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Stench

Summary:

“I am like an amorphophallus titanum, the ‘corpse flower’. People don’t like it because its entirety is unappealing. You must not like me either, right?”

 

or

 

Reader basically vents to Lawrence while tweaking out internally

Notes:

this is my first ever fic please don’t hate 😭 I don’t even think anyone will read this but idc this is kinda like a vent fic that reflects my feelings but it isn’t a self insert idk I’m not good with words

 

I really suck at writing so if the writing turns really ass I’m sorry like actually

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

You’re sitting on the floor of Lawrence’s ‘living room’, your hands gripping a plant that you’re examining. You can feel your hands trembling slightly, you know what this means. You’ve had so much anger bottled up inside of you for years, and sometimes, it releases itself a little bit in the form of outbursts. You can’t contain it when it comes, even if you try to.

 

Lawrence kidnapped you a month ago, and somehow, you’re still alive. You haven’t had an outburst infront of him yet though, and you’re worried about how he’ll react when you do. Would he cut into your skin again? Would he make you drink that stupid, drugged tea for the one-hundredth time? Would he kill you for lashing out at him? He probably would.

 

You only realized that you were zoned out when Lawrence stepped infront of you, asking why you were squeezing the plant pot so tightly. You looked up at him, feeling your fingers twitch. When you’re in this state, everything pisses you off and you can’t stand people interacting with you. But you still try to control it.

 

“…I’m okay. Don’t worry about it.”

 

Lawrence gave you a suspecting look, he definitely didn’t believe that.

 

“You’re lying.. why are you lying to me?”

 

Lawrence’s overthinking flared up, his brain immediately convinced him that you were tense and gripping the plant pot because you’re planning to murder him or something. He doesn’t want that to happen.

 

“I’m not lying—“

“Get in the chair.”

 

It took you a few seconds to process what he had said, being abruptly cut off mid-sentence.. rude. Wait, the chair? That same fucking chair that had been your throne for the majority of the time you had been here? No. No way. You don’t wanna get in the chair. But you also don’t wanna die. He sounds serious, his voice monotone and his expression stern.

 

So you sit in the chair, inhaling a shaky breath as he walks over to his desk to get the tape, keeping his eyes on you.

 

“I’m not lying. Why are you doubting me.”

 

Lawrence stared at you for a moment, before pulling the tape loudly and taping your arms to the chair individually. When he spoke, his voice sounded.. bitter, but with a hint of anxiousness.

 

“Because pretty flowers always lie.”

 

He was saying that shit about flowers again. How pretty flowers lie to seduce and manipulate people. You couldn’t take it anymore, and your carefully crafted self-control snapped like a twig.

 

“I’m not a flower. Why do you treat me like I’m dangerous and like I’m manipulating you? I’m not a pretty flower, if anything, I’m rotted to the core. I’m like an amorphophallus titanum, the ‘corpse flower’. People don’t like it because its entirety is unappealing. You must not like me either, right? Right?”

 

Lawrence stood still, not replying, probably out of shock. So you kept speaking, not caring about how he looked like he was growing more and more uncomfortable.

 

“You don’t like me, so why do you keep me here? Can’t you let me go? I’d be better off in my own apartment, rotting away in my bed. There’d be no judgment, no fear, no one watching me..”

 

You felt your eyes stinging as tears pooled up in them, but you don’t wanna cry. You aren’t sad, you’re angry! So fucking angry! You can’t stand being around anyone right now, especially not Lawrence, who has no idea how to comfort someone. Why would you even want his comfort? He’s your captor, he doesn’t care about you enough to comfort you. You don’t realize it, but you’re gripping the arms of the chair, your knuckles white.

 

Lawrence stares at you as you start to cry, tears streaming down your cheeks whilst you breath heavily. He doesn’t know what to do. His brain is panicking, telling him to kill you or just shut you up somehow. But he just takes a step closer, and leans down, wiping your cheek with his hand. He isn’t speaking, just.. trying to comfort you? Sort of?

 

You don’t say anything, and just let him wipe away your tears, seeing him stare at your eyes as they slowly turn red from crying.

You’re both in complete silence for a while, staring at eachother, before you decide to speak up.

 

“If I was a corpse flower, would you still take care of me?”

 

“..I’d try to.”

Notes:

pls comment if you liked this fic I’d appreciate the support 🥹❤️‍🩹🫰