Lawliet X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Hiii! can I request fluff with tiny angst hcs of L and Mello when they wake up to their gf crying in the middle of the night because she had a dream of them dying?

Absolutely! Been craving angst lately anyway <3

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Content: L x F!Reader; Mello x F!Reader (separate)

Warnings: Spoilers for the series, character death

Notes: This has been in my drafts since July lol btw do y'all know that death note is getting TAKEN OFF OF NETFLIX SOON??? I'm so angry. (In the US area)

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❥L Lawliet

L doesn't sleep. We all know and we all agree on that.

So when you wake up in your shared bed, alone, from a particularly brutal nightmare, for a minute you thought it was real.

L had been caught by Kira.

He fell out of his chair and you'd been there to catch him, and it didn't take a genius to know he was suffering from a heart attack from how he suddenly dropped.

He died in your arms, you sobbing your eyes out

Now, in the real world, you laid on your bed and began to sob again, eyes stinging from how much you'd already cried in your sleep

Your throat felt dry - you might've screamed in your sleep

Sitting up, you cried into your hands some more before deciding to get up and grab some water

However, as if on cue, L walked in with a full glass of water in hand

"(nickname)? I heard you scream." L spoke softly, walking closer. "Are you alright?"

You'd never been so relieved in your life

Flinging yourself out of bed, you embraced L (careful of the glass) and held him tight, burying your face in his shoulder

"(Y/n)?" L asks again, wrapping his free arm around you

"I h-had a nightmare..." You shook in his hold.

"Here, drink some water. I had a suspicion that the scream was from a nightmare. I heard no other thuds and there is no way someone could have snuck in here to attack you without my knowledge." L offers up the water.

You keep his arm around your waist, drinking the water carefully.

"Do you feel any better?" L asks after a moment.

"...barely. Can you come to bed?" You ask, voice raspy with sleep.

L glances over his shoulder at the computer he left on. After a moment, he looks back at you and nods.

"I'm pretty much done for tonight, anyways. Lead the way."

L tangles himself in your embrace, placing his face into your chest. You laugh at his antics, and he looked up.

"What?" His voice comes out muffled, since his mouth was covered by your clothed chest.

"Nothing, nothing." You say, carding your fingers through his hair.

"Mmh...m'kay..." L yawns. "Sleep well, love. I'm here now."

"I will." You kiss his head. "Love you."

"Love you too." Is the last thing he mutters before falling asleep with you.

• ───────────────── •

❥Mello

It didn't feel like you belonged in the room, with what you just witnessed

No dialogue was exchanged. You only saw Mello standing over a cowering woman with short, black hair, then he suddenly falls over

It doesn't take long for you to realize you just witnessed your lovers' death

The woman then turned to you, wrote in a black book, and then your chest began to burn

Due to dream logic, you'd lived longer than Mello, allowing you to crawl to him with tears in your eyes

"Mello...Mello...Mello, please, I'm sorry..."

Mello didn't respond

The woman watched tears run down your face before you screamed for Mello before dying

Shooting up from your spot on the couch, Mello's attention was quickly snapped to you

"Hey, now." Mello saddled next to you. "Are you alright doll?"

Looking up at him, you felt yourself tear up again before hugging him close and tight.

"Woah, woah, what's the matter?" Mello loosely wrapped his arms around you. "Nightmare?"

You nodded numbly, not speaking

Mello softly sighed then tightened his hold around you

"Wanna talk about it?" He asked, before you shook your head no.

Mello nods, and moves so that you're pressed flush against him, not really knowing what else to do

He gave you a peck to your temple, hoping that would satiate any kind of nerves you had

"Mello?"

"Hm?"

"You're not going anywhere...right?"

"No, why?"

You didn't respond before hiding your face in his neck. Mello sighed again before going back to holding you

It didn't take a genius for him to realize you probably had a nightmare about him, or with him in it. But, as long as you didn't wanna talk about it,

"Did you wanna go back to sleep?"

he wouldn't push you about it.

"Yeah."

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

I’m not dead. This is an incredibly niche market, I know, and not what’s typical for this blog, but it’s here and it’s here to stay. L honestly deserves more x reader stuff and if I’m the one who has to encourage it I’ll be the one to do it.

Am I Invited?

Your boyfriend was an odd man.

You were quite fond of him, but the fact that he was far from normal was emphasized by anyone and everyone he was willing to meet in person. Even if those who had seen him had decided to hold their tongues, you would have known how odd he was. When you had met him, you had understood that much; you had been a highschool senior, he a year younger, and the only reason you had met him at all was because he and who you assumed was his father had come to the coffee shop in which you worked. He had worn a mask obscuring his mouth– his father had claimed that it was due to a cold– and he had not spoken a word to you, instead studying you silently as you filled the order for them. Despite disheveled black hair and dark circles, he was pretty in a quiet, Victorian way, and you had a desire to speak to him in part because of how little he seemed to get out.

He was there, apparently, to study. He had been ordered a cup of coffee with ten or so spoonfuls of sugar– you had decided his father seemed not to be the type to make that sort of joke, and so you had made it as asked. When you brought him his drink, you decided to make a move.

“Here’s your sugar with coffee,” you had teased, placing the cup and a parcel in front of him.

He had stared at you a moment, scrutinizing you, before averting his eyes.

Awkward, you had cleared your throat. “Hey, man, I’m hardly one to talk.” You had smiled. “I can barely handle coffee without a mountain of add-ons. I’m a pussy; I drink tea.” Clearing your throat, you gestured to the paper bag. “That’s on the house, by the by. I hope you aren’t allergic; those cookies are the best thing we sell.”

On your word, he pulled the pastry from the bag: a simple peanut butter cookie by all accounts. Wordlessly, he broke off a piece and handed it to you.

It took you a second to understand what he was doing. “Oh, no, I couldn't possibly.” You put your hand up in protest. “It’s yours.”

He did not remove his hand.

You glanced around, awkward before taking the piece and popping it into your mouth. You were hardly opposed to cookies. Your smile grew meak. “What,” you laughed, “think I’d give you a bad cookie?” You tried to regain your confidence. “You wound me”

You were startled by how clear his voice was. “No, that’s not it.” He pulled down the mask, taking a bite out of the confectionery, swallowing quickly, and pulling his mask back up. “I was just checking something.”

“Oh.” You nodded, confused.

He took another bite of the cookie, uncomfortably nonchalant. “This is quite a good cookie. Is it made here?”

Your eyes shift to the side, any assuredness you had gone. He was studying you. “They’re made on-site, yeah.” You resisted the urge to slide your hands into your pockets. “The recipe’s ours, too.”

“Is it old?”

“The recipe? Yeah.”

There was silence.

It dawned on you how oddly he sat. He was not so much sitting, in fact, as he was crouched on the chair, feet flat against the seat. If it was a struggle to balance in such an unnatural position, he did a good job of hiding any difficulties he had maintaining it.

You slid into the chair across from him. It was a slow day anyhow. “This is a small town,” you pointed out. “We don’t get many new faces.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“How so?” You rested your head on your hand, quietly satisfied at his letting you sit.

He shrugged. “I would assume it would be bad for business.”

“People like the atmosphere.”

“Sure,” he pointed out, “but I would imagine that you would want to have as many customers as possible.”

“Not necessarily.” You smiled. “If the atmosphere changed the people who come in would probably stop or complain if they didn’t have personal ties to the place itself. That’s not good for business either.”

“I suppose.”

Talking to him was a bit like pulling teeth. You took it he was not approached like this often. “Are you going to school nearby?”

“Why do you ask?”

You gesture to the folders stacked next to him. “I assumed that was for a project.”

He considered what you said for a moment too long. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Journalistic writing would count, I suppose.”

“Sounds like a blast. What on?”

He took a sip from his coffee. “Homicide case.”

Your smile widened. “So I was right. Which one?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it.” He reached over seemingly absentmindedly, finger peeling at a corner of the topmost folder and letting it spring back into place. “It’s recent.”

“Try me.”

He stared at you for a moment, sizing you up. “Why do you want to know about it?”

“I dunno.” You shrank a bit under his gaze. “I want you to keep talking, I guess.”

He blinked, his head cocking to the side ever so slightly. “Why?” His voice was softer than before.

“I like it.” You forced confidence forward. “You have a nice voice, and I think you’re attractive, and you seem interesting.”

That was how you got his number.

The only time he ate decently was when you saw him. You knew this because he had lost weight; whenever he lost weight, it was because he had not eaten well enough or was stressed over his work or the news. He was doing both, you were sure, and though you had little time with him before he would fly back off to who knows where you were hardly about to let him leave on an empty stomach.

You saw him less than when you were younger. You never saw him much before– not as much as you had the first month you two had “been together”-- but weekends turned into single days, and once a week turned into twice a month. You never said anything. You doubted he was getting on with someone else; he did not seem the type, despite what your friends had to say on the matter. What did they know? They had hardly spoken a dozen words with him. You did not even mind much. You could survive without him comfortably enough.

He would not stop staring at the television screen. You were sure his eyes would roll out of his head from how long he paid attention to it. International news. Not that he did not know any of what was being said anyhow— he always seemed to know exactly what was going on in the world at a given moment— but he never wanted it off. Even as you set a bowl of stew in front of him, he barely glanced over at you long enough to register it.

You sat down next to him, tapping him on the side of the head as you dug into your own bowl. “Soup’s up,” you tell him, turning down the television. “You’ll waste away if you don’t eat.”

“Will I?”

You smiled, taking the bait. “You will. Your body will shut down and go into cardiac arrest and I’ll have to call the ambulance to come to drag you off.”

He did not smile much these days, but something like it tugged at his lips. “Oh, you don’t say?”

“I do.” You took another bite of your stew. “And with how much work you do it’ll kill you, and I can’t afford to help chip in much for the funeral, so it’ll be a shitty little thing and you’ll be made fun of it for it by the other dead people.”

He balanced a chunk of meat from his stew, watching so it would not fall. “Oh, so there are more dead people now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you wave him off. “Of course, there are more dead people.”

“Of course.” The spoon was slid into his mouth.

“Of course.”

The spoon came out clean. With a quiet hum of satisfaction, he began to eat. “‘Ts good,” he said around his food.”

“It’s beef.”

“I’m a fan.”

You nodded. “Good. You’ve gotten uncharacteristically thin.”

“Rapid weight loss is often a symptom of high anxiety.” He swallowed. “That’s probably why.”

You took another bite of stew. “Work?”

“Work,” he confirmed.

“What is it now?”

He paused. “How to put it…” He swallowed another spoonful. “An issue’s come up and neither I nor anyone in my department quite understands what it is. It is unlike anything we have ever had to deal with in the past, and despite how many resources are being put into solving the problem, we are no closer to a solution.”

“What sort of problem?”

“That’s the question.”

You blinked. “So is it a problem or not?”

He smiled dryly. “It’s certainly causing trouble, but it’s difficult to define, seeing as I hardly know exactly what it is outside of the fact that it has seemingly infiltrated every corner of the company.”

You take another bite of stew. “You really should quit,” you swallowed. “Your job, I mean. It’s bad for you.”

He considered it. “It would probably be better on my health, but I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because it is one of the very few things that give my life meaning.” He picked up the bowl, tipping his head back and drinking the rest of its contents. “I have no other skills outside of my job, you understand; I would be essentially nothing without it.”

It was odd how he described what he did. He never told you what it was, exactly, but he always talked as though whatever it was was an integral part of himself, like it was more than just a job. You knew enough not to ask; he had always been secretive in this regard, and you knew it would do you little good to pry. “That’s not fair.”

“It is.”

“That’s not true.” You smiled. “Personally, with or without your job, I think you’re pretty great. And if it’s as big as you make it out to be, I’m sure someone else would hire you if that was what you wanted.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure that’s even something I would want,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Again, it is essentially my whole life, what I do.”

“But it doesn’t have to be is my point.” You let your head rest on the back of the couch. “You can do whatever. You’re still pretty young; the world’s your oyster.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Hm?”

“That idiom. It’s Shakespeare.”

“What, really?” You smiled. “See? You could go into etymology if you wanted.”

He chuckled. “I think I may go insane if I did that.”

“Oh come on,” you push him gently. “It’s not that boring.”

“I would disagree.”

You give him a look. “Then how come you know where it comes from, wise guy?”

“I had to read Merry Wives of Windsor.”

“Oh.”

He watched you curiously. “Why are you making a face?”

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m not making a face!”

“You are, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s just like why?”

“Oh, it was hardly by choice.” He shrugged. “My caretakers insisted. Personally, I’ve never been much a fan, but it would hardly make sense if I did not pick up on at least some of it.”

“Bastards.” You stuck your hands in your pockets, settling in. “What else did they make you read?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, all of Shakespeare–”

“The fuck you mean all of Shakespeare?”

He blinked. “What do you mean what do I mean?”

“How many things has Shakespeare written?”

“Surprisingly few.” He very quickly seemed to tally on his hands. “Thirty-seven is the generally accepted number, I believe.”

“That’s a lot!”

“I’m well aware. I didn’t enjoy it much at the time.” He settled in next to you, leaning his body against yours. “But apparently an extensive knowledge of English literature was vital to my education.”

You draped an arm across his shoulders. “Your caretakers are just the lives of the party, aren’t they?”

“I don’t believe they’ve ever attended one.”

“Look at you, being snarky.” You leaned into him. “I’m so proud.”

He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I can be snarky.”

“So has been demonstrated.”

“I can be snarky generally too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You learned very early on that when dating your odd boyfriend you were best to not ask too many questions. Not about work, not about his personal life outside of you, not even about where he stayed when he was not with you. You had never been to his place, never seen it. He went away a lot for his job, and the two of you talked a lot on the phone, but you had learned from how little he volunteered information to not ask him to divulge too much to you. In exchange, as a way of keeping things fair, he never asked too many questions about your life, never commented on your home or your loved ones unless asked, and gifted you hush money—which he never called hush money but always felt like it for how much of it you received— and offered you an unusual amount of legal expertise.

Your conclusion: your boyfriend was some sort of government worker/spy/lawyer.

“You know I’m using you, right?”

You looked up from your phone. The night of that conversation— the last conversation you have had with him, about two months ago— was on the last night of his week-long stay at your place. You had gone out of your way to make him good food before he went back to his diet of carbs and nothing else. He had been quiet all day, fidgeting more than usual, clingier than what was typical. You had asked him about it throughout the day, but he always brushed it off. “Hm?”

He had that look in his eyes that he did when you first met, that cold, calculating stare that made you feel like a patient on an operating table. He repeated the question.

You set the device face down on the table. “Use how?”

“Emotionally. Physically. Psychologically.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t say using—“

“You should if you don’t. It’s the appropriate word.”

You leaned against your hand, elbow on the table. “What’s your definition of use?”

“Any, really.” His shrug, a mirror of your own, was stiff. “For our purposes, let’s define the term as ‘to exploit one for one’s own advantage.’”

You could play this game. You laced your fingers together, leaning forward. “And how would you define exploiting, love?”

“‘To use in an unfair and selfish way.’”

“You would consider yourself selfish?”

“Impossibly so.” He never looked away from you, then. “Incredibly so. Our relationship is largely one-sided.”

You swallowed. You knew he noticed. “How so?”

He considered the question, eyes lowering ever so briefly before meeting yours again. “Well, it’s fair to say that you’re a caring partner. You’ve provided for my every emotional need for the past five years, you’ve let me stay in your home, you’ve cooked for me, cared to remind me of my humanity.” He folded his arms on top of his knees. “And in return for your unflinching hospitality I’ve largely neglected you; I’ve refused to tell you anything meaningful about my upbringing or my work or even who I associate with. I’m not traditionally attractive— I understand,” he cut off your protest, “that beauty is subjective but for our purposes, I’m not objectively beautiful— and I haven’t so much as let you stay with me. I only spend time with you for a week every two months or so, which is ridiculous considering how long we’ve known each other. Any reasonable person would be right to leave.”

You shifted in your chair, eyes focused on your fork.

“Why are we still in a relationship?”

“I like you.” You shrugged, picking up the plastic utensil and turning it over in your fingers. “I’m allowed to like you, aren’t I?”

He exhaled, a poor imitation of a chuckle. “I can’t imagine it goes much farther than a skewed cost-benefit analysis.”

“So what if it doesn’t?”

“That’s incredibly foolish of you.”

“So what if it is?”

“Don’t you find an issue in that?”

“So what if I don’t?”

He opened his mouth, sighed, looked down. He mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

You stopped your fiddling. “You’ve never offered it.”

“That’s my point.”

You inhaled slowly, trying not to get yourself riled up. “Are you trying to break up with me?”

“No.” The response was immediate.

“Why are you telling me all this, then?”

He paused.

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“Do you have any idea what I do?”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “I mean,” you sighed, “I have something like an idea.”

His eyes are not cold like they were before. Dull, maybe, but that was nothing new. “Take a guess.”

“I dunno.” You buzzed your lips. “Spy? Government worker? Assassin?”

His lips twitched upwards. “Assassin?”

“Hey, you asked!”

He smiled. “Let’s go with that.”

“What, you're an assassin?”

“Sure.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been asked to kill someone very important.”

You blinked. “I got it right?”

“No, but the comparison is somewhat apt.” He chewed on his thumb nail absently. “I’ve been tasked to kill someone very important. Because I’m killing someone very important, I’m going to be in a lot of danger.”

“Are they a dick at least?”

“I’m being serious.”

You crossed your arms behind your head, trying to relax. “If you’re an assassin, aren’t you always in danger?”

“This particular person is unusually dangerous.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“And because I’m going to be in a lot of danger, I may never see you again.” He broke eye contact. “I’m unable to get out of this, and this person has to die.”

You swallow. “Sure.”

“If I don’t get in contact with you for a month, I want you to assume that I’ve broken up with you.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

He sighed. “I can’t exactly force you to, can I? But you will be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

You looked up at the ceiling. “Am I invited to the funeral, at least?”

He considered the question. “Yes.”

You swallow again, hating the taste in your mouth. “Okay.”

He looked at you again. “Would you mind too terribly if I came over there?”

You said nothing. Your voice would crack if you did.

He took your silence as a no, standing from his awkward posture and kneeling at your feet. He placed his head on your lap, looking up at you. “May I have your hand?”

You let one of your arms down.

His hand was shaking as the fingers interlaced with yours. “I highly doubt that anything will happen. It never has before.”

Your eyes slid shut. You did not want to cry.

“I just want you to be prepared if something does.”

You never saw him again after that night.

Previous Works

You write L so wonderfully and so in character. I had a request if they’re still open: Could I request Reader (any gender) giving L his first kiss, teaching him how to kiss in the process, and L discovering that he really enjoys the sensation of kissing? I headcanon L as so mentally devoted to his work that his physical form has kind of taken a backseat, and so something like a kiss or touch from the right person can ignite in him a new understanding of himself. Thanks for reading! 💖

So, I was gonna answer this later because I have a truly astounding amount of homework to get done, but how could I keep you waiting? Anyways, I tried my best to adhere to your request, and I'm so sorry if it's disappointing, I've never really done this before. Please let me know if you want anything else written or rewritten, or literally anything. Your wish is my command. Also, thank you so much for your kind words! I am trying to write him as realistically as possible because I saw too much ooc L, and so I'm doing my best.

“Cake?” You asked, setting it down in front of him gently so as to not disturb his setup. 

“Thank you.” He responded. His eyes never left the screen as he picked up the fork and began to eat. 

He had arrived at your apartment last night and in typical L fashion, had given you little notice before knocking on your door with a briefcase of files and papers. He had turned your living room into a crime scene, and as far as you knew, hadn’t slept a wink since he had gotten here. 

You didn’t want to ask him any questions or bother him, despite how incredibly curious you were, but you did want to be sure he wasn’t wasting away under your watch. If that meant feeding him desserts every hour to ensure that something was being consumed, then so be it.

“Cake for dinner,” You said softly to the air, shaking your head as you served yourself a slice. “I’m living my childhood dreams.”

Taking a seat next to L, you very carefully pulled a blanket up to your lap. You watched him cautiously, worried that your movements might distract him.

“You are not bothering me.” He said abruptly. 

You froze “Are you sure? I can just go to my room if - “

“No, I quite enjoy your presence.” He turned to you. “And if anything, I should be the one worried about bothering you. I have completely taken over your living room with my research.”

In furious denial, you responded, “No not at all! I love having papers about - “ You pick up a paper and skim the first sentence. “ - mass murders…on my couch…”

L let out a soft chuckle, to which you gave him a smile in return. “I should be thankful that you have not yet tired of my existence.”

“How could I ever? You’re my best customer.” You gestured to the state of your messy kitchen - a result of all the baking and cooking you had done for him since he had arrived. 

He responded with a little laugh, and turned back to his screen. You admired how much he devoted himself to his work, however it worried you nonstop to see how it ate away at him, both mentally and physically. 

You didn’t pretend to understand what he did. As far as you could tell, he was a spy or detective of sorts. He never confirmed or denied your guesses, but there were certain aspects of his routine that allowed you to infer what you could.

What you were sure of, however, was that the only time he was ever able to properly relax was when he was around you. Which only made it that much more saddening that he was so immersed in his research at this moment in time.

But you said nothing. It was never your place to interfere or say anything. That was how the two of you worked.

You picked up your book from the table in front of you and began to read. It was nice, being near him and the two of you being allowed to do your respective things. In fact, the book you were reading was one he had suggested for you after you told him it had been a while since you found a good book.

So far, you were quite happy with the recommendation.

After a couple of hours of just being next to each other and occasionally exchanging words, you began to doze off. The book slipped out of your hands and your head dropped onto L’s shoulder.

For the first time in hours, he was completely taken out of his work mindset. The weight of your body slumped against his was so warm. He knew it probably would be best to let you sleep, but how was he meant to get any work done if you were right against him?

Lucky for him, you started to stir, yawning as you awoke from your brief nap. “You’re here?”

“I’ve been here since yesterday.” He replied quietly.

You quickly noticed how much of his personal space you had accidentally invaded and shot straight up. “Shit, I didn’t mean to - “

L reached over and took your hand. It was a bit of an awkward grab, but you understood he meant it to be comforting. “You do not bother me.” His words were firm. 

“Right,” You breathed out, unknowingly lacing your fingers with his. “I forgot.”

“You also seemed to forget that I was here,” He noted. “You were surprised.”

Your cheeks heated up at his observation. “I think…I’m not used to you being so present next to me. It was a bit shocking to wake up practically sleeping on you.”

He was silent for a moment, and then, “Elaborate. On the part about me being present.”

“It’s not a matter of you being physically absent, but I mean you’re always so absorbed in your work that it’s like you forget I’m here or even where and who you are. Mentally, you are on another planet almost ninety percent of the time.” You explain, embarrassed. 

This seemed to bother him. You noticed the way his grip on your hand loosened and his shoulders deflated even more. 

“I never meant to make you feel that way.”

Your heart broke at how defeated he sounded. “Not at all! I just want you to be aware that you’re allowed to relax around me. You’re under no obligations here.”

He nodded. “Then you should also know that I don’t mind you being close to me.” He looked down at where your hands were still intertwined. “I’ve come to enjoy being in contact with you.”

You laughed lightly, relieved. “Thank goodness. I could kiss you right now, you know?”

“You could.” He confirmed quickly. “It would certainly be an experience I’ve never had before.”

To that, your laughter stops. “Never? You’ve never been kissed before?”

“I think I, of all people, would know if I had been.” He said dryly. 

“Would you want me to kiss you?” You asked him, your words hushed and curious. 

He pondered it for a moment. “I would want you to, of course. I have no expectations on whether or not I will enjoy it, as I have no previous experience to form them from. However, based off of what the vast majority of the population would - “

You decided you had enough of his talking and leaned forward, pressing your lips against his and using your free hand to hold his face gently as you did. 

By kissing standards, it was not perfect. It was soft and awkward, but to you it was pure bliss. And as you pulled away and saw the gratified look in his eyes, it was fairly evident he felt similarly.

“How was that?” You asked teasingly.

“I’m not sure,” He replied. “I think you should do it again, for me to provide you with a satisfactory answer.”

You let out a laugh and leaned against him. “To be entirely honest with you, I haven’t kissed many people before.”

“In comparison to them, how did I do?” 

“Well, that was just a basic kiss.” You explained. “If you really want to be memorable, you should try a little harder.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “And how should I do that?”

You gave him a sly smile and moved until his back was pressed against the couch cushions and you were positioned slightly above him, your legs on either side of his lap. 

“Just open your mouth…” And like the obedient boyfriend he was, he did. “...lean forward…” Your lips met his again and you pulled him in closer; so close that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

The two of you quickly fell into a rhythm, and for someone who claimed to have never been kissed before, he was oddly passionate.

Breathless, you pulled away and beamed at him. “I would say that was pretty good. You?”

“If I wished to rank it, I would have to kiss other people to properly make a comparison.” You met his eyes, a teasing spark illuminated within them.

You scrunched up your nose. “Don’t joke. You are horribly unfunny.”

“Your lies do not concern me.” He placed a small kiss on the tip of your nose, much to your surprise. 

“It appears you like being kissed then?” 

“If it’s by you, then yes.” He sighed, a mixture of content and sadness. “I apologize for making you feel so unwanted around me while I work. I truly appreciate your presence and your efforts to distract me.”

You nodded acceptingly. “Well, do they at least work?”

L smiled. “They do.”

With a little exhale of relief, you rested your body against his and closed your eyes. “Anyways, you’re pretty good at that whole kissing thing. Maybe we can make it a habit.”

He squeezed your hand lightly. “I would like that.”

Because there was something so satisfying about kissing you, or even touching you, that made him only crave it more. L, whose mind was forever restless, had come to a complete halt the moment your lips had touched his. 

It appeared that the only tried and true thing that could ever relax him and bring him out of an overworked state of mind, was being with you. 

It was selfish. So incredibly selfish of him. To be with you, knowing the dangers, knowing the consequences, all because it made him feel good.

But he couldn’t help it. Not if it meant the possibility of kissing you again. And so he solidified this resolve in his mind that he wanted you, and only ever you. He knew there could be nothing good to come of this in the long run, but for now, you were both content in each other’s company.

L never stopped thinking about this moment. It might have been one of the only ones where he could truly say he was happy. 

・❥・I’m here with you (it hasn’t been so easy being lonely)

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: angst, allusion to sex, reader is referred to having a "plush" body like once

: ̗̀➛ wc: 800+

: ̗̀➛ author's note: holy crap it's been 3 months since I've posted anything... sorry about that. anyyways enjoy this little one shot about L.

reader is a civilian and doesn't know L's name

In the bright light of early dawn, you run your hands over an empty spot on the bed warmed only by the forgiving sun. He’s left already. It wasn’t uncommon for him to leave without saying goodbye. He told you earlier on that he hated goodbyes, so you both agreed to this arrangement. You weren’t so keen on the idea when he first brought it up, but you hated the idea of him not being with you at all more. He would return in a few weeks time and you would quickly wipe away your tears and he would ignore the streaks left on your cheeks as he greeted you. But the first day was always the hardest. Just when you were getting used to him being around, making enough breakfast for two and waiting to wash his white shirts, he would leave. 

You gingerly slip out of bed and slumber towards the kitchen. Taking out a pan and two eggs, you busy yourself with making breakfast but you can’t concentrate. Your mind slips away to him. What was he doing that he couldn’t share with you? What was so dangerous about his job that even one little slip up on his part would cause him to disappear for months? In the dead of night, when all the buildings quiet down and their people sink into slumber, he would whisper prayers against your skin. Though you never understood a word he said, between your half lucid mind and his soothing Russian tongue, you could sense a tone of reverence in his voice, hands squeezing your waist and head bowed between your chest. 

The smell of burning eggs invades your nostrils. You let out a heavy sigh and begin to scrap away at the charred bits of yolk. 

Weeks pass with no call, not that he ever calls, and soon long nights turn to long days as trees begin to straighten up and cicadas poke their heads out of the ground so they can dance with the rise of the sun. Kids run around with ice cream dripping down into their chubby hands and on the concrete where little ants graciously scoop up the liquid gold and offer it to their queen. Shirts stick to backs and eyes squint in submission to Helios galloping through the sky. You’ve never been a fan of summer, but he always made it better. Waking up early in the morning to get berries at the farmers market, and buying every sugary dessert at the carnival and getting on the chair swing ride. 

It was so peaceful up there. People shrunk to the size of ants, scurrying across in search of food, the bright lights blurred together forming a constellation below just for you. Your feet swayed in the wind, the light breeze caressed your cheeks providing a much needed respite from the stuffy carnival floor. His hand inched closer to yours, long fingers ghosted against yours asking for permission, and you opened your palm welcoming him home. He didn’t say anything, being a man of few words, but he squeezed your hand in thanks. Thanks that you have stayed with him for this very moment to happen. His messy hair got pushed back, better revealing his onyx eyes holding only love and adoration for you. 

That night he told you he loved you. Amongst the shrills of children and the rumble of wobbly roller coasters, he proclaimed his devotion against the back of your hand held to his chapped lips. You walked home together, smiling and giggling like fools, with bellies full of sweets. 

You stumbled through your bedroom door, clammy hands hastily ripped off clothes eager to feel skin against skin hot to the touch. All efforts of looking suave on both parties flew out the window as a carnal need took over. Teeth clashed against each other in a messy kiss as your hand carded through his hair and then settled on the nap of his neck. His hand held your cheek as the other pushed the small of your back against him. He curled over you, protected you, devoured you. The need for oxygen overtook, and you parted as a string of spit connected his lips to yours. He stayed close, his forehead bumped against yours, and let out a shaky pant as you took a deep breath, in tandem with each other pushing and pulling. You fell against the bed, yanked him with you, and felt him smile against your skin. 

In the afterglow, wrapped up in fuzzy blankets and the cool moonlight, he said, “this is the happiest I think I’ve ever been.” You held him tighter, kissed the crown of his head, and drifted off to sleep. 

He will return soon enough. He has too. And then you’ll go to the carnival and eat funnel cake until you’re sick and share syrupy kisses on the ferris wheel and laugh and smile. For now you wait, ignore the dreaded emptiness in your chest, and wait. He will return. And you’ll wipe your tears. 

・❥・I'm your puppet

You bring up the idea of L using you to distress. He agrees. Absolute filth follows.

: ̗̀➛ l lawliet x gn!reader

: ̗̀➛ cw: smut (pretty obvious), heavy degradation, slight praise, breeding, slapping, slight cum eating, being called pretty little thing and slut, reader is a freak for L

: ̗̀➛ wc: 1000+

: ̗̀➛ a/n: two posts in a week, who would have guessed. anyways please enjoy the degenerate activities here. 

L positions you in the way he wants, pulls you up by your throat, long fingers curling around constricting your breaths, until your body is pressed against his, as his hips snap against the fat of your ass causing a “pap pap” sound to echo throughout your room. 

He’s relentless in his search for pleasure, paying you no mind, as his hand begins to squeeze your throat, the other snakes its way to seize your hip in a bruising grip, and hot pants and low grunts escape his chapped lips as they brush against your ear. Your mind turns to mush, no longer able to distinguish pain and pleasure as it creates a sinful mix tricking you into begging for more. All that comes out is a series of babbles, drool dripping down onto your chest, and L smugly laughs at your pathetic self. Too drunk off this moment to say or do anything as he bends you over, forcing your head into a pillow, to hit that sweet spongy spot inside. You let out a scream of delight as if he understood your pleads, and in return clench around his cock deliciously. He lets out another grunt, deep from within his chest, and smacks your ass letting the sting linger before smacking it again with just as much force. It sends your body jolting forward, too much for your broken mind to handle, and you try to squirm from his grasp, but he drags you back to where you belong. Taking his cock like you were made for this, made to be ruined by him. 

Muffled mewls and a feeble excuse of thrusting yourself back on his dick makes his mind lose focus. Normally crippled by the weight of his cases, L kneels taller now, filled with thoughts of fucking you full. He pulls out, just kissing your hole with his flushed tip, until ramming himself back in, setting a brutal pace on your body. You couldn’t be more delighted. 

It was your idea to help him distress. A method, other than eating a concerning amount of sweets, to relax him. 

You picked at the threads on your sweater as you watched him reach for another stack of macarons after downing two boxes. His fingers danced across his keyboard, quickly typing out a report in some language you can’t discern, before he spots you shyly inching over. 

L stuffs a strawberry macaron in his mouth before asking “woul’ ‘o’ ‘ike o’e” offering you a vanilla one. 

“No it’s okay” you say trying to hide a chuckle bubbling its way out. “I was actually wondering how your job is going.”

He continues to violently chew, “ ‘qui’e ‘ell,” he swallows thickly, “why do you ask?”

“Well,” you peer down to your socks, rubbing your toes against the carpet, “I was just worried if you were stressed. You’ve eaten almost three boxes of those.”

“Sugar keeps the brain awake,” he states matter-of-factly as he goes to grab another one.

Your hand stops his, holding it in place, and he looks up to you slightly confused with his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. He’s trying to read you.

“Maybe you should rest a while. Let your brain reset, you know?” His gaze shifts to his laptop. The report is nearly finished, and it has been weeks since he could sleep for more than an hour. He can never fully rest on a job like he can when he’s with you. His mind is plagued by images of known friends and nameless faces calling him, but you keep them at bay. Perhaps resting will do him some good. 

His voice softens to barely a whisper, “that would be good,” until he corrects himself “then I can continue working.”

“I’ll help you distress.”

L starts to get ready for bed, gingerly changing into his pj’s which really only consists of taking off his pants, and begins to slip into bed until he notices your apprehensive self still standing at the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh. Nothing, nothing,” but you still remain at the door.

His eyes squint in suspicion, letting silence question you instead of him. You quickly relent. “I mean… Well I feel bad now.”

More silence.

You sigh, frustrated at the fact your will power breaks so easily for him. “I was going to ask if you wanted to have sex to distress, but then you were actually going to sleep and now-”

“I would very much like to have sex with you.” 

“-I feel like an asshole- wait what?”

“I said I would like to have sex.”

The air in the room turns thick with the smell of sweat and sex cut by your pornagraphic moans, and L’s harsh pants, and the sound of his heavy balls hitting your ass. 

The position he has you in makes him hit even deeper than you could imagine, leaving you incapable of moving let alone thinking, but no need to think. A pretty little thing like you doesn’t need to think when you have L as your lover. He knows what you need is to be a good little slut and take his cum.

Your hoarse voice says “‘is too much. Can’t take it.” between moans, legs shaking underneath L’s thighs.

He accentuates each word with a thrust. “Yes.” “You.” “Can.” forcing the bed frame to hit the wall. 

He bends over your hunched frame, lips leaving sloppy wet kisses against your neck until he reaches your neck and he whispers “be good for me,” and you cum.

Stars dance around the corner of your vision as a soundless scream escapes you, and your hole tightens around L’s cock making him hiss. He drops to his elbows, succumbing to only shallow thrusts until it’s all too much and he cums filling your hole and pushing it back in with his cock. He stays until he softens and falls out, and his eyes fall on your thighs. His cum is smeared across your inner thighs, dripping down between your ass and on to the bed. He scoops it back up and pushes it in, not wanting to waste a single drop, and you moan at the intrusion. 

He takes his cum covered fingers to your parted lips, already familiar with routine, and you wrap them around his fingers, tongue swirling to get every last bit. You release them with a ‘pop,’ eyes waiting patiently for your reward, and he obliges, kissing you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue. 

He gets up to get a towel and begins to get you cleaned up, kissing each bruise he left, and massaging your sore limbs. 

“You did so well for me.”

“Would you say you’re sufficiently relaxed?”

“Yes, very relaxed. Thank you.”

He kisses your head, and tucks you into bed smiling to himself. How he ever got you to be his lover, he will never know, but he is forever grateful you are.

Hey, I'm not sure if you'll do this one, but like... I was on c.ai and actually made this cute little thing that I want to see with a more cannon L.

Basically, L and Reader are in a relationship, she has no connection to the Kira case, she's just a normal person. One night, L was on his laptop when she entered the room, crying and asking him to give up the case, because she just found out she's pregnant.

It's silly, but the way L comforted my character, I just need to see it with a more human writing 😭

Hello darling! Thank you for sending an ask! It’s not silly at all and I am more than willing to oblige. I hope you don’t mind, but I tweaked the story a little. Hopefully it’s still enjoyable. 

Being in a relationship with L Lawliet was not easy. He was rarely ever with you, off on some business trip or other, and even when he was, his mind would drift off, eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of him as he waited for you to get out of the shower. He would have to leave again, twice as long this time, to Japan. This case was proving to be far more difficult than he expected but you did not need to know the details. As much as you insist, he will never darken your mind with the details of any case he works. 

You spend the night together in each other’s arms praying it lasts a little longer, but it never works. Morning comes too quickly, and you kiss L at the door, never saying goodbye because this isn’t a goodbye. He will return. He must.

Christmas comes and you stay in your flat with colorful shadows of yourself reflected on the walls from tree lights outside your window. You stand hunched over the bathroom sink, unblinking eyes focused on your hands. Shrieks of joy from young children and gossiping mothers can be heard from the park across the street temporarily drawing your attention away. Happy families enjoying the holidays together. It almost makes you want to vomit. You peer down at your hands again, willing the color on the strip to change. No matter how many times you rub your eyes or shake the damn thing, it stays the same. Two pink lines. Christmas carollers start to sing and you are overtaken by a bout of nausea. You really should have used a condom.

After cleaning up the mess in the bathroom, you stumble to your bedroom dropping to your knees and swiping beneath your bed in search of a burner phone. L had given it to you in case you needed to reach him. It was a one use sort of thing, designed to self destruct after a call has been made. Finally you find it, covered in dust bunnies, but still in working condition. You input a code of numbers, accessing the contacts, take a deep breath, and call L. One, two, three rings, then he picks up.

His voice crackles over the speaker. “Hello.”

“Is there anyone with you?”

You hear muffled shuffling and then what sounds like a door locking.

“No.”

“Okay.” A slight pause. “I’m pregnant.” Exhale.

L goes silent trying to process the gravity of your statement, mouth opening and then shutting. He could be a father, if you wanted him to be, but he realizes where he is. In a country hours away from you, stuck in an empty hotel room with only the whir of computers and the thought of you to keep his sanity during this case that will surely take his life.

“I’ll be right there.”

The line goes dead before you can reply. The automated voice saying the phone will self-destruct in five seconds, and you rush to the bathroom, throwing it in the sink before it has the chance to explode in your hand. 

Six-teen hours later, he’s at your door red in the face and puffing with sweat dripping off his forehead. 

“Where-how did you get here so fast?” 

“Ran-” he takes a deep breath “from airport.”

“Why wouldn't you drive?”

Another breath. “Traffic.”

He pushes past your unmoving frame, walking straight to the fridge and chugging a water bottle. Slowly, still in shock of his unorthodox arrival, you lock the front door and follow him to the kitchen where he has downed yet another bottle. 

You stare at him, bewildered, waiting for an explanation for his erratic behavior, and he stares back, slightly shrugging his shoulders as if it was self explanatory. 

Daring to break the silence, you ask, “What do we do?”

“Whatever you want my love.” He answers quickly back. 

You place your hands on your lower belly, imagining the little life just barely starting to grow into an embryo. Physical proof of the love you share. Flashes of a nonexistent Christmas pass your mind, wrapped up in fuzzy blankets as you watch L play with your child, softly cooing when their chubby hands nearly reach a star shaped ornament in his hands.

 “I think I want to keep it.” 

He smiles and places his own hands on top of yours, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. “Then we will.”

Suddenly you look up from your joined hands, worry etched on your brow. “What about your job? Aren’t you on a case?”

L’s voice is low and soothing. “I’ll send someone to take my place.” You open your mouth in protest, but he beats you to it, “I belong here with you” and the words die on your tongue. 

L presses you closer to his chest, arms protectively wrapped around your waist, and his head buried in the crook of your neck. No words are exchanged because no more words are needed. He will stay and create the family he never had with you, and he couldn’t be happier.

a/n again???: this was too long to put in the tags but I really don't know if L would give up the kira case for you

he would set up a generous trust fund for you and the baby, but I think he would still ultimately stay on the case

he may say it’s so that you don't have to worry about a mass murder possibly gunning it for you, but I think it would be because of his ego, L has to win

but this ask wasn't asking for angst but I digress

Death Note Masterlist

L Lawliet

hii, so I saw that you write for L and I was wondering if you could write an Lx reader where he meets the reader's friends? it's completely fine if you don't want to, but thank you in advance :)

I’d love to! :D . Sorry if it isn’t exactly what you wanted or that good.

L Lawliet - Café Introductions

Lawliet meets your friends

Warnings: None :D

Reader Gender not specified

(F/n) stands for friend name

L missed you. You told him you were going out with your friends earlier to the cute little café that opened up down the street recently. Even though you’d only left about ten minutes ago, he couldn’t help but miss your presence.

So he decided there could be no harm out of stopping by to make sure you were okay. Before he had even realized it, he had already pulled on a coat to combat the cold winter weather and was already at the door of the little café.Taking a small breath to steady himself, he hesitantly put his hand on the door and pushed it open.

The coffee shop was adorned with festive decorations, yet to be taken down from the holidays, the strong aroma of coffees and hot cocoa filling his nose. L looked around, finding you at a table in the corner, laughing with 3 other people, who he assumed are your friends. You look so beautiful when you laugh.

L walked over to you, and gently tapped your shoulder. Your eyes lit up with surprise as you quickly lept out of your chair to give him a hug. Dragging a chair over for him to sit next to you, you looked back over to your friends,watching as they all gave you slightly puzzled looks.

You realized it was because they hadn’t met him yet, so it’d be the perfect time to make some introductions.

“So everyone this is my boyfriend, Ryuzaki. Ryuzaki these are my friends.” You said, gesturing back and forth between the people. You were about to say something else when you were quickly cut off by the shouts of your friends.

“WHAT” all four of them shouted simultaneously.

“You better not hurt her or else!” One yelled.

“I have no plans to ever do that” You were taken by surprise at his sweet words. Smiling happily, you looked over at him, and held his hand, knowing he wasn’t the best in social situations. The one sitting next to you leaned over and whispered in your ear.

“Why is he so hot, nice catch Y/n”You smiled softly at your friends’ behaviors as they began asking him questions and teasing the two of you.

L ended up staying the whole time as your friends didn’t mind him being there. The, now five, of you had fun staying till the sun started to set. You all had to part ways for the time being, but you couldn’t wait to spend time with them again.

You were happy that your friends had approved of L and L of them