#l lawliet comfort

[p0ssywhippedcream]

a/n; for my L lovers!! it's been too long since I wrote for him and im going back to my roots, hope y'all love it! this is hurt/comfort and fluff, L celebrating the reader's mother's birthday with them since they can't be w their family. enjoy <3

The quiet is stuffy, suffocating you in your desk chair next to L. With an achy soul, you persevere through another file and try to ignore the time that screams retreat to your room and take a bath. You’re frankly exhausted and already miserable to be working on the Kira case today.

And apparently, it’s noticeable because both Matsuda and Misa have mentioned your gloomy demeanor to which you brushed them off.

Now as you sit typing up a report on the evidence you just read, you realize you didn’t really digest any of it and have to re-examine the whole page. A soft groan slips out.

L’s keen ears alert him of your distress and suddenly your boss is turned in his chair to fully face you. The sight is mildly amusing, on account for the biscuit-stache he’s sporting above his top lip.

“What is it, Y/n?”

You shake your head, waving him off, “Nothing, sorry.”

His big eyes invade your vision as he shoves his face closer into yours inspecting your disheveled appearance. “Your eyes are bloodshot, you’re shaking slightly, you forgot my coffee this morning and you’ve been slow at work all day.”

You take the evidence he’s presented with an incredulous face, “I’m just tired, it’s almost ten.”

“Which you’ve never complained of before.” This isn’t the first time you’ve wanted to deck the guy but the urge is much stronger now.

“Your point?” You’re semi-grateful to be alone here with him, knowing full well the childish back-and-forth you’re having would’ve embarrassed you if the other taskforce members were here.

“You’re troubled. I’m curious, what bothers you?”

You huff as you come to the revelation that L was going to pry until you relented. You drop eye contact, twisting the ring on your finger. “It’s my mother’s birthday.”

“How come you didn’t request off?” He replies immediately, to which you snort and meet his abyssal eyes, “Would you have let me?”

His face says touché and you look back down, “Besides, she’s in the states right now. I wouldn’t be able to fly out there with everything going on.”

He nods and his thumb slides into the bed of his puffy lips, tucked in by his teeth. “Well..” He pauses, hesitates for one of the first times since you’ve met him and clears his throat, “I wouldn’t have personal experience with the event, but it is tradition to celebrate your parent’s birthday, no?”

When you shake your head in agreement, L’s pointer finger locates the Watari intercom button. He requests a piece of strawberry cake and glancing at you, a piece of red velvet with a couple candles. You never told him it was your favorite, and realizing he cares enough to find out on his own loosens the strain on your heart a little.

The deserts are brought within mere minutes, placed in front of you with a handful of wax sticks and a small lighter. He hands you the candles in his strange way, your fingers brushing on his pale, nimble ones. You smile softly to yourself, arrange them to make a 57 in the cake and watch as he flicks the lighter and sets ablaze the wicks. You look up, a bashful grin as you say “It’s not technically my birthday, so i don’t know if i’m supposed to blow them out.”

“Suppose we do it together, do you reckon it cancels out?”

You giggle then, the sound airy and light in the cold room. “Like PEMDAS?”

“Sure.” He tosses a singular nod to the right.

“Okay,” Your happy eyes squint at his, seeing the playful quirk of his mouth as you both lean forward. His white skin shines with yellow and orange in the light and he looks strangely handsome so close to you. You purse your lips, watching him copy you before you close your eyes and wish for this stupid case to end, feeling the light gust of L's sweet breath on your cheeks.

When your eyelids crack open again, you find his ever-searching gaze on you as he starts to pluck the wax from your cake. You give him a small smile, finding peace and intimacy in the place you risk your life everyday with a man you never thought you’d come to like.

You wonder what will happen when Kira is gone, if you’ll ever see this strange introvert again and it makes you almost sad to have wished for its end. Guilt comes after when you remember all those who have lost their lives and pain flashes in your pupils. L mistakes it for maternal longing.

“She misses you.” Your mouth pops open in surpirse, eyes doing the same when he tilts his head and you can see how he feels for once. Compassion sits in the inky depths of his gaze and it stuns you to your core. “I would.”

The moment sits heavy with emotion before a fork is plunging into your piece of cake and he’s stealing a bite with a mischievous expression. You chuckle, opting to reply with a roll of your eyes and nimble at the desert yourself.

“Thank you.” You whisper, the sound of monitors the only noise in the empty room. He lets out a noncommittal grunt and you lapse back into the quiet. As you eat your separate cakes, you swallow around the understanding that you don’t mind sharing the silence if it’s with him. In fact, you wouldn’t mind sharing anything if it was with him.

[bee-writes-n-spins]

the mask goes on the minute other people look.

make eye contact. too much, look away. now smile and nod. stop bouncing your leg. make them like you.

those are his thoughts. because too many people have called him weird. too many people have pointed and laughed. too many people made fun of him for just being himself.

oh, but you..

you remind him it's okay to unmask. you smile, listening to him ramble about his interests. you could listen for hours and never get bored.

when you notice his discomfort in a crowd. when you help him communicate when he's too overwhelmed to talk.

with you, the ribbon that holds the mask together comes undone. with you, his mask falls to the ground.

POE, RANPO, dazai, GIYUU, kenma, l lawliet, near, WANDERER, AL HATHIAM, kaveh, LYNEY, and any of your autistic favorites!

[kroosluvr]

L, did you know...

[callie-the-creator]

insomniac

sfw. warnings: reader is fmab, mentions of kira and his murders, l can’t sleep, etc.

author’s note: i miss l so much. :(

l sat in his characteristic crouch on the edge of his chair, fingers entwined, eyes intently focused on the monitors before him. the task force headquarters was dimly lit, the flickering screens casting a bluish hue across the room. he had spent countless hours reviewing evidence, piecing together clues, and trying to identify kira, but the elusive criminal mastermind continued to evade him. l won't rest or, at the very least, he refused to. his main focus consisted of two things: keeping y/n— his girlfriend— safe and away from any danger and catching kira (l had dedicated the past few years to the investigation pursuing kira), a figure known to kill those whom he deems morally unworthy of life.

so many criminals have died.

his mind raced with possibilities, tracing and retracing steps, connecting and disconnecting dots. his suspicions often circled back to the same few individuals, but without concrete evidence, he was trapped in a maddening loop of speculation. he needed proof, something tangible that could lead to an arrest. the gnawing uncertainty kept him awake, denying him the rest his body craved.

as the hours dragged into the early morning, l's eyes, bloodshot and weary, drifted to the cot where his girlfriend, y/n, lay sleeping. her presence had been a rare comfort in his life, a steadying force amidst the chaos. she stirred slightly, her breathing deep and rhythmic, oblivious to the turmoil that raged within him. "y/n...?" he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. he wasn't expecting an answer; he just needed to hear the sound of her name, something to anchor him to reality.

she groaned softly, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. "hmm...whaaaat?" she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. it was clear she wasn't pleased about being woken up, but she tried to focus on him nonetheless.

l hesitated, his mind teetering on the edge of a precipice. he knew what he was about to ask could shatter the fragile peace they had, but he couldn't suppress the question any longer. "would you betray me?" he asked.

y/n blinked, her drowsiness giving way to confusion. "what are you talking about?" she inquired, pushing herself up on one elbow. "why would you ask something like that?" she added.

l’s gaze remained fixed on her, searching for any hint of deceit, any flicker of guilt. but all he saw was a concern, her eyes wide and earnest in the dim light. "i’ve been thinking…” he began, his voice steady but laced with tension, "about kira, about the people who might be capable of such things. and it occurred to me that...i don't know if i can trust anyone anymore." he said, sadly.

she sat up fully, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, her hair all messy. "l, you know me," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. "we’ve been through so much together. how can you even think i would betray you?" she questioned, despite knowing very well that l had every right to not trust her. after all, he was the head of the investigation and thus the arch nemesis of kira. he must remain vigilant, it is all he can do to ensure his safety.

"i don't know what to think anymore…” he admitted, his tone betraying the depth of his internal struggle. "i just…can't afford to make any mistakes. you know that.” he sighed. this was the last conversation that he wanted to have with y/n, despite it needing to be addressed.

y/n reached out, her hand covering his. "listen to me," she said firmly, her touch grounding him. "i am not kira. i would never do anything to hurt you or anyone else. you have to believe that." she partially pleaded with him. if they wanted to put their relationship on ice because of this minor bump in the road, then so be it, but y/n is sure that it would only result in hurting them.

l’s eyes softened, the storm within them momentarily calmed by her words. he wanted to believe her, to cling to the hope that at least one part of his life remained untouched by kira's darkness. "i want to believe you.” he said quietly, "but i can't let my guard down. not even for you,” he said matter-of-factly. “i’m sorry…”

y/n sighed deeply. she then slid out from under the warm blankets, her bare feet meeting the cold floor with a shiver. standing beside him, she gazed down at him, his hunched form bathed in the eerie glow of the computer screens. leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, her lips lingering there for a moment before she ran her hands through his unruly black hair. "can you at least come to bed then?" she asked softly.

the night had stretched on for far too long, and the first light of dawn would soon pierce the gloom. l shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling almost imperceptibly. "don’t know," he replied, his tone detached and distant, eyes never leaving the monitors.

y/n let out a small, plaintive whine, her worry for him bubbling to the surface. she wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him into a tender embrace. "please?" she murmured, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. "you need to rest. just a little while…”

l felt the warmth of her breath against his skin, the comforting pressure of her body against his back. for a moment, he allowed himself to be still, to feel the weight of her concern and the depth of her affection. he glanced at her, then at the clock on the wall, the numbers blurring slightly in his tired vision. his gaze returned to her, meeting her pleading eyes. "fine," he said finally, his voice tinged with reluctant resignation before mustering a small, almost imperceptible smile. "but five minutes is all you’re getting."

[trashyshrew]

congrats on making it to the weekend!! after a long week i’m always in the mood for hurt/comfort, so maybe some hurt/comfort lawlight? feel free to disregard if this isn’t the vibe you’re looking for!

[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. 

[valfeathers]

obsession

[chaoseclips]

[kudadaze]

comfort characters >:3

Corvus, friend's oc; L from L: Change the WorLd; Shinjiro from Persona (especially the weird masquerade stage play/musical)

3/9 I was gonna draw the others too but I'll do that some other time </3

I know there's a pattern here. Shhhh

[poizonedapplez]

Hopping on this train because it's hilarious

[p0ssywhippedcream]

hii Ophe I hope you're feeling better can I ask how YOU think L would act on a pot gummy? ( it does not have to be a long thing) thxxxx kisses!!!!!!

Okay l would either do A; silent. just complete and total silence. No amount of poking, prodding or begging can get this man to speak or B; So much words. Word tornado. Word vomit. He cannot stop talking for the life of him.

A looks like this;

"L? Honey? L? Babe?" You're poking his cheeks, pulling them like a grandma would and pushing them back to make his lips pucker. He looks fine, audibly breathing but when you look at his eyes it's clear no one is home. The lights are on, he's blinking with a dopey smile and rubbing the hem of his shirt to enjoy the sensation of the soft fabric but literally no one is home.

"L? Sweetheart, talk to me. Are you greening out?" You shake his heads in your hands, trying to jiggle some sense back into your lover but his face remains void of any intelligence that suggests human life.

Eventually you give up and drop it but you continue to look over and check on him. He's unraveled himself from his usual posture and is laying like a snow angel on the carpet. You put a water bottle next to him and sometime in the next ten minutes, it slowly depletes.

You decide this is a pretty good reaction to trying weed for the first time, especially for L and just give him a gentle smooch on the cheek. You ruffle his hair a bit and make sure to place snacks next to him and when he reaches for one you lift his neck up and place his head in your lap so he doesn’t choke.

B is a bit more chaos;

He hadn’t stopped talking about sharks in ten minutes. Ten minutes of “Sharks can loose 35,000 teeth in their lifetime” and “The cookiecutter shark is very complex because..” and you’re really starting to loose it.

You know he’s smart and you really love his big brain but you didn’t realize how much of it was pumped up with shark facts. You didn’t even realize he liked sharks that much.

You hand him a water bottle because his voice has become raspy and he attempts to continue talking while drinking water, resulting in a coughing fit.

You rub his back and pat it as he chokes out, “While sharks are mainly carnivores, the whale shark is actually an omnivore.”

Once he’s done talking about sharks, and no I don’t mean he’s said all he can I mean you distracted him into a different conversation, he just rambles on and on and on about varying things. He talks about the dangers of elevators and the color purple’s meaning and so much other shit that you eventually tune him out and try to enjoy your own high.

Unfortunately when you get the munchies and make your way to the kitchen, expecting to leave him in your shared bedroom, he follows and you realize constant background noise isn’t something you can avoid.

When he finally wears himself out enough a yawn replaces a fun fact every few minutes, you happily drag him to bed and tuck him in. He mumbles nonsense, tells you he loves you to which you kiss his forehead and then tells you to make sure you put your seatbelt on before falling into snores. You set up your laptop beside him and enjoy your favorite show, occasionally glancing at your snoozing boyfriend and finally enjoying being at peace.

And when you bring up later that you didn’t realize he harbored such an affection for sharks, he gives you a strange look and says he doesn’t, sharks are boring.

[vacantcrow]

selfship

my bday is coming up so i drew this ^_^

[beyondbitchboy]

Beyond Birthday HeadCanons I would like to post on the internet:

sourced directly from my notes app, here are some headcanons i think about a lot. to see them more fleshed out go read my fanfic on ao3!

- B’s mother was obsessed with him in a very unhealthy way because of his “gift” - she believed he was a demi-god and hoped to profit off of it somehow. She was the one to tell Beyond what the eyes are and how to calculate the numbers. Her relationship to shinigami is unclear but it appeared she spiraled into psychosis with talks of death gods, lifespans and her prophetic son.

- B’s real name is unknown. I’m torn about this one because of the HC i have about his mom; ofc she would call him Beyond Birthday, but canonically it’s also possible he had a different name, hence the line from LABB stating he made the name for himself (maybe i’ll edit this and add the quote later idk).

- B has always taken up appearances to please people; good son, good student, successor, L, best criminal, etc. He’s burdened by the fact that despite his efforts, he contradicts the thing he desires to be so badly. he embraces this to mock L during LABB, but after his arrest he has to take on the role of spiteful and dangerous criminal to protect his broken identity.

- B’s intentions are unclear, even to him. He doesn’t see a future with his bleak outlook on himself and hopes that kira offs him with a painless heart attack.

- Beyond secretly regrets the murders. He isn’t a violent person, but at the time it felt like the only way to achieve status as L’s equal.

- B was physically disabled after his arrest. While he refuses to use a cane (because he’s a prideful bastard) he has a terrible limp and struggles with mobility.

- Burn victims often have trouble with temperature regulation, circulation, immune system, etc. Beyond is on a hearty dose of blood thinners, antibiotics, etc. at all times.

- He notices that the prisoners serving their sentences with him share unusual lifespans that suggest a massacre, a pandemic or some other third thing. (This is the plot line for my fanfic lol)

- B has very complex feelings about L that range from best friend to worst enemy which culminates in their interactions being very black and white depending on how B is feeling.

- His romantic feelings toward L come from a place of idolization and fantasies about being admired by L. He rationalizes it as “taking his power back”.

- B has no idea what L is thinking and that scares him and excites him. His actions are at times predictable but B truly has no clue how L perceives him or thinks of him, and he doesn’t really want to know.

- B has intentionally only ever experienced love (friendship, partners) with people who are due to die soon because the end of the relationship is more predictable that way. He steers clear of getting too close to people who have full lives to live.

[chompychomp]

L Lawliet Rant :)

When I say I like L, I mean I REALLY like L.

I want to bring him to life and cuddle him all night, bake him cookies and anything else he wants, I want to nuzzle his chest and his neck, and I want to bury my face in his hair so I know what he smells like...

I know almost everything about him, and every time I see him in the manga I feel fuzzy.

Whenever I flip to a random page, and it has L on it, I make a little squeak noise.

I wish he were real.. :(

[bugs1nmybrain]

Shigaraki and L are both very distant characters and probably both have touch aversion (shigaraki for extra reasons) but I full fucking believe that BOTH of these guys are snugglebugs. They love to cuddle and to be held and to have someone to feel warm with. Like they get in bed with you and you start to hold each other, but I promise you aren't going to be leaving for a while, you are theirs, and they wanna put you in their pocket so bad!!

[threshasaurus-writes]

In Charge, Chapter 29: Honesty

Fandom: Death Note (no Death Note AU)

Characters: Near, Matt, Mello, L, Teru Mikami, a whole bunch of cameos from canon characters as supporting cast

Ships: Shippy Gen with a friendship triangle (whee!)

Rating: M for violence and Mikami (you'll see) Summary:

Summary:

Matt, Mello and Near work under their mentor, world-famous genius detective L, training to become detectives someday themselves. Matt is generally okay with being in third place when compared to Mello and Near, but things are about to change. When Near suddenly collapses while he and Matt are home alone, the redhead finds himself in charge for the first time ever.

Matt rushes Near to the hospital. Just as a friendship begins to form between the two boys, Mello arrives and complicates the dynamic. Things go from bad to worse, as Near's obsessive nurse Mikami abducts him from the hospital, and Matt, Mello and L must work together to recover him.

(Continuing to add to my Death Note fanfic I first published in 2008. it's only a few chapters from finished after this, so I'm gonna finish it once and for all. We have to get Near some closure for all that I've put him through...

Chapter 1 has detailed content warning info, so be sure to read the author's note!)

Read it here on AO3!

Read it here on FFN!