck are you--” Bucky says, yanking Steve’s hands away by the wrist.
“I’m still clean, I can suck you--” Steve says, pig stubborn even with his eyes rimmed red and his lashes wet.
“You’re not doing a goddamn thing with your lip split,” Bucky snaps, and Steve flinches away from him again even with Bucky holding his wrists. He looks like death warmed over in the harsh light bounced off tile, his lips swollen and raw where they were cut against his teeth and his eye starting to swell shut.
He won’t get up off the tile until Bucky bullies him up onto the bench to get a look at the cigarette burn, all the fight drained out of him. Bucky bullies him into drinking some brandy too; at the very least it might make him sleep, instead of staring at Bucky blankly, not even a hiss as Bucky dabs the burn cream on.
His ass is a swollen, ruined mess when Bucky finally makes him lie back on the bench to take a look, but most of the bleeding’s done. He wasn’t lying when he said they wore condoms, because it looks like he was fucked dry by however many it was, and that finally gets a reaction out of him, a sharp hiss of breath as Bucky’s fingers graze his swollen hole. He might be clean, but he won’t be fucking anyone for a while, especially if Bucky has anything to say about it.
“Sorry,” Steve says to the ceiling while Bucky’s kneeling there between his legs, dabbing him with iodine. That snaps Bucky’s head up to look at him, Steve’s limp cock lying against his thigh where Bucky made him put one foot up on the bench. He’s got freckles across the tops of his knees and a birthmark inside his thigh, the one that wasn’t burned. “I know you don’t want to fuck me like this, I didn’t mean--” he hiccups once and his voice shakes, because he’s a wet, messy drunk, gone on three pulls of the brandy between the stress and no dinner and being tiny and breakable. “They called you a faggot and I--”
Bucky scoops Rogers into his lap, Steve going with it easily this time, letting Bucky wrap arms around him because he’s shivering again, full body shudders in Bucky’s lap as Bucky rocks him.
“I’m still clean, I can—tomorrow, I can—”
“Steve, I don’t care. It’s not your fault, I don’t care,” Bucky says, petting his hair until Steve’s breathing evens out. He weighs barely anything, radiating cold through Bucky’s sweater and undershirt.
“Sorry, sarge,” Steve says after a couple of deep breaths, swiping at his eyes and trying to pull away so they can both pretend he wasn’t just crying in Bucky’s lap.
“Christ, Steve, I’m sorry, the fuck are you sorry for,” Bucky says, letting Rogers slide down to sit on the bench next to him and pull the scraps of his dignity around himself. But Steve leans into his side, so Bucky keeps his arm around him a while longer.
Re: 4F tiny Steve trash
(Anonymous) 2016-09-09 05:52 am (UTC)(link)Re: 4F tiny Steve trash
(Anonymous) 2016-09-09 03:24 pm (UTC)(link)Re: 4F tiny Steve trash FILL!
(Anonymous) 2016-09-09 04:20 pm (UTC)(link)Re: 4F tiny Steve trash
(Anonymous) 2016-09-09 06:33 pm (UTC)(link)Re: 4F tiny Steve trash
(Anonymous) 2016-09-09 09:12 pm (UTC)(link)If you get a chance yu should post a link to this on the Completed Fills post! It deserves to be seen by ALL!