Hate (Team Angst) - Die Young, Stay Pretty, R, Gen
Title: Die Young, Stay Pretty
Author: starlettmalfoy
Pairing/Characters: Buck Winters, mentions of others, OMCs
Rating/Category: Hard R/Mild slash (non-con), mostly gen.
Spoilers: Spree, Three Daughters, Arrow of Time
Summary: Buck had a lot of time to think in prison.
Notes/Warnings: Non-con, allusions to suicide, violence.
Die Young, Stay Pretty
In the beginning, he cries.
Soft, whimpering noises; keening, high-pitched moans; hysterical, hiccoughing sobs that wrack his chest. He cries for his lost freedom, his lost life, his lost love, his lost soul. He swipes at his eyes and runs his nose across his arm to wipe the product of his suffering. His pillow never truly dries throughout the day before it is wet again the next night, causing what small amount of stuffing it had in the first place to deflate and form lumps. All the better to aid his sleepless nights.
It doesn't last long, but longer than it should have. The crying gets him noticed.
And then he screams.
~*~
One, two, three, four... fuck!... five... shit, six...
Heaving an enormous sigh, Buck strained his muscles to their limit and lifted the heavy set of weights back onto the stand that held them poised above his prone form. Sliding from underneath the bar, he worked his way into a sitting position, grimacing at how the plastic padding of the bench stuck to his sweaty skin.
He was wiping a small towel across his forehead when he heard a voice that made his blood freeze in his bones.
"Well, look what we have here, uh? Bitch is tryin' to beef up a bit?"
Buck gasped and inwardly recoiled with shame at the sound. The man who had spoken came up behind him and threaded his hand through Buck's hair. He was forced to bend backwards on his tiptoes as the larger man's hold tightened. Another few seconds and his knees buckled, and he closed his eyes in despair at the dark chuckle he heard above him.
"Whaddya say, boys? Think he needs to be reminded what he's here for? Yeah, that's right you goddamned faggot, I've got all the beef you'll ever need right here."
"Fuck yeah, Mike! Show that bitch who's who 'round here," a member of his gang shot back as two of them moved around their leader to grasp Buck's arms behind his back, effectively immobilizing him.
Buck closed his eyes tightly as Mike shoved his groin against Buck's face. He could smell the bigger man's twisted arousal through the thin prison uniform, and he fought the urge to gag as he whimpered and tried in vain to turn his head away.
A rustle of fabric was the only warning Buck received before his nose was plugged and he opened his mouth wide, gasping for air. Mike wasted no time, and Buck found his mouth being filled, his tormenter wasting no time as he began to thrust sharply, holding Buck's head in place as he raped his mouth.
Inwardly, Buck seethed. He couldn't move, could barely breathe. He didn't dare try anything as stupid as biting; the menacing leers of Mike's gang more than enough to ward away that thought. Instead, he gave in, letting them use him as they pleased, letting them take his body and dignity away from him. They couldn't touch his thoughts, and as Mike came with a shout across Buck's face, the younger man saw red and began to plan.
~*~
Nights were the worst.
Buck stared at the wall in front of his face, his shoulder aching. He'd long since given up trying to find a comfortable position on the rock-hard cot that the state had provided him with. Instead, he bore through the pain.
It's more than I deserve. After what I did...
It had been months since Buck had cried himself to sleep, but he allowed one tear to fall from his eyes before he drifted off, a restless sleep finding him at last.
Knuckles cracked menacingly in front of his eyes, but he kept his face stoic.
"Tell me where she is, Buck. We can do this the easy way. Just tell me where she is."
He remained silent as the agent sighed, exasperated.
"Kid, do I have to remind you that you're looking at accessory to murder of an FBI agent? We could call for the death penalty."
Buck's nostrils flared as he met the man's gaze for the first time.
"Yeah? And if I tell you, what then? You find her and then what?"
At the man's silence, Buck snorted with derision and turned his head away, "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"So that's your answer then?"
"Fuck. You." Buck sneered.
In one, lightning-fast motion, the agent grabbed him, hauling Buck up to a standing position by his shirt collar for a moment before dropping him forcefully back into the chair. The cuffs on Buck's hands rattled as they hit the table hard enough to bruise. He barely had time to absorb what had just happened before the man's hand connected with his jaw.
Buck's head snapped to the side at the force of the blow. He groaned in pain and struggled to remain upright as the agent grabbed his arm, the arm he had just shot and--
Gasping, Buck sat up quickly, the cot beneath him groaning at the sudden movement. A thin sheen of sweat glistened across Buck's forehead, and he wiped the back of his hand over it as he collapsed backwards onto the bed.
Agent Edgerton, his mind filled in as he recalled the memory that haunted his dreams so vividly. A dark hatred threaded through his veins, but he shoved them down. Edgerton was unreachable. He knew that. He wasn't as stupid as they thought he was. No, he was smart. Smarter than they knew.
He smirked and glanced at the newspaper article tacked beside his bed. Dark eyes stared back at him, and he sneered before turning his head away. That face wouldn't matter soon. It was almost time.
His boys gave the signal and they were moving. He tore the article down and folded it quickly before slinking out of his now-open cell and sprinting down the hall.
~*~
They scramble over the wall, elated, laughing. They were free! Fuck yeah!
Buck grins as he swings himself into the car waiting for them and immediately shucks his shirt, sliding on a new one and throwing the prison-issued rags over his shoulder. The wind feels nice in his hair and he revels in it, because he knows it won't last.
He reaches into his pocket and unfolds the paper he brought with him. Slowly, he tacks it to the dash and glares at it, gazing into the face of the man who would soon hold his fate.
Soon, Agent Eppes. We'll both get what we really want.
He thinks about finally being with Crys and leans his head back on the seat, whooping aloud into the night as the car speeds down the highway.
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!
Author: starlettmalfoy
Pairing/Characters: Buck Winters, mentions of others, OMCs
Rating/Category: Hard R/Mild slash (non-con), mostly gen.
Spoilers: Spree, Three Daughters, Arrow of Time
Summary: Buck had a lot of time to think in prison.
Notes/Warnings: Non-con, allusions to suicide, violence.
Die Young, Stay Pretty
In the beginning, he cries.
Soft, whimpering noises; keening, high-pitched moans; hysterical, hiccoughing sobs that wrack his chest. He cries for his lost freedom, his lost life, his lost love, his lost soul. He swipes at his eyes and runs his nose across his arm to wipe the product of his suffering. His pillow never truly dries throughout the day before it is wet again the next night, causing what small amount of stuffing it had in the first place to deflate and form lumps. All the better to aid his sleepless nights.
It doesn't last long, but longer than it should have. The crying gets him noticed.
And then he screams.
~*~
One, two, three, four... fuck!... five... shit, six...
Heaving an enormous sigh, Buck strained his muscles to their limit and lifted the heavy set of weights back onto the stand that held them poised above his prone form. Sliding from underneath the bar, he worked his way into a sitting position, grimacing at how the plastic padding of the bench stuck to his sweaty skin.
He was wiping a small towel across his forehead when he heard a voice that made his blood freeze in his bones.
"Well, look what we have here, uh? Bitch is tryin' to beef up a bit?"
Buck gasped and inwardly recoiled with shame at the sound. The man who had spoken came up behind him and threaded his hand through Buck's hair. He was forced to bend backwards on his tiptoes as the larger man's hold tightened. Another few seconds and his knees buckled, and he closed his eyes in despair at the dark chuckle he heard above him.
"Whaddya say, boys? Think he needs to be reminded what he's here for? Yeah, that's right you goddamned faggot, I've got all the beef you'll ever need right here."
"Fuck yeah, Mike! Show that bitch who's who 'round here," a member of his gang shot back as two of them moved around their leader to grasp Buck's arms behind his back, effectively immobilizing him.
Buck closed his eyes tightly as Mike shoved his groin against Buck's face. He could smell the bigger man's twisted arousal through the thin prison uniform, and he fought the urge to gag as he whimpered and tried in vain to turn his head away.
A rustle of fabric was the only warning Buck received before his nose was plugged and he opened his mouth wide, gasping for air. Mike wasted no time, and Buck found his mouth being filled, his tormenter wasting no time as he began to thrust sharply, holding Buck's head in place as he raped his mouth.
Inwardly, Buck seethed. He couldn't move, could barely breathe. He didn't dare try anything as stupid as biting; the menacing leers of Mike's gang more than enough to ward away that thought. Instead, he gave in, letting them use him as they pleased, letting them take his body and dignity away from him. They couldn't touch his thoughts, and as Mike came with a shout across Buck's face, the younger man saw red and began to plan.
~*~
Nights were the worst.
Buck stared at the wall in front of his face, his shoulder aching. He'd long since given up trying to find a comfortable position on the rock-hard cot that the state had provided him with. Instead, he bore through the pain.
It's more than I deserve. After what I did...
It had been months since Buck had cried himself to sleep, but he allowed one tear to fall from his eyes before he drifted off, a restless sleep finding him at last.
Knuckles cracked menacingly in front of his eyes, but he kept his face stoic.
"Tell me where she is, Buck. We can do this the easy way. Just tell me where she is."
He remained silent as the agent sighed, exasperated.
"Kid, do I have to remind you that you're looking at accessory to murder of an FBI agent? We could call for the death penalty."
Buck's nostrils flared as he met the man's gaze for the first time.
"Yeah? And if I tell you, what then? You find her and then what?"
At the man's silence, Buck snorted with derision and turned his head away, "Yeah, that's what I thought."
"So that's your answer then?"
"Fuck. You." Buck sneered.
In one, lightning-fast motion, the agent grabbed him, hauling Buck up to a standing position by his shirt collar for a moment before dropping him forcefully back into the chair. The cuffs on Buck's hands rattled as they hit the table hard enough to bruise. He barely had time to absorb what had just happened before the man's hand connected with his jaw.
Buck's head snapped to the side at the force of the blow. He groaned in pain and struggled to remain upright as the agent grabbed his arm, the arm he had just shot and--
Gasping, Buck sat up quickly, the cot beneath him groaning at the sudden movement. A thin sheen of sweat glistened across Buck's forehead, and he wiped the back of his hand over it as he collapsed backwards onto the bed.
Agent Edgerton, his mind filled in as he recalled the memory that haunted his dreams so vividly. A dark hatred threaded through his veins, but he shoved them down. Edgerton was unreachable. He knew that. He wasn't as stupid as they thought he was. No, he was smart. Smarter than they knew.
He smirked and glanced at the newspaper article tacked beside his bed. Dark eyes stared back at him, and he sneered before turning his head away. That face wouldn't matter soon. It was almost time.
His boys gave the signal and they were moving. He tore the article down and folded it quickly before slinking out of his now-open cell and sprinting down the hall.
~*~
They scramble over the wall, elated, laughing. They were free! Fuck yeah!
Buck grins as he swings himself into the car waiting for them and immediately shucks his shirt, sliding on a new one and throwing the prison-issued rags over his shoulder. The wind feels nice in his hair and he revels in it, because he knows it won't last.
He reaches into his pocket and unfolds the paper he brought with him. Slowly, he tacks it to the dash and glares at it, gazing into the face of the man who would soon hold his fate.
Soon, Agent Eppes. We'll both get what we really want.
He thinks about finally being with Crys and leans his head back on the seat, whooping aloud into the night as the car speeds down the highway.
This fic was written for the Angst vs Schmoop Challenge at numb3rswriteoff. After you’ve read the fic, please rate it by voting in the poll located here. (Your vote will be anonymous.) Rate the fic on a scale of 1 - 10 (10 being the best) using the following criteria: how well the fic fit the prompt, how angsty [or schmoopy] the fic was, and how well you enjoyed the fic. When you’re done, please check out the other challenge fic at numb3rswriteoff. Thank you!