#Yandere l

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Vampire Men

Yandere vampire Boothill x reader, yandere Dino (he’s already a vampire haha) x reader, yandere vampire L, yandere vampire Pantalone x reader, yandere vampire Ranpo x reader, yandere vampire Vyn x reader (all separate)

Fandoms: Honkai Star Rail, Delico’s Nursery, Bungo Stray Dogs, Death Note, Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis

Just some random thoughts. First time I’ve written for Vyn (AAAAAA)

Masterlist

Warnings: possession, manipulation, blood, biting, stalking, abducting

Word count: 1204

Boothill

When you first met the cowboy, you were in awe of his razor sharp teeth. His many stories were flashy just like his teeth, if only more. He always managed to make you laugh and you quickly fell in love with the handsome cowboy.

When he had you pressed against the wall with his lips mere centimetres away from the pulsing vain in your neck, he finally revealed the truth. He was a vampire and he craved your blood.

However it didn’t take long before Boothill learned that his desire for your love was far greater than his blood thirst.

He visited your little bar every time he had the time. He was so friendly towards you, but so very intimidating towards everyone who gave you any type of attention. His jealousy quickly became clear.

When you walk in on him boring his teeth into the neck of a friendly regular, you screamed as loud as your lungs let you. Boothill quickly dropped the man before he licked his lips. With bloodstained teeth he tried to calm you down. As you cradled you in his arms it became clear to him; he needs to protect you. He is sure you will enjoy travelling with him. He can afford all comfortable hotel rooms from the bounties he claims. He can’t wait to travel with you for eternity. Whether you want to or not is irrelevant.

Dino

The nobleman was as stern as he was busy. He met you at a ball which he attended solely because of his noble duties.

You were intimidated by the tall gloomy vampire as he towered over you. He didn’t say much at first, seemingly content with just dancing in silence.

Said silence was however broken when he told you his former wife had just left him and that he was told he should find a new wife (his son needs a mother after all). You didn’t say much to his statement, as he didn’t seem pleased with the whole wife-situation.

When you both had retreated to the balcony for some fresh air he told you that you were the perfect candidate. You were taken aback by his words. He had then scoffed and said that you were remarkable in senses he couldn’t quite describe.

The wedding had been beautiful. You would have enjoyed it had it not been for the changes in Dino’s behaviour. His touched were lingering and his gaze harsh and intense. You knew very well that humans and vampires were different in a lot of ways, but his actions became more and more confusing.

It was sudden and almost unexpected when you found yourself waking up in a locked room. It didn’t take you long to realise that banging on the door had no effect. He later told you that you were the only woman he had ever lived and that he would never let you leave. You were to be his for all eternity.

L

The lazy detective licked some cream of his fingers as his eyes bored into yours. He smirked slightly at your nervousness.

He was working on a case when he met you. You were nothing special, only an assistant of the police chief, but on L’s eyes you were everything.

He found it humorous how a genius like him could fall in love with someone as ordinary as you. Even though your intelligence and skills were ordinary, your beauty was something else’s.

It didn’t help that the mere smell of your blood was enough to drive him insane. L had always prided himself on being a collected individual, but when faced with you, his composure ravelled before him.

With a pill slipped onto your sweet tea, it was no hassle with bringing you home to his penthouse. He spent his free time with you. Either sharing some sweet cakes, sipping on your blood, cuddling or all. He knows naivety is a dangerous trait, so he doesn’t feel bad for abducting you in the slightest.

Pantalone

The black haired vampire never seem to get enough riches. Throughout his many years he has collected the finest jewels and the soft silk, but something is missing.

No matter what he buys, nothing can fill the gaping hole within his soul.

When he hires you as an assistant he can feel his hole closing. You’re the one. He needs you like humans need air.

It won’t take long before you find yourself trapped inside the four walls of a lavish bedroom that is perfectly decorated to your tastes. How does he know what you like?

He dresses you in the finest gowns as he makes sure your every need it tended to (except your need for freedom). As he drinks your sweet blood, he swears that you will never be in any harms way. He will take care of you and love you till the end of time.

Ranpo

The playful vampire is extremely unpredictable, but given his laziness he often came off as rather non-hostile.

When he saw you for the first time in one of his favourite bakeries, he just knew he needed you. So he follows you.

Your sent us so very intoxicating he can’t help but follow you around. You’re extremely naive and never look over your shoulder. It’s pitiful.

He quickly managed to tangle himself into your everyday life. He always show up at the bakery you work at and entertain you with stories of the many cases he has solved. You are completely oblivious to the obsession that’s brewing within the black haired man.

A day after a tough case, he finally snaps. He knows he will never get caught so he lures you with sweet words with a certain playfulness. He locks the door behind you as you take in his flat. Before you know it he has his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. Sharp fangs sink into your neck as he gently strokes your hair. He will take good care of you. He is the greatest after all.

Vyn

Vyn’s desire for human knowledge reaches far deeper than most can even phantom to comprehend. As a psychiatrist he is able to satisfy some of his thirst for knowledge.

When he gets you as a patient his entire world turns upside down. For the first time in his long life he is not in control of his emotions.

You’re so beautiful and so very human. He finds himself counting down to when your appointments are. His heart aches when you tell him about all your struggles and he swears to himself that he will do anything it takes to make you feel better.

When you tell him that a coworker of yours has made your days worse by snarky comments, he sees red. He quickly adverts your attention from the pencil that just snapped in his clutching hand.

It takes months for him to decide he can’t take it anymore. He needs to protect you, both from vampires and from humans. He keeps you in his lavish house and he spoils you. He bites you so carefully as if he’s afraid you will break like a porcelain doll. And who knows? Maybe you will.

[d3stinyist1red]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʟ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ

yan light who starts getting watched by L, and L sees the way light was clinging onto you like you were a life supply or sum suit

Yan light who was forced to introduce you to L, and his members, and hates every second of it, jaw clenched as he tried to calm himself down by holding your soft hand. L barely glanced at you, looking away from his computer before titling his head at you.

Yan light who literally was fuming and was ready to light the whole place on fire once he saw L analyzing your face and smiling.

Yan L who kept touching you, rubbing up and down your arm, as if tryna study you. You awkwardly js sat there between them, side eyeing light who was ready to run the fades with L

(guys im watching baddies caribbean and ANYONE COULD HAVE THE FADE ON MY MAMA)

Yan L who giggled at your nervous expression and quickly became fond of you, now knowing why light seemed to clingy to you. He found all ur expressions adorable, an addiction.

Yan L who after you left, made watari find all her social media, her personal files, her background, and anyone you interacts with. L made watari also create a psychological profile of her

Yan L who now spends his time watching and monitering you instead of light, convinced hes only watching you because u have a 9% of being kira yet he has a raging boner under his sweatpants anytime he sees you bend down

Yan light who is ready to get down and throw hands with L, fists clenched whenever hes in a 5 mile radius of him. Light is no fool. He senses that L’s interest in his n/n is growing, and it infuriates him. He js wants to dig a grave and throw L's body in it, and leave him to rot.

Yan light who while ur sleeping checks your phone cuz he knows you have L's number, and checks the messages

ʏ/ɴɪsᴍʏᴡɪғᴇ

hii y/n :3

was light bothering u again?? :((

y/n u deserve better than that kira bitch.

i could treat u more better than any man could.

plus i know how to cook and clean :3

ur so beautiful.

ʟɪɢʜᴛɪsʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢᴍᴇʜᴏsᴛᴀɢᴇ

wsg

sorry i cant talk alot this crazy mf checks my phone every hour and day bruh

ʏ/ɴɪsᴍʏᴡɪғᴇ

look i told uuu

hes no good for u:(

im a better man than him baby :((

Yan light who js wants to scream and crashout at the messages L has been sending u

yan light who becomes even more clingy if thats even possible, tryna make out every single hour, now sitting on ur lap, arms around your body, and not leaving ur side

yan light who hates L for tryna steal whats his

yan L who is ready to steal n/n away from light

IF THIS WAS BORING SORRYYY I DIDNT RLLY GET ANY IDEAS BUT YUHH

[animeyanderelover]

how would yan jouno (bsd), L(death note), Gojo and Megumi(jujutsu kaisen) react to seeing darling bloody and passed out?

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, paranoia, clinginess, stalking, isolation, abduction, death

Tags: @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Bloody and passed out

L Lawliet

🍰​Watari can't help but give a subtle look of concern in L's direction as the detective stares at the screen which is paused at the image of your form, passed out on the ground and covered in blood. His grip on the fork is subconsciously tightening as L requests Watari after a moment of silence to call an ambulance and keep an eye on you whilst you are hospitalised. Meanwhile he will go through the video tapes to find out what happened to you in the little time he didn't watch you through his multiple screens to eliminate the culprit before they could pose more of a threat to you. In reality L also doesn't have the courage yet to face you in your current condition as seeing you in person would only solidify that slimy feeling of guilt for not having been more careful, for not having seen this coming. After all he is not just any detective but the world's greatest detective. For him to let this crime happen instead of preventing it beforehand as he should have done is going to be a permanent burden he is going to have to carry around with him from now on. To prevent such things to happen to you in the future though L simply deduces that it is perhaps time to finally put you under special security.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️​Every attempt to keep his violent nature hidden fails when Jouno finds you. He may not be able to see your current condition but his enhanced hearing is enough already to keep him informed about your dire situation. He doesn't say anything for a while as he just bends down to your body, wipes away some of the blood on your face, not minding that he stains his uniform in the sticky liquid and it is this heavy silence that puts the other people from the government who accompanied him on edge. When he finally does speak up his voice is sharp and dangerous as he asks why none of the fools have called an ambulance yet. Is he the blind one or are they? He has everything to do himself, doesn't he? Jouno is the one who calls the government, shortly stating that they are going to need some doctors and a new accomodation before he ends the call, barely leaving them time to ask who it is Jouno intends to not only bring but also keep. Whilst you are being catered to by doctors Jouno starts searching for the bastard who did this to you, brimming with barely suppressed rage he desperately needs to unleas onto someone. He's going to make that person beg for death as soon as he has caught them.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙​His heart is in his throat the moment his Divine Dogs find you. Even whilst tracking down a curse he is supposed to take out Megumi already had a bad feeling as his shikigami were acting strange yet he still isn't prepared to find you. Why you? Why not someone else? Even as his shikigami tear the curse apart Megumi is unable to collect himself, his hands shaking ever so slightly as he wipes away some of the blood clinging to your face before he pulls out his phone and calls Shoko, begging her in a thin voice that she must help you. He's clearly shaken by the time you are cared for by Shoko, is barely listening when Gojo pops up because he has heard what happened and attempts to cheer his student up only to stop when noticing that Megumi is elsewhere with his mind. It is only when Shoko steps out of the room that he seems to return to the present, asking her quietly how you're doing and only when she informs him that you'll survive does some of the tension leave his body. However, after this day his paranoia has significantly increased. Who is to say that you won't be attacked again and that next time he won't be there in time? He can't let that happen.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​His presence alone has the curse cowering in fear, fleeing the scene the moment it senses Gojo's massive Cursed Energy only for the sorcerer to catch up in the blink of an eye, his eyes gleaming with darkness and a deep fear of loss that shouldn't appear in such beautiful eyes before he effortlessly crushes the creature, their existence gone within less than a second. As soon as his desire for revenge has been fulfilled he rushes over to you, taking you in his arms as he inspects the damage before calling Shoko and shakily begging her to help you. He doesn't once leave your side even whilst Shoko is inspecting you and heals the worst injuries you suffered at the hands of the curse, his larger hands gently engulfing yours as he remains by your side long after Shoko is done and has left you alone so that you can get some rest. He should have been there for you. You shouldn't have even gotten into such danger. Yet what were you supposed to do? You're a non-sorcerer, unable to see the creatures that threaten your life, much less defend yourself against them. That's why you need him. You need him to protect you and Gojo will ensure that after today he will keep you safe.

[yanderenightmare]

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged. 

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts. 

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.” 

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

[lilacxquartz]

part 18 of 19 of kinktober: voyeurism

L x f!reader

plot: L liked to keep tabs on you, often in privacy breaching ways and one night, he caught on more than he had anticipated — themes: yandere L, stalking, voyeurism, spying, warning for unaware reader, masturbation, webcams — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

L sat all alone in his dimly lit bedroom, surrounded by multiple monitors panelled across his elusive set up. He remained perched over a desk chair that had long seen better days with his knees tucked in tight against his chest, fixated on one screen in particular.

Or rather one person in particular—you.

He caught sight of you completely by accident once, accidentally tuning into your webcam while on the search for something else. It was silly in a way, because he had forgotten what it even was by now, but one thing was clear and it was that he couldn’t stop thinking about you and you alone.

Almost to the point where it was unhealthy.

L’s fingers flew over the components of his desk, navigating himself hurriedly towards towards a hopeful glimpse of you. It was almost dangerously easy, knowing that you were just one measly quick away. That you were perfectly unaware, allowing him to spy on you again and again.

It wasn’t like he was doing this to be malicious though. Definitely not. He just wanted to know more about you, but being locked into his hermit lifestyle, he had no idea where to start exactly. L therefore watched on with wide, focused eyes as you entered your bedroom, wearing nothing except an old camisole with some loose gym shorts. Your hair was partially damp, hinting at a recent shower, which was made especially evident with just how tight the soft cotton clung and rode up your torso.

L stiffened as he watched you settle into your own desk chair with a hint of lust in his stare. His eyes followed your hand down to slip under the waistband of your shorts and as your chin tilted back to indicate the start of your own self pleasure. Unable to turn his sights away, he continued to glue his gaze onto the screen, watching as you spread your legs and steadied them wide over the table.

There was a split moment where he wondered if he should look away, if he should just stop the spying for once and to just leave you to it…

…But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He was far too invested for it all to simply just end.

All the while you were perfectly unaware, allowing the pads of your fingertips to swirl around the bud of your clit as you read over a few alluring words on the screen. A nice little relaxing ritual of sorts, so desperately pent up and longing for a release, completely ignorant to the fact that you were currently performing for an audience of one.

The material on the screen is just enough to work with to make your mind wander in the direction you would rather have it go; allowing you to on occasion close your eyes and drift off to explore all sorts of possibilities. At a steady pace you ran tantalising circles across your sensitive flesh, feeling the arousing heat simmer and boil into a rising peak.

You were almost close at this point; feeling the shuddering crescendo of uttered gasps and strangled moans rolling out to meet at the impending climax. Your lower stomach tightened as your own touch sent your senses over the edge, finally melting away as a warm, sweeping sensation flooded through your core.

L watched all the while with his own arousal building from the sight of yours, unable to tear himself away the almost hypnotic bliss evident on your face. In an attempt to savour this forbidden sort of thrill further, he saved a long series of screenshots capturing you in various stages of undress and pleasure alike.

Perhaps it was sick of him to do, but he printed off the images, sticking them into a journal filled with various artefacts portraying you during the moments he simply couldn’t look away from, almost entirely filling up the book.

The journal at this point was a treasured possession for him; a dirty little secret that he had appointed for his eyes only because you were surely that special.

And maybe, just maybe, he would have to see what you’re like in real life for real sometime too, because if he was being frank, it wasn’t quite the same when you were just pixels on the screen.

One day—he thought as he logged off at long last—one day he might just see it through.

[after-witch]

How a Minute Spends Now [Yandere Platonic L Lawliet x Sibling Reader]

Title: How a Minute Spends Now [Yandere Platonic L x Sibling Reader]

Synopsis: Your brother is dead. What pieces are there left to pick up?

Word count: 3800ish

notes: yandere, abusive sibling dynamic, grief and death mentions

Your brother is dead.

And oh, it’s clear now: whoever said death was an inevitable cold hard fact was a liar. Or stupid. Or both. Because this fact is not cold or hard; it’s warm, oozing, feeling like so much black sludge running between your fingers. 

You’ll never get it off--the death, yes, and the awful, sinking realization--

Your brother is dead and their first priority was not to tell you. 

They don’t bring you into a quiet room and ask you to sit down, before explaining in sympathetic, gentle tones that something bad has happened. That the brother who carried you through hell as a child, who kept you safe (and locked away) well into your thoroughly stunted adulthood, will never be coming back again. That you’ll never hear his voice or see his face or feel his touch. 

No. They don’t bother with you, first.

Their first priority is to gather together two of those damned groomed successors--Near and Mello, of course--and take them into a quiet room and explain, softly but succinctly, that L was dead.

That’s how you hear the news. You’d followed along, hackles raised when they were gathered up, and padded silently into the next room with a sourness in your stomach. And that’s how you hear it. With your ear pressed against the wall of the room next door, gleaning snatches of the conversation afterward through a horrible ringing in your ears.

(And aren’t you an awful thing? That you didn’t know until that moment? That you weren’t struck numb the moment he died thousands of miles away, that some guttural psychic primal instinct inside you didn’t say: Something is wrong and my brother is dead. Aren’t you a shitty person, that you didn’t somehow know without the muffled words through the wall?)

Mello is loudest. He cuts through that awful, disbelieving buzz that courses through you. 

“Who did he pick--”  And you don’t have to hear the rest to know what he’s asking. Did L pick him--or Near--as a replacement? As if he could be replaced. As if someone could simply step into his shadow and wear his skin.

“He didn’t have time,” answers Roger, and you puke a little bit of breakfast back into your mouth. 

What a thought--that L had been snuffed out without warning. Without time to think about it. Without time to regret, to come to terms--to call you. 

What was he thinking about, as he died? Was he thinking at all? Was there even the quickest of thoughts about you or your parents (distant, foggy beings that they were) or something else, something you would never know because your brother always kept some parts of him out of reach?

The wallpaper scratches underneath your fingernails, and a dim part of you wonders if they can hear it beyond the wall. Maybe you want them to hear you, hear the way your fingers dig into the paper and drag down as you slide onto the floor.

Your brother is dead, and you’re alone, and what the fuck was any of it for, if he was just going to get himself killed?

--

They do get you, eventually. Or rather, they find you, quiet and curled up in the corner of the room next door, a room you ought never to have been in. 

You don’t respond to the quiet calls of your name. You don’t respond when they step inside and Roger crouches down beside you, asking if--and he doesn’t finish the question, because he knows that asking someone “Are you all right?” when they are in a tight fetal position after clearly hearing news of their brother’s death through an orphanage wall is a stupid fucking question.

So all Roger does is put a hand on your shoulder and squeeze. It means nothing, and you get no comfort from it. No one here could comfort you. No one alive. 

“L left a letter for you,” Roger says, and it’s only now that you turn your head to look up at him. “Before he left for the Kira case.”

Kira. If only everyone who uttered that name had their tongue turned to ashes. 

“Give it to me,” you whisper.

--

It is his handwriting. Not a typed letter, which could be a forgery. No, this was written by his hand, his distinct scrawl. But what sealed the authenticity was that it was written in invisible ink, revealed through a solution only you had access to; L made it himself. Because he was smart--and a pompous asshole. 

But that’s how you know in the end that it’s not a fake, but a real letter. The last letter you’ll ever get from him. 

You bring the paper to your nose and sniff; it doesn’t smell like him. Maybe it did, at first, before whatever filing cabinet they’d stowed it in leached away the scent. Or maybe it smelled like him before you poured the solution on, and your anticipation to read what he said destroyed your last chance at remembering what he smelled like. 

It doesn’t matter.

The letter is simple and your hand trembles and the first words on the page hurt--tears drip down stupidly and turn blue when they hit the chemical solution on the paper. 

He’d make fun of you for crying, before wiping your tears with his shirt, so you’d call him gross and smile and feel a bit better. He would do that, if he were alive. But he can’t, because, as the letter says--

If you are reading this, I am dead. Kira has killed me. 

I was aware that this was a possibility--

Oh, fuck him. Fuck. Him. 

There is the urge to crumple the paper now. To find a fireplace and make someone light it and watch the paper burn, chemicals sparking, with satisfaction. How dare he. How dare he chase after this case, knowing it was a possibility, knowing that you might end up staring at this letter. Knowing that you’d be so utterly fucking alone. 

Breath coming in shallow pants, you keep going. 

I was aware that this was a possibility and I’ve prepared for it, as such. You don’t need to worry about money. It’s taken care of. You don’t need to worry about a place to live. It’s taken care of. 

You realize, dimly, that one of your hands has begun to pound against the wall. Who-cares-who-cares-who-cares. You don’t want to know that there’s money and a place to stay. 

What you want is your brother. 

You want him here so you can grab his shirt and tug him close and tell him he’s a massive asshole and you love him. You want him to tentatively wrap his arm around you, to give you a pat, to murmur something about being too clingy. 

You want him to suddenly pull your hair so you can stomp on his foot. You want to curl up in bed, like you used to, and wait for him to stroke your back to sleep while you asked him questions about anything and everything. His voice would be soft and dull, walking that fine line between patience and annoyance. You’d fall asleep while he told you something especially important, and he’d debate flicking your head to wake you up, a 50/50 chance that he’d do it.

But he can’t do any of these things. Not now. Not ever again. He has no voice to speak with, no body to touch. He has no more life in him at all. 

You couldn’t even visit his grave, assuming he had one. 

The tears are hot against your eyes as they drip-drop and stain the page now. It’s not fair, none of this. The death and the letter and the gray future ahead of you.

But you have to keep reading. Every word is precious, the last ones you’ll read from his hand. And maybe--this is awful, isn’t it--maybe this letter is where he finally has to admit that he’s been selfish. To keep you locked away, to put his need for control over your need to live a real life, to stay away as much as he does--as much as he did.

Maybe this letter is where he admits his faults as a brother, so you can cry over something other than the feeling of a gutted cave inside your chest. 

Maybe this is when he admits he’s kept you wrapped in a useless bubble, and that was wrong, and now you’ll get to--

I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother.

The pounding on the wall stops. Thoughts come quick, snapping, punctuated by a red hot stings of electric hate. The bastard--how could he--why would he--the words don’t even seem to make sense, so you read them over and over and over, trying to understand. 

I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother. I have given instructions that my successor will care for you like a brother.

But no matter how many times you read them, the words don’t register as anything but a jumble of phrases put together. He couldn’t have written that. But he did. Yet the very thought that someone else would care for you like a brother--

No. Your brother is dead, and no one can replace him. Not as the best detective in the world, not as your brother, not as anything. How could he, why would he, there’s no answer that comes so you let the questions singe the air instead. 

There’s a woozy, hazy fuzz that descends on your head like a net, and you lean against the wall. Red-hot anger simmers, bubbled with a hazy grief, as you force yourself to continue. 

I have left them detailed instructions on how to care for you. 

The words drop into your stomach hard, with no reprieve. He left instructions for your care, like you were a pet being looked after on a vacation. Fucker. You try to determine if it was a joke, or an intentional slight meant to irritate you, or not something he put any spite into at all. Was he being sincere? 

Because--well.

Is it entirely wrong? You and the figurative pampered dog both leapt to attention whenever your owners--whenever your brother--deigned to come home from vacation. From solving crimes. Both whined when he left. Both circled and moped, staring out the window, hoping for their return.

Not that there would be any return for L.

You will be safe and protected, as you were under me.

A hand goes to your mouth, covering a smile that no one else is here to see. Safe and protected, sure. Like a princess in a fairy tale, like some maiden kept under lock and key in a dragon-guarded keep. Only the dragon never breathed fire--only familiar platitudes and a comforting sameness that chained you down as well as the actual locks on the doors, the security cameras, the strict instructions for the security guard at the gate.

But you were safe, and you were protected. And here you are, now, wet tears on your cheeks, anger in your stomach and a smile on your face, because your brother apparently put you in his will like some sort of inheritance for whoever takes up his mantle. 

Please don’t do anything foolish now that I’m gone. Not that it stopped you, before.

A flash in your mind, the image of your brother’s smirk, curling up at the ends. A thumb in his mouth to soften it. 

It aches and it doesn’t, this image, the clear sense of L in these words. Why can’t he be here? Why this pain, this gouged sense of reality that makes you feel like screaming until there’s no more air in your lungs? 

Your hand finds the wall again, scratching at the paper with as much force as you can, rippled scratches following in their wake. 

Better the paper than your skin--your skin will heal. They’ll have to replace the wallpaper if they want to fix the jagged scratches. Let them replace it. Let them replace it like they want to replace your brother, and see where it gets them. You’ll be there in either case. 

There’s nothing more on the paper. You’re not sure if you expected there to be; you can’t imagine him writing soft, sweet words of comfort. He never said them, not exactly, so why write them now? No “I love you,” no “You’ll be fine without me.”

But, ah. There’s more to that, isn’t there? L would never write “You’ll be fine without me,” because he didn’t like to lie. 

And who is the successor that will receive these so-called instructions? He hasn’t chosen anyone. Roger, you’d heard, suggested Mello and Near work together. Fat chance. Like they would--like they could. 

They couldn’t, and they can’t, and they don’t. It isn’t long before Mello leaves and there’s one less orphan in the building, and Near steps in.

To be trained, to be raised, to study the Kira case--to take care of you, so says your dead brother in his last letter. 

But Near isn’t L. 

And you’re alone.

--

It is not terribly long after you become brotherless--and rudderless--that you walk into your room to find Near sitting on the floor, stacking rows of gray, pattern blocks that resemble a cityscape in the center of your private little space.

The sight of him is wrong. He looks--not like L, not in that way. But the posture. The outfit. If you squint--and you do--you can blur him into something like a younger version of your brother. Different hair, of course, but didn’t he sometimes sit like that when he played? When he refused to share his blocks, and made you watch him play, and occasionally deigned to let you place a piece or two as long as you put it exactly where he told you?

And you always did, little fingers trembling, because you wanted him to think you were good enough to listen. Good enough to do what he says, because he was older, and smarter, and you should listen to him. 

There’s a lump in your throat before you realize it.

”Why are you here?” Your own voice is a croak, rusted from ill-use. Crying. Shouting. Not talking for hours until you had to.

It’s not like you had too many people to talk to, anyway; but if you get him to talk, then this blurry vision will vanish. Near might look a bit like your brother, might have the same penchant for picking things apart, but he wasn’t L. Never would be, not really.

He doesn’t look up when you speak. Thank God for small mercies. Instead, he takes one finger and pushes it in the center of a block tower, creating a window. 

“Roger said you were upset.”

The temptation to blur vanishes with the sound of his young and decidedly not-L voice, and it’s easier to cross your arms, to put up the defenses. 

“Obviously.” A little less dry now. A little more sarcastic. And a little more alive than you’ve sounded in weeks, or months, or however long it’s been since your brother ceased existing and your life at Wammy’s became all the more bleak. “My brother died.” 

Near���s eyes finally flick up to you before they dart back down to the blocks. He carefully slips a block figure--a bland smiling thing--into the window. 

He speaks softly, with little intonation. You hate how familiar it is. 

“That is, upset about me.” 

The sound of your stupid little intake breath in the quiet room is a little too much to bear, and you try to focus on the sound of the blocks instead. The small shift of the pieces as he slides them here and there, the clacking sound as they stack together. 

Click. Clack. 

What does Roger know, anyway? 

“Not about you… in particular,” you admit. It’s the most you’ve admitted to Near in--well. Ever. It’s not like you were eager to talk to many of the children at Wammy’s, especially when you outgrew them. Yet unlike the orphaned faces that faded from memory in time, you weren’t adopted, weren’t eased into some other life outside these walls; instead, L kept you here, guarded, safe, and completely stuck. 

And you are stuck. You’re an adult. You could’ve stormed out the doors the minute L died, you’re sure, legally speaking (before that--even--before that you could’ve left); started walking and taken up a job at some shitty diner and rented a room in a seedy motel until you were on your feet. 

It’s something that you’d threatened in L’s face from time to time, and he didn’t even deign to take you seriously, and it’s only now that he’s dead that you understand why.

He knew you wouldn’t leave. Couldn’t leave? Maybe it’s the same thing. Because he was right. There’s no life for you out there; no life for you in here, except for what L left you, which includes--somehow--this boy in front of you, stacking blocks, who is supposed to take up the position of older brother. In capturing Kira and everything else.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he says, all matter-of-fact. “L left instructions.” 

Your chest squeezes. Those fucking instructions. You had asked--stormed up in a huff, demanded, in a tantrum--Roger to read them, and he refused. Said L indicated the letter was for his successor’s eyes only. 

So all you had was your imagination; did L write down a list of things you liked, things you didn’t like? Did he rattle off your favorite foods, what time you were supposed to go to bed, what to do if you had a meltdown and began to cry over your social isolation? Or did he--the thought was tempting, however improbable it was--write something more sentimental? 

Logic and bitterness win out, and you imagine Near reading the details of the letter meticulously, probably looking for the words-within-the-words, all while flying an airplane with his other hand. 

“I’m not a dog.” Your eyes dart over the blocks, over the memory of all the toys you’ve seen Near playing with; there’s something painful in that image, for too many reasons. “Or a toy.”

“Yes, I know.”

Near doesn’t look up again. Instead, he flicks his hand, and knocks over the tower with the window, with the smiling person inside, who topples to your carpeted floor. Something about it makes you want to laugh; makes you want to get on the floor and ask if you can push over the next one. Tears prick at the edge of your eyes. 

Instead of swooping onto the floor, you weave around the circular city he’s created in your room without permission, and climb onto your bed. The book you were reading this morning is still there, ragged bookmark jutting out of it. Your bed is unmade, otherwise. Sheets rumpled and unwashed. You haven’t bothered with the bed since L died. Haven’t bothered with a lot of things, besides. 

It was an older book. A philosophical treatise from the 1930s, when Europe was on the cusp of war; translated into English and shuffled around the hands of starving artists and avant garde thinkers until, decades later, it landed, battered, onto the shelves of the orphanage for gifted children. Gifted children and you, L’s leftover baggage.

Well. If Near is going to barge into your room without permission, you won’t let it impact your day. Roger said if you didn’t start eating again, you couldn’t borrow books; that’s where you’d been, before you came back. Grabbing something to eat under his watchful eye and eating it with deliberately pointed chewing motions, as if it bothered him.  

So you’ve eaten. Now you can read. 

“What are you reading?” He asks, like he didn’t already see the title of the book. He probably saw it on your bed whenever he first came into your room. Probably knows exactly where it rests in the Wammy library when it’s not checked out, and who else has read it besides you.

But he’s asking anyway and something empty in you clings to that question, as you curl up on your side--body and soul aching for the physical curled-up nest of your brother that doesn’t exist anymore.

You hold up the cover and shrug, hiding the need, pushing down the urge to bury your face in your pillow and have an imaginary conversation with your dead brother.  It wouldn’t be the first one you’ve had this week.

Near’s eyes flick to the book, before he works on creating another tower. 

“Do you like it?”

Your heart clenches. You’re reading into it, the way it reminds you of L. The way the question is open and you can’t tell if it’s asked because he thinks the book is pointless trash and will find you silly if you like it, or because he genuinely wants to know. 

It’s not a book you’d read again, that’s certain. Not because you think it’s awful, but because none of it really makes sense to you. You’d grabbed it because the thought of reading a novel you’d been eager to read while your brother’s corpse was buried thousands of miles away made you want to vomit. So a random philosophy book was the better option. 

You don’t want to tell Near all of this; because of his age, because he’s little more than someone you know, and because like your brother, you want to keep some things secret. 

“I don’t understand most of it,” you admit, finally, the words sticking to your mouth a little. A bit of truth would be okay, in the end. “I just wanted to occupy my time, I guess.” Reading words from someone who furiously pushed them out on his typewriter almost a hundred years ago was better than thinking about who wasn’t in the room. 

Near smiles, a little, not looking away from the blocks. 

“Do you want to help?”

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, picking up each piece carefully and stacking it just-so. He leaves the toppled tower, figure and all, where it is. 

You’re not sure how long you wait before deciding.  All you know is that in your isolated room at Wammy’s, with only a window to the outside world you’ve barely known to give you any inkling of the passing of days, you slide onto the floor and tentatively pick up one of the toppled blocks.

Near doesn’t tell you to leave those where they are, and that’s okay.

He doesn’t tell you where to put it, either, as L would have certainly done--and somehow, that’s okay, too. 

[married-to-google-translater]

yandere L that hyperfixates on the MC😍

Plz send me more death note questions~ I also write for no Yandere

Yandere L Lawliet

L would meet with you during the criminal investigation.

You really get his attention.

The fact that you were suspected of a crime would give him more "opportunities".

Because it's no small crime if he's involved.

Then, however, you have nothing to do with anything.

L would find out very quickly.

But he doesn't drop you off the list of suspects.

Because how else would he find out about you?

Without suspicion people would call it stalking…

But when you are suspected it is called investigation.

And we saw how he did it with Light.

The cameras would be in your room very quickly.

Including recording equipment.

L would often ask you for interrogations.

Because he has "found more evidence".

They are usually found to be wrong right from the start.

L would offer coffee/pastries so that you wouldn't have come for nothing.

And after that you spend time just talking.

This would be a good way to learn more about you.

But everything comes to an end in the end.

Like the investigation.

And L doesn't want to let you go.

So now would be the time for the kidnapping :D

Which would be easy considering how well he would know you.

[akixxsstuff]

Death Note Yandere L Lawliet x Wife Reader Smut

(The picture above was edited by me).

NSFW content // Angst // Click here part 2

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️ Involves themes of kidnapping, stalking, cheating, non-consensual sexual behaviors, breeding, the usage of sex toys and bondage.

L's internal monologue:

Darling, if you measured good and evil deeds by current laws, I would be responsible for many crimes, however, nothing would be more unjust than not rescuing you from your loveless marriage. Yes, your husband is a courageous and hard-working task force member, but he's also a neglectful piece of shit towards you.

He doesn't even know your sleep schedule or how many cups of coffee you've ordered in the past three months, is he even aware that your birthday is in 70 hours, 16 minutes and 43 seconds? My love, you're just like a beautiful puzzle and every day my cameras and private investigators find more precious pieces.

Nothing is of greater importance than you Y/N, I love you so much. I feel like such a creep but I don't care, I have never cared, everything in life is a game including love, and I have never lost, why? Because I am fucking L.

Present Day, (your birthday):

You slowly open your heavy eyelids to find yourself in a well-furnished bedroom decorated with expensive decor and silk curtains and bedding. Your head was pounding and your limbs were weak, were you drunk? Did your friends bring you here to rest after you fainted during your birthday party?

You immediately panicked when you realised you were restrained to the bed across from a crouched, pale man with dark, piercing eyes. It was your husband's supervisor on the Kira investigation, Ryuzaki.

You were merely acquaintances since you only visited the headquarters to drive your husband home or to bring baked goods for your husband and his co-workers. He was odd and reserved however he always praised your cooking and never failed to impress you with his intelligence. You felt sympathy for him since your husband told you he was basically a lonely workaholic. Your husband even joked that maybe he had a crush on you since he gazed upon you like his cake and cases; with desire and fascination, (lolololololol).

You could only think of one logical explanation for why you were here with him.

"Ryuzaki! Do you suspect that I'm Kira!? Is that why I'm here?!" you cried, "No" L responded flatly. "Then what's happening? Where am I?" you whined, "I would rather you not know of your location, but rest assured you are perfectly safe" L replied calmly. "If this is some sort of joke it isn't funny, untie me now!" you snapped, "Yes, I fully suspected that you would be averse to this my darling". "Darling?! Ryuzaki I'm married! You brought me here didn't you!" you exclaimed, "Yes, since I wish to demonstrate why I'm a more suitable romantic partner for you Y/N". Scowling you said, "Well you've already messed up because kidnappers are not my type! My husband is a good man".

"During the past 6 months, your husband has cancelled 130 dates, has only engaged in sexual activity with you on 4 separate occasions and seemingly has not acknowledged your birthday. You deserve someone who is much more attentive and devoted like myself, surely you understand that I rescued you from a loveless marriage".

You were silent. That creep had been fucking stalking you.

He opened the bedside draw, obtaining a large, pink vibrator, "Perhaps this will help, consider it a birthday gift" L chuckled. He lifted your skirt and ripped into your underwear, "Don't you dare!" you snarled, "I'm going to demonstrate how satisfying sex can really be" L uttered while ogling in between your legs.

You choked as he began clumsily massaging in-between your thighs with the sex toy, experimenting with various speeds and intensities to discover what your cunt enjoyed the most. You clenched your teeth to contain your moans since you didn't want to give this sick pervert any validation, however being as perceptive as he was, you weren't able to fool him.

"Your pupils are dilated, your face is flushed and your vulva is already producing lubrication, all typical signs of arousal" L remarked bluntly. "W-what?" you stammered, "Trying to remain quiet is useless Y/N since I already know that your body is finding this device pleasurable. So please, let me hear those pretty little moans of yours, you were always so quiet during sex with your husband my love".

You struggled against your rope as L swirled the vibrator on the highest intensity level around your sensitive, swollen clit. But it was hopeless, you couldn't escape the waves of incredible pleasure that vibrated throughout your pussy. You were in an intoxicating daze and your body was hot and trembling; you were so touched starved that your body was already begging to cum. "Ryuzaki!" you screamed while you squirted all over the vibrator; feeling shocks of electrifying pleasure overwhelm your cunt while your legs jolted.

You gasped as you suddenly felt L smoothly slid his aching dick inside your quivering and dripping hole. He began rocking his hips back and forth, his eyes fixating on his cock which was now glistening from your sweet cum. Aha! Hah! Oh...hah..you feel so...so amazing" L whined, "Stop..aha...fucking me...you..hah..bastard!" you panted. "Aha..ugh..I won't be m-much longer, so there's no need to worry Y/N". You were praying that nobody would hear the creaking of the bed, L's whining or the squelching of precum.

You already could feel another orgasm stirring within you since his desperate thrusting never allowed your body to relax. His firm shaft gliding against your aching g-spot felt like shocks of thrilling ecstasy filling your loins, it was fucking addicting. "I-I am close t-to" L stuttered as his thrusting became erratic and rapid, "Already?! P-pull out!" you yelped. "Ngh! Aah! Aha!" L grunted as he spurted his thick, creamy cum deep inside your greedy, soaking pussy. "You idiot" you moaned as his lengthy, hard dick continued relentlessly slapping against your womb.

"I want y-you to hah! Climax a-again, now aha" L babbled while rubbing the vibrator against your needy clit. Your eyes locked, those once cold, dead eyes were now filled with passion and vulnerability, his gaze was practically saying, "I need you Y/N, I need your body, please surrender to me, don't hurt me". "I-I going too..ah..aha!" you groaned before another explosion of pleasure shot throughout your body. Your pussy clenched tighter around L's shaft as you cummed, squeezing another load of rich, hot cum from his throbbing erection. L tossed aside the vibrator, tore through your blouse and began sucking your nipples, leaving them slippery and hard. "I love you so much Y/N" L purred, "Kiss me then" you whispered shakily. You were disgusted with yourself but your husband hadn't fucked you with the same amount of lust and love for months.

Your hands broke free and in-tangled with L's dark, fluffy locks while you both sloppily kissed, "I'm s-sorry my love, I-m g-going to...aha again!" L choked. "Use me as your cum slut Ryuzaki" you begged, no longer caring that he wasn't using condoms and that you weren't taking birth control. "Say that again Y/N! And aha! Keep clenching around me like that, ngh!", "Use me Ryuzaki! I'm your cum slut, fill my pussy over and over again, do whatever you want to me". "G-good girl" L hissed while finally draining his balls of milky, sticky semen; fucking his own leaking cum back into your abused cunt to ensure your womb would be filled with every drop.

L slowly slipped out his dick and buttoned his jeans, you slapped his face and hastily untied your ankles. "You know that really hurt" L mumbled while rubbing his cheek. You rushed to the door and shook the locked door knob, "Open this door! Right now or I'll kill you!" you shrieked. "You found just as much pleasure as I did in that experience so why be so averse towards me? I love you so much Y/N, you look so beautiful" L praised. "Of course, you'd think that you pervert! I'm half naked and filled with you fucking cum" you snarled, "I'm a pervert?".

"Yes! And a monster! My husband is a great detective so he will find you and throw you in prison forever!" you snapped, "Only a monster can catch another monster, it's why I'm a far greater detective and why you'll be residing with me for a very long time" L replied monotonously while kissing your forehead. Whining you said, "I hate you", "I love you too" he whispered.

[lawlietscaramels]

Yandere ╾ L Lawliet

Because apparently I fell into a yandere stage and this is my tunnel out.

CW typical yandere stuff (stalking, obsession, overprotection, manipulative, worship, dependence, monopoly, killer)

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

Yandere L is interesting because I think yes, he could absolutely be a yandere

canonically too

BUT only if you defined a yandere by "do they have the traits?" as opposed to "what do they do?"

so first: what KIND of yandere is the detective? top five traits incoming.

STALKER

Let's just get this one out of the way

He obviously to some degree "stalks" people just for his work, through cameras and policemen if not in person

he's a stalker guys. that's it.

so he wouldn't have a problem just turning up wherever someone who interested him was

again

and again

and again...

He's pretty hard not to notice because of his peculiar mannerisms, but he's also literally black and white enough to blend into the background.

So if he was careful (he is) it would take a while before you noticed you were seeing him everywhere you went. And by then you wouldn't be able to think of a time where he wasn't sitting quietly somewhere in the background.

L knows this.

he knows you're going to assume he just happens to live in the same area as you, or something like that.

I don't think he'd actually follow you into your home but he would go when you were out someday to set up cameras

and I think L would genuinely believe himself to be a good person

what if he goes away and you get in trouble? you don't always have a roommate, who would notice? well, now L will, and he is quite able to get you back to safety. but back to the stalkery.

oh man he's gone through your stuff. your closets your phone whatever. he wants to know about you

one day he might just arrange for a little... near accident somewhere you both frequent

and oh my oh gosh oh diddly darn

guess who just happens to be there to save the day

(L. it's L. notice him please?)

OBSESSIVE

There are two things that L is canonically obsessed with: work and desserts

but if he found a romantic interest that list suddenly has a third item: YOU.

especially if you bake him cakes or help him in cases. because then he ties those things he loves to you.

and I'll just quickly mention these traits are always a little bit in his personality but the order I'm writing in is the order they come out more strongly around you.

Obsession is also tied with stalking.

Some days he watches you and dreams about you smiling at him the way you smile at the rain and the sun and the world.

he imagines how everything will work out. you're a distraction to his work: he would have to find a way to integrate you into his life in a way that allows him to be close to you and not distracted. he imagines he imagines

you'd find a way to fit into him while he was sitting, your body pressed up against his torso, legs pulled up, head on his shoulder.

he could play with your hair with one hand. you could feed him sweets.

L is for the first time not in control of his own thoughts. it's new and unpredictable so it's completely terrifying to him, and for a while he'll slink away into the darkest recesses of society and draw away from you.

but it doesn't stop. it gets worse.

he can't look outside without wondering if you're looking at the same skies. can't eat strawberries without wondering if you like them.

so then he does a full 180 and will devote all of his available attention (some must be spared for work) to you. if you don't already work together or if he hasn't made contact during the stalking at all, this is when he does it.

he reaches out to see if you'll take him.

and when you do (it's not a question of if, see manipulative) he will calm down a fair bit.

but he is still, quietly, obsessed

OVERPROTECTIVE

what can I say?

gosh he just wants to keep you safe.

He's seen every bad thing about the world through his work, he knows bad things constantly happen to good people.

but. not. to. you.

L just won't let it happen. he can and will secret you away in a hotel room. never enough for you to become suspicious, to rattle at doors and windows. And you move with him, every couple of weeks, so it's just an adventure, dear.

also I think he'd use darling in a sweeter sense. dear or maybe doll is his yandere pet name for you.

He probably has several trackers somewhere on you. probably not IN you... probably...

also you know that nail polish they developed that changes colour when it comes into contact with common poisons in drinks? he makes you use stuff like that. for your safety.

hate hate hates that he can't be with you all the time. you tend to find yourself with reasons to stay at home when L's not around. once again see manipulative.

he does trust you, he really does. but he doesn't trust the world. men in particular are often disgusting. it's just true. he's seen it time and time again as a detective. who knows what scary things could be out in the world? and if they knew you were dating, that you had ANY relationship with the world's greatest detective? L's afraid he's putting you in danger. please just humour him and stay home for a week, dear. you can work on your baking.

if you started getting really rebellious, thought you were being chained up, whatever, L would let you go and do whatever you wish. He doesn't want you to feel like that! He loves you! he may or may not have organised for a brush with death for you so that you realise how right he is about the horrors of the world and want to stay home like he asks you so nicely to.

you're just so pure. so innocent.

there, there. he won't let them hurt you.

he'll even close all the blinds so the darkness of the world can't reach in to taint your beauty. isn't he the best?

MANIPULATIVE

IT'S CANON.

I can't think of any particularly specific examples but he lies about everything. Whenever he throws out a number (5%) it means he suspects someone over 90%

so he has no issues bending the truth

sigh if L's manipulative side is triggered it's triggered ALL the way. one one hand he hates doing this to you

but on the other it's for your own good and you're being stupid.

He will do ANYTHING to make you believe him. he will manipulate you into thinking he's being manipulative so he can get upset at your lack of trust in him so he's able to manipulate you

did that make sense...

can cry on demand.

but it's not all about making himself the victim, he will also just.. isolate you if you're starting to drift away from him. Suddenly your friends find other interests, your family are renovating the house or your parents won a radio prize for a vacation.

and L is the only one left. and he himself is distant until you cry and plead and apologise

the isolation thing is actually a yan trait itself and the scenarios above are also kind of training. but they're only a part of the bigger trait.

he will also manipulate situations and other people, not just you.

L just wants what's best for everyone

(coincidentally this always aligns with what is best for L.)

he's so smart though. it's really really difficult to realise he's manipulating you unless he wants you to.

WORSHIP

you're so pretty, the most perfect thing he's ever seen

you're an angel, really.

and people who don't respect you as such are going to get a subtle but clear message from L to STEP AWAY.

cold glares.

he will literally turn his head 180° like an owl to stare at them while he walks you away

they might end up fired. I mean someone who can't see what's right in front of their eyes doesn't deserve whatever job they have...

he just wants to spoil you sometimes and he has the resources to do it and more.

sometimes this gets a little suffocating but it's sweet. mostly.

it's nice to have time with your boyfriend instead of big, grand, empty rooms. L just doesn't have a lot of time. He does his job to protect you, protect you from everything in this world because it is all inferior to you.

I do not like to think about how he would react if you happened to meet Light...

I wasn't sure about whether or not to put this in the top five because I don't think he'd see himself as inferior. his IQ is big. but you could still jump from his ego down to his IQ and fall for hours. he thinks you're more good than he is but he's under no delusions about your relative intelligence or anything.

but yeah, I think he's a worshipper.

Just... a quiet worshipper. all his yan traits are kinda quiet tho haha

L wants to give you the world. he would sacrifice anything for you.

he would take a bullet for you

his work makes this a good possibility. he'd prefer not to get shot but he'd still do it for you.

probably the most harmless of his yandere traits. this one comes out when he decides this is it, you are it, forever.

HONOURABLE MENTIONS

really quickly a couple of the other traits L might have and express are:

dependence (mostly for manipulative purposes. he will cry if you ever fight. L is honestly quite dependent on you, he might die without you-- or more likely just force you back into his arms-- but he puts on a lot of an act, a puppet master pulling strings behind the stage. he wants to be seen as vulnerable, not just a stoic and brilliant detective. because which one is it easier to lose your heart to? and you must lose your heart. you stole his first.)

monopoly (when he has time, he needs you to have time for him and only him. he doesn't have a lot of time. will manipulate you into spending time with him but it's more of an occasional pest thing than anything. quite harmless. especially because he works a lot. you have plenty of time without him, which makes him sad, but he can't help it. and you wouldn't love him if he stopped you from seeing your family and friends...)

killer (yeah... not in the top five by any means but if someone tries to hurt you? god forbid, if they SUCCEED? you'll be stuck at home for a couple of weeks while L frets over you. and sometime in that couple of weeks.. well.. maybe that someone who hurt you finds themself in trouble with a gang. L's not doing the dirty work himself but he's behind it and you will never find out. if they only TRIED to hurt you L won't be able to justify killing them to himself, but they'll quickly find themselves in jail.)

YANDERE?

so back to what I mentioned in the first part: L is a yandere, IF you're only basing the classification on the fact that he has these traits and the ability to act on them

but as anyone who's watched police or court drama knows, you need more than means and opportunity:

you need MOTIVE.

this is where I can't base my thoughts on canon so much anymore. the only people who we really see L caring about the death of (spoilers‼️) are: the FBI agents (though not on a personal level); Ukita (pretty sure that's his name); and Watari (though L himself dies too soon after for this last one to be useful)

so. Ukita.

L probably wouldn't care enough for the guy to go yandere for him LMFAO but we do see him refusing to rush in and take action without thinking, something which a yandere might be more inclined to do if they cared about someone.

HOWEVER we also see he's trembling. like he's a little in shock about the death and what it means, but also he wants to do something about it.

a yandere urge, brought out by something bad happening to someone he cares about.

My point being?

L has the traits of a yandere, and has the ability to act on any of them any time. he's smart, he's rich, and he has the trust of the entire world (or respect at least)

but he doesn't act unless triggered.

and ofc because he doesn't have a canonical love interest, we can't prove either way what he would do for/to them.

but I think he is more deredere (love) than yanderu (sick).

anyway, L is smart enough to realise that the yandere doesn't usually win the game of love, and that the things are not things you should be doing for/to someone who trusts you. not things you should be doing to someone you love.

but sometimes, when his emotions are high and so is the danger to you or your relationship,

his control just slips

and you might just find yourself locked in a hotel room while he works on the Kira case.

SO IS HE A YANDERE?

no. I'd say that he's a kuudere.

cold, cynical, sarcastic sense of humour, views feelings as a weakness but DOES have them and will open up over time.

but oh...

wait...

according to the dere wiki...,

"Due to the way a kuudere acts, a yandere can easily pretend to be a kuudere when not acting insane."

...

so, what do we think?

　★━━─・‥…━━━☆

but hey that's just a theory... a DERE theory! aaand cut.

𝖎𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖙 ˏˋ⋆˖⁺˖⁀➷ 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌 + 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜

©lawlietscaramels. Do not repost on other sites, claim as your own work, edit, rewrite or “fix,” feed to AI or otherwise use unethically.

[yanderemommabean]

PLEASE WRITE MORE DEATH NOTE I BEG YOU. THERE IS NOT ENOUGH ONLINE I NEED MORE YANDERE L. PLEASE I'LL GIVE YOU ALL THE PROTECTION SPELLS I HAVE! I love the idea of foreigner reader that doesn't speak Japanese well and just came to Japan for a fun trip and now they are being investigated for being Kira. Reader is more scared of being arrested than of Kira because they have literally never committed a crime in their life so they know they are safe but they are scared of the legal system because they know that's it's not actually justice sometimes. But they aren't crying in a corner either. They just take it as it comes but they definetly don't like it and just want to go back home.

Also when L is like "who do you think Kira is since you say you aren't them." and reader is just like "light". point blank. doesn't bat an eye. and l is just like "...I agree with you....but do explain why since you've had only one conversation with him." and reader's just like "he's too perfect. have you ever watched a True crime documentary? the perfect dude, or the dude that could never do anything wrong, is the killer." and l is just like "...I agree.....but you are aware that you are too perfect..doesn't that make you a killer?" and reader is just like "me???perfect?? in what world??"

I'm rambling but please more death note L.

I love the point blank call out, just "Listen, anyone with eyes can see that Light is too calculated with his movements, like he's paranoid to step out of line. Even when he messes up it's too clean"

L just hums and nods along, but he's already fairly certain Light is Kira anyway, he just likes to hear your thought process and likes how your voice sounds.

You're not a helpless little lamb by any means, but you're certainly unaware of how much danger is actually around you. Kira is a big deal, everyone is on his hit list it seems, even sweet, intelligent and enthralling visitors such as yourself.

L isn't one to sugar coat things either, he's rather blunt and forward, as the worlds best detective has to be to cut out the bullshit. So he sets his sweets down and abruptly says "Be that as it may, until we actually catch Kira, you aren't going to be able to leave. As much as it annoys us both, you're still involved in this as anyone else"

You just tense your jaw, paranoid thoughts rushing through your mind as you fear you might somehow incriminate yourself despite being fully innocent. What can you say? The legal system sucks. But L just lays a hand on your shoulder, giving a rare smile as he tries to ease your nerves.

"Ah, but you'll have me on your side. You'll be safe from any harm. You're free to go to your hotel, but you will be hearing from us again"

He can admit he hates seeing you so stressed, and rather lascivious thoughts fill his brain on how to indulge you and fix that, but sadly the clock is ticking and he has some annoying people to answer before he can relax. He'll just have to make do with watching some street cameras and remembering the warmth of you under his fingertips.

-Mommabean

[problromantic]

So I think we're all in agreement that L would be the type of yandere that prefers subtle manipulation. But what I don't see enough is the fact that L is stupid rich (he has the ability to make 60 million a year on stocks alone when accounting for inflation, I did the math but I hate math so you're not seeing my work) and he would use that to his advantage. And I'm not talking about money he could use to keep his beloved trapped or make sure whatever crimes he commits are left unseen (though push comes to shove that might be the case).

I mean that L gets very generous to build a rapport with his sweetheart.

Imagine that they have a go fund me, a small business, they're a small streamer or they do independent sex work online. One day they're suddenly getting massive amounts of money. If it's a platform where interaction is encouraged he comments just a little paired with that money, just enough to make them wonder why or how. And he keeps at it until the interactions are normal, until the object of his affections can't help but drop their guard a little. That's his in and he has the patience to wait for it to all seem natural as he slowly guides them towards an online friendship. Until it gets to the point he's offering to buy them anything they could want and they start to feel a bit indebted to him. He starts to test the boundaries but only ever to keep them safe, comfortable, and to know every single thing about them. Though he knows he has to hide that last part.

And don't they want to go on a trip? To meet up? (So he can see them in person finally and keep love bombing them.) He knows he looks a bit odd in person but he's still being friendly in his way. He just wants them to grow attached to him and learn it's okay to be completely dependant on him. He's fully aware it's wrong, but what he'll have to do if it doesn't work is much more uncomfortable for them (he has to; he won't be satisfied with his life if he doesn't). So in the end he finds it hard to care. Especially if they enjoy it.

[sarcastic-kai]

Yandere! L headcannons

Forgive me for this but I’m down BAD for this man so this is entirely self indulgent

Type: headcannons

Genre: yandere 

Warnings: yandere themes and NSFW themes ahead! Read at your discretion.

L happened to meet you at some point somewhere. While you didn’t even notice him, your presence simply captivated him. He was hooked on you the moment he saw you. There was something about you that just… made his stomach flutter and his heartbeat fast. 

He eventually decides that he can’t let you disappear. After all, you’re a sort of challenge. Someone he’s never met before is making him feel something he’s never felt before— and he wants to know why.

L is the kind of yandere that watches you from afar for a while, trying to figure out what he feels towards you and how to handle his feelings.

Once he has accepted his attachment to you, there is no stopping him. Of course, he knows that the situation calls for caution and patience. Although that agonizes him, he would rather learn about you from the shadows than pounce on you and scare you away for good.

Once his plan is in place, L easily tracks you down within a day. He memorizes your place of residence, where you work, and What your day-to-day schedule is like.

He has cameras and wire taps placed in your house, allowing him to watch you from the privacy of his room. 

And does he ever take advantage of that. He watches with great interest as you shower, dress, undress, and do certain activities to… unwind. 

On those occasions, he sits still, eyes never leaving your form, only flicking from camera feed to camera feed when he wants to see another angle. It’s no secret he is aroused, yet he never pleasures himself. Instead, he only watches, adamant about not soothing the need in his abdomen until you are able to do it for him. 

In time, the detective gathers the courage to follow you around for a little bit, occasionally appearing at certain places you frequent, always exchanging a look of recognition if your eyes happen to meet.

Eventually, the time comes when he can no longer wait to have you. And while he would love to strike up a friendship and let it lead into something more, he knows that it’s just not within his capabilities. After all, if he brings you into his world, he must be sure you do not leave. For his safety, and yours. And how can he be sure your tongue doesn’t loosen about his identity unless he is able to watch you 24/7? In his eyes, there is no other way to guarantee both his safety and yours. After all, If someone were to discover who he was and who you are to him, they could easily use you as leverage against the great detective, and he just can’t allow that.

So he takes you. He breaks into your house and sits for hours, waiting for you to return. And when you do, he has his chloroform soaked rag in his hand. 

He keeps you in his headquarters, in his bedroom. You are not permitted to leave the room or the floor, and he has watari bring you your meals and anything else you request (within reason of course).

He hides you from the task force, which is actually relatively easy for him. His private quarters have security measures to keep other people out, and you inside.

For the next few weeks you’re all over the news, your disappearance shocking to the people of your region. After all, it looks as if you suddenly up and vanished. However, the media excitement doesn’t deter L from his goal of having you to himself. He knows that in time the media will forget about you and the world will carry on as usual. 

At night, when he isn’t up working, he spends time with you. He talks to you—even if you don’t talk back.

If you ask him why he’s doing this to you, his only response is, “I saw no other logical way. In time you’ll come to see that.”

He provides you with anything and everything you could possibly want, slowly conditioning you to see him as less of a captor and more of a… provider. 

And although you hate to admit it, the handsome insomniac has grown in you in the three months you’d been confined. 

He respects your space, giving you your own room on his floor in which to stay. However, in exchange for the room you have to wear a metal bracelet specifically designed to monitor your whereabouts and your health and activities.

L does everything he can think of to whittle down your thoughts of escaping. He wants you to want him back, after all. 

So he respects your space, engages in casual conversation, and doesn’t harm you in any way. 

And when your whines for your family and friends get to his head, he reminds himself—and you— that this is what is best for the both of you. 

L knows it’s entirely selfish, but he doesn’t care. After all, he reasons, as long as he doesn’t hurt you what’s the harm of keeping you safe and fed and loved? That’s all you need, isn’t it? 

[animeyanderelover]

hii I'd love to know how you think that yan jouno (bsd), L(death note), Gojo and Megumi(jujutsu kaisen) would react to a short darling, have a nice day:D

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, paranoia, specific body type of darling

Tags: @maggiequinn59 @shumidehiro @leveyani @izanami78 @lovley-valentine7

Short darling

L Lawliet

🍰​L initially wouldn't give it too much thought as he has other things to worry about than your small height. It's probably once he has abducted you and lives with you that he really starts paying more attention to your short height, especially since you struggle with things that he can easily fulfill since he is taller than you. For the first time he starts considering your small figure amusing, all the more whilst watching you desperately attempting to reach something that is too high up for you. If you were to give him the cold shoulder after the abduction he asks Watari to put everything on higher shelves and places on purpose only to push you into begrudgingly asking L for help when you need something but can't reach it. It's especially fascinating since he has never considered himself as someone tall yet with someone as short as his darling he looks in comparison very big. Sometimes he just feels the urge to grabs your hand and compare the size of it with his own, black eyes observing the clear difference fascinated. Other times he just wraps his arms around you and presses you against his chest when he wants to cuddle, almost managing to hide you in his hold.

Jouno Saigiku

♦️​Standing at 5'11, Jouno is a rather tall man yet his height has never been something that he has paid specfic attention to nor has it ever mattered to him how tall the people around him are. It doesn't even matter to him that his darling is shorter than the average person, at least not until he either notices that you feel insecure about it or until he notices that the fact that he towers over you intimidates you whenever you do something that displeases him. In that moment it starts mattering to him simply because it is another thing that he can use to frighten you and keep you in line, a fragile spot that he can target whenever he should feel in a sadistic mood, relishing in the way your heart starts beating as he stands before you. Unfortunately he isn't able to perceive with his eyes how you look in comparison to the people and objects around you, something that has only started bothering him as of recently and especially when people like Tetchou bring your small height up. Teruko probably gets along so well with you because both of you are on a small side in comparison to others but for the sake of not letting her be a bad influence for you Jouno ensures that she stays separated from you as often as possible.

Fushiguro Megumi

💙​Height isn't an aspect that Megumi has ever found himself paying much attention to, at least until he developed an obsession with you. He may stand at only 5'9 yet even he looks tall in comparison to your short build and whilst he may not say anything it is something the sorcerer starts giving more attention than he ever has before. He notices how you struggle in life a tad bit more due to your small body and subconsciously that only increases his protective tendencies. When you try to reach out for something that is placed on a higher ground he immediately walks over and gets it for you, whenever you are in a crows his blue eyes are glued to your figure even more than normally as he's worried that he may lose you in the crowd of people, especially since you're on the very short side and e's always staying only one step away from you as soon as there are other people around you two as if paranoid that they might assault you. At this rate he's just babying you but if you were to confront him about it Megumi would most likely deny it. He's helping you after all, he's seen how challenging some things are for you simply because you are so small and he just wants to make your life a bit easier.

Gojo Satoru

🩵​You could not have wind up with a man who could have annoyed you more for your tiny build. Worst of all is that Gojo is over 6'3 which only worsens the way he babies and gushes over your short height. If there's one thing that Gojo loves it is teasing you, sometimes simply looking around when you talk to him as if pretending that he can't find you until you threaten to kick him, a luxury he allows you to do as you're the only one he allows to touch him. When you're talking to him he bends down or simply squats down, blue eyes sparkling with mischief the moment he notices how you start getting mad. The moment he holds something away from you there is no way that you can reach it anymore though he always tells you that if you give him a kiss he might consider returning whatever he has stolen from you back to you. It is only his luxury to tease you for your height though as everyone else will receive an intense glare from him the moment they start making comments about it and god forbid someone uses their own height in an attempt to intimidate you. Loves holding your smaller hands in his big ones or lifting you up and twirling you around.

[heyheydidjaknow]

If it's okay can I please ask for a yandere L and near with a darling that has a hard time expressing their emotions even after being kidnapped by him they just don't know how to feel about it so they just kind of accepted

And they really don't see the point in fighting back

Sorry if this sounds weird or you're not taking requests

Dude I’m already down to answer these sorts of things.

Neither of them would expect you to be okay after being forcefully taken from your old life just because you happened to catch the attention of powerful people. The difference is just in how concerning this revelation is.

Near probably wouldn’t be too bothered by it. As far as he’d be concerned your assimilation is a net positive regardless of the reason. It could obviously be a trick so he’s not going to totally let his guard down or anything but your compliance would generally be welcomed.

L would most likely be a bit more concerned. Aloofness is fine; if you were not super expressive before and you aren’t now then that’s not a big deal. Dissociation and a loss of hope, on the other hand, is not, the logic being that your compliance is a sign that either he’s taken you from a worse position or there is some underlying thing going on, and seeing as mental and physical health are closely linked getting that taken care of is a priority. Expect some form of psychological evaluation on his part; the last thing he wants after all this effort is for you to die on him.

[dearestones]

Necessary Compliance (Yandere! L x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere behavior. 

Anonymous Request: yandere L fic where the reader has ‘accepted’ that that probably wont be let out, but that doesnt mean they are gonna make life with him easy. They wont eat, drink, talk etc. Anything he does try will be met with resistance every step of the way

.

.

.

"It's not poisoned."

You simply stared down into your bowl of soup, the contents of which was foreign to you and more than likely the product of whatever city you were taken to. Ten minutes ago, it was hot enough that the steam was gently wafting up to your face to coat it with condensation. Despite the disgust that bubbled in your stomach, desperately seeking to be let out, you held your tongue and remained focused on keeping calm. 

At this point, this was the only course of action you could take. 

For the past four weeks, three days, seven hours, and ten minutes, you had been surprisingly... cooperative for a person who had been held against their will. L supposed that it was psychology at work. After all, he had been nothing if not kind and accommodating to your needs. Every day, you were provided with nutritious meals, ample space for exercise, and access to a high quality shower and hygienic products. If anything else, you were cordial.

But that simply wasn’t enough.

If L had been trying to coerce you into admitting a crime through humane means such as this—as opposed to some of his more unsavory methods—he would have let you go already. However, that simply wasn’t the case. Rather, you were an innocent civilian who had been practically plucked off the street, your only connection to L only a byproduct of circumstance and coincidence. Had you been in the mood for banter, you would have brought up that topic once more, but you were tired. 

And you no longer cared. 

As your captivity stretched from days to weeks, which eventually morphed into months, you realized that there was no escape. Why even try? L had a vast array of resources at his very disposal. Wherever he went, there was sure to be a retinue of guards hiding somewhere within the premises, their gazes trained on you should you ever escape your captor’s grasp. 

And even if L wasn’t as powerful as your mind made him seem, he was still vastly intelligent and if need be, could quickly and physically overpower you. 

On all fronts, physical and mental, you were forced against the wall with nowhere to turn. 

So.

This.

You would comply. 

You would be quiet.

But that didn’t mean that you would bow down to his whims. 

As you continued to give your bowl of soup a glare that would have reheated it back to its steaming glory, L finally conceded to obey his baser desires. Normally, the famed detective would have left you to your own devices, often asking his closest advisor, a man that he called Watari despite his very British accent, to feed you instead. However, it had been at least two weeks since you’ve last spoken and even longer since you’ve raised a hand against him. Some might call what you were doing progress—a tamed beast. 

However, you were a far cry from who you were before. 

And L wanted you back. 

You heard him get up from his seat, his feet padding towards you before a cold, spindly hand grasped your chin. Disciplined and spiteful, you kept your mouth closed to keep your gasp from reaching his ears. If there was one thing you knew about L, it was that once you had given him the satisfaction, you might as well have let him win this battle of wills.

It had been a while since you had let down your guard, but you couldn't let up now. Hunger, which gnawed and clawed at the insides of your stomach and made your hands tremble with the aching need of want, you could ignore. Thirst, the heavenly fire that coated the insides of your throat with raw sand, you could mildly alleviate with the taste and heat from your saliva.

You were above human desires.

You could beat L at his own game.

In this way, you were better than L—top detective and most brilliant man most people would have killed to have met at least once in their life.

"The last time you refused to eat, you lasted three days before you gave up." He jerked your head up so that you had no choice but to look him in the eyes.

The first time you met him, you had faced him the same way. That is to say, you kept your eyes trained downwards, your gaze never quite meeting his. You wouldn't say that you were shy, but you definitely were not confident in how you appeared before him.

But when you met gazes for the first time, you knew what L exactly was.

L was not human.

He was a parasite who wore the skin of a human as if it were a pair of ill fitting pants. He fed off your every emotion, the fights that you would instigate by not feeding into his delusional fantasies that one day you would cede your very soul and spirit to him. He knew better, of course he did, but that didn't stop him from staring at you as if you were a science project.

What could he do to manipulate you? To make you finally be his?

If physical violence didn't work, then what about promises of riches? Of delights that could only be experienced by those with power and influence like himself?

And if enticing you with human temptations such as that wouldn't be the thing to make you heel to him, then what about sweet honeyed words that dripped with a poison that would slowly but surely rot your brains and make you that much more malleable to his whims.

The day would come, you knew this, but until then, you tried to remain steadfast.

L's nails, freshly cut, dug deep into your skin.

"Shall I call Watari? We can have you fed intravenously if need be."

That threat had been hanging over your head ever since you began your quiet rebellion. Although you had managed to cave into your hunger before you were forced to give up your autonomy, you managed to glimpse L's faithful servant hauling in equipment that made your blood go cold. You knew that L was not against going against the law to achieve what he wanted most.

It was the results that mattered in the end, not how he got there.

At this point, you shouldn't be surprised, but...

It frightened you.

You were taken away from everything you had known, stripped of your most basic rights, and now, you were going to be force fed as if you were lower than an animal.

L crouched in front of you. Although appearing as if he were shorter than you, the control he had over the situation never wavered.

From the very beginning, you had no chance.

"Well?" His voice was monotone, but you could hear the mild mocking lilt underlying his voice. "What would you rather do?"

You could only comply, the idea of debasing yourself was too much.

You ate and every bite that slid down your throat was tasteless and ashy.

.

.

.

DISCLAIMER: I do not condone yandere behavior outside of fictional settings. Please don’t mistake the actions of fictional characters displayed in works of fiction to be considered harmless in real life.

If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

[after-witch]

The Touch of the Velvet Hand [Platonic Yandere L x Sibling Reader]

Title: The Touch of the Velvet Hand [Platonic Yandere L x Sibling Reader]

Synopsis: You sneak out at night with Matt. How long can that last, really?

Word count: 2700ish

notes: yandere, platonic yandere, abusive sibling dynamic, reader is L's younger adult sibling, brief tickling, captivity (reader can't leave Whammy's)

Happiness is a fragile thing. It can slip through your fingers if you aren’t careful. Or it can be wrenched away violently by someone else out of pettiness or jealousy or sheer resentment. Or it might just crumble on its own, incapable of bearing the load you put upon it. 

The point being--happiness just doesn’t last. 

You know this for a fact, and you’ve known it since you can remember. Since you and your brother L would spend nights in makeshift shelters, huddled together for warmth, sharing what scraps of food you were able to find.

Since you were whisked into the world of Whammy’s, where you’re still stuck, even as an adult, kept safe and very, very fucking bored behind its walls. 

So yes, happiness, fleeting thing, had to be carved out wherever you could get it. 

You’re not sure what will take away your current bout of happiness. You’re only sure that it’s temporary, which is why you’re indulging in it full-throttle, not holding back for a moment, because God only knows when you might feel like this again.

The first night that Matt showed up in your doorway, you eyed him warily. 

 It was not the first time that one of your brother’s would-be successors came knocking at your door. 

Although that was only a figure of speech, as it was more common to find them snooping or spying or for one of them to simply waltz into your bedroom like you weren’t your own person at all. That type of presumption was fine for your real brother, but for the rest? It made you curl up your lip and ignore them.

Matt is (maybe) different. Matt has never (that you’ve seen, at least) taken notes on you. He’s never leaned snarkily against your door frame and asked you questions punctuated by pops of bubblegum or left a doll that vaguely resembles you in your doorway as either a threat or an offering and you’re not sure which would be creepier.

And so, when he showed up in your doorway, you were wary, sure. But not ready to shut him out entirely. Unless he started prying into your life or revealed some sort of ulterior motive or asked you about (God forbid) your brother.

But all he did was gruffly say, “Heads up!” before tossing something at you. You caught it, barely, hands stinging from the slap of it. 

It was a helmet.

“Huh?” You had asked, immediately feeling stupid, not for the first time within the confines of Whammy’s.

Matt had just smiled and shrugged.

“Got a new ride.  You want to check it out with me?”

Maybe it was foolish to accept. Maybe he was trying to butter you up and find out some of L’s secrets. Maybe he was just bored and you were the perfect solution.

But you said yes, anyway, because you were absolutely bored and this was entirely new. You let him grab your wrist and pull you through the hallways, let him sneak you out--suppressing breathy giggles, your heart-rate raising--and onto the street where he guided you onto the back of his motorcycle and told you to hold on as tight as you could.

You’d never gone so fast in your life. You’d never smiled so much in your life, either.

Could anyone blame you for saying yes without question when he showed up soon after, too? For primping a little before he arrived, for wearing an outfit you thought might look cool? For feeling your heart flutter when he gave you a quick little wink and said you looked nice? 

No, they couldn’t. And if they did, well. Fuck them. They weren’t stuck at an orphanage for geniuses with an internationally renowned brother that was always busy, gone, or both. 

But most people couldn’t blame you, you were sure. Most people had common sense. 

They couldn’t blame you for the breathless way you fell against your bed when he returned you home each night, cheeks ruddy from the wind, grin plastered on your face, either. Or the way that you dreamt about the nights to come, wondering if rides in the darkness, blurry lights passing you by, might turn into something more. 

He’s taking you out tonight, too. He said so. 

And it’s going to be a turning point, you just know it. Last night, Matt mentioned something about a diner--imagine that, going into a diner--he liked, and would you like to try it? Maybe you tripped a little too quickly over your yes but that’s to be expected. You hardly talk to anyone but your brother and he’s barely around, so where does that leave poor little you and your social skills? 

It doesn’t matter, because your thoughts have turned to tonight and the diner. Will it be a greasy spoon, the kind you’ve seen in movies? Will the floor be checkered and will there be milkshakes and fries and burgers dripping ketchup? If there’s a jukebox, will Matt have coins to plunk inside? Will he let you pick the music? Will you dance? Will he press himself against you, this time chest to chest instead of your chest pressed against his back, and will you lean in and kiss you? Will he be warm, will you be warmer, will things go from there? 

There’s so much to consider, thoughts racing, mind connecting the potential pathways of tonight. 

You think about them all morning, all afternoon, and into the evening.  You think about them while you’re taking a shower, taking extra care to rub on a scented lotion that you’ve rarely used before. 

The thoughts race even as you’re flipping through your closet to find something that doesn’t look like a pair of comfortable pajamas. You settle for some tighter jeans and a close-cut gray sweater. The effect is cool, casual--interested but not desperate. Or so you hope. 

The sky gets dark and that’s when you force yourself into bed, grabbing a book that you open but don’t actually read. When Matt comes, you can set it down slowly; it’ll keep you from leaping out of bed as soon as he leans against your door frame. Your eyes dart back and forth on the page, not reading the words but letting them rush over your brain like a waterfall while you wait, and wait. 

And ah, there’s the sound of someone’s knuckles gently knocking and pushing open your door--you don’t even look up, you just set the book down sweetly as you please and stand, smoothing out a wrinkle in your sweater before you look up and…

It’s not Matt in the doorway at all.

It’s L. Standing there, arms folded, resting against the door frame like his sudden appearance didn’t make your stomach drop through the floor. 

“Oh.” The word forms slowly. It feels like there’s peanut butter in your mouth and the words don’t want to get out. “Um. Hey. Is… something wrong? I thought you were working on a case.”

L blinks. 

“I am.” He looks you up and down; or rather, he looks at your distinct lack of pajamas and your carefully styled appearance.  “Where were you going?”

You shift on your feet. The look that you were coolly proud of ten minutes ago suddenly feels like it’s a traitor.

“Just uh, you know. To bed.”

He smiles, and your nerves tingle. 

“In boots?” Your toes flex inside your brown boots, carefully chosen to go with your jeans. L shuts your bedroom door behind him. “Who took you out?”

Your stomach squirms and you press your lips together. The silence is heavy and droning.

“I can check the cameras,” he says easily, “but I’d rather you just tell me.” 

You’re a little kid again, caught stealing L’s notebooks and shoving them under your pillow so he had to pay attention to you. And even if he knew exactly where you stashed them, he’d rather make you tell him and admit your guilt than do it himself. 

“Matt,” you whisper. The heat in your cheeks builds. “It’s not a big deal. We were just riding around.” But it is a big deal, you think. And you wanted more from it.

L hums. “What a strange thing to do, since you’re not allowed to leave at night. Especially if I don’t know about it.”

A scoff forces its way through your throat. “I’m not allowed to leave during the day, either.” Your lips quirk. “I’m not a child. You can’t keep me in here all the time.”

Your brother only stares at you and he doesn’t even need to say “Yes, I can” because you know he’s thinking it. And you know it’s true, too. 

It’s not fair, the way he makes you feel like you’re having a tantrum when you’re simply asserting your right to some basic freedoms.

The injustice of it all slithers down your arms, building in your fists as you clench them tightly at your sides. “I’m sick of being here all the time. It’s like I’m in a fucking… ant farm! Or a doll house!” 

Without an invitation, L pulls out your desk chair and takes a seat. He leans forward and you find yourself standing up straighter, refusing the implicit invitation to get on his level. 

“So. What would you like to do?” He asks. The softness in his voice is a contrast against your own rising anger, the unbearable tightness of your throat.

“I don’t know,” you say, half-spitting. “Go outside.” Thoughts of a vague future rush through you like the wind past Matt’s motorcycle. “Get an apartment, live on my own.” 

L nods. “How would you pay your rent?”

Your lip quirks. “I’d get a job.”

He nods again, and his eyes half-close, like he’s genuinely thinking about your responses. 

“I see. What kind of job?”

You swallow, throat tight, and shift your legs. The boots aren’t terribly comfortable, are they? “I-I don’t know.” You cross your arms. “A waitress or something--something like that.”

L leans back and rests his elbow on your desk, watching you with his chin in his hand.

“You couldn’t afford rent on a waitress’s wages.” He glances down at your legs and feet, already tired from standing for a little while. “And you know that you can’t be on your feet all day.” Something in your chest stings and you back up, unwittingly resting your backside against the bed and sitting down.

“I’ll go to college and be something else, then,” you whisper. “I’ll get paid more money.”

L only looks at you and tilts his head a little. “You can get a college education here, if that’s what you want.” 

“No!” Your fists clench against your blanket. “It’s not the same. You know it’s not. I’d be able to make friends. And meet new people and do things and not be stuck in the same place every fucking day.”

You’ve never made concrete plans for such a future, but the vague notions of it, the idea of meeting people in a coffee shop and having inside jokes and making plans to get drinks after work, all picked up from movies and books, have stuck like taffy in your head.

L waits a few moments before he speaks up. It makes you hate how sensible he seems. “You’re kept in the same place because it’s safer. It’s my job to take care of you, isn’t it?”

That’s when your voice cracks, and when the tears finally threaten to make an appearance. “But you’re not the one taking care of me, are you? You’re barely here.” Hot tears prick at your eyes and fall too easily, and you hate them and hate yourself for being so pent-up, so emotional. So weak.

And just like that, the stand-off, pitiful as it was, is finished and L is up and over, sitting down on your bed and pulling you close to him. Familiar scent, familiar softness. Familiar hands. How many years has he held you like this? When you had nightmares. When you wanted mom and dad and they were dead. When you were scared of being at Whammy’s, scared of the people there, scared of the fact that you were only there because of who your brother was. And everyone knew it, too.

“I take care of you even when I’m not here,” he says softly.

You scoff, tears choking your throat. 

His grip on you tightens. 

“I mean it. I can’t protect you if there are too many unknown factors at play. Staying here is the best way to reduce them. I can’t be with you as often as you like, but that can’t be helped.” He relents enough for you to pull away, to show him the tears on your face, that he dutifully wipes with his knuckles, even as he adds a bit of mirth to his voice. “You were stuck with a genius brother, I’m afraid.” 

When your lips tremble, he sighs.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. And this is the safest option.”

It’s too hard to hate him and hate your life for too long. Resentment and bitterness aren’t fleeting, but they’re awful companions. 

You smile, just a little, through your sniffles. “Oh, like you haven’t hurt me before, L.”

He pulls one of his arms from around your back just so he can flick you on the forehead. “Beating you at wrestling is vastly different than putting your life at risk.” 

You wipe at your nose, brushing away a hint of snot and some of the heaviness in your chest. “You only beat me because I was little.” You sniff. “I could take you now.”

His eyebrows quirk up, and your chest flutters a little--this was a feeling you remembered from when you were younger, a feeling that became harder to come by as the years went on. Sibling silliness. Joking. Fun. “Could you?” He asks, tone rising in a way that eased the tightness in your throat.

You meet his raised eyebrows with a determined look. And there is that moment between you, a moment when you are anticipating each other’s moves. But before you can wrap your arms around his shoulder and attempt a tackle, he moves--much faster than most would give him credit for, given his general lackadaisical vibe--and there are two thumbs digging into your sides.

It’s a horribly ticklish sensation, just bordering on painful, as he digs his thumbs underneath your ribs. 

“You’re a fucking--cheater!” You manage between short laughs as he begins to twist his thumbs. Thankfully, your arms are free, and you grab one of your pillows and whack him in the head until he stops and gets off your bed.

You’re catching your breath as he kneels down. You don’t know what he’s doing at first until he’s got your leg in his grip, and begins to slide off your boots. You bite the inside of your cheek, but stay limp as he pulls them off, one at a time, and sets them on the side of the bed. 

You half-expect him to go into your dresser and pull out pajamas, but instead he eyes the pillow you set next to you and straightens up. 

“Give up on your pillow assault so soon?” He asks, a smile on his lips. He raises his hands and moves his fingers. “Or should I keep going?” 

You pout, and cling to one of your pillows. “Fine.” Your grip tightens and your feet feel lighter without your boots on. “I give up. Cheater.”

He snorts, and walks back to lean against the wall next to your door. There’s that heavy silence again, but now you know exactly how the rest of the night will go and it hurts more. 

“You’re not going out with Matt again.” It’s not a question. Not a bargain. Just a simple fact.

Your chest hurts and hugging the pillow doesn’t help, but you do it anyway. You should have known this was coming--happiness never stays, and all that. Nothing you said or did was going to change L’s mind on this or make your nights with Matt last longer than they did.

“Will you tell him?” You sound like a mouse. You feel like one, too, under your brother’s stare, on this bed, in this room, in this house. 

He smiles.

“Sure.”

It’s a small mercy. If L didn’t love you, you’re sure he wouldn’t give it.