Warnings: Kidnapping, Abuse, Manipulation, Ableism, Implied Transphobia, General Malvolence
Pairing(s): Lorne Malvo x transmasc!reader
This is a true story. The events depicted in this story took place in Colorado in 2004. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.
The next morning starts early. I'm certain neither me nor Abe slept for more than a few hours, but he drags me up from my spot on the floor and sits me in a chair he has pulled out. He throws a glass of ice water in my face to wake me up, and the draft in this room is already hardly bearable. I cough the water out of my throat and pant for breath, almost falling forward out of the chair. Abe shoves me back, the hard wood digging into my shoulder blades.
“I want to make it clear to you: I'm not letting you off easy. This isn't some smut novel where the good girl just gets to run off and fuck around with the bad boy,” he says to me, holding my head up to meet his gaze. I wince again at the word ‘girl’, and he seems to take notice as he pauses, cocks his head, and squints at me. “What was that?”
“W-what?”
Abe elaborates, “Every time I've called you a girl, you've pulled that long face on me. What's the problem?”
I just shake my head, “I-it's bad timing. The zip-ties are just really cutting into my wrist.”
He takes out a curved knife, and I flinch thinking that he is going to use it on me only for him to reach around to slice the plastic band around my wrist. My arms part, the tension in my arm muscles releasing. I wait for Abe's next move.
“How’s that, girl? Feel any better, hm, girl?” He asks as though he's speaking to an animal. “Come on: Speak up, girl.”
“Stop!” I snap, my fists clenched. “Even if I was a girl, I'm not a fucking dog!”
An eerie glint came to Abe's eye. “So, you admit you're not a woman, then.”
I didn't respond too soon, deeply afraid of what would come next if I did. Still, after a moment of silence and overthinking, I realize there is no good way that this could end. Might as well try to act strong. “W-what is this? You out me and make some screwed up example out of me? Try to fix me?”
“Oh, hell no,” Abe scoffs, then cocks his head. “Hmm, maybe. But, I'm not going to try to convert you into some little housewife. That's not going to happen. You think you're a boy?”
Another long pause. “Yes, I do.”
“No,” Abe argues, “you're a man, I can see it. All this frilly shit is just compensation for what you think you don't have.”
I shake my head. “I-I don't know what you're talking about, I'm n-not-”
“What did I tell you about the stutter?”
Taking a deep breath, I smooth out my words. “I… I'm not even out anywhere. I'm barely even a boy.”
Abe scoffs. “If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything. Ever heard that? Get up.”
I don't know why, it's in no way a well thought out idea, but people don't tend to think their best in these situations. So, I ask, “where are we going?”
Abe doesn't respond. Instead, he raises his foot and presses it against the edge of the chair and pushes, sending me humiliatingly onto the floor and scrambling to my feet. He warns me that he won't be asking again as he walks out the door. I don't necessarily know what that means, but there's something about this man's aura that sends me chasing after him. A disturbing realization dawns on me, however, as I look at my kidnapper: I'm not only chasing him out of fear. I'm ready to start my life, to actually experience something real.
“Get that starry eyed look off your face,” he grumbles, starting the car.
I shake my head, jarred by my own behavior. The handle doesn't click when I try to pull to open the door, and Abe shakes his head at my efforts to escape.
“At least make up your mind on what kind of crazy you're going to be if you're going to try to play the psycho.”
Slinking back I swallow hard, my mind swimming with schools of thoughts and emotions; fear, regret, anticipation. All of the above. Maybe that is the true nature of the “psycho”, not to know what kind of crazy to be, because one can't simply be crazy. It's not an aspiration or goal, it is a destiny. Looks like it might even be mine.
Abe asks a question, bringing my internal rant to an end. I hum, not having heard him initially.
“I asked if you're here alone. Am I going to have to worry about anyone coming looking for you?”
I shrug. “Not really,” I answer with a sigh. “I was here to visit a friend, but I got a hotel and I was supposed to be leaving in the morning anyway. Plus, I-I mean- sorry-”
“Move past it.”
“Plus,” I say carefully, starting from the beginning, “I’m kind of a flake. Even my actual family wouldn't be surprised if I just kind of ran off one day.”
He smirks at this, as though he's won a great prize. “Well, isn't that convenient,” he sneers.
For the first time, he leans over and touches me more than what's required to tie or shove me where he wants me, brushing some hair from my face. He shakes his head, returning his eyes to the road.
“Do you want this?” He asks plainly.
“Excuse me?”
“Do you want this?” He repeats, more insistent this time. “I'm just saying, you don't seem to be putting up much of a fight, so I'm just wondering: If I would have given you an out back on that cliff, would you have even taken it?”
I chew on my lower lip, studying the trees and snow outside the passenger side window. “Probably,” I respond, afraid to elaborate on the fact that it would have been pure cowardice driving me away, not any true resistance or lack of intrigue. “I guess we'll just have to see where this goes.”
“No,” Abe tells me in full certainty. “That would tell us where you end up, you still would have taken the easy way where you started. I mean, that's all it is, isn't it?”
Damn it. “Yeah,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I just don't like fighting just to live 24 fucking 7, and I like to minimize the fight as much as possible.”
I roll my eyes and curl my lip in doubt. “It doesn't have to be. I know, the survival instinct and everything, but I'm surviving either way. That's the root of it for me.”
Let's go ahead and add fics to smth I do on here, why not? Lmao
Definitely not a one shot, this is going to be a LOOOONG one. I have like three eras in mind for y/n and two more fandoms to cross over. Be open minded about what I do with y/n, they're pretty much a self insert bc I got sick of never relating to y/n's😅
~🐰
TITLE: BREAKING THE GOOD BOY Pt. I
Fandom: Fargo
Warnings: Kidnapping, Abuse, Manipulation, Ableism, Murder, Death threats, Implication of SA, General Malvolence
Pairing(s): Lorne Malvo x transmasc!reader
This is a true story. The events depicted in this story took place in Colorado in 2004. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.
The winter cold bites at my nose, collecting on my long eyelashes. I don't know how I ever could stand cold like this, but there was a time I could. The worst thing about winter is how it ruins my beautiful, serene midnight walks to the convenience store. At least, that's what I used to think. Until right about…now.
My head still hangs when I cross past an alley and hear what sounds like masculine grunts and pleading from a fatal struggle.
“Don't stop, you fucking idiot,” I think to myself, though my feet are already dragging to a stop. “You know better.”
Not only do I stop, against any form of common sense, but I turn my head and make eye contact with a tall rugged man. This shocks me back to reality, and I run. I run for my life, but it doesn't matter. Soon after the alley goes silent, I can hear somebody running after me. I already know who it is. My heart races and I feel as though my tears are freezing against my face as the man easily wraps his arms around me from behind, dragging me to his car. Though I try to reach for any of my self defense items; my stun gun, my pepper spray, my knife; they all drop in the struggle.
“I won't tell anyone! I won't tell anyone!” I cry as he shuts the trunk on me.
I can hear him mutter something like, “just hang tight,” just before he leaves and starts the car.
It's forever in the trunk from there. It's like a freezer, my layers of warm clothes are no match for the cold that has been sealed in by the ruthless metal. I only cover my face to protect my soft tissues from frostbite. My weeping, ironically, is one thing that keeps me warm on this long, long trip to nowhere. It's so tight, my chest feels tight and I struggle to breathe, but it's that under-the-blanket kind of feeling that it's actually suffocating. Regardless, from this claustrophobic sensation and the stress of the situation, things fade to black.
Fainting is never really a break, though. It always feels like a flash before you wake up to a shadow looming over you through moonlight that seems blinding. I blink rapidly. When I put up a hand to shield my eyes, the man reaches for my wrist and yanks me from the trunk. I stumble against him, but he quickly pushes me back to stare down at me with his wolfish gaze.
“You know, I could kill you right here and now,” he ponders, sending me into a frightened state of confusion, “that's one way we could solve this little issue.”
“We?” I question.
“I'm getting to it,” he says. “Nobody with a brain would have stopped when you did. Now, everything you tried before we got to this point; you're not that stupid.” He continues analyzing your face as he speaks, sizing you up, “You, you lack a different kind of brain.”
“L-listen, I d-don't know what y-you're getting at-”
The man pulls out a silencer, which effectively silences me. “I think you're the one who should be doing the listening here,” he warns. “What’s your name?”
“W-what?” I breathe.
“Don’t do that, you know damn well what I said.”
I bite my lip, numb from the cold. “y/n. My name's y/n.”
“Well, y/n,” the man continues, “I'm feeling generous today. I think we might be able to come to an agreement.”
He waits for my response, so not knowing what else to say, I answer, “I'm listening.”
“Good girl,” he smirks. I feel an annoyed peng in my chest, but there's no way I'm getting into the nuances of my gender with an armed man who is negotiating my life on a secluded cliff. “I need somebody to give, let's just say, a soft touch to my work. Not sure if you noticed, but I'm not the kind of person who can just bat their lashes out of anything, but I think you could fit that bill. You won't even have to get your hands that dirty, and you get to stay alive. Frankly, if things work out, it might be the easier way to go for both of us.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “So, y-you want me to be your accomplice?”
“I'm getting really close to changing my mind if you keep stuttering and playing dumb like this,” he glares.
“How do I know it will be easier?” I protest, forcing myself through every syllable. “How do I know what ‘that dirty’ means to you?”
“You don't,” he says bluntly. “It's either ‘yes’ or ‘no’, and I'm getting tired of waiting.”
I can't form an answer. What kind of choice is that? Either let him kidnap and weaponize me or let him kill me? My ethics and dignity vs my life? The worst part, though, was that little bit of emotion that was undeniably not anxiety. It was excited for the man to twist my arms behind my back and force me to the cliff’s edge, giving me an excuse not to say no.
“Yes,” I scream, breaking my silence. “Yes, I'll do it! I'll go with you!”
He releases me, and I scurry back to safety. I wait for him to laugh and ridicule me, but he just maintains that look of pure impatience as he waits for me to get to my feet. The frosty dirt bites at my fingertips as I press down to stand. I follow the man to “his” car and realize that I don't know his name, even though he asked mine.
“What’s your name?” I ask inside the car, though the words are spaced weirdly from my efforts to avoid stammering.
The man sighs, “For now, you can call me Abe.”
“Abe?” I repeat. “That's really,” I pause, considering my words, “bland for someone like you.”
“It's supposed to be,” Abe says. “It's not my real name. That's why I told you ‘for now', maybe we'll get there if you play nice enough.”
I nod, and the rest of the drive is silent. Looking at the sky, I wonder to myself how late it is. The sky is that ambivalent kind of dark, where it could be anywhere between 10pm to 3am. The movement of the car and the atmosphere outside are oddly comforting. The lingering adrenaline pounds in my head, so I lay it back against the seat for the rest of the car ride.
Abe stops at a cheap hotel and pops my door open, dragging me outside. He moves his hand down my back, and I get… butterflies? Jesus, am I really that pathetic and touch-starved?
“I'm sorry to do this,” He says to the woman at the front desk, “but my daughter really needs a place to stay for the night, and seeing as this was my last one here, I thought she could just join me. That won't be a problem, will it?”
She looks at me, a bit disgruntled but also skeptical. Still, I smile for the sake of the innkeeper and everyone else in the building. As much as I know hotels tend to be vigilant when it comes to things such as kidnapping and human trafficking, I can also sense that this man can ensure that isn't much more than an inconvenience on his end.
“You in school?” she inquires.
I shake my head, “No, I dropped out. I've h-had a r-rough year. K-kinda of what brings me here.” Weird. In a way, technically not a lie.
She raises an eyebrow. “A bit anxious, are we?”
“Social,” I reply lightheartedly, “I'm on medication for it.”
“Ah,” she says, now disinterested. “Well, sir, it would be about $60 extra to board your daughter, and I would have to see her ID, but otherwise, I don't have a problem with it.”
As Abe taps the money onto the counter, he says to me, “well, you heard the woman, sweetheart.”
“O-oh, right,” I respond, taking my wallet out from my pocket and handing my ID to the innkeeper.
Just like any other time I hand over my ID, I flash a friendly smile. Abe eyes me closely, I notice from the corner of my eye, dissecting me the best he can until he can get me alone.
“Alright,” the innkeeper says, handing me back my ID card, “enjoy your stay.”
I say a quiet thank you before Abe is pressing on my lower back to lead me away. The walk to his room feels so long, but it's still too quick. The sky starts to crumble as my reality sets in. Abe must notice the way I hyperventilate and my head twitches in every direction, because in a moment I am pressed against the wall with a knife at my gut.
“You agreed to this. It's not too late to go with option one,” he warns.
Before I can say anything in return, Abe swings me into the hotel room in one rough motion, shutting and locking the door behind him. I wait for him to grab me again, throw me down on the bed or on the floor, wherever he wants me. Instead, he takes the pillow on the left side of the bed and tosses it on the floor.
“Lay down, it's getting late,” he commands.
I fight my urge to hesitate, knowing that this man won't hesitate to put a bullet in my head and that this hotel is the kind that would only care about the mess my death would create. Curled up on my side, I pull my wrists and ankles as tight against me as I possibly can in a fetal position. Abe just scoffs at me and fastens my limbs with zip ties. With that, there's a slight click of a switch and the room goes dark.
