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creatingblackcharacters · 3 months

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"It takes HOW LONG?" Black Hair is an Art (pt.2)

(This is part two of the hair lessons, focusing on writing/narratives. If you want to know how the styles LOOK, refer to part 1 and its addendum)

Now that you know what our hair actually looks like, we’re going to discuss incorporating that into your writing (original fic, fanfic, webcomics, anything with a narrative). You don’t HAVE to give us a dissertation on "how you studied 'The Black People’s Hair'" in your story. That’s not what I’m asking you to do. I’m just asking you to CONSIDER the effort and existence of it. The same way you put effort into discussing nonblack hair textures? Should be the sort of tenderness and care you put into discussing ours. It does not stand to reason that I have read thousands of stories describing "the silky, black/blonde tresses/waves that fell down their pale back as their lover ran their fingers through them", but Black readers have nothing of the sort to compare to without seeking our own authors out. Our hair deserves some loving and adoration too!

This is a very long post describing hairstyles and how they can correspond to your character's design and decisions, so I'll put a read more here. The sections are organized into 'Twist Out', 'Afros', 'Locs', 'Braids', 'Black Men', and 'Straight Hair' if you Ctrl F. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE take your time to read all of this at some point though, as I put a lot of resources and explanation into this. I'm trusting you!

The History

As I discussed in the last lesson, our hair is incredibly important to us, and part of that includes the vulnerability and trust that comes along with access to it. This is due to a long history of oppression. There’s a racist history of making Black women hide our hair, as if it would ‘tempt white men’ away, regardless of it were due to actual attraction or the (more likely) rape of Black women. There’s a racist history of touching our hair, as though we are animals or zoo exhibits. We aren’t just going to let anyone touch our heads, so DON'T write that, unless you are doing so to show that it is a microaggression towards your character. Even now, cultural appropriation is rampant. If I were to wear cornrows with hoops, it'd be seen as 'ghetto' or 'gang-like'. Meanwhile, it is a fashion statement for white women. When Miles G Morales showed up in Across the Spiderverse, animators specifically chose cornrows for him, but many people mistakenly took it to me that he was 'rougher and tougher' than the original Miles. This was a racist perception! Hearing the Fade get hyped up in the news as the 'Travis Kelce', when Black men and especially NFL players have been wearing it for DECADES to crickets... it hurts lmao. Point is, you can describe and respect Black hair without being racist about it. Okay? Okay.

Vulnerability

YOUR CHARACTERS NEED TO BE CLOSE BEFORE ALLOWING THEM TO TOUCH THEIR HAIR!!!

It needs to be someone they TRUST wholeheartedly. Again, do NOT let a stranger touch their hair unless it’s meant to be an uncomfortable situation!

Consider CONSENT! Consent is ALWAYS beautiful! Have your other characters (Black or not) ASK to touch your Black characters’ hair! And not in the ‘Oh can I touch it?’ way. But if they’re really close friends or dating, have them ask to help do their braids, or wash their hair, or even just to stroke their hair and face! Or if your Black character is injured with a head wound, and they have to tend to them, have them ask! The asking shows a level of care and respect for your Black character and their body! At any point the consent may be revoked, and that needs to be respected! If they let them tend their head wound, but then smack their hand away after, that’s not ‘rude’- they’re allowed to do that, especially to signify that they aren’t at that level of trust yet. That's still angsty!

One great example of love from a Black character is doing their partner’s hair, or allowing their partner to do their hair. The ‘Hair-washing’ fic is a common thing in fanfiction; we all understand how that shows the depth of the trust in the relationship between the characters. How would you write about that trust with a Black character, if you don’t know what goes into taking care of their hair? If you don’t even know what their hair looks or feels like? The lack of awareness will show, and what should be a beautiful, deep moment will fall flat for Black readers. I wrote one once for my character with locs, and it honestly made me tear up because I realized that I’d never seen one, at least not in the majority white spaces that the fandoms I was in were.

Think about it- how often have you read a hair-washing fic with a Black character? Was it accurate? Would you know if it was accurate? Have you spoken to or heard anyone Black in your fandom space talk about it? Do you know anyone Black in your fandom space to ask? It’s things like this that we have to consider!

If you have a character that is nonblack in a relationship with your Black character, that honestly reveals even more trust because there’s a long history (again) behind that NOT happening! In life, we can’t go to the same places. I can’t go to a white hair salon or barbershop. They won’t know what to do! People are allowed to go through hair school without learning how to work with different, thicker textures. It’s not right nor fair, but it’s a part of the casual, systemic racism in our lives.

My feelings on what Lestat symbolizes aside, the scene where he plays with Louis’ curls in AMC's IWTV was an intelligent way to show that closeness, and how a nonblack character would affectionately play with a Black character’s hair! How he works with the curl in his fingers, rather than trying to pet Louis or run his fingers through- it was an intelligent move on Sam and Jacob’s part as actors to understand that THAT’S how that would go down!

If you have a character that wants to show a violation of your Black characters’ space, touching/harming our hair is cruelty on a very personal level that will generate an extreme reaction.

Think About Your Character!

When thinking about your Black character’s hairstyle, you need to think about your character themselves! What do they do every day? What are their hobbies? Are they Type A, Type B personality? Do they have a lot of time? Are they always in a rush? Are they noncommittal? Are they self-conscious? Artsy? Serious? Are they in a time period where the means to care for their hair are limited?

People make jokes and comments about how Black women don’t like getting our hair wet and dismiss our concerns. But it’s not out of ‘silliness’ or vanity. What you consider ‘just hair’ may have taken days of planning in advance and HOURS of our time! We put a lot of thought and effort into our hair, and it will easily shatter the illusion for your Black readers if you describe our hair poorly or create an unlikely scenario with it. It’s not a joke!

Some Terms:

Protective styles- a style that allows our hair to ‘rest’ with minimal manipulation

‘Tender-headed’- some people’s scalps are more sensitive to the tightness of styles, so it’ll hurt a little bit more and require some more gentleness (Regardless it’s still going to hurt for a bit after a fresh style)

Bonnets- a silk/satin cap of varying lengths that we wear at night to protect our hair and keep the moisture in

Loc Sock- same idea, but for locs

Durag- keeps short haircuts protected; can even help create the wave pattern that many Black men enjoy

Scarf- same idea as the bonnets, except scarfs can be used specifically for straight hairstyles to wrap them up to keep it straight and neat

(It'll seem real legit if you include your Black characters wearing their headcoverings at night! I remember laughing while reading Twilight because I knew that if Edward snuck into my room at night, he'd see me in my scarf or bonnet lmao.)

General Hair Care:

While I don’t completely agree with some of the advertising in this first one (it’s the internet. Can’t go nowhere without someone trying to hawk something) it’s cool in general to explain how our hair looks the way it does.

If you have Black children OCs, it’s important to consider that their parents have to do their hair, and how that will be its own experience! (It can be very stressful for Black children to get their hair done, as it takes a long time and can be physically uncomfortable. There are plenty of stories of burnt ears and tugged tangles and not very nice old women. Children are children! Keep in mind how they may behave while getting the style of your choice.

Moisturizing to keep healthy

Twist Outs

Cute twist out styles

Twist outs are a style that takes overnight to hold, or maybe even a few days! The cool thing is that the twists themselves can be the style! So the tighter you want their curls to be, the longer they’ll wear the twists in. If you want to describe your character with tighter curls, there needs to be a section of time where their hair remains in the twists! If your character has an event, and they want twists… this needs to be done in advance. Your character will NOT untwist them the day of, unless they want weak, limp curls (or you want the scene to compose of them having weak curls).

How long they'll last depends on the activity of your character! If all they do is work a desk job, or they don’t sweat very much, the twists can last some time! But if they sweat, or wear hats or caps, it’s not going to last long. Maybe a week.

Pros: Very versatile! If you have a character that loves trying new looks and enjoy being spontaneous, twist outs are for them! Easy! If your Black character is younger, or haven’t done their hair before, this is a great way for them to start working with their hair! Doesn’t take long (to do)! If your character is in a rush, and they do their twists, they can go just about anywhere. If they’re not self-conscious, this will be just fine.

Cons: It cannot get wet again, or the style will puff up back into your natural texture. It does not last long enough to say “oh my character went on a two year long fantasy adventure with this style.” If you want your character to have a twist out the whole time, they’re going to have to take time to do it. It would be cool if you incorporate a scene where they’re working on their hair, maybe in the background while everyone’s discussing plans or something. Just a reminder that their hair isn’t just staying magically twisted (unless they have the magic to do that).

Afros

Afro Style Guide, Style Guide for Men (works for any gender though)

Wash & Gos are just that- wash it (or really, condition it, you don’t have to shampoo it every time) dry with a t-shirt (to prevent breakage), put some oil and a light crème on it, fluff it up and you’re good to go! Maybe an hour at max and can be done while getting dressed in the morning!

Pros: Easy! If they’re doing a full, combed out afro, it’s not as simple, it will take more time. And at night it has to be plaited so that it maintains its length, otherwise it will tangle. But other than that, that’s still not all that hard. They can show off their curls! Black characters can and should have pride in their hair. It’s beautiful. This is the opportunity that you as an author can describe the pure texture of their hair, how it shines in the light, how the coils look, how soft it is! Romanticize Black hair the same way you do anyone else’s!

Cons: None really! Afros are wonderful! Just make sure that your character has a way to keep their hair from getting tangled. Just because it’s easy doesn’t mean there’s no maintenance! A pick, a bonnet, oil and water go a long way!

Locs

Five stages of locs

A person who does locs is a loctician.

Can be palm-rolled or interlocked/crocheted

I cannot emphasize enough that you do not want just anyone doing their locs! They can really mess up someone’s hair if they don’t know what they’re doing. I say that to say, for your character, if they don’t trust the person doing their hair… they should. They should not be walking into anyone’s place to get their hair locked; they’d do research first.

The time it takes locs to ‘bud’ (that is, to actually form the loc) depends on the texture of their hair. But it can take up to 3 months to even a year for them to actually ‘loc up’. So if your character just got locs, they’re not going to look neat. They’re going to be frizzy.

As long as they’re washing their hair, keeping it moisturized, and not using wax products (DO NOT HAVE ANY BLACK CHARACTER USE WAX PRODUCTS IT IS BAD FOR BLACK HAIR) it’ll last forever! Locs are incredibly strong, especially the thicker they get! It is recommended that locs are retwisted every six weeks, but if your character has freeform locs, doesn’t have the money or time right now, or they just aren’t that pressed, they can grow indefinitely.

Something cute to write in your stories: sometimes locs do just… fall out. Not the whole thing! But the same way thin hair gets everywhere… sometimes the ends of thin locs just… fall off! You’ll find little buds on the ground. This happens especially in the budding stage.

Pros: Very low daily maintenance! At most they’ll need a bonnet or loc sock, and oil/water mix to spritz and massage in. Strong style that can hold any look- buns, curls, etc. They can be dyed, though it will take a long time to do so. I say that to say, if you want your character to have bright green locs, go for it!!

Cons: Low daily, but HIGH wash day maintenance! So if your character has a fancy date or something to go on, they should not be getting their hair retwisted the same day, or at least not so close to. It’s going to be shiny, oily, and tight, which can cause discomfort. Give them the day to let the hair settle!

Locs are PERMANENT!! This isn’t a bad thing, as much as it is a ‘KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING BEFORE YOU DO IT’ thing. Technically they can be combed out, but that would take a very long time and very precise effort, and most people aren’t going through all that. They’re just going to cut them off and start fresh. If you have a character that would balk at such a choice, locs aren’t for them. If you have a character that’s picky and choosy, that likes versatility, that can’t make up their mind, do NOT give them locs unless they’re making the conscious choice to commit. (Again, this is subjective! Maybe they have locs because their mother died and it reminds them of her! Okay! That works!) If you have a character that’s vain, or at least doesn’t like looking awkward… unless they’re going to style up the awkward stage, they’re not going to want locs. (Awkward stage: the first two stages get considered awkward because the locs look messy. This is because they’re turning from curls to locs!)

Braids

Styles

How long braids can take depend on the style. Box braids can take 10-12 hours to do! Microbraids? You HAVE to have multiple people or you'll be there for damn near a day (and that's assuming you have a masterful braider!)

How long they last depend on your character! If they're like me as a kid, I didn't care how I looked, so my mom got me cheap braids and let me run free for two summer months. So if your Black character is a carefree child! Go for it. But if they're a teen or adult (or are very concerned about how they look) a month to six weeks is about how long braids can stay in before your new growth shows. A character that is usually trimmed and proper having loads of new growth over their braids may symbolize that they don’t have it all together anymore.

Pros: Protective style! Great way to let your character have minimal daily maintenance; oil and water and something to cover it. SOME braided styles allow for high activity and even rain without changing. It depends on the hair that’s been braided in, as well as the style. Incredibly versatile! They can have multi-colored braids, long braids, short braids, beads, trinkets… if your character is creative and bubbly and likes to experiment, the sky is the limit! That can symbolize their artistic expression, just by describing what they look like! So long as they have the time, they can have any look and style they want. No need to commit too long.

If your character is capable of doing their own braids (and locs, btw), they’re amazing. Like… that’s mad respect for them. If you describe your character being able to do their own braids, they’ve got amazing arm strength, patience, and skill. That skilled dexterity can be revealed as a trait of theirs through that alone.

Cons: They take a LONG TIME. Your character is not going anywhere. If they’re getting braids… they’re not going anywhere. If you write your character doing anything fancy the day of, depending on the type of braids, Black readers are not going to believe you. Even if it did get finished, it would be very tight. I currently have a poll going on, and so far, a good majority of the 10+ answers are braids! It cost MONEY. It is NOT CHEAP to get braids done! If your character is poor as a church mouse, they will be doing those braids with their friend in front of youtube. Because it can be in the hundreds of dollars. (Don’t get me started on hair culture right now; BACK IN MY DAY IT COST-)

Hairstyles on Black Men

I want to specifically give space and applause to these hairstyles on Black men, because we REALLY don’t give Black men enough credit for all the creativity they show with their hair! And again, with The Killmonger being the choice style in all these damn vidya games despite almost no Black man I know choosing it as a look… PLEASE LOOK! WE HAVE OPTIONS! Try describing how gorgeous these looks can be on your Black men characters! It would be very nice.

Straight Hair

Well, I was going to explain, but ol ‘Guest Writer’ here pretty much lays it all out! So just go ahead and read this article lol.

Just to re-emphasize, straight hair is NOT something that just grows out of our head that way! It takes effort! So if you have a character that doesn’t feel like maintaining straight hair, they shouldn’t have it! If your character has natural hair and lives in a rainy or humid city, they’re going to be fighting that weather to keep it straight- make sure that’s consistent with their personality!

My best friend used to wash and flatiron her hair every day. Like, laser focused on looking that good, Type A shit (she’s a top money banker now, so I guess it worked out). If you have a character like that, it’s fine! If they’re lazy any other time of the day, they’re not suddenly going to be waking up at 5am to flat iron their hair. It’s not consistent.

Conclusion

That’s pretty much what I have! I’m not the guru on all things Black hair, and I obviously cannot encompass every potential scenario you may have for your characters. Really, my intention here is to get you to think about how our hair reflects our character and personalities, and how when you write and/or draw a Black character, you have that ability! And when you’re able to incorporate that naturally, it makes your Black readers feel seen, like you actually cared about that character enough to give them just as much description as your nonblack characters. You don’t have to be a master at it! Just… occasionally the little things that we can go ‘oh, yeah!’ at would be nice. An equivalent effort would be nice.

Remember, it’s the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black hair #black art #black characters #character design #black writers

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ltbunny · 2 months

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Ex husband price brain worms again, c.w/ nsfw, unedited, bad writing, I've never published nsfw before

It's your ex-husband, Price's birthday, and the last thing you expect is for him to show up, with a sweet, suave smile on his face

It's not even his custody day but he says "come on, love. I wanted us to spend it together, like a family. You're really not going to let me take my favourite two girls out for my own birthday?"

All you can do is roll your eyes and let him as he walks in, leaning down and leaving a small peck on your forehead as your daughter runs down the stairs to hug her dad, squealing.

He's adamant about cooking lunch for you two, but you stop him

"Oh, come off it, John, I'll cook since it's your birthday, and you keep saying you'll take us out"

He gets dragged off to play teaparty with the little princess and comes back after a while, his arms slot around your waist, swaying side to side softly as you half heartedly try to stop him, he just grins and nestles his head into the crook of your neck,

"Let the 'birthday boy' hug his wife, love."

"Ex-wife, john."

"Mhm, whatever makes you happy. Happy wife, happy life."

Lunch is served, and the three of you spend the rest of the day going shopping, prices idea. Dollhouse, cars, legos, Barbie, slime, whatever the kid wants, and some small gold necklace for you, even though you won't accept it,

"They're too much, John, stop it-"

"But, love, this is your favourite design and the colour. It'll look beautiful on you."

He buys it and even gets the jeweller to engrave a small j.p on the back of the charm while you're not looking.

He takes you two to a small fancy restaurant at the end of the day, your daughter playing with her new toys on the table, while John's hand holds yours on the table.

"Might retire soon, getting up there in age, love," his eyes watch the way your light up slightly, looking at him before turning away slightly, seeing his gaze, "ill be able to be around more often, wasn't that one of your complaints, I was too busy, so I gave you a little one."

You smack his arm lightly, "Oh, shush, John. She'll be happy. She is always saying how she misses her dad. She keeps asking for a little brother, says everyone in class has one except her," You chuckle softly

At the end of dinner, he drives you two back home, your daughter tuckered out, he picks her up and takes her to her room, tucking her in, kissing her forehead softly, "sorry, I'm not here much, princess, I promise to be around more, okay?"

He comes downstairs and kisses your cheek as you swat him off lightly,

"Stop it, John, you know that's not appropriate,"

"Mhm, whatever you say love, come help me take the things out the car will you?"

The night ends with price bending you over in the backseat, fucking you desperately,

"Fuck, love, I missed this grip, you might have a hard time saying it but your pussy's been missing me, huh? The guys you bring round ain't big enough for ya anymore? Don't worry, daddy's here."

Your fingers grip the car seat, squealing every time he thrusts in

"There's only one thing I wanted for my birthday, you know, love? It's been real lonely up by myself sometimes, and been thinking," he hums lowly, grinding deep inside you while you struggle to even keep up with his pace let alone words, he moves over you, one hand groping your breast, teasing the nipple, the other coming up to your clit, rubbing it along with the harsh pace, "been thinking bout this pussy, and getting the present of life, ain't that cute?"

You gasp, your pussy squeezing around his cock tighter as he starts rubbing your clit faster, "John, please- is, is too much," you moan

"You're doing so well for me, mama, you want another little one too, right? You always said one feels bad, we need to give our little baby a sibling,"

"John- holy shit," your legs shake as he presses you down against the seats, every thrust with one purpose, "please, please, I'm so close!"

He keeps going until he feels your legs trembling, three loads in, his fingers massaging your clit, his lips kissing your neck, leaving hickeys for everyone to see.

You wake up in your bed, listening to John's snoring as you yawn, shifting to get up slightly, his arms tighten around you and his eyes open slightly.

"Mmhm, best birthday ever."

He mumbles before he starts snoring again

#chubby reader #i forgot how to tag #its been like 4 months #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #ex-husband price #cod x reader #cod mwii #price x reader #captain price #biting my hand so hard rn

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tomiyeee · 1 year

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donnie had. SO. much concept art lol. i really enjoyed the whole design process though. his base design is very difficult to work with because of the battleshell, but it gave me a lot of chances to get creative and i'm happy with the results :)

(also as a disclaimer so i don't get asked about this: i don't have motivation to finish raph or the wish art for donnie, so i'm just posting what i've got)

i didn't annotate these as much since there'd be a lot to write, but i'll write out some of my thought processes and go into some detail about his final design below the cut if you're interested! (it's long. i'm talkative 😔)

1st row - first iteration; much more literal 1:1 translation of his design into a fantasy setting. very steampunk-y. ended up completely scrapping it because, simply put, he looked more like an npc than a playable character. obviously, several features did still carry over throughout the design process :3 also wanted to imagine his attack pattern cuz i thought it'd be fun to incorporate his spider arms.

this was actually the first design of any of them i'd come up with! i've definitely learned a lot about genshin's character design style since then and i think it shows 😂

2nd row - playing around with the idea of a floating battleshell (rather than a backpack-like one in the the show & first version), inspired by nahida's cape. also hard light constructs/attachments. was leaning too into the sci-fi and rectangular motifs with the design, but i liked the idea.

3rd/4rth rows - concepts for his final outfit and shell designs (the colored/more-detailed pics are the more finalized ones). took a lot of inspiration from sumeru this time around. it's a lot sharper, shinier, and less rectangular than his og aesthetic, but i think it's more in-line with genshin's design philosophies.

5th row - not entirely sure why i went through all the trouble of making a 3d model for this. i mostly just thought it'd be fun and good for reference. i was right, but i don't know what to do with it now lol. can't be bothered to be a perfectionist about it though, so don't look too closely at it 😭

6th row - incomplete thumbnails of his burst/wish art. not super sold on that "wing" design in particular, but i do like the idea of his shell splitting and deploying hard light weapons/rocket launchers/etc sort of like in canon.

battleshell/misc notes - i'm thinking his battleshell is controlled using the pink sensor on the back of his coat, possibly in combination with his headset. it floats behind him by default and is sturdy enough to protect his back, but he can also freely fly it around like a drone if he wants. the holes on the side are mainly for the spider arms and the banners(?) and handles(?) with the blue/pink gradient are made of hard light and only appear when the shell is in use.

i imagine like in the series, his tech here isn't necessarily very reliant on his vision/powers; much of it he likely made himself long before he received a vision and he just uses his vision to enhance it.

his burst is a barrage of missiles from his shell that lock onto an enemy and deal a large burst of electro damage in an AOE. not sure if i want his skill to be a deployable or some sort of electro-infusion/boost 🤔 maybe something that involves deploying his shell to boost his damage while leaving him vulnerable, like a glass canon? though i'm not sure he'd be that sort of risk-taker... 😅 dunno! his signature weapon would totally be his tech bo though.

that's about all i can think of. thanks for reading!

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt au #rise genshin au #rottmnt art #my art #mangastudio #3d #art #process

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astridthevalkyrie · 2 months

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me getting into a new character: how neurodivergent am i allowed to go

cw: fluff + a few mild horny thoughts

Rafayel has this little quirk where he's practically incapable of acting like a normal boyfriend. Or a normal person, honestly. Where other people would just take your hand walking down the street, he holds it out with a too-happy, beaming grin so that he can see you take it yourself. Where other people would just sit down at a fancy restaurant, he makes mock offended noises if you try to sit before he can make a big show of pulling your chair out for you.

Where other people would kiss you, he likes biting.

"I'm thinking," he muses, nibbling on your earlobe, "what about a diamond necklace?"

You sigh, burrowing yourself further into him, back against his chest. You're quite comfortable, and you could even fall asleep if it wasn't for his constant yammering. "No."

"Come on," he complains, sinking his teeth into your cheek this time. You let out a brief sound of exasperation, trying to bat at him, but he remains steadfast, tongue poking out to soothe the minor indent he leaves into your skin. "How'm I supposed to prove myself if you won't let me?"

"How would you buying me a diamond necklace prove anything?"

One of his hands slips under your shirt, resting right under your chest. His fingers knead whatever they get in contact with—it's not painful, actually it feels pretty good, not that you'd ever admit it to him. Though you suppose, turning around in his hold and silently indicating to him to pull you closer may just be admitting exactly that.

"It'd prove I'm not cheap, for one thing. I'd be able to tell everyone, whatever my girlfriend wants, she gets! You're so strange, not wanting anything. Do you even know how rich I am?"

"Tell you what," you mumble, burying your face in his neck and completely melting in his arms as soon as his comforting scent fills your senses, "you buy me a quesadilla tomorrow and I'll tell everyone you're practically my sugar daddy."

Rafayel scoffs. "Like anyone would ever believe you were a sugar baby. You don't have the constitution for it."

That might be a new lead in the top ten strangest insults you've ever heard from him. Shooting a small glare up his way, you bite back, "Are you going to let me sleep or are you gonna keep talking?"

"Keep talking," he answers without hesitation, then barrels forward before you can protest. "Hmm, maybe I should just fill my place up with amenities for you. Cheese plates in the kitchen. Exfoliators in the bathroom. A butler to take your coat."

The ridiculous idea of him hiring a butler just so someone could occasionally take your coat from you when you come over makes you laugh, which in turn puts a pleased smile on his face and accidentally encourages him to continue.

"What's that kids' movie you like? Twelve Dancing Princesses? What if I just repaint this room with the floor design from that?"

Now hang on. This one actually interests you, the idea of playing out your childhood fantasies out by dancing around in Rafayel's room. If you asked, you're sure he'd hire someone to replicate the same dress the main character from that movie wears too. "Wouldn't that be embarrassing? Anyone who comes here would see it."

"Yeah, something tells Thomas won't care. And if anyone else does come here, they'll probably write a boringly long article meant to flatter me. Renowned artist is super nice and generous to his childish girlfriend—"

"Says the guy who cried during Island Princess," you fire back, "also, it's nice to know you're only trying to spoil me for acclaim."

"Hello? Did you miss the part where I said boringly long? I'm trying to spoil you because I want you to spend my money."

"Why? It turns you on or something?"

"Maybe," he grins, pretending to lean in to kiss you, then sinking his teeth into your cheek once more the second you purse your lips to meet him halfway. With a quiet growl, you kick at his feet, and he only laughs against your skin. "Come oooon, I'm serious. Tell me at least one expensive thing I can get you."

Finally, you open your eyes, looking up at him with all your sincerest conviction. "Raf. If you wanna ruin your reputation and renovate your floor into the Twelve Dancing Princesses one just to prove a point, go for it. But I'm warning you, I'm gonna have to give you the best head of your life if you do that."

Rafayel groans, the hand that's not up your shirt tangling into your hair. "Don't tell me that, you're gonna force me to be selfless and turn it down. This isn't transactional. I give you my card and tell you to go wild, and then you just do it. Nothing in return."

Ah, yes, the Raf classic. Say the sweetest possible thing in the most irritating way he possibly can. Well, two can play at that game.

"If you give me your card and expect nothing in return, I'm going to strictly buy paint supplies in all your favorite brands, all your favorite colors—"

"I don't have favorite colors—"

Clamping a hand over his mouth, you press on. "And your weak attempt to spoil me will fall flat because not only will I only buy things you like, but I'll wire you the entire amount of what I spend the next day."

He lets out a dramatic half-whine, shaking you a little. "Man, you're so embarrassing!" Tugging you closer, he drowns out your complaints with his own protests. "So clingy, stop getting so close to me! Oh my god," he moans, holding your hand tighter the more you try to fight him and pull back, "get away from me, stalker. Let go!"

"Holy shit, you're so annoying—"

"And you're so obsessed with me, it's concerning."

For once, you're the one pouting at him. "I'm trying to sleep. You're really warm. Can you please push my limits later?"

An affectionate smile lights up his face. "Yeah, okay. As long as you agree tomebuyingyouapradabag."

"No."

Rafayel snorts, tucking his face into your hair. "And you think you could handle being a sugar baby."

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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lecsainz · 10 months

Text

TATTOOED

request: could you write something with lewis or daniel where there reader is a tattoo artist and she gives him a tattoo and he starts flirting and asks her out? if not its totally okay! sending all my love

pairings: daniel ricciardo x tattoo artist!reader

authors note: I can't even, but like carolina by harry styles was totally stuck in my head while I was writing! it's like, seriously playing on loop in my brain and I can't even deal with it

✩. . . masterlist !

Daniel Ricciardo had always been a fan of tattoos, and it wasn't just for show – he had thousands of inked stories etched across his body. He had a genuine appreciation for art, relishing the meanings they held for him.

He hadn't really planned on getting another tattoo during his off-time from Formula 1 while in Miami. But there he was, stepping into a small, incredibly cool studio – at least in his perspective – though who was he to judge what was cool.

"Hey?" he leaned casually against the wooden counter. "Anyone here?"

"Hey! How can I help you?" A petite girl with a few doodles on her arms seemed to appear out of nowhere.

His lips curl into a charismatic smile, "I'm thinking about adding some more art to this masterpiece," he gestures to his arm covered in ink. "What do you think?"

She chuckles softly, "Well, I think you've got a pretty good canvas already."

He laughs, her quick wit catching him off-guard. "True that. But I've got a spot that's feeling a little empty."

"And what kind of art are you thinking?" she raises an eyebrow, her eyes curiously tracing over his existing tattoos.

He taps his chin playfully, "You know, something meaningful. Something that'll give my other tattoos a run for their money."

She nods in understanding, "Got any specific design in mind?"

Daniel leans in a little, his playful grin not wavering, "How about a cheeky smiley face? Right here," he points to an empty space on his arm.

She lets out a laugh, clearly not expecting that. "I can definitely do that," she says, amusement dancing in her eyes.

As she sets up her equipment, they fall into easy conversation. He learns that she's not just a tattoo artist; she's a storyteller who helps people etch their tales into their skin.

Throughout the tattoo process, their conversation flows effortlessly. She shares stories about the tattoos she's done and the emotions behind them, while he tells tales from his racing experiences. He realizes that she's genuinely interested in people's stories, and it's something he finds refreshing.

As she works on his arm, he finds himself studying her, noticing the way her brows furrow in concentration and the occasional smile that tugs at her lips. He's captivated by her passion for her craft.

"So, what's the story behind this one?" she asks, her fingers gently tracing a scar on his forearm.

He hesitates for a moment, then decides to share. "That's from a crash a while back. Nothing serious, but it reminds me of how far I've come."

Her eyes meet his, and he can see a mixture of understanding and admiration. "It's amazing how life's twists and turns can leave marks that become part of who we are."

He nods, his gaze lingering on hers. "You get it."

As she finishes up, he examines the smiley face tattoo with a grin. "It's perfect. Might just be my new lucky charm."

She smirks, "I'll take credit for your future wins then."

He chuckles, "Deal. But I'll need a lucky charm in return – your name."

She blinks, her eyes widening a bit. "You want my name as a tattoo?"

He laughs, realizing he might have caught her off-guard. "No, just your name. I'm Daniel."

She smiles, extending her hand, "Nice to officially meet you, Daniel. I'm Y/N."

He takes her hand, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "The pleasure's all mine, Y/N."

He leaves the studio that day with a new tattoo and something more – a sense of connection and curiosity about Y/N. As he walks out into the Miami sunlight, he finds himself debating what to do next. But, as always, he doesn't back down from a challenge.

Y/N looks up from her work as the bell above the door chimes. Her eyes widen in surprise as she sees Daniel standing there, holding flowers. "Hey," he greets, his voice a bit more uncertain than usual.

"Forgot something?" she teases, her voice holding a light note.

He scratches the back of his neck, sheepishly. "Yeah, I know it might sound a bit forward, but how about we grab a drink tonight?"

She chuckles, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Wow, smooth move, Daniel."

He grins, his signature charm kicking in. "I mean, we did establish a connection over art and stories. I thought it'd be a shame not to continue that."

She raises an eyebrow, teasing. "You must really trust me if you're inviting me to a dark alley for drinks."

He laughs, the sound genuine and carefree. "Oh, I'd never take you to a dark alley. It's a rooftop bar with a view – much safer."

She feigns contemplation, tapping a finger to her lips. "Hmm, rooftop bar, huh? Well, I guess I can make an exception for a charming race car driver."

He pumps a fist in the air, playfully victorious. "Yes! You won't regret it, promise."

She grins, shaking her head. "Alright, Daniel, you've got yourself a date. But you better not show up in a racing suit."

He feigns a pout, "But I look so good in them."

"Save the suit for the track. Just be yourself," she replies with a warm smile.

He nods, his eyes locking onto hers. "I'll see you tonight, Y/N."

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asdfghjklmals · 7 months

Text

BACK TO SCHOOL✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. adoptedkiddos! megumi & tsumiki. overprotective!oc.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend and satoru take megumi and tsumiki to get registered for school! AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was such a random piece that was sitting in my drafts, but i wanted to write more of guardian oc gojo girlfriend and satoru. oc gojo girlfriend will throw down with anyone who says shit about her kids or her man lol i think it's her scorpio sign. and y'all know she joined the pta because she's spiteful hahaha. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

"satoru, you have to take megumi and tsumiki shopping for school supplies and clothes after your morning jujutsu practice today." you called out to him while brushing your hair, "i can't go with you because i'm showing the first years around today... and then we need to take them to register for school tomorrow morning."

satoru stepped out of the steamy shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, eucalyptus body wash aroma filling the air. he made his way to your side to peck a kiss on your cheek. his wet hair dripping all over you, bright blue eyes gazing at you in adoration.

"sure thing sweetheart, but don't get mad at me if i choose something for the kids that you don't particularly like."

you held his cheek in the palm of your hand, glaring at him, "just make sure the kids' clothes match and don't waste their money. the kids don't need designer clothing."

satoru gave you a smirk and squeezed your shoulders as if he was saying ‘fine…’

“i gotta go. don't get into any trouble, okay?”

"me? trouble? never heard of it." satoru winked at you.

you glared at him as he grinned, kissing him quickly on the cheek before you attempted to leave his room.

"(y/n)?" satoru called out to you.

you turned around to see what your boyfriend wanted. "what is it, satoru?" you groaned, "i'm gonna be late."

"you gotta give me a proper goodbye kiss. none of that soft bullshit."

you reluctantly walked back over to him and giggled. "you are too much, satoru gojo."

how could you say no to a freshly showered satoru gojo enticing you with a kiss?

satoru pulled you into his lap as you straddled his waist. "now i'm definitely going to be late." you laughed.

the white haired sorcerer whispered in your ear, "just one kiss and i'll let you go."

later that day: satoru's pov

satoru, tsumiki and megumi walked around a local shopping mall in tokyo. there was a specific clothing boutique in ginza that you liked to buy clothes for the kids at.

the two fushiguros trailed behind their guardian. megumi sure missed your presence today. why did gojo-sensei have to take them back-to-school shopping instead of you? megumi always felt more comfortable whenever you were around, he always felt so small around gojo-sensei. your comforting presence always made him feel better.

tsumiki tugged at satoru's uniform, "sensei, how come (y/n) isn't coming shopping with us?"

"she's busy showing the first years around the school today," satoru smiled, "—so your cool and totally awesome sensei is going to take you guys shopping instead."

the trio entered the familiar children's boutique as an employee recognized satoru and waved. "good morning, satoru! no (y/n) today?"

"not today. she’s busy with student body president duties this year," satoru flashed a smile at the employee. he turned to his partner-in-crime, “—tsumiki, let's start with you first.”

satoru started browsing through the girl’s clothing for tsumiki. during his scan, he spotted a pink tutu. he thought that it was adorable, and tsumiki had to have it. he thought to himself, 'i'll probably get a lecture for this one, but it's too cute to pass up'.

tsumiki ended up choosing pink and neutral colored clothing. she was such a girly girl, and you had so much fun dressing her up and taking her to her dance and cheer lessons.

once satoru finished picking out some new pieces for tsumiki, he started to look at clothes for megumi. picking out clothes for boys was much easier since he knew nothing about girls' clothes. he rarely bought you clothes for that reason, especially since he knew that you were so picky.

satoru chuckled to himself when he thought of the time where he tried to buy you lingerie as a joke and almost got a high pressured water cannon shot to his face. luckily, he had his infinity on or you would've drowned him in the yokohama bay.

the white-haired guardian picked up two pairs of jeans in navy blue and black. he added shirts that megumi could layer, and new shoes into the shopping cart. he noticed that megumi was growing out of his clothes and shoes now. that kid was going to have a growth spurt soon. megumi brought over a couple of pieces of clothing he wanted and placed it in the cart innocently. satoru peered over at him.

"did you get everything you wanted, megumi?"

the child avoided eye contact with satoru, "yeah, i did."

he turned over to the older fushiguro. "—and what about you, tsumiki?"

she shot a bright smile at satoru, "yup!"

“alright, let’s head to the stationary shop.”

satoru and the children went towards the cashier to check out. he swiped his black credit card to pay for the clothes.

"sensei, that's not the bank card!" tsumiki gasped, wondering why satoru didn't use the card that was intended for tsumiki and megumi’s use.

satoru chuckled, "you're right, kiddo. this is from me and (y/n). consider it a back-to-school gift."

tsumiki's eyes sparkled, "whoa, thank you gojo-sensei!"

"thank you, sensei." megumi added to show his appreciation too, however he still avoided eye contact.

satoru smiled and ruffled megumi's hair, "you're both very welcome. make sure to give (y/n) a big ol’ hug when you see her tonight too, okay?"

the two fushiguros nodded obediently at him. of course they would give you a hug when they got home to show their appreciation. they loved you with all their hearts. you were the mother figure in their lives that they didn’t know they needed.

providing for tsumiki and megumi with your own money was something you and satoru talked about when you decided to take in the kids as your own. the plan was to set aside their financial aid money so that they would be set once they turned 18. since you and satoru came from wealthy clans, it was the least you two could do for them.

"next, we need to buy school supplies..." satoru announced as he held the shopping bags full of clothes in one hand and his shopping list that you wrote for him this morning in another, "—then we can go back to jujutsu high and have some dinner."

satoru felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. sure enough, it was you.

"hi babe." satoru greeted you over the phone with a smile.

"how's shopping with the kids?" you asked.

"i know you're going to yell at me when i get home, so i might as well tell you now—i bought tsumiki a tutu."

"satoru gojo... a tutu?!"

satoru corrected you, "excuse me, but it's 'sweetheart' or ‘babe’, to you."

"satoru..." you grumbled.

he corrected you again, "babe—"

satoru chuckled at your stubbornness, using his last name whenever you were trying to be serious with him did not scare him as much as it used to. he could tell when you were truly upset with him and when you weren’t—and this was not one of those times.

"fine then. babe, a tutu? really?" you asked in disbelief. you pinched your nose bridge in annoyance.

"it was too cute, i couldn't resist." satoru argued, "—plus, i used my own card. so don't chastise me."

you changed the subject, "is megumi doing okay without me?"

"he's just being himself... quiet." satoru cocked his head to the side to see what megumi was up to, "sounds like you're showing favorites, sweetheart. how come you never ask about tsumiki?"

"because i know that tsumiki already loves you, it's megumi i'm worried about. he's so shy around you." you explained, "—and i don't have favorites. i love them both equally."

satoru flirted with you, "what about me? am i not your favorite? do you even love me?"

"i definitely love them more than you." you teased him, "are you coming home soon?"

satoru ignored your comment about loving the kids more than him. he would make it his mission to make sure you loved him more than anything in this world.

"we'll be home soon. the kids are picking out their school supplies."

"principal yaga said that we're having a dinner to celebrate the new students. so make sure you’re back on time, please.”

satoru rolled his blue eyes so far back in his head he hoped they would get stuck. that meant that he'd have to see principal gakuganji, and he was definitely towards the bottom of his list of favorite people at jujutsu high.

“okay, babe. whatever you say.” satoru sighed.

you giggled over the receiver, “i love you, satoru gojo.”

“i love you too, sweetheart.”

satoru clamped his flip phone shut and placed it back into his front pocket. he called out to the kids, “what do you say we get some ice cream before we head back to jujutsu high? (y/n) says it's okay if we're a little late.”

the next morning

your alarm rang while satoru groaned in your chest, face buried against your sternum as you cradled his head with your arms.

"five more minutes..." satoru mumbled breathlessly into your chest.

you tried to sit up, satoru refusing to let go of you with his strong arms. you grabbed your pillow and hit him upside the head with it. you got a lucky strike, no infinity.

"wake up! we told principal kinomoto that we'd be early."

satoru took the pillow you threw at him and tossed it on the ground. he grabbed you by your waist to pull your body on top of his. you squealed as you tried to get out of his grasp.

you held his face in the palm of your hands. "wake up, babe."

satoru continued to groan. you peeled his arms off of you and stepped out of the bed. he watched you make your way into the bathroom. you were wearing one of his white uniform button ups and his briefs. your messy hair cascaded down your back. you were a sight to behold in the morning. satoru felt like he was hiding a national treasure in his room whenever you were with him.

satoru reached his arms under his pillow, stretching his long body. he called out to you, "did i ever mention that you look great in my clothes?"

you rolled your eyes at him before shooting back a half-grin. god, he loved that crooked smile of yours. he gave you a scoff in return. you ran the water so you could wash your face and brush your teeth.

after you and satoru spent the early morning sneaking kisses on each other and getting ready together, you both walked over to tsumiki and megumi's room to get them ready for the day. you took care of megumi as satoru took care of tsumiki. while you were buttoning up megumi's shirt, you watched as satoru brushed and tied tsumiki's hair into two perfect pigtails.

the 7 year old reached for her jar of butterfly clips and handed them to satoru. he picked out two pink ones to clip into her hair, making sure her bangs were out of her face.

you patted megumi's shoulders, smiling at the younger fushiguro, "there we go, megumi. you look so handsome in your new shirt."

megumi blushed, looking down at his tan-colored button-up. "gojo-sensei chose it for me."

"lookin' good there, kiddo." satoru smiled at him and then turned to you, "doesn't tsumiki look great too, sweetheart?"

you smiled back at satoru and tsumiki, "of course she does. she's my little girly girl."

tsumiki twirled around in her new pink dress. she was so darn cute. satoru bent down to tighten the straps on her shoes. he pat her head as she hugged his leg. the kids were so tiny compared to satoru. you really did look like little family when you were out in public together.

after getting ready, tsumiki and satoru led the way to the dining hall while you and megumi trailed behind them. the four of you grabbed breakfast before heading out into the city.

at the elementary school

you could hear the whispers about you and satoru through your spirit birds. the other mothers were asking each other if you and satoru were actually tsumiki and megumi's real parents, how old you two were, and many other unsolicited questions and thoughts.

you had all the registration paperwork for megumi and tsumiki in your backpack as you sat down at a pavilion table to fill out the remaining papers with satoru.

"babe—" you turned to satoru who was watching tsumiki and megumi play on the playground, "should i put you down as the primary emergency contact?"

satoru had a red lollipop in his mouth that he got from the front desk, his sunglasses were resting on his nose bridge. he took the lollipop out of his mouth to reply to you, "sure, sweetheart. but why not put yourself down?"

"well—" you bit your lip in hesitation, "i was thinking that since you can teleport, you could get here faster if anything happened to the kids." you rested your chin on your hand and leaned into him. he put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

"makes sense to me."

you and satoru watched the kids in adoration as tsumiki already made new friends on the playground. she was prancing around the field while megumi was hanging on the monkey bars.

two women approached you, startling you and satoru out of your focused adoration for the kids.

"excuse me. are you those children's mother?" the woman pointed at tsumiki and megumi. "—the one with the brown hair and the blue hair."

"we're their guardians." you introduced you and satoru, "i'm (y/n) and this is my boyfriend, satoru."

the second mother playfully hit the first mother on the shoulder, "see? i told you that they're too young to be their parents. she barely looks like she's in high school."

"why do you ask?" satoru asked defensively, furrowing his eyebrows.

you put your hand on satoru's arm, a motion to tell him to fall back and that you'd handle this. he always came to your defense when it came to you or the kids… but he knew that you were on a different level of overprotective when it came to tsumiki and megumi. satoru just sat back and continued to watch the show.

"well, this school is a very prestigious school for children. we know almost everyone and all the families who attend here... and we've never seen you two around or those two kids." the second mother sneered at the both of you.

the first mother feigned shock, "they don't have a mother or father... that's so sad."

you glared at the two women, "just because we aren't their biological parents doesn't mean that they aren't being properly cared for. satoru and i have given them everything they need and they are in a loving environment."

you weren’t sure how loving an environment like the tokyo jujutsu high dorms actually was… but you and satoru made it clear to tsumiki and megumi that you both loved and cared for them, and that if they ever needed or wanted anything, it was theirs. the world was their oyster with you and satoru by their sides.

"well then. that's good to hear." the first mother started to turn her back towards you, "it was a pleasure meeting you, miss (y/n)?"

"(l/n)." you corrected her. just because she was older than you didn't mean that she could call you by your first name.

"we hope to see you around at school events." the second mother interrupted, "we volunteer at the school quite a bit. parents... or shall i say... guardians that volunteer help their kids gain recognition within the school. i'm sure we'll see you around if you don't want your kids to fall behind."

the two women started to walk away, snickering between themselves. satoru waved them off and patted your thigh to try to calm you down.

"just ignore them, sweetheart. they’re just old women whose husbands don’t actually love them." he tried to comfort you, grabbing your hand to kiss your knuckles. “—and i love you, so you’ll never be like them.”

you motioned one of your spirit birds to fly forward, following the two women. satoru sighed in defeat, he knew you weren't going to just ignore them. he started to grin though, this was one of things that made you so attractive in his eyes. it was that fire in you. you never stepped down from a fight.

"that blue haired child looks like he's going to be trouble. look at him! he looks like a delinquent." "we need to make sure that our children don't get involved with them. we don't even know what their guardians do for a living." "how are they even paying for tuition?" "i doubt those two can even afford to pay for the tuition here. they’re just teenagers!"

you grit your teeth, jaw clenched in anger, lips pursed. satoru could feel your cursed energy waver. he nudged you one last time, "babe, come on. let’s just go back to filling out paperwork."

"you heard what they said about our kids."

you slammed your pen against the table. you got up and walked towards the two women. satoru signed and folded his arms to watch the remainder of the show. he wished he had popcorn for this. he was ready to hold you back if needed, but he actually liked seeing you get feisty like this. he knew you could hold your own against anyone, including him.

"excuse me!" you called out to the two women, "hey! you two!"

the two mothers turned around, looking back at you, appalled at your approach.

"say one more thing about megumi and tsumiki!" you pointed at them with your index finger. "let's see what happens!"

"don't you know where our families come from? ever heard of the (l/n) clan or the gojo clan? the audactiy of you two to question how we can afford to pay for tuition. their tuition was paid fully in cash. you can ask the cashier over there." you pointed towards the cashier's window.

the first mother stammered, she was shocked that you confronted them, "well, i—"

"just because i'm young doesn't mean that i can't be a good mother to megumi and tsumiki." you snapped at them, "those two 'delinquents' mean the world to me. i can provide them whatever they need or want in order for them to live a happy life. maybe you two should focus on your own children instead of mine."

"that's enough out of you!" the second mother snapped back at you, "who do you think you are? who taught you how to be so disrespectful towards your elders?"

"—can i ask what's going on here?" a man with gray hair and grey eyes approached the three of you, interrupting the cat fight. satoru jumped in his seat and started to whistle, pretending not to have been listening on the sidelines.

"oh! principal kinomoto!" the first woman ran to his side, "this rude child was just causing a scene!"

principal kinomoto recognized you, "(y/n) (l/n)?"

"hi principal kinomoto!" you waved.

the two mothers looked at you in shock. they were surprised that you and the principal were already acquainted, wondering how you knew him.

"what's all the commotion about?" the principal asked again.

"well, these two had some stuff to say about my kids." you reported back to the grey haired principal, pointing at the two women.

"i see… is this true?" the principal turned to the two, "you know we don't tolerate this type of behavior. the (l/n) clan donates heavily to all the schools in tokyo. let's not jeopardize their generous contributions to our school due to some unwarranted comments."

the two women's jaw dropped. they were speechless. they absolutely knew about the (l/n) clan. they just didn’t think you were from that (l/n) clan.

"(y/n), we have much to catch up on. i saw that you and satoru are enrolling two children here."

"what's up, principal!" satoru called out. satoru made his way to you and the principal. he put his arm around your waist and shook hands with principal kinomoto.

he introduced satoru again to the two women, "mrs. fujiwara, mrs. yoshida. this is satoru gojo. the gojo clan also donate tremendously to this school as well. as a matter of fact, they're the ones that paid for the new library last fall."

"you two may leave now, i have to speak with the principal." you said to the two women, "you should go find your children."

mrs. fujiwara and mrs. yoshida quickly turned around and called for their children from the playground. it looked like they wouldn't be bothering you or your kids any time soon.

"ignore those two. they’re known for their gossip. let's sit down and catch up." principal kinomoto ushered you and satoru back to the table you were sitting at. "(y/n), how is touya? i haven't seen him in so long!"

"he's great. he's working on becoming the head of the household."

"—and are you at jujutsu high with satoru?"

satoru ruffled your hair, "yep, she is! we're third years now. gonna graduate soon!"

"so tell me about these kids you're enrolling." the principal peered over at the playground.

"would you like to meet them?" you asked with a smile. “they’re just the best kids.”

satoru called out to the two fushiguros, "hey! megumi! tsumiki! can you guys come here real quick?"

megumi jumped down from the monkey bars, tsumiki slid down from the metal slide she was on. they both ran towards you and satoru. tsumiki jumped into satoru's arms while megumi attached himself to your side.

"principal kinomoto, meet megumi and tsumiki fushiguro." you introduced the two fushiguros to their future principal with a cheeky smile, "—they're mine and satoru's kids."

"kiddos, say hi to principal kinomoto." satoru said, "he's a good friend of ours."

principal kinomoto reached his hand out for a handshake, "nice to meet you two."

you and satoru watched as tsumiki and megumi nervously shook hands with their principal and said hi. they were so cute in the way they interacted with him.

after getting acquainted, you shoo'd them off, “you two can go back and play now.”

they quickly smiled and waved, running back to play on the playground with their new friends. once megumi was back on the monkey bars, you turned to the principal, "principal kinomoto, i do have some concerns."

"what's on your mind, (y/n)?"

"i'm not worried about tsumiki fitting in, but i am worried about megumi." you sighed, hoping that megumi would be okay in school without you.

satoru added, "—megumi might cause a little trouble for you, principal."

the grey haired principal laughed, "is he a troublemaker like you, satoru?"

"you have no idea." you scoffed.

"the kid's a zen'nin with the ten shadows technique." satoru mentioned.

principal kinomoto looked at you and satoru, "you don't say?" he adverted his attention to megumi on the playground, "what shikigami has he tamed have so far?"

"just the demon dogs. he's starting to see nue and gamma though. so don't be surprised if you see two puppies named shiro and kuro on school grounds." satoru chuckled.

principal kinomoto was actually a grade one jujutsu sorcerer and was in the same class as touya. after graduation, he left to work as a non-sorcerer because he didn't like the mental toll being a jujutsu sorcerer put on him. he ended up going into education because he loved kids. if he couldn't save children from curses, he would save them another way, through education. him and his wife, mrs. akita, ran the school that you were enrolling megumi and tsumiki at. it was satoru's idea to register the kids here knowing the ties they had with the jujutsu society.

“don't worry. tsumiki and megumi will be taken care of here.”

"thanks so much, principal." you let out a relieved sigh, "that's one less thing to worry about."

"being a parent is hard," the principal laughed, pointing at you and satoru, "—but you two... when did that become a thing?"

"she fell in love with me at first sight." satoru interjected with a cocky smirk.

"—absolutely not." you threw an ice shard at his infinity, "i can't get rid of him... it's been almost two years now? satoru broke my domain expansion from the outside when i was sparring with touya. that's how we first met." (read 'love at first fight' here)

principal kinomoto teased you both, "—so it was love at first sight?"

"more like first fight. satoru didn't even like me at first." you told the principal. he was enthralled with your love story.

satoru rolled his eyes, "—that's not true!"

"i'm actually surprised that your brother didn't kill satoru when he found out you two were dating." principal kinomoto shrugged.

"god, touya and satoru love each other. they're bestfriends now. sometimes i think touya loves satoru more than me."

"well, give your brother my regards," principal kinomoto got up from his seat, "i have to get back to the office. i'm sure i have plenty of parents waiting to meet with me."

"take care." you waved.

"yeah, take care. we'll send the check for the monthly donation this week." satoru called out to the principal. you and satoru were now in charge of the clans’ donations to the school since you'd be visiting the school often.

principal kinomoto waved and brushed you two off, "don't worry about it. take your time with the donations. akita and i are happy to have megumi and tsumiki starting at the school."

you and satoru watched as the principal walked away from the pavilion table. you both sighed in relief. you didn’t think that being ‘parents’ at such a young age was in the cards for you and satoru... but he just had to bring home two adorable children for you to raise.

"that was hot." satoru giggled. the corner of his eyes started to wrinkle as he tried holding back his boisterous laugh.

"what was hot?" you asked.

"the way you stood up to those two moms." satoru said, "i love when you get feisty."

you leered at him, a cheshire grin spreading across your face, "—oh you love when i get feisty?"

"—but not with me!" satoru quickly said with his palms up in defense.

you rolled your eyes at him and finished filling out megumi and tsumiki's registration paperwork while the sly sorcerer snuck tender kisses on your cheek.

you scribbled your signature on the last line. after a moment, you turned to satoru, “should i join the parent-teacher association?”

EXTRA:

“(y/n), can i get the 64 pack of crayons with the sharpener in the back?” megumi asked in hopes that you'd say yes. he had always wanted the 64 pack of crayons.

satoru looked at the younger fushiguro, “you only need 12 crayons to color. who do you think you are? picasso?”

you glared at satoru and turned to megumi, “yes, you can have the 64 pack, megumi. get one for tsumiki too. and your gojo-sensei will pay for it."

"wha—hey!" satoru called out as you, megumi, and tsumiki walked away from him to head to the next aisle.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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fruity-fruition · 2 months

Text

Tenma siblings headcanons from the top of my head

I'm a FIRMM believer that Tenma siblings are very physically affectionate (i.e. hugs, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, high fives, shoulder bumping, cuddling, hair ruffling, etc)

This takes Toya fully by surprise when they do it to him outright, without any room for denial.

Tsukasa was eating breakfast with Saki and Toya before realizing he was going to be late for a meet-up with Wondershow.

He has this thing, where he instinctively kisses Saki on the forehead before he heads off, so he does. But, in his unfiltered older brother instinct and disarray, he kisses Toya on the forehead too. And just. Leaves.

Toya kinda blue screens before snapping back and being like "what."

Saki doesn't even bat an eye lmao she just kinda looks at him like he's a little weird.

Toya: (literally saw Tsukasa kiss Saki's forehead first before beelining to him without any hesitation) "I think... he mistook me for you"

Saki: "Toya you dumb fuck (/affectionate) you've been one of us since you stepped foot in our house"

Tenma siblings cuddle a lot, usually on the couch during movies. Tsukasa in the middle, Saki to his right, and Toya to his left. They aren't aware of the set position but whenever they switch, all of them all at once just think "something is not right rn"

While cuddling, Tsukasa often uses his right hand (which Saki is leaning on) to either scroll his phone, read, or so show work (costume designing, script writing, ideas, etc). He always leans his head on Saki's. He uses his left hand to run through Toya's hair.

Toya starts referring to Saki and Tsukasa as his siblings and family outside sometimes.

Saki and Tsukasa listens to pop music sometimes. Not their main music taste, but enough for it to be significant.

This culminates to a very confusing moment for VBS, who've met Toya's biological, douche, emotionally constipated classical music family, when they hear Toya say "Oh, yeah I know Taylor Swift. My family listens to her sometimes."

Which scared VBS to their core because why is Harumichi Aoyagi listening to western white girl music

Tsukasa loves baking and cooking. It's a stress reliever thing for him. This is a huge bonus for his siblings (mainly Saki. Toya's not a huge sweets person) because there's always sweets in the pantries.

Toya never sneaks into the kitchen alone, he wouldn't dare. Plus, again, not a huge sweets person. Saki, however, is a horrible influence. They often have 2am gossip, accompanied by brownies and vanilla ice cream.

Toya and Saki can't cook for their life. (I know canonically, they're okay-ish, but hear me out.)

Toya, raised as a rich kid for most his life, has never cut a single raw ingredient in his life until his late teen years.

Saki's been hospitalized for the majority of her life.

Tsukasa's the only Tenma sibling with cooking and baking skills (considering he had to fend for himself for a while)

While they were baking together, Toya and Saki managed to get the batter on the ceiling AND explode the microwave because the batter had too much eggshells in it when they put it in. Tsukasa had to call Rui over to fix it.

Tsukasa: "I can't pay you for now, Rui I'm so sorry-"

Rui: "Don't worry about it, Tsukasa"

Tsukasa: "I'll repay you in sweets when we're done?"

Rui: "...preferably not ceiling ones but yeah I'd like that"

Speaking of,

Ruikasa starts dating and Tsukasa swears that Rui had nothing to worry about when it comes to his family. They're welcoming! They're open! They'll love him.

Rui decided to not tell him about the glares coming from a certain pinkish blonde and split haired boy when they announced the news. (At least the parents were sweet)

Toya and Saki actually has no real gripes against Rui. They're protective, sure, they will eventually corner Rui and interrogate him, but Saki just thinks it's funny and Toya is just Toya. Rui's paranoid lmao

Akito punching Toya in the main story left a bruise (as seen in the official animation) which Tsukasa and Saki got really concerned about during their arcade hangout (Toya's first 3* side story).

Tsukasa figured out that Akito was the one who did it, and ranted to Saki about it. But he retracts it when the duo made up.

Saki isn't letting that shit go, oh no. This GINGER punched her brother?? Then, she started hearing about how Akito likes messing with Tsukasa, even insulting him to his face sometimes.

So she has a personal beef with Akito. Who didn't even know she existed.

When Akito first step foot into the Tenma household, he was dreading the presence of Tsukasa, but to his shock and horror, Tsukasa is actually more tame at home.

His biggest worry should've been the girl with pigtails, who, upon seeing him, got up from her chair and heads straight to her room. not breaking eye contact.

It takes a while, but Saki and Akito gains an unlikely alliance.

Names I gave to the Tenmas:

Tenma siblings: All three of them, at once

Tenma Twins: Saki and Toya

Tenma brothers: Tsukasa and Toya

Prototype Tenma: Tsukasa and Saki

(real original I know)

Kohane is Wondershow's number #1 fan, probably Tsukasa's number #6 fan (I love her but her competition is Saki, Toya, and Wondershow. Idk what to tell you. At least she got a number)

She absolutely loses it when Toya got them all free tickets to one of their shows.

Akito dreads going. An is slightly excited. Kohane is radiating pure joy.

Akito nearly cries when when Kohane admits that she actually likes Tsukasa as a person, not just a performer, when she properly meets him.

Akito: "An you're my only hope. Toya's biased, Kohane's insane"

An: "idk dude Tenma and Kamishiro are pretty cool when they're not actively trying to blow the school up"

Akito: "An please"

I have so much more idk maybe I'll post more later

#pjsk #tsukasa tenma #saki tenma #toya aoyagi #toya tenma #tenma siblings #tenma tsukasa #tenma saki #tenma toya #aoyagi toya #project sekai #ruikasa #for a brief moment #pjsk headcanons #this started as a small post but I got carried away #fru posts

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jinuaei · 5 months

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Dare

I saw a vid on twitter where the dude came while tattooing his own dick. Couldn't get out of my mind so now I have to write it about Leon because he's my muse. RE2r Leon in my mind but with a lil bit RE4r body. NO OUTBREAK HERE.

I also don't have any experience in tattoos in general so pardon me for getting stuff wrong.

Update: Put the vid in question, unsafe twitter link underneath the fic

Warning: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Multiple orgasms(Leon), tattooing, needles, dacryphilia, UNSAFE LINK BELOW

Word count: 2.2k

Leon S. Kennedy x Tattoo artist! Reader

This was a bad idea.

Leon feels stupid standing outside the studio, he can't believe he's actually going to do a stupid dare that Chris forced him to do. He's going to get his dick tattooed. Thankfully, Chris was gracious enough to give him the freedom to choose his own tattoo.

I'll just get a small one and go.

But once he steps in and is greeted by the tattoo artist, he realizes that maybe he might get a bigger one after all.

You stood there with a smile, the tattoos on your body proudly shown to the world-- and holy fuck it was hot. He stammers a hello and nervously looks around, feeling awkward being in a place that he clearly doesn't belong in. There were a few people inside, 2 customers and another tattooist doing work on one of them, and of course there was you.

Chuckling at him, you guide this bumbling blond to your chair, showing him a catalogue of the designs that you do. He was overwhelmed with the choices so ultimately he just looked at you with his big blue eyes.

"Uh.. could...could you choose one for me? Something that you think would look good on me..."

...

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE ONE FOR YOURSELF???

He mentally punched the air when your relaxed eyes clashes with his wide ones, berating himself for probably annoying you with his indecision.

I-I mean, I don't really know much about tattoos so it would be a good idea to ask them right? I-it's not because I think they're gorgeous and want their approval or something right?? Yeah..

Expecting irritation crossing your face, he braced himself to get screamed at but instead he was met with giddiness. He relaxes under your eyes, finally keeping his nervousness under control.

"I'd love that! I was meaning to do a design I came up with recently, so if you don't mind I can do that to you?"

He nods eagerly, like a happy puppy getting asked to go on a walk.

"Great! Where do you want to get tattooed so I can modify it based on the area."

Leon's blood runs cold as the nerves came back ten fold. He forgot that he was going to get a tattoo, on his dick.

"...my dick." He tries to tell you but it only comes out as a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"My dick...!"

"Sorry could you repeat tha-"

"My dick!!! I'm gonna get my dick tattooed...!" He finally shouts, panting, exasperated.

The studio is quiet except for the buzzing of the machines, everyone's eyes was on him. He feels his face flush and tried to hide himself, scrunching into a ball, or close to it at least without looking like a pathetic baby in front of you. But being the angel that you are, only laughed and waved those staring at him as if to say 'this is normal'. Your assistant also laughed but directed the costumers attention to himself, explaining how newbies get nervous like that.

The blond unfurls himself, looking at you with sad eyes. You pat his head and he won't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry dude, we don't judge here. Luckily for you, I have experience in that regard, but you don't look like you have any. Fresh meat?"

"Yeah... This is my first time."

"Bold of you to choose a sensitive part of your body. Really brave bud."

A smile creeps onto his face, delighted at being complimented by you. Yet his mind wanders back to your words earlier, you tattooed other peoples dick before? Internally shaking his head, he then asks when they'll start, which you promptly answered with a right now if you're ready, in which he agreed excited to get done by you... The tattoo he means.

You lead him to a different part of the studio, a more private area to be exact, its smaller with only one chair for the client. Due to him being too excitable he forgot how embarrassing it would be for people to see his dick in general. But if it's you... Of course it's fine! You're tattooing him after all, this is professional work, be professional Leon.

He sits on the chair after you instructed him to, you then proceed to tell him to strip his pants and underwear and roll up his shirt. Before he did that though he had to ask something important.

"Does it matter if I'm hard or not...?"

"Nah, it'll still look the same whether it's flaccid or erected."

Nodding shyly he starts to strip off slowly, almost teasing, which embarrasses him further since he imagines himself looking like he's giving you a strip dance. You wait there patiently, head lowered, arms crossed, eyes switching between his pants to his own. Eventually he lowers his pants and underwear to his ankles, shirt blocking his dick, but when he raises his shirt your eyebrows raise when you see how hard he is. Red angry tip, twitching under your scrutiny.

"Do you like it...?"

"Hm. You're bigger than I expected. Great abs too."

That made him more confident, puffing his chest out in response. He laid down on the chair, readying himself with what's going to happen. On the side he can see you prepare a piece of paper with your design on it. Staring at you, he admires the tattoos that litter your whole body, your arms filled with dark ink, one half filled with intricate details of crosses and angels, he can also see some weird sigils, rings with what looks like Latin on it and stars. He can only assume that underneath your clothes there are more than what he is allowed to see.

The young mans imagination is cut of with a jerk of his hips, startled he looks at you wide eyed and scared. He tried to apologize profusely but you only shook your head and explained that you needed to put the stencil on his dick. Luckily he survived the stenciling as it was done faster than he expected, he can't say the same for the actual tattooing part though.

You we're thankfully very patient with him, caressing his thigh before starting, which his body reacted with a jerk that he somewhat kept to a minimum.

The first thing he noticed was the loud buzzing of the machine, the next is the vibration, finally-- the pain. It was bearable, but that was not the horrific part of this situation, no, it was the fact that he was enjoying the constant stabbing, combined with the vibrations it felt so good on his cock. Leon wouldn't say that he's a masochist, but damnit whatever the fuck is happening turns him on so fucking much.

Shaky breaths start to come out of his mouth, it was getting harder to breathe with the constant stimulation and if he focus hard enough he could actually feel your breath on his thigh. God you were so close to his dick.

"O-oh! Oh God...huff... shit. I like it, why the fuck do I like it???" He mumbles to himself, biting his cheek to suppress the moans that's bubbling up from his throat.

He tries so hard to focus on something else, the paperwork left on the station-- the vibrations... Chris' smug face when he told him the dare-- feels so good..! His best friend at home, his good ol' dog-- FUCK!!!

"STOP!! Stop...! Fuck. Ah...sorry, it's just hahh... Feels too good."

He pants harshly, fingers holding on the smooth leather for dear life. He feels humiliated under your stare, tears starting to prick at his eyes, making it hard to decipher the expression on your face but he can feel the heat in your eyes.

Your eyes hungrily take in his body, appreciating his muscles as well as his pudge in certain areas. With such a sensitive man in front of you, you get to see all of his reactions. The way his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed, his lashes accentuated by the heavy blush spreading from his face. Every flinch causes his body to flex and it is truly a sight for sore eyes.

However, since this is a professional setting, you as the professional doing your job, and him, the client just getting a tattoo on his weeping cock. The same cock that you have to wipe over and over as it drips pre-cum over your work. You tried your best to hold back, managing to stop yourself from ravaging this delectable hunk in front of you. But it was soooo hard to do so.

God... What a cute little thing he is. Makes me want to eat him up.

You tried to wait patiently for him to calm down, you waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes for it to stop twitching but it just wouldn't. stop. dripping. Ultimately you gave him a choice, either you stop here and work on it another time or you keep going regardless of how currently sensitive he his.

A whimper came out of his mouth when he sensed you getting more and more impatient with him. Wanting to please you he chose the 2nd option. The faster he's done the better right?

"If you're gonna cum, tell me."

"Wha- Hngggh...!"

The needles start up again and Leon really held himself back, gripping on the leather beneath his fingers. It worked for a moment but the sensation proves too much when his body jerks forward from a particularly more painful-- but delicious, jab of the needle. His hips was then forced down by your hand slamming itself on his pelvis. Your touch almost made him fall off the edge of the cliff but at that exact moment he had a brilliant idea to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

"Hahh...hng! Fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Pleasepleaseplease...!"

And then immediately proceeding to cum all over his chest and your hand that is still pining him down. Even then you were not strong enough to fully hold him down, his hips almost flying from the chair. Tears stream down his face, a mix of humiliation and pleasure dripping to the leather below. As he calms down from his high, he hears shuffling before suddenly, a weight plops down onto his lap. You didn't even warn him before starting again.

"Wait...! I'm still hnggg... I'm still sensitive!" Not knowing if you heard him or not, he tries again but is cut off with a moan.

"Don't move too much because I'm not stopping until it's done."

You're gonna be the death of him.

Finally after so so so so long you were done with his tattoo. Leon is spent, lying there chest covered with his fluids, t-shirt soaked with a mix of tears, drool, and probably semen. He was still twitching, eyes rolled back, overstimulated to hell and back. He doesn't know how much he came, thrice? Four times? Maybe even more than that but God was it amazing. Nothing could prepare him from the tenderness that you exude as you wipe the tears from his cheeks. You leaned in, face hovering over his as you look him in the eye, cooing at how much of a good boy he is for handling everything so well.

"Thank you... hahh hah..."

You hopped off his lap and went to get a mirror for him. He feels a little loopy with the dopamine rushing through his brain but that didn't stop him from thanking you. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes look at the mirror, showing his cock being held by you. Focusing on the design he can tell how much love you put on it.

It starts from just below the head, the whole thing wrapping around his whole dick. It was something akin to an insect, maybe a scorpion with 4 sharp legs, the head of the creature sprouting tentacles. The tail of it was long, twisting around until it stops, the sharpened end on the base, close to his balls. It was honestly really good, the shading makes it look realistic, almost like it will jump at him and bury itself into his skin. He's kind of sad that it's not similar to any of your tattoos. Still, he's happy to have been marked by you.

"Did you bring extra clothes?"

"What?"

"You can't walk around the streets with a cum stained shirt, and you need to wear looser pants so it won't irritate tattoo."

Chris you better fucking pick up.

I should've called Luis instead.

Chris brought him clothes, probably from his own closet and Leon knew when Chris arrived because he could hear his boisterous laughter right outside the private room. SHIT! If I could hear him, people definitely heard me earlier.

After dressing up and doing the walk of shame towards the main studio, he sees Chris and your assistant laughing their guts out. Yeah they definitely heard me, and he's probably telling Chris everything.

You went over to them and smacked the tanned guy upside the head, introducing him as Carlos. Leon strains a smile, regardless of how much he wants to curl up into a ball and die. But Carlos reassures him that it actually happens and how he also cummed from you tattooing his dick, although he was not as loud as him. After that he was informed how to do aftercare for the tattoo and both him and Chris were off to go home.

Sitting on the passengers seat, Leon tuned out Chris' teasing and how 'I can't believe you actually did it!' and 'Imagine cumming while getting a tattoo LMAO'. On his hand is a piece of paper, written inside is your number and a note that read; 'See you when it heals ;)'.

Hey, maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

The vid in question:

https://twitter.com/miauaoo/status/1740150245672321112?fbclid=IwAR17lRhs4MBgodCPaPNCDPLYxKSiTYr5xonOdN2QpnHtEZjODEXAN-6TuYs

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #sub leon kennedy #sub leon kennedy x reader #resident evil

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 month

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Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

#Soshiro Hoshina X Reader #Soshiro Hoshina / Reader #Soshiro Hoshina #Kaiju No. 8 #Kaiju No 8 #Soshiro Hoshina Imagine #Kaiju No. 8 Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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creatingblackcharacters · 3 months

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Lesson 1: "White Man Painted Black"?

Okay, I recognize that this is a strong foot to step off on! But! If you learn nothing else from this series, if you decide for whatever reason to forsake me: this is the ONE perspective I'd like you to take away!

You may have heard this quote before, when Black fans deride a character design as 'a white man with the brown bucket tool'. On its face, it means exactly what was said. But specifically, what it means is that we recognize that whomever designed the character drew the way they normally draw for a 'default' character in their mind- default usually meaning White/Eurocentric features- and they added a shade of brown within the line art to make that character now 'Black'.

Now if you're feeling defensive, wait just a moment! This discomfort is not inherently a bad thing!

I'm going to use both a 'real world' example first, to show you what your Black fans and peers are seeing, and perhaps you will also understand our discomfort!

(if anyone was curious, my folder for this lesson is titled 'brad' lmao and you'll see why)

(I'll have y'all know that I actually worked very hard to make Blackface Brad look mildly presentable lmao I'm sorry, I'm wheezing, I can hardly breathe looking at him 🤣)

You see how, despite knowing where this was going, and using one of the darkest shades of brown in my Skin Tones arsenal, you still know that that's Brad Pitt? That nothing about his hair texture, his lips, his nose, or really anything other than the palette change... changed? And you can still see that?

It's incredibly hurtful to be told that that's supposed to be you. You know it's not, you know why it's not, but rather than hearing how it makes you feel unseen and what they could do to be better (since they wanted to draw a Black character!), the artist lashes out at you.

And as an artist, you might have worked VERY HARD to do this! That might be a real handsome guy you drew!! But... is he really Black? Did you walk into it with the intention, that you were drawing a Black Character, or did you draw a character that just happened to be Black? It seems like a silly thing, but it matters!

Okay. I just finished laughing over Brad. Now let's get into some more perspective changes:

Now, imagine you drew a character. You want to make her Black, so you change the hair and skin colors. All right! You have your Black character... right?

Changed ONE feature about her? (You should obviously change more than one feature, but let's just go with the simplified example.)

What if, instead of just changing her palette, we changed her:

Hair?

There isn't nearly enough time in the world, let alone in this little scribble and blurb, for me to describe the IMPORTANCE of Black hair in Black character design. There are so many ways to do curls, afros, braids, twists, locs, SO MANY HAIRSTYLES!! Get used to searching in the 3C-4C hair textures!!!! I plan on doing an entire lesson or two on hair alone, but suffice it to say, Hair Texture is thee BIGGEST giveaway that you 'painted a white person Black'- from cartoon styles to realistic! It reveals itself in your writing as well- just based on how your character takes care of their hair, how your describe the texture, how other people might perceive it... it lets me know just how much research was done. Because we can have straight hair! But again, that's a conversation for a whole 'nother lesson so- come back later 👀?

Lips?

I love our lips, I really do. There's a long history of shaming Black women in particular for the way our lips look. So when I see them done in all their glory, it makes me very happy. Two-toned lips vary in shade and intensity, so make sure you're using references if you want to be 'realistic', but it doesn't have to be that hard. Even a little subtle shift like this in the design/story description lets me know that a creator was thinking about me.

Nose?

One thing I've noticed ever since I starting drawing is that... people in a lot of mangas/manhwas barely have noses! I admit, out of all the features on the face, the nose isn't the most important. I think they should be, especially when you want to emphasize that your characters look different! People have different types of noses! I especially want to gear this towards those with a goal of drawing realistic portraits and the like- there, the nose is ANOTHER dead giveaway. There are Black people with aquiline and straight noses- we aren't a monolith- but is that why you drew it? Consider why you went for that nose specifically. That's part of the intent, in all this!

Now, you might be looking at me and going "Ice... this is just character design". To which my answer is: Yes! It is! It feels so basic, and yet if you ask your Black friends/peers how often they've come across this feeling of not being properly drawn/written, from fanart to professionally produced works, it's unfortunately common despite how simple of a concept it is.

I hope that you can walk away from my first lil lesson with new eyes. Remember, it's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!

#creatingblackcharacters #black characters #black artists #black writers #black art #character design

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harrysmimi · 1 year

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Okay okay soooooo this is my request. You totally do not have to but I thought it was cute. So Harry is himself and YN is a teacher at an art teacher at a school and he comes to visit them and the kids react to them being a relationship with himmmmm👀

Also I love your writing and I think you’re amazing❤️❤️

Idk about art that much. But music counts as art as well. Hope you don't mind.

Lunch Time

Synopsis: One where YN's students are shocked to see her husband (WC 1365)

More of my work

"Oh my god! Ms. YLN, Harry Styles literally has the same jumper as you!" Mary, one of YN's students exclaimed as soon as she walked in.

"Oh my— that's literally the same thing!" John, the other one from the very corner of the classroom.

YN was a highschool Music teacher, she was a big part of the art department of her school. All students loved her for some reason she never can pin point.

Today she wore one of her husband's jumper, a old brown one with green designs on the hem and the above the cuffs of the sleeves. When she originally picked it out of her husband's side of the closet she never thought it was something he wore in public where he was pictured.

She's been having symptoms of common flu lately after she visited her mum who had flu as well. Her husband being away on a tour from past six weeks. Though he's returning home later today she still felt the meed to put on one of his jumpers. They are soft, they're warm and they smell like him even though they've been washed.

She could not take few days off as she had already taken all her paid leaves to go see her husband at his Manchester shows. She needed that money to pay off her students loans.

YN never in a million years thought her students, who are bery obviously her husband's hardcore fans to recognise his clothes. It wasn't her first time wearing his clothes to work, that's all she wears om days she doesn't feel like dressing up.

"Oh thank you Mary, it's a gift." YN said. "Okay class settle down now." She began with her class her music history lessons. Taking a small five minutes break to go bring her water bottle she forgot at her office like an idiot.

Just as was about to leave her office, she got a text from her husband. He was coming home early when she told him a yesterday that she was starting to feel sick. He'd seen her be sick just once and it was just awful. He took the first flight home immediately after his show last night from France, which was very late in his opinion.

Mister⭐

- Hiya my love.

- I just landed in London

- Will bring your fave lunch today and we can go see a doctor.

- I love you so much! xx

It warmed her heart to see that. She sent him her lunch time.

- Yes, please.

- I'll ask later if I can take rest of the day off.

Mister⭐

- Yeah, do that baby.

- See you soon!

YN went back to her class but dismissed them early to move onto her next class with her headache boring holes into her skull from inside out. Again she had her students pointing out her jumper.

......................................................................

"How is Mrs. Styles doing?" Harry asked as soon as he stepped into her office with a bag of food from her favourite place, he carefully placed it on her desk.

It had been over a good six months of them getting married and he's still obsessed with her calling that name, especially since she had been so adamant about wanting to take up his last name. He's smitten like a little baby kitten.

"I took a painkiller for my headache but I think I still need to sleep on it." She explained, getting up from her chair and metting him halfway around her desk to take upto his welcoming hug.

"Yeah? We'll go home soon, okay?" He caressed her hair feeling her shake her head in agreement to him. "Gimme a kiss before we eat and I take you to go see doctor."

"I'm sick, don't want you to get sick." She lifted her head up to look at him.

"I literally won't get sick." He counter and got his kiss, smearing his lips onto her.

"We can actually go now, I already talked about taking a sick leave for the rest of the day and tomorrow." She shared.

"We can eat first, I know you skipped your breakfast." He made her sit down and eat as he talked about the shows she misses, which were all of them except for the London and Manchester shows. About the One Direction shirts someone threw at him which he brought with him, the other one he saved for her. Just as she was about say something, there was a knock on her door.

"Ms. YLN do you mind if I come in?" It was Mary, from the class earlier.

YN's head shot to look at her husband who looked completely unphased chowing down his noodles with his best chopsticks using abilities.

"What?" He shrugged.

"She's your fan!" She whispered. Having him caught off guard.

"Go on, I don't mind." Was his answer to her surprise.

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"Come in, Mary." YN called but not before taking another glance at Harry.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt your lunch time, Ms. YLN, I needed help with this assignment that—" the girl with blue dyed hair was completely froze to surprise seeing someone at her professor's office she never could have expected. "Oh my god!"

Harry actually chuckled earning a glance from his wife though he had his shy kode switched on there, "What do you need help with, Mary?"

"I, uhhh... I actually forgot..." She stuttered looking back and forth between the couple, printed notes in her hands, "this, this assignment— I'll come in tomorrow."

"No it's alright, I'm taking a day off tomorrow." YN shared, "don't want your assignment to be delayed."

"Oh— okay." She gulped nervously.

YN went back to her chair behind the desk and had her students doubts cleared up. Though it took her long time to realise she probably did not get a thing.

"Email me your doubts, I'll and refer to the sites I recommended." YN said, writing down a couple of referrals for online sites. "It's okay, you can talk to him."

"Oh my god, Harry! I'm such a huge fan!" Mary bursted out pointing at her Fine Line hoodie.

"Thank you so much." Harry smiled shyly.

"Can, can I ask for a picture?" Mary asked but regretted it as soon as she spoke.

"Actually do you mind if we don't? I can write you up a note." Harry suggested instead.

"That's totally fine! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She freaked out.

"It's alright." Harry assured her. YN smiled and handed him a pen and her sticky note pad. Harry scribbled a sweet note for the girl and signed it for her. "Thank you."

"No, thank you so much." Mary smiled accepting the note Harry gabe her.

"Mary, please don't tell anyone just yet about this if you can." Harry spoke. "Maybe wait for a few days.

"Yeah, no I won't. I really won't." The girl was freaking out, she waved at him before leaving.

"She won't tell anyone Harry, don't worry." YN assured him getting back on her previous seat next to him.

"You think so?"

"I know so." She affirmed, "I've known her for quite a long time now. She's one of the nicest students I have."

"I'm gonna take your word on that." He smiled.

"Oh, and I got my new professor's ID today." YN reached for the ID kept on her desk face down. It had her name changed on her to Prof. YN Styles which had Harry smirking.

"Still won't be able to fathom we're actually married!" His cheek muscles ached from smiling so much in the moment seeing the ID card.

"Neither can I." She chuckled.

They'd known each other for only a year when he proposed and they got married a few months later. It wasn't rushed. But it was still surreal.

Harry was still anxious about Mary trying to post about their little interactions but she didn't. Harry never saw anything on the internet about them. He was relieved to say the least.

YN students liked her enough to not talk shit about her. Plus they needed their good grades to pass out of school.

......................................................................

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts @marialikescherries @japanchrry @onlyangelrain @harrysgirl-1d

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

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shuinami · 10 months

Text

Jess and Hobie: their defining strengths + their weaknesses

I had a thought about Hobie while I was writing, have been thinking about Jess for a while and then this post about Miguel came out and it made me kind of want to yap. I'll only talk about Hobie and Jessica here because I'm biased + Peter & Gwen have been talked about a lot + I linked a post about Miguel + Miles & Pav have simpler, more obvious flaws that basically come down to youthful naivety.

I also find it really interesting that their flaws are basically opposites, Hobie's comes from "inconsistency" whilst Jessica's comes from stubbornness. And again, both these flaws come from their greatest strengths.

TL;dr

Jess' defining strength is her resolve when it comes to fighting for what's right and tussling with destiny but it causes her to have a one-track mind, even if it comes to dedicating herself to something wrong (from being misguided).

Hobie's defining strength is his optimism (e.g. anarcho-communism) but the extreme difficulty of pursuing those ideals and the struggle against systems can bring that optimism to a breaking point, causing him to be inconsistent or, more directly, to give up.

I think people forget that Jessica's pregnancy is by design and not just a 'feature' of Jessica Drew as a character. She was deliberately chosen to be represented in this stage of her life and I think it is so important to her character, even if it's not in the traditional way that pregnancy is typically portrayed as in media.

I think her pregnancy shows the kind of person she is: most obviously, it's cold, hard evidence that she's a bamf who takes care of spidey business even while pregnant.

More importantly to me, though, there's an implication that, as her universe's one and only spidey, she has been the one to save the day and been the change she wishes to seek, effectively enough that she feels comfortable bringing a baby into the world.

Unlike someone like Peter, she does not make the choice between bringing her child to work with her or leaving them behind. She just has to do what she needs to do to make sure her kid is safe, there's no failing for her. During her pregnancy, it's always going to be a matter of life and death. Jess is well aware and, instead of shying away from action, she's just committed to not making those kinds of mistakes. To get over her losses. She's going to take charge of her own world's destiny as she has always done and she's going to make sure it's good.

Her strong allegiance to Miguel's ideas is her most glaring flaw to us as an audience because A. we're seeing things through Miles' eyes, she's standing in the way of him saving his father and B. we know that Miguel can't be right about canon events - we know they wouldn't make the movies as bleak as that.

Of course, taking a step back from our perspective, it's also a flaw because she is being antagonistic to a teenager as a grown adult. It might make her seem cold and harsh.

However, Jess was the one to vouch for Gwen, to take her in, even though Miguel didn't want her to and they could have left things up to the web of destiny. Jess trusts her own capabilities but she doesn't trust the world to be kind. She doesn't assume Gwen can handle things just because she can, either. On top of being sympathetic, I think her dedication to being the change she wishes to see is why she accepts Gwen as a student; she trusts that a young girl can make the world a better place too, it's not a thing where she wants to micromanage everything. She just wants to know the multiverse is in safe hands. That's her "great responsibility".

The only reason she is following the anti-Miles agenda is because Miles, as far as she and anybody else in-movie knows, is jeopardising the existence of every universe (insidiously via the holes). Maybe, in another position, say, a bright-eyed teen who mainly worried about high school and puppy love, she would be more willing to risk things, to see how it goes.

She's not in that position though. Her world that she felt confident she had the power to keep safe has been made uncertain. One day, it could just go poof, along with her baby, and she wouldn't be able to stop it in the moment. If she makes the right decision now, if she doesn't make a mistake, she can prevent it. It's understandable that she's going to do whatever it takes to prevent anomalies.

What was the canon event chosen to represent her?

Her version of the moment from "The Final Chapter".

It comes from a story that largely focuses on Peter's personal life before spiralling into action to make up for a mistake that has made Aunt May fatally ill. In the panel, Spider-Man is trapped under machinery with the cure - the thing that will absolve the mistake - just out of reach. As the lair is flooded, drowning is imminent.

Against all odds, though, Spider-Man pushes past what should have killed him and rises to the occasion, with the thoughts of saving Aunt May and refusing to have a repeat of Uncle Ben.

"I won't fail you. No matter what - I won't fail."

Jess has had to handle her own fate as well as her world's. Now that the multiverse is involved, it's not going to stop at her own universe. She has to stop this. She won't fail. As per the dialogue between her and Gwen in ATSV, she's made a mistake before (by getting too close to someone) but she tells Gwen "I got over it". Sounds so savage in the moment but she still gives Gwen a chance to make her own situation right before letting her get kicked off the team. Helping Gwen in spite of the anomaly would be a mistake if she couldn't handle this.

And when the Spot gets away and Miles enters the picture? The gloves come off. It's tempting fate at that point. Jess' no mistakes mindset pushes her to even prepare to roll up on a teenager.*

Her greatest strength is her resolve - I mean, hell, she doesn't let even pregnancy slow her down when it comes to saving the world - but it causes her to be stubborn and leads her down a misguided path.

*By the end of the film, she seems to be questioning Miguel's method, though. On top of the fact that BTSV is obviously going to end on a good note, I think Jess' fight against destiny is going to have her come around in the end as Miles is doing the same thing.

Onto Hobie:

I luv luv luv Hobie as much as everyone else, he's definitely my favourite but I feel he has his flaws too (which tend to make me love my faves more lol).

In fact, I think he says what they are when we first meet him, though they are veiled as jokes.

I find that the audience tends to position him as a perfect distillation of anarcho-communism at its best. I think the teen spideys see him in a similar light; they see him as effortlessly cool & charismatic, a wise mentor figure ("use your palms" + his play fighting with Pavitr featured him taking on the stance of a boxing trainer as Pavitr tried to punch his palms) but he's not like the adult adults - he's relatable, he's cool, he's anarchist, he's not always on their case like Jess and Miguel.

He neither calls himself a hero nor a role model... but he is the perfect hero and role model, right? He's the best! He's the only one who's looking out for Miles and, when Miles is getting chased down by the entire society, what does he do?

He... quits.

Wouldn't that perfect hero we all believe him to be swoop in with his cape, know exactly what to do and save Miles, the underdog? He can't have possibly known Miles would manage against the society and, if he knew it was possible, then why wouldn't he lend a hand? He didn't drop off the watch in Miles' dimension, he gave one to his bestie, Gwen, likely in the scenario that she wanted to quit or got booted because 'it [didn't] work out'.**

I think Hobie's major flaw is his lack of consistency, as he famously said himself.

He has a strong moral code - he believes in the right things for the right reasons... but communism and anarchy are pretty much impossible to properly/entirely employ in a system that is consumerist, capitalist and authoritarian. He riots, he fights, but it's never over. London isn't free. In my experience, people with strong moral compasses tend to have issues with themselves because they hold others to higher standards than most and hold themselves to even higher and impossible standards (think Diane from Bojack Horseman).

One of the first comic panels I encountered of Hobie was him getting real with Captain Anarchy about losing morale because, despite killing President Ozzy Osborne, the face of fascism in his dystopia, nothing changes. He wasn't able to save the world like a hero in a movie or like a proper role model. He 'failed'. When you give your everything and nothing changes, no matter how optimistic, clever or read-up on theory you are, it can be hard to keep going.

And what is chosen as his defining canon event?

His version of Spider-Man quitting in "Spider-Man No More". Rather than being fed up with the world antagonising him as 616 is, Hobie is done with an antagonistic world.

The Hobie/Spider-Punk that has been built up externally, as far as I understand, would never give up. He'd keep raging forever and ever because that's the cool thing to do, because it's the heroic thing to do - because it's the right thing to do.

But under the mask, he's just a teenager, imperfect as any other.

He's still a Spider-Man too. Before the bite, he was another lanky black boy in racist-af, peak National Front, send-the-blacks-and-the-Asians-back, '70s England. He's a nerd, as evidenced by his ability to build such a high-tech watch, especially as a teenager who wouldn't have had access to anything like it until joining the society, meaning he had to pick it up quick. And I'm to think he didn't have any Flash-esque characters in his life? "Come out of it."

As Spider-Man with the mask on, he yells to the rooftops; as Hobie with the mask off, he mumbles and whispers. Sure he looks cool now but people don't tend to come out of the womb as Spider-Punk. On top of that, he's still so young and surely has plenty of room to grow.

I believe he joined the society in earnest, optimistic that he could help the multiverse but eventually reached his limits with actively facilitating death and trauma, with saving the multiverse not meaning freedom in his own universe, with being shackled to the web of destiny. I'm not convinced he made the watch in one day; I think he had been planning on quitting for some time and was waiting for the right moment (as he also wanted to support Gwen because friendship is important to him). That's why he tries to dissuade Miles from joining but, when he does leave, he doesn't go out in a riot, he doesn't even leave knowing that Miles has people on his side other than him. Hobie just quits.

I think his greatest strength is his optimism (his anarcho-communism & adamance about "love, joy and freedom" as per the un-permitted performance art pieces in his montage) but he's smart and he's been through shit - he isn't naive like Pavitr or Miles - the great heights of that optimism lead to intensely low lows.

**(I don't really see why or how he would have been able to predict everything that happened in the chase. I know that the watch is set to 1610 but if Hobie believed Miles would make it out of 928 and get back to 1610, would that not be things 'working out'? Or did he predict that he would get to the go-home machine but was the only one who considered that he would be sent to the place his spider came from. Why? And why wouldn't he set the watch to 42 if he knew Miles wouldn't be in 1610? I feel like the 1610 on the interface is just there to be there and that Hobie gave Gwen the watch so she could have the freedom to leave 65 if she wanted to, in the event that she quit the society because they captured Miles or because Miguel kicked her out as Jess kept warning.)

#i luv them #atsv spoilers #across the spiderverse spoilers #across the spiderverse #jessica drew #atsv jessica #hobie brown #spider punk #atsv analysis #shui meta

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rancidpancakebatter · 7 months

Text

Picnics at Sunset - [L Lawliet]

Pairings: L (Death Note) x Female!Reader

Summary: You knew that You cared for Ryusaki very much. You knew you trusted him with your life, and you always felt better when he was around. You knew that you desired his attention and approval more than anyone else’s. You knew that he was beautiful and kind. But you didn’t know if he felt any of those things about you. You didn’t know what those things meant. Or rather, you feared what they could mean, and what that would do to the both of you.

Word Count: 14k words

Content: Swearing, Mentions of death, nudity?, friends to lovers, first kiss, Use of Celcius, touch of angst (it's death Note, come on), Sappy thoughts of love

( Masterlist )

A/N: I have so much to say, but I'll try to keep it brief. I'm sorry this is so long, but so much of this show cuts to long internal dialogues within a conversation, and I tried to capture that. I think I did well, but it is a little long-winded. I don't know if I'll do a lot of writing for this character, but he got stuck in my head recently, and this was the only way I knew to let him go.

You sat at your desk, the computer screen you had been staring at for the past three hours was beginning to hurt your head. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your eyes; then silently cursing as you felt your mascara smear against the pads of your fingers. You needed a break and something other than a slice of cake in your stomach. You looked to your right out of habit, ready to tell your friend that you were taking a break and he should do the same, but his chair was empty.

You looked around the room.

“He stepped outside,” a voice said.

Behind you was Matsuda. You jumped when he spoke, not realising he was there, and he apologised for startling you.

“Yeah, we should get you a bell,” you suggested.

“Yeah, maybe so.” Matsuda laughed. “You know, if you want to bounce ideas off of someone, you can talk to me. I know I can’t come close to Ryusaki’s intelligence, but I’d like to think I have something to offer.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “I didn’t really need anything from him, just wanted to see what he was up to.”

“Well, I think he just needed some space to think. You know how he is.”

“That I do,” You agreed, “And I know If he wants to be alone, he’ll have no problem telling me himself.”

Matsuda laughed again, “I’m sure you’re right. But I have a feeling he won’t shoo you away. He has a soft spot for you.”

Just the idea of L turning you away had you put out. You crossed your arms, turning away with a huff. “Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

You heard Matsuda chuckling behind you, wishing you luck.

You marched up the stairs, down the hall, and got in the elevator, heading for the roof. As you made your way, you couldn’t help but admire the walls around you. The building L designed was quite impressive. You greatly enjoyed the glass elevator, preferring it over any others. Once you passed the tenth floor, the city could be seen. You were usually greeted by blinding sun and clear blue skies, but today, the sky was an enchanting apricot colour, blanketed by thick pink clouds heavy with rain. The sun was peaking from behind the silver buildings as if waiting to see you before finally saying goodbye. You waved to the people below, wishing them well on their oblivious wayfaring.

Soon you reached the top floor, and you pushed open the door to get to the roof access. The door to the roof was already opened, so you called out.

“Ryusaki! You out there?”

You were greeted by silence and tried again.

“I’m alone!”

Only then did you get a reply, “Did you bring any food?”

You chuckled, stepping out onto the roof. “No, I’m sorry.”

L stood out in the open, basking in the fading light and staring at the sky, unbothered by the cold air blowing. He was slouched over and hands firmly in his pockets. He turned his head to you, and the vibrant sky poured over his pale skin, drenching the soft canvas in the colours of monarchs and sunflowers. The light danced around his prominent eyes, flames in a ring of stone. His lips looked kissed by a dreamsicle. You looked away, finding your way back to reality.

“Did you want me to go back and get something?” You offered, throwing your thumb back towards the door.

“No,” He said, turning back to the sun, “Watari should be up soon.”

Before you could question, you heard the door open and close and the clinking sound of plates as they made their way up the stairs.

“Hello, dear,” The old man greeted with a smile.

He carried a tray with a full tea set in one hand and a wicker basket in the other, with a blanket draped across his arm. You watched as he laid it out on the ground, pulling plates and silverware from the basket along with a candelabra. Ryuga settled himself as Watari lit the candles, then gestured for you to do the same. The only clear spot to sit was right beside him, and you took it as gracefully as possible.

“I have brought sandwiches and various tea cakes,” Watari explained, “along with Keemun Mao Feng tea and honey. I hope you enjoy.”

You both thanked him and he left, closing the roof exit behind him. L sat, perching next to you, watching as you admired the display.

“It’s all my favourites,” You observed. “Why did you ask him to bring this?”

His thumb came to rest on his lip, gauging your reaction.

“I knew you would be getting hungry soon. I told Watari to bring some acceptable food if you didn’t grab any on your way up.”

You furrowed your brows in innocent confusion, “How did you know I’d come?”

His head turned away and you notice his feet shuffling, a tell for his anxiety.

“You always do.” He said with a shrug.

Your heart thumped affectionately as he turned his head, and your gaze fell back onto the band of sterling silver in his eyes. You smiled fondly at the man, and he had to look away. He busied himself with the basket, pulling out nicely wrapped sandwiches in brown butcher paper. He read the options out for you and passed you your selections. He then reached in and pulled out a white box with a blue bow. He began to tug at it, then stopped, offering it to you.

You giggled, unravelling the satin ribbon. When he pulled off the lid, a tiered display stand stood with ten layers of tiny cakes with an array of colours, creams, and toppings. L looked over the selection with a careful eye, then chose a spongy square with a raspberry on top. He pinched it between his fingers and brought it to his lips. You watched his selection process as you braided the ribbon into a piece of your hair, presenting it to your friend with a smile. He nodded in approval, and then you finally took a bite of your sandwich, moaning as the myriad of flavours filled your senses.

“Oh my god, this is delicious,” you said, pushing it towards Ryusaki, “You’ve gotta try it.”

His chewing stops as he eyes the sandwich in front of him like it were a loaded gun.

“I’m okay.” He said politely.

You accepted his dismissal, taking another bite from your sandwich, but still curious about it.

“Why don’t you eat anything but sugar?” You asked through a mouthful of sourdough.

“Well,” Ryusaki began, “Desserts tend to be more homogeneous in texture and taste. I find most ‘real’ food reduces my deductive skills by approximately twenty-five percent.”

You looked up at the beauty of the ending day around you and breathed in the air of the city.

“Do you need your deductive skills right now?” You asked softly, eyes still trained on the sky.

Moments passed in peaceful silence. You could hear a dog barking and the mummer of the life teeming below you. People going about their everyday lives, despite the horror of this new world. You tried to join them now and then, encouraging Ryusaki to do the same– to have a life outside of, despite of Kira. From your peripherals, you saw him spread his knees apart, sitting in a cross-legged position. You watched as he continued adjusting, trying to find a comfortable position. When he settled, you turned your eyes to his.

“Would you like some tea?” You asked.

He nodded his head, and you poured him half a cup from the teapot, filling the rest with cream and sugar, just the way he liked it. He thanked you when you passed it to him, fingers brushing briefly. You could tell he was a little uncomfortable, probably much more in tune with the “loss of thought” he was experiencing than any other person would be. He held his cup in both hands, elbows resting on his knees as he looked into the wheat-coloured drink. You left L to his thoughts, knowing he would share them if he deemed them important. You instead focused on tucking the rest of your sandwich away, opening another to try. You were happy Watari cared enough to cut them into little triangles.

“What are your plans after the Kira case?”

You nearly choked on your sandwich, not expecting the question. You wiped at your mouth with a napkin, trying to grab your composure.

“I haven’t given much thought to it,” you said, “but I know it will be a bittersweet moment when we catch him.”

Ryuga sat up a little, his interest piqued as he took another sip of his tea. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” you began, “I’ve met a lot of great people by working on this investigation. I don’t imagine our paths will cross much once this is all resolved, even if we do survive. But it makes me happy to think that one day they’ll get to walk into their front doors and hug their families without the fear of them being ripped away as collateral damage.”

“Not to mention,” You continued, “at the risk of sounding selfish, this job has some really nice perks. I’m compensated well, I get free room and board, I haven’t done my own laundry in four months, and I can even get company-provided gourmet picnics on the rooftop. There’s a lot to miss.”

“I must admit, I will miss the camaraderie,” L said softly. “But I fear the fallout from Kira’s arrest more.”

You knew what he meant. If he was right, and Light and Misa were Kira and The Second Kira, then it would destroy the task force. Matsuda’s heart would shatter, as would Mogi’s, though he’d hide it better than the former. Chief Yagami would likely suffer another heart attack, or perhaps snap entirely. And while you yourself didn’t want to believe it, you couldn’t deny what you knew was true. With the proof of shinigami's existence and an otherworldly murder weapon disguised as a harmless notebook downstairs, nothing could be ruled out. You questioned what other powers came with the notebook, and how those powers transferred.

Bribing Ryuke into answering all your questions was easy enough. It turns out he had never known the taste of a Fuji apple, only enjoying the common red delicious. One was enough to get him hooked. You presented everything you had learned about ownership of the notebook, how it can be passed, and how it affects the user. You and L had come to the same conclusion: sometime in Light’s confinement, he transferred ownership, as did Misa. You knew for sure when Misa visited Light the other day in the lobby.

At the beginning of the investigation, he refused to toy with her emotions, as it went against his code. And you found it comforting, knowing Kira would have no problem doing that, and Light was immediately opposed. For months, he made no effort to show affection to Misa, rebuffing any advance or innuendo she made, but you watched as he brought her into a hug. You watched as she melted into it, savouring the sparring touch and every word he whispered into her ear. You knew he hadn’t magically fallen in love with the girl, but was using the love she had for him.

Yes, Light had changed, and the repercussions were terrifying.

Ryusaki was silent. By now, the sun had set, and the moon began climbing up a ladder of stars. The candlelight flickered, making shadows jump and jive across your friend’s face. The shifts were jarring, but the gentle lighting softened his hardened edges. Your eyes traced the slope of his nose, down his plush lips, and his long neck. You wished to stretch out a curious finger to replace your itinerant eyes.

“Would you like a cake?” Ryusaki asked, changing the subject. You allowed the distraction, deciding you would bring it up again later, but not know.

You selected one with orange filling and chocolate drizzle. It was delicious, falling apart in your fingers as you ate it. You heard a soft chuckle leave your friend's mouth and you looked up at him confused. He said nothing, instead motioning towards his face. You tilted your head, not understanding what he meant. Before you could ask, L brought a napkin to the corner of your mouth, gently rubbing it across your bottom lip.

Your heart stopped beating and your lungs stopped breathing. His touch was like the flames of the flickering candles, igniting the skin he polished. His eyes flicked up to yours and you were lost in a pool of obsidian, his pupils vast in the stary night.

“There,” he said softly, “all gone.”

You searched for your voice, and it came out in a breathy whisper, “Thanks.”

He continued, unbothered by the unprecedented physical contact while you took a sip of your tea, in hopes that would help your unsteady heart. Before you had much time to recover, He spoke again.

“My favourite colour is blue.”

You blinked dumbly, at the man as he readjusted uncomfortably.

“My favourite cake is Strawberry Vanilla Sponge Cake,” He continued, “and I sing in the shower.”

You laughed out of shock, and words continued to spill from his mouth like he couldn’t stop them.

“If I could have a superpower, I would want invisibility. I think four-leaf clovers are ridiculously overblown, but I admire their inherent whimsy. I really like The Beatles, which is very embarrassing as I am British. But even more so because I listen to ‘We Can Work It Out’ when I get frustrated. They bring me a sort of comfort. I’ve always wanted a cat. I think it’s funny when they’re given people names, or named after ridiculous things. If I had one, I’d get a tuxedo cat and name it 3,4,4,5-tetramethylcyclohexa-2,5-dien-1-one.” You open your mouth to ask what that was, but he answered it before you could, “It’s a cyclic dienone, more commonly known as penguinone, and though it has no applicable uses, it’s funny.”

You shake your head, trying to make sense of his sudden urge to tell you all of these things. In his unblinking eyes, you saw something close to desperation and it confused you, forcing you to look away. You missed the way Ryusaki’s face fell.

“Are you…upset?” he asked cautiously. “I’m sorry if I overshared.”

“No, no,” You reassured, trying to alleviate some of the guilt that filled your chest at his apprehension. “I’m just confused”

“I was trying to establish trust,” he explained cooly.

Your brows furrowed, “Do you think I don’t trust you?”

“No, I-” he paused, releasing a sigh that moved his shoulders.

“Ignore me,” he said sadly, “Nothing I say lately seems to make much sense.”

Your heart shattered at the uncertainty in his voice. He usually spoke with such conviction. To hear him unsure, insecure in sensibility– his intelligence, really –it made you nauseous.

“Ryusaki,” you began, but he looked away.

“Ryusaki,” you tried again, this time resting a hand on his shoulder, “your sense is still very intact. You’re not the crazy one.”

He looked at your hand, where it rested without hesitancy.

“Look,” you continued, “Someone is trying to kill you. And it could very likely be your best friend. You’re making more sense than anyone else would in your situation.”

Suddenly his eyes shot to yours. There was a small fire burning there, and you worried that you had upset him. You began to remove your hand, but he rested his on yours, keeping it pressed against his shoulder. Your heart leapt at the contact, and you prayed he didn’t notice. Though, if you knew anything about Ryusaki, he did and already tucked it away as useful information.

“Light Yagami is not my best friend.” He said simply, “You are.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that sprouted from the sentiment.

“Really?” You asked in disbelief.

“Of course, I wouldn’t lie about that.”

Your smile grew more teasing, “But you didn’t even chain yourself to me.”

L smiled too, “I didn’t have to.”

Time passed in silence. It was a bit awkward, your hand remained on his shoulder as the candles burned. You were getting chilly, the night air nipping at you through your t-shirt. L’s hand kept yours still, you were much too nervous to move it away. Especially when you could see your friend thinking very hard.

He suddenly turned toward you, removing his hand and jostling yours. His thumb came to his lip, running it across and moving the muscle.

“There are a lot of social customs that I haven’t gotten to participate in, due to my isolated childhood, and even more so because of my dangerous career,” he said, “for instance, I had never had friends until this investigation, and now I have three. But that also means I haven’t experienced a lot of the common experiences that come with friendship.”

He looked you over, trying to gauge your reaction thus far. You seemed at ease but attentive. His eyes darted to the blue streak in your hair, and felt a warmth blossoming in his chest. He was amazed by how light-hearted you could be, despite the heavy burdens you carried. You shone so brightly, he was almost embarrassed to ask you to share.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to help me with that. I think it’s important to my development, and general understanding of the human condition.”

You were delighted to hear that he was thinking about such “trivial” things. As you became closer to L, you quickly realised that he lived a very lonely life. You could tell he had convinced himself that was what he wanted, but you knew a life of work wasn’t enough, and he deserved more. You always encouraged him to take care of more than his brain; to value his body and his spirit as well.

“Of course L,” you nearly cheered, “what did you have in mind?”

You waited patiently for his response, trying your best not to shrink under his gaze. You were sure that his eyes were a large reason as to why he made such a great detective. When he focused his eyes on someone, it made them feel see-through; like he could see everything that made up that person. Like he could read your thoughts.

“Can I-“ he began, then stopped. It was rare to see him trip over his words. “I would like- would it be okay if we hugged?”

Lightning struck across the sky, and you flinched, startled by the sound. You looked up into the dark, trying to find the flash of light you knew was long gone. You spotted the thick, rolling clouds hovering above you, and you hadn’t noticed before. Then the thunder rumbled, and the cry was resonant, penetrating your bones as it rolled through you. Then slowly, rain began falling from the sky. A few drops landed on your face, and you could feel them beginning to stick to your clothes.

When your shock faded away, you looked back at your friend. He was looking at you intently, hunched over like always. You opened your mouth to respond, but L spoke before you.

“Let’s step inside,” he said, resting his hand on your shoulder like you had before, “you’re shivering.”

You hadn’t realised that you were, but as you looked down at your hands, you couldn’t deny the tremble. He stood and began packing up everything on the blanket, refusing your help when you offered even though the rain had picked up. It was steady now, easily soaking through your clothes and his in turn. Once everything was tucked away, he guided you inside, opening the door for you.

As you walked down the steps, your mind spun around his words. He had asked to hug you, someone who you thought would be pretty averse to physical touch. You were surprised he let you lay a hand on him at all, and even more surprised when he reciprocated the action. It could’ve just been an experiment, a test to see how it made him feel, but you found yourself reviewing your own results.

You hadn’t really touched L before. There was no reason to. Even when he fell out of his chair over the whole “Shinigami” thing, you let the others crowd him. Your hands had maybe brushed here and there when passing sweets or documents, but intentional, prolonged contact was never made until today. You couldn’t deny his behaviour had been odd lately, though that was to be expected with the stress he was under. You wondered if he was indulging out of curiosity or a fear of missing out on life.

You jumped again as another bolt of lightning struck across the sky, followed by the soft beginnings of rain, now slowly collecting on the glass walls around you. You began walking down the hall and jerked your head to beckon Ryusaki, who seemed deep in thought. You watched the rain grow, drops colliding and running down the glass. You stopped to trace the tracks left, your body shuttering against the cold.

“I’m sorry,” your friend spoke quietly, as there was no one but you here, and no reason to raise a voice. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You looked at him with shock, but he refused to look at you.

“Ryusaki, I haven’t felt uncomfortable around you since we started this investigation. Why would that change now?” When he didn’t respond, you bumped his shoulder with yours, “Seriously though, if you ever do make me uncomfortable, I won’t let you live it down.”

“Good,” he said, nodding his head. “I’ll hold you to that.”

You both continued to stare off into the distance in silence. You began breathing out hot puffs of air and drawing in the condensation. Meaningless shapes littered the space as you got lost in your thoughts.

You felt stuck between knowing and knowing nothing. You knew that You cared for Ryusaki very much. You knew you trusted him with your life, and you always felt better when he was around. You knew that you desired his attention and approval more than anyone else’s. You knew that he was beautiful and kind. But you didn’t know if he felt any of those things about you. You didn’t know what those things meant. Or rather, you feared what they could mean, and what that would do to the both of you.

Your thoughts were interrupted once again when you felt a weight on your shoulders, and you looked down to see pale, slender hands embellished with tendons and glistening in the light. Your jaw dropped slightly, seeing him appear so close behind you in your shared reflection.

“You’re still shivering.” He didn’t look at you, his eyes obscured by his shaggy hair, “A blanket should help.”

You offered a kind, timid smile in thanks, turning to face him. Your cheeks filled with blood though you couldn’t quite pin down why. Maybe it was just because he was touching you again when he’s never really done that before. Or maybe it was the fact that he was concerned about you. Or maybe it was the intimacy of it all, how close he was and how gentle his touch was.

His hallowed, all-seeing eyes met yours and you lost your breath. You wanted to look away, feeling pierced by his gaze, but you couldn’t– you wouldn’t. “If this isn’t sufficient, let me know. It’s my fault you’re cold.”

“No, it’s not,” You chuckled as he adjusted the material on your shoulder, “I walked out willingly. Yeah, you baited me into staying with food and tea, but I saw your plan, and I decided to go along with it.”

L smiled shyly, “I never could fool you.”

Your brows furrowed, and your heart sank.

“Can.” You corrected sternly. “You never can fool me.”

“Ah, Of course.” L said, removing his hands from you and tucking them back into his pockets, “You’re too observant for me to keep a secret. You’re always the first in the room to know what I’m thinking.”

He didn’t directly address his slip-up– referring to himself in the past tense as if he had died –so you didn’t either, instead filing that away under “more things to bring up later”.

“What can I say?” You teased. “Great minds think alike.”

“That they do,” he muttered, though you could tell his mind had taken him far away again.

You turned back to the window, and he joined you there. The rain had picked up, the heavy clouds drawing nearer. Your body buzzed with the electricity in the air. You could feel the winds of change surging through the city, and it filled you with determination.

“You should change,” Ryusaki whispered, “you’ll catch a cold.”

“Please,” You said, rolling your eyes and landing on his. “We were out there for less than an hour, and it never dropped below four degrees.”

“That’s still rather cold,” He hid his eyes from you, and you missed the sparks he carried there. “Not to mention the addition of rain.”

“If you’re so worried about my immune system,” you quipped, “studies show that hugs can actually help fight illness.”

That got a reaction out of the man, whipping his head to look at you.

“Is that so?” He asked, amusement teeming in his thin, grey irises. “Is it the exposure to more germs?”

“Possibly,” You admitted, “But it’s mostly the stress relief. Hugs reduce your cortisol and noradrenaline levels, improving blood pressure and general heart health. Also, with both of our body heats working together, it might help warm me up.”

L brought his thumb to his lip again, pondering your words.

“Maybe you have a point.” He muttered, “Perhaps we should test this theory.”

You agreed but neither of you moved, both too afraid to make the first move. You had hugged people before. You had hugged your family and many friends, so hugging Ryusaki shouldn’t be that nerve-racking, and yet, your body was buzzing just at the concept.

Suddenly, L Spread his arms, his figure drowning in his baggy sweater. It happened in slow motion, or at least it felt like it did. He dove towards you, wrapping his arms tightly around you, unintentionally pinning yours to your side, and his chin landed on the crown of your head gently.

You tensed, not expecting him to just go for it. Your face was pressed into his chest, your nose brushing his collarbone because of how his sweater had shifted. You were suddenly self-conscious breathing on him, trying your best to make sure your lungs were expanding and contracting naturally, but you could feel the awkwardness in your muscles.

“I don’t think this is working,” He said, his jaw moving against your head, “Your heart rate has only elevated. This seems to be…bothersome to you.”

He slowly removed himself but remained close, focusing his trying eyes on you, hands back in his pockets. “Please, tell me how you feel.”

“Well, firstly, you surprised me.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. Laughter bubbled up due to his unwavering gaze that affected you, though you didn’t want to concede to that. “And second, I’m not sure that counted as a hug. You trapped my arms, so I couldn’t reciprocate it properly.”

“I see,” He said, not showing any emotion you could detect (And you had gotten pretty good at reading L at this point). “What can I do better?”

His determination was…adorable. He was adamant about this, about hugging you better. You wouldn’t have thought this was something he ranked so highly in importance, and you felt flattered.

“Open your arms again,” You instructed, scooting closer.

He followed your orders, his head tilting to the side in curiosity. You took a quick breath, then brought your arms around his waist, then rested your ear between his pecs. There you heard his heart. You expected a steady thrum, but instead, the muscle beat like a kick drum without cause. But you supposed if you only fed your body sugar and caffeine, your heart would go crazy too.

He was also much comfier than you expected his skin and bones to be. His frame felt right in your arms, and a word flitted through your mind: safe. He was safe here in your arms, and you felt safe here too.

You remembered then that he was still standing there with his arms fully extended, like an owl stretching their wings.

“You can wrap your arms around me like before now,” You said into his chest.

He did as you said, and you felt an instant relief. Your blanket was wrapped around him, and you were surrounded by L. He was soft, like the petals of a Gardinia– like the ones your mother used to grow. He smelled like chocolate and strawberries, though with his diet, you were sure he sweated out sugar. In the refracted light the droplets cast, it looked just like that, like sugar crystals dancing across his skin.

Your nose picked up hints of lavender you recognised as the fabric softener Watari swore by. You wanted to bottle the sents and wear them yourself. You found yourself snuggling in closer, drawn in by the comforts of L.

You sighed in contentment, closing your eyes. His heartbeat stabilized, beating slower but strong. Slowly, he adjusted himself, bringing his arms tighter around you and turning so his ear rested against you and not his hewn jaw. Many moments went by like that, with nothing but the instrumental played by the rain, steady breathing, and hearts beating. As time went on, your heartbeats began to sync, beating together. You felt warmth spread throughout you at the thought. You liked this. You liked being close to Ryusaki.

“How long do these usually last?” He whispered into the rich silence.

“It depends on the friends, everyone’s comfort levels.” You replied thoughtfully. “Some people only hug for a few seconds; others hold each other like this. But it’s recommended that you get at least four hugs a day.”

He hummed, considering your answer. “I definitely haven’t been fulfilling that quota.”

“It’s okay,” You said through a laugh, “Me either.”

“Perhaps,” L said, putting on his detective voice, “If you have found this as enjoyable as I, we could do this more often– try to reach that benchmark more. The act of hugging seems to increase my oxytocin levels, which feels different than the dopamine confections give me. If it affects you the same way, I think that could be good for us both.”

Your laughter danced across this skin. “I can’t believe you can feel the difference between happy hormones.”

“Of course I can.” He said, completely unphased by your disbelief. “Dopamine feels more like I’m doing a good job, and Oxytocin is…”

You waited patiently while he found the words.

“Oxytocin makes me more…sentimental,” He landed on.

“I guess that makes sense,” You mumbled into his chest. “Weirdo.”

He chuckled at the title that would have hurt coming from anyone else.

“I would be okay with that,” You said, addressing his proposal, “If we hugged more often.”

“Great,” He said, and you could hear his smile. L could feel how the cold continued to cling to your skin. Although hugs were supposed to help fight illness, he doubted it was a cure. “We should finish up then so you can change.”

He released his hold on you and began to pull away, but without thinking, you held on tighter, your brows furrowing.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m not sure,” you said honestly. “I just don’t want to leave this.” L brought a hand to his chin, cradling it and trying his best not to jostle you. “Is it the hug that you want, or is it me?”

Your eyes bugged at his question. Immediately, you let go, creating distance as you jumped back. You reacted as if he had struck you instead of asking a straightforward question to better understand the situation.

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, not unlike a fish plucked from the water.

“Well, I- It’s uh…I mean- heh -what?” You stumbled. Again, L’s shark skin eyes bore into yours, dissecting every stutter and stammer.

“I believe the question was fairly easy to comprehend.” He said plainly, “I asked if it was the hug you wanted or me.”

You felt blood rush to your cheeks.

“I understood the question,” You weakly defended.

L’s head dropped once again to the side, his hair flopping loosely as he moved but still weighing down over his face.

“Then answer it.”

You swallowed. He had cornered you, baiting you by insinuating you weren’t as intelligent as he thought and getting you to confess that you in fact were not confused. But in truth, you were. Because it was true that you were extremely touched-starved. You had dedicated the better half of the last year to catching Kira. You hadn’t had time for much else. You weren’t exactly popular before either.

You were a criminal, a cyber-robinhood. You had stolen from several pharmaceutical companies and redistributed their funds to families in need. You thought it absolutely abhorrent that the companies could make money off of cancer and diabetes, depriving people of medicine they needed, not wanted. You had done it with your best friend, who was killed by Kira.

She had taught you the ropes and how to hide yourself from the authorities. She, however, had crossed the line. She began targeting government officials, leaking their private messages and phone records to the public. You would have thought that would align with Kira’s morals, but you guess not because she died of a heart attack in your arms. You hadn’t made a friend since, not until Ryusaki.

You didn’t want him to leave you too. You were terrified that he would be ripped away from you, much like your friend before. But it was more than that. You wanted Ryusaki to live. You wanted him to have a full life, one of joy and contentment. One where his intelligence wasn’t weaponised. One where he could let his guard down and not break his back with his posture. You wanted him to drown in hugs, to never be deprived of comfort again. And you wanted to be by his side to see it.

You had become very attached to the man before you. You admired him, respected him. You found yourself trying to be more like him in many ways. And you felt pride every time he mimicked you.

“I don’t know.”

L was unconvinced, leaning in closer, “Yes, you do. But you won’t say.”

You stared into his eyes, words eluding you. What could you say? You weren’t even sure what you wanted, what your answer would be. He looked at you curiously, awaiting your response. When you had none, he sighed.

“Fine then,” He said, turning his investigative gaze away from you. “I will escort you to your room. Hopefully, that will satisfy you.”

You had requested a room here at headquarters and were unsurprised when L told you that he had already built one for everyone on the task force. You had all but moved in during the Kira case. You hadn’t meant to, but it was just easier than taking the train alone after a late night of investigating. With no one to stop you, you would stay up until three ante merīdiem, studying and analysing trends. Sometimes you would crash at your desk, but usually, you would drag yourself away when you noticed your eyes becoming heavy. But now, your apartment was more of a formality than anything else. L knew this and made no comments on the matter. He was happy you stayed here instead, and that the rooms weren’t a complete waste of time and effort.

As you travelled through the silent halls, you brought your blanket tighter around your shoulders, tensing your jaw so your teeth didn’t chatter. Ryusaki seemed unbothered by the cold. He showed no signs of discomfort other than the way his shoulders folded forward more than they usually did. You wondered if he was just suppressing them or if he truly wasn’t cold. But then you saw a small shiver travel down his spine.

“You never told me,” you said softly, “what you were doing out there?”

His steady pace was unwavering, his bare feet gently padding across the tiled floors of the hall.

“Thinking,” He replied but offered nothing more.

“Of course you were thinking, that’s all you know to do. ” You joked, “What were you thinking about?”

He took a few more steps, then stopped. You continued forward until you were standing side by side. He stared ahead, but you turned to face him. You watched as his face remained flat, unchanged.

“I was thinking about my death,” he said plainly, continuing his previous pace. “I reviewed my mental record of my will, noting necessary amendments. Due to recent events, I felt it something I reconsider.”

Your stomach twisted at his casualness, and you looked away. How could he say that and have no feeling about it? Or rather, rationalize whatever feelings he had about the situation away?

“You-” You began, your words tripping over the lump in your throat, “you shouldn’t talk like that. You’re not going to die.”

You said it with finality, though your friend heard the subtle desperation, the fear beneath your bravado.

He stopped again, and when you turned to him, he turned as well. His eyes seemed almost hollow as he spoke.

“We all die. And I happen to find myself in a position in which I am taunting the reaper.”

L did a lot of staring, and this one you took as a personal challenge. He knew what you meant, and he was purposefully not addressing it. You weren’t backing down; you weren’t folding for him. The other members of the task force often forgot that he was human; you refused to forget. While he was smarter than anyone you had ever met, he wasn’t a supercomputer. He had hopes and dreams; he had fears.

“We’re here,” he said, interrupting this game of blink.

You hadn’t realised you had arrived at your room and hesitated at the door.

“Would you like me to step inside?” He offered.

You nodded.

“Very well then.”

He opened the door and you stepped in. He closed the door behind him, then stood a few feet into the room, scratching at his leg with his foot. You made your way to your closet, selecting a new shirt and some sweatpants, then went to your dresser, selecting new undergarments.

L looked to the wall after catching a glimpse of the lacey bra you balanced from your finger. You looked to your friend, ready to ask him to turn around, when you noticed his head already turned and a slight rosy hue crawling up his exposed neck. He was usually so devoid of colour; the splash of pink was a nice touch. You wondered what had flustered him and if it had anything to do with you. The thought made you excited, but you chose not to acknowledge that.

“I’m changing now,” You said, turning away from him.

L tried his best to keep his eyes off of you, but soon, your hands were in the air as you peeled off your shirt, and his curiosity won. His eyes traced over the exposed skin, counting the vertebrae up your back. His breath hitched slightly as you reached behind you and unlatched your bra. He caught himself imagining what it would look like if you were turned around and ripped his eyes away again. After all, you were his friend, and it was inappropriate to think such things about a friend. Especially one that trusted him enough to change in front of him. He would rather die than abuse your trust.

Soon, you were wiggling out of your pants, and his eyes betrayed him, following the movement of your hands. The cotton panties you wore were nothing special, plain and purple and a bit cheeky. It clung to the shape of your ass beautifully. His eyes bugged involuntarily, and he decided he could no longer trust himself to be facing you and turned his body.

As he faced the wall, he considered your interactions today. You had sought him out and then joined him outside despite knowing the discomfort the cold would bring you. Meaning you valued his amusement more than your comfort. You entertained his tangents and encouraged him to try new things, which meant that his general well-being must be something of importance to you. Why else would you go out of your way to protect it?

Yes, you wanted him to be happy and made that a responsibility of your own. You coached him through a new experience and reassured his insecurities about it. He had hugged you for two minutes and thirty seconds, but you had held him for two minutes and thirty-nine seconds. So you enjoyed the physical comfort, and obviously desired more, as you only stopped when he shocked you.

That’s right, you pulled away when he asked if you "wanted him." So enjoying his company was fine, but once "wanting" became a part of the equation, you rejected it. Or tried your best to. But you didn’t deny that you still desired his presence, allowing him to escort you to your room, where you took off your clothes in front of him.

When he looked at the incidents individually, it could all be chalked up to you being a good friend– one who trusted and respected him –but he was a better detective than that. He also knew to look at the big picture. In his mind, he replaced himself with other people, like puppets in a play, and saw how your reactions changed.

He found it hard to believe that you would allow someone else on the team to hold you for two minutes, lure you into the rain, or risk them seeing you in your underwear. Which begged the question, why do you treat him differently? How does your perception of him differ from the others?

Then it became abundantly clear, and he was shocked. The conclusion he came to seemed ludicrous, and yet, it was the only one that made sense-- the only one that stood with the evidence. How could this be? There was only one way to know.

He called your name and you hummed in response, putting on a new shirt and turning to face him.

“You evaded my question.” He remarked, still looking at the wall. “However, I think your evasion– and the several events surrounding it –has given me a more clear understanding of the answer you were guarding.”

You felt a general unease, not sure you liked the direction his inquisitive mind was heading. You wrung your hands anxiously in front of you, looking at the back of his head. You should have known L wouldn’t let that go.

“I told you I didn’t know.”

He turned quickly, catching you off guard. He was once again very close to you, his eyes dancing with curiosity and a bit of pride. It was a look you saw when he presented a theory based on new evidence he had finally made sense of that had previously baffled the team. You knew he was confident in whatever he had deduced and was more amused by your responses, watching carefully with a thumb pressed to his lip just a few inches away from your face.

“But I don’t think it was the complete truth,” he pressed, “which makes it a lie of omission.”

“I didn’t lie,” You quickly defended.

“But I saw it: a realisation flitting across your face. You looked at the evidence and came to a conclusion. You have some idea as to why you reacted to my question the way you did, and you have an answer. Does the answer put you in a position of vulnerability perhaps?”

You gaped at him, unsure how to respond. However, he continued to think aloud, answering your question for you with his own ramblings.

“Yes, that must be it. In answering whether you merely wanted more affection or me, it would force you to admit that you had a need that wasn’t being met. And since we had already discussed our general lack of affection in day-to-day life, revealing that you felt you wanted more hugs would not make you uncomfortable… no, it has to be me that you want. That’s the only reason you would react that way. Which makes me wonder, in what way do you want me?

“My phrasing may have impacted your response, as ‘want’ can mean different things in certain contexts. However, if you thought of me in a strictly platonic sense, you would not have assumed I meant anything more than my company. There is, of course, the possibility that previous interactions in male friendships lead you to believe I meant something else, but I think it is more likely that you interpreted it romantically because you have– on some level –romantic feelings for me. And by answering the question honestly, you would have revealed that.”

He paused for a moment before asking, “Am I right?”

Your brain was spinning, repeating every word he had said. He waited patiently as you mulled it over. You tried to disprove his theory, picking each line and defending the opposite, but it became harder and harder the longer you went on. You weren’t sure how you saw the man in front of you. He was your friend, someone you respected and cared for. You valued his opinion and you listened to his advice. But you couldn’t deny that you found him attractive. You had since you first met him.

After your friend had died, it didn’t take you long to piece together that it was Kira who killed her. You brought your theory to the police, but they didn’t take you seriously. Apparently, there had been many false reports of Kira's murders, and yours was the fifteenth report that day. You continued to argue, but you didn’t even get past the front desk. That night, when you got back home, you decided you would do everything you could to catch the killer. You broke into the police database– which was entirely too easy –then followed up with everyone they suspected. You used your skills to hack into the suspects' computers, scouring through their histories and files, but didn’t find anything incriminating. Except for one man.

He was too innocent, not even a record of porn on his computer. Most of his search results were quiz questions with brief breaks spent streaming funny videos. He was a studious pupil and the son of a cop. You consulted the police’s notes often and were surprised when they claimed it could be a student. Then soon after, the pattern of killings changed, further proving the theory.

You were convinced it was Light Yagami, but you needed more. So you tried to hack into L’s computer. You knew from the police notes of the meetings that L called in using a computer, meaning he had to have a Wi-Fi connection to talk to them in real time. It took you a while to hack the secure connection, and even longer to get into the computer. You felt defeated– outsmarted –when you realised the only thing on the device was whatever system he used for the calls and whatever connection he used for that was heavily encrypted.

You thought nothing more of the event until you were picked up off the street a few weeks later. You were grabbed and bound, the assailant immediately gagging and blindfolding you. The drive was long, and you were taken somewhere with winding hallways and cold rooms. You were restrained to a table, straps keeping you upright, and then your gag was removed.

You yelled in anger, cursing your capture and illustrating all the ways in which you would make them suffer for treating you this way. You only stopped when a robotic voice filled the room. It asked who you were, but you ignored its question, connecting the dots.

“You’re L,” You said plainly, “The renowned detective. You’ve solved every case you’ve ever taken on. And you apprehended me– confining me and taking away my vision –meaning you must think I’m Kira. You know who I am, that’s why you’ve taken me in.”

He confirmed your suspicions and listed out the crimes you had committed, and your behaviours that made him suspect you. You couldn’t deny his deductions, and instead of trying to prove your innocence, you told him about your own mission to catch Kira. You even apologised for trying to hack him as well, “but you understand, I had to try.”

He kept you tied up for a few, very long days, then let you walk around the room, giving you access to a bed and a few books. Now and then he would check in on you and offered to make amends for the misunderstanding. You only requested that he hear you out.

You told him about your theories and how you were disregarded by the police. He was the first person to tell you that he believed your friend was murdered and that it had more to do with them talking out against Kira online than the crimes they had committed. And that only angered you more.

Soon, he began to trust you. He showed you his face. He was nothing like you imagined, but everything you expected. He was odd; he looked almost sickly and was very deadpan. But he had a sense of humour, one that was just as odd as him. He was straightforward forward, and you didn’t have to wonder what he was thinking, as he often shared his thoughts. He was kind, having an obvious affinity for sweets, but always willing to share with you. He asked about you and your life, and you could tell he was cataloguing everything you had to say. He listened so intently when you spoke.

You only grew closer, looking forward to your meetings in the following weeks, and were elated when he told you about the new headquarters and how he wanted to introduce you to the rest of the team. He was impressed by your resourcefulness and intellect, but more importantly your passion. You were driven by revenge, but soon that changed. L believed in you, and you wanted to honour that.

Despite his quarks, you saw his soft underside, and it drew you in more. He was fascinating to you, alluring.

Was that normal for a friend? To simply see them and feel better, to seek out their company? Yeah, you guess it was, but you didn’t think it was as normal to think your friend is pretty. Friends don’t trace jaw lines or let their eyes linger on outstretched fingers and moving lips. Is that what you were feeling? Was your confusion and nervousness a result of an unrealised crush on your friend?

“Oh, I see,” Ryusaki mumbled, “It wasn’t an intentional lie; you only just now realised.”

You hated that he could read you as well as he could, and suddenly his proximity was suffocating. You stepped back, hiding from his gaze in your hands. It was bad enough that you had feelings for your best and only friend, but to come to that realisation in front of them –when they have the uncanny ability to practically read minds –was mortifying. You were cornered and unsure what to say. You didn’t even have time to consider what you wanted to do about your feelings before they were made known.

You could try to deny it, but you didn’t think that would work. Not against L. So you decided to look deeper. You had pieced together how your interactions proved you liked him, but how did L fare? You compared his behaviour towards you to the others. He was kinder with you, often wording things gentler to you than he would care to for anyone else. He provided confections to everyone, but he only offered you bites from his plate. He was more candid about his feelings with you, as well as his thoughts.

While he often toyed with the investigators, constantly testing their deductive reasoning and loyalty, L only asked what you thought to question his own conclusions. He valued your input more than others on the team, and you knew the task force was aware of that. if you were in the room, Ryusaki was always within arms reach. He never strayed far. He asked about your personal life, and he encouraged you to take breaks. He smiled and laughed around you, something you didn’t see in front of the others. You had seen L’s soft side, but only because he had shown it to you. He was vulnerable with you. But was that just friendship?

No, no there was more. Today, he cared for you, feeding you and treating you to a picnic. He apologised for your condition, completely disregarding his own. He did his best to atone for the wrong he felt he had done, going as far as to wrap you in his own warmth. He didn’t need to. He sought out the contact. Contact he didn’t look for elsewhere. Contacted he requested and asked for more of, in a less than graceful way. Tripping over words was out of character for the normally articulate detective.

He then stayed by your side, escorting you to your room, again, disregarding the fact that he too was cold and rained on. Furthermore, any other friend would have turned away from you while you changed, but he faced you. You remembered the blush on his face before you changed. Either the idea of you undressing or something he saw you were changing into caused that response. You had difficulty believing this came from a general lack of experience with women.

If Misa changed in front of him (which is an unavoidable event which has already happened with her room being monitored the way it is), you doubted he would have much of a reaction. Yes, you were sure. His flustered state was a result of you.

You removed your hands from your face and looked at the man of your affection. He wore a curious look, and you smiled.

“You’re not upset,” he observed, “Usually, people respond badly to my blunt deductions about their emotions. I expected you to yell or deny, but you’ve done neither.”

You chuckled lightly, “I don’t think there’s a way I could have denied that without further confirming your conclusion.”

“Well, your initial response of hiding from me was sufficient.” he said with a bit of smugness, “But I’m curious as to why you no longer feel the need to.”

“I don’t need to hide my feelings if you already know they exist,” you stated calmly, “And I’m sixty-seven percent sure you share my feelings, making them much less frightening.”

Rysuaki’s hidden eyebrows raised, and his eyes widened. You watched smugly as he said nothing, revelling in the pride of shocking even the great L.

You explained how you reached that conclusion, knowing that would be his first question. When you finished, he looked up to the ceiling, reevaluating the evidence. You watched as his careful mind picked apart your deduction and this time you allowed yourself to appreciate his unique beauty.

You traced the slope of his nose, following it down to the tendons in his neck and where his collar bones poked out from his baggy sweater. You greedily observed the way his clothes hung from his body, nearly swallowing him whole.

“It is true, I am rather fond of you. I made that more obvious than I intended, however, there’s nothing to be done about it now.” He admitted, “I can’t say I’ve ever had much of a love life or much experience with romantic feelings. I’m not sure how to proceed.”

You patted the spot next to you on the bed, and he crossed the room to join you. To your surprise, he sat with his feet on the floor, hands on his thighs.

“I think this a good place to start,” you said warmly. “We don’t have to do anything about it yet.”

He nodded but didn’t look at you. You could see the gears churning in his head, then you noticed his hands. There were impressions left in his thighs from his strong grip. Was it possible he was nervous? You couldn’t hide the delight the sight brought you. You thought it was adorable that you were something that could cause him so much grief. But you hated it too.

You placed your hand on his and he tensed slightly, but didn’t push it away.

“Hey,” you said softly, “Take a breath. Really, I don’t want you to stress over this. You have enough on your plate.”

He looked at your hand, his face level, silently assessing, and you allowed him the space to do so. His hand twitched a bit under yours before he turned it over, his palm meeting yours and his slender fingers weaving between your digits.

“What if-” he paused, as if not sure he should say what he was thinking. He took a breath as you instructed, then continued. “What if I want to do something about it?”

You couldn’t contain the smile that spread across your face, and you didn’t feel a need to.

“Then I would ask what you wanted to do.”

"It's not about what I want." He looked at you, eyes wide and panicked. “What if doing something is stupid and puts you in danger?”

You had never seen L so worked up before, and you were stunned for a moment. You realised he was letting you in, even more than before. He was letting you see his fear, something you're not sure he’s shown anyone willingly. And in this moment, you were reminded that he was just a young man. That his life had barely begun. Yet he had seen horrors you couldn’t imagine.

“If Light is Kira,” he continued, through gritted teeth. “then you are already endangered enough. But if our relationship is now romantic, he may use you to get to me. He would have no problem killing you if it brought him closer to his goal, and we both know that.”

“Ryusaki…” you tried, rubbing your thumb against the back of his cold, clammy hand. “He already knows I care for you. The others have been teasing me about my favouritism for months now. If he thought I knew anything, or that you would tell me anything, he would have already done it. If he could, he'd probably force me to write your name in the book somehow, so he didn’t have to do it himself.”

The fire in his eyes fizzled, and now he looked deflated again as if his anger was the only thing giving him the energy to fight.

“Then, I can’t tell you anything,” he concluded, “and that doesn’t make for a very strong relationship. One of secrecy where I’m forced to keep you at a distance…no that won’t do.”

He let go of your hand, looking away and rising to his feet. You felt that familiar tug in your heart, the one you felt at your desk when you realised he wasn’t beside you, the same feeling when he tried to end the hug. It felt like he was leaving you, and this time, it made you angry.

“Fuck that!” you said a little harsher than you intended. L turned to look at you in surprise; you had never raised your voice to him before (Aside from that time he arrested you and you didn’t know it was him you were cursing). “I refuse to let Kira make any decisions for me. That bastard doesn’t get to stop me from doing anything I want. And I want this, I’ll fight for it.”

You spoke with a vicious resolve, and L had to admit, it was intriguing.

“I’m done letting him ruin my life. I’m taking charge. I know there’s a way to prove it, to get him to confess. We can do it. We’ll catch that monster and frame his head on the wall.”

L was studying you; you could see it in his analytical eyes.

“‘Monster’ you say…” he wonders aloud, “There are many types of monsters; the one we face now... he’s a lying monster: He’s cunning, posing as a human, though having no understanding of the human heart. He works hard, but only to appease his own hubris. He seeks friendship even though he does not truly know how to love. I had once said, If I were to encounter such a monster, I would likely be eaten by them... because, in truth, I am that monster.”

He locks eyes with you, his gaze resolute.

“Tell me, honestly, how can you hate Kira and care for me? We are the same beast.” His body towered over yours, the shadows of the light obscuring his face under his hair. He was almost intimidating. “I do not fight for justice but my own amusement. How many lives have I disregarded all because I didn’t find the case challenging enough? How many people have I endangered solving this one? I allowed who I believed to be Kira intimate knowledge of the case, all because I thought it made the game more fun. I view people as disposable, just as Kira does, and manipulate them just as freely. Kira and I are cut from the very same cloth. Yet, you despise him and respect me.”

Your stare was hard and unforgiving. Rage shook your body, and L was sure that you had changed your mind. You hated him now, just as you should.

“No,” You said sternly, “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I won’t allow you to lie to me.”

You carefully lifted his chin, forcing him to hear you.

“You are flawed, yes. You certainly have an ego, but that doesn’t make you a monster. If you were presented with the power of the death note, you wouldn’t use it to make yourself a god. You don’t always fight fair, but the criminals you chase don’t either, and it would be silly to try for the high road. That is what makes you such a great detective. You do what needs to be done. But that’s not why I care about you.”

You saw a flicker of surprise on his face before he buried it once again.

“I care for you. Not L, the world’s greatest detective. I care for the man who treats me kindly and listens to my woes. I care for the man who checks in to make sure I’ve eaten and taken breaks. I care for the man who is so terrified of himself, he hides away from the world. I care for the man who was cursed with a brilliant mind and raised in a world of evil. I don’t care that you’re a genius, I’d love you dumb. I’m not interested in what you can do for me. I just want you.”

You watched as the man closed his eyes, unable to face your reverent judgment.

“You could step away right now, and I’d never think less of you. You could imprison Light, right or wrong, and I would stand by you. You could tell me that you don’t want this, and I wouldn’t fight you.” You moved your hand from his chin to rest against his cheek. “But if you bow down to Kira– admit defeat when your heart is still beating –I’ll never forgive you.”

His eyes snapped open, and he scanned your face, looking for a lie, but found one.

“We live in a world where gods of death are real,” you continued, “And that knowledge has made me realise even more that nothing in life is guaranteed. Nothing other than your own resolve. I chose life, and I wish you would choose the same.”

“You speak as if I am trying to kill myself.” he scrutinised.

“Since the arrest of Higuchi, you’ve stopped investigating," You pressed, "but we both know it’s not because you think we’ve stopped Kira. There’s still a second notebook- a second Kira. And I’m sure you’ve noticed the change in Yagami, almost as if coming in contact with the book has turned him back into Kira. I see the way he looks at you, the way he studies you. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“I have,” he confirmed.

“Then why? Why have you stopped trying to catch him? If he is actively trying to catch you– to kill you –and you do nothing to stop it, you are killing yourself. You’re allowing him to win. And I can’t– no, I won’t catch him without you.”

“You wouldn’t avenge me?” He asked curiously.

“I’m here for my own selfish reasons,” you reminded him, “If you die, then everyone I have left will have been taken by Kira. What motivation would I have left to stop him?”

“I see…” he said flatly, “so if Kira is to be caught, we must both live to see it happen.”

“Yes, but more so, I would blame you for your death. Avenging you wouldn’t be possible, as you and your killer would be one and the same. I would hate you.”

His hand joined yours, guiding it away from his face and holding it at his side.

“I’m not sure I could rest knowing you hated me. Not when you’re the only person I trust and the only person I can say I’ve ever cared for– besides Watari, of course,” He said softly, “But in all honesty, I’m not sure what to make of it. I can’t control you, and I have no desire to, but allowing you to grow any closer to me is dangerous. And I would hate myself if anything happened to you.”

His fingers traced over the creases in your hand as he spoke, memorising the fate lines.

“But I can’t deny the attachment I have for you.” he continued, “It clouds my judgement, and I spend valuable time constantly correcting it. I’ve been indulging in delusions of running away with you. Taking you far away from the danger, placing you in a secure palace where you want for nothing, allowing you to lose yourself in all the simple pleasures your poetic mind can conjure. I would rather collect a list of books for your library than face Kira at the moment.”

You felt like crying, his words striking your heart. While it was easy to deduce that he favoured you over the others, such a blatant confession wasn’t something you expected. You knew this fantasy was built in his mind as something to make you happy, but you knew that this was something he wanted as well. To live a life of ease, not as a pawn to world governments. To be free to have intelligence and not be weaponised. You realised then, he was tired. He was exhausted from chasing Kira, exhausted from comparing himself to the enemy.

“Let’s get out of here then.”

He looked at you curiously.

“You can afford a break, a real one. Your mind is scattered, and you can’t possibly expect to outsmart Kira if you’re worrying about everything else.” You explained, “I’ll talk to Watari about planning a secure getaway for you but for now…”

You softly grabbed his hand and led him towards the door, “We’re going to your room so you can change. Then we’ll discuss what we’re doing for the night.”

He allowed you to lead him down the hall, saying nothing while you travelled. He only spoke again after you stepped into his room.

“I am not often surprised,” he marveled “But you continue to amaze me. I can’t predict you. You’re courageous and strong-willed, but always kind. You’re extremely brilliant, but you’re humble about it. But most amazingly, you believe in me– not because of what I’ve done, but because of who I am –and I’ve never met someone who could separate the two.”

You flush under his praise, “You say you can’t predict me, but I swear, you see right through me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said with panic in his eyes, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You laughed, the sound affecting L more than he expected. He loved it, loved making you laugh. He wanted to do it as much as possible, but that was something to figure out later.

“You didn’t,” you reassured, “but I do have something you can do to make it up to me,”

L smirked, knowing you were teasing him.

“I don’t understand. I didn’t offend, but you claim I need to make amends.”

“You don’t have to. It’s completely up to you.”

“What is it you would have me do?”

You didn’t answer with words, instead spreading your arms and then making a grabby motion towards him. Your smile was soft, gently pulling at your lips.

“Yes,” he said sweetly, “I suppose we could both use a boost of oxytocin.”

He took slow steps towards you, and then all at once, his arms were around your waist. He pulled you into him, lifting you slightly off the ground, bringing your neck to his hung head. You felt goosebumps where his nose nuzzled into your skin and your heart grew wings, soaring. You held L just as tightly, indulging in his desperate touch and burying your nose into his silky hair.

“I think we should revise our previous agreement about hugs.” He said after a moment, speaking into your throat.

“What amendments would you like to make?”

“I think four hugs a day is fine, but I don’t think we should limit ourselves to that. We do need to make up for our lack of hugs in the past after all. Furthermore,” he lifted his head slowly, so as not to knock you in the nose. He would feel horrible for that. “I think we could add or substitute hugs for other forms of affection as well.”

You hummed, and he continued.

“For instance, you have held my hand twice today, and both times, I felt a similar sort of comfort from the action. In fact, I’ve noticed any skin-to-skin contact with you eases me. Your hand on my face proved that. I tested this theory twice. Once, before our confessions, on the blanket. I placed my hand on the one you had placed on my shoulder. Then again, in your room, by simply touching your hand, tracing your palm instead of holding it. Both yielded similar results.”

You smiled at him fondly, your hands reaching up to play with his hair. As your nails skated across his scalp in lazy circles, his eyes fluttered a bit, his lids resting heavier.

“So you would like to add hand-holding? I’m fine with that.”

Your sweet voice flooded his mind, and your hands liberated his composure.

“Either you’re completely clueless to the effect you have on me,” he whispered, “Or you revel in it. And I’m not sure which is more terrifying.”

Your heart skipped a beat, which startled L for a moment, but then he realised it was because of an emotional response and not an attack from Kira.

“I wonder the same about you.”

L was unfamiliar with the look in your eyes. Your pupils were dilated, and your irises sparkled in the light. He’s never been looked at like that before. Your face looked brighter, and your body language (while restricted in your current position in his arms) was relaxed; open. And suddenly, he was entranced by your lips. You were talking, and he studied the muscles as they moved, unable to focus on anything else. He felt the urge to kiss you, and this shocked him. He forced himself to pay attention to your words.

“...besides you have all the power really. I know what I want, but if you don’t want me there’s nothing I can do about it. I could never kill you, but even if Kira forced my hand, I don’t know your name. And you’re the only one on the team who knows mine. Whether I like it or not, my heart is in your hands.”

“I would never hurt you,” he quickly defended, almost offended.

“I know,” you said simply, “That’s why I trust your hands.”

Your gaze was unwavering, your stance absolute. The emotions L tried to contain began stirring restlessly. He no longer felt like he had a hold on them. A hurricane of feelings he couldn’t quite name tore through his chest, and he didn’t know what else to do but act. He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours. It was awkward and brief, as neither of you puckered your lips, just touched them together. He kept his watchful eyes wide as he did so, gauging your response.

“Was that a kiss?” You finally asked once your silent shock was replaced by a highly amused smile.

A small frown overtook L’s face. “I fear if you had to ask…”

His sentence trailed off as he sat you back down on the ground. Then turned to walk to his closet. His was much larger than yours (which was ironic given he wore the same clothes for days straight), and you assumed he elected to change there when he closed the door. Now that he was out of sight, you allowed your excitement to show, jumping up and down and shaking your hands.

He had kissed you, almost. It was obvious that he didn't have the experience, but your heart swelled at the thought that he wanted those experiences with you. And he did kiss you, he held you in his arms, for no other reason than to hold you close.

You tried your best to calm down, but your bright smile would fool no one. Instead, you tried to focus your attention elsewhere, calling Watari. He had given you his number (or a number) months ago. He told you it was because he saw that you cared for his son and that his son trusted you. He also confessed that he was rather fond of you too. He wanted to see you make it out of this investigation.

He answered almost immediately.

“Hello, Ms Ogawa,” He was always careful to use your alias, even if he knew you were alone. “I notice that you’re calling from within headquarters, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I was calling because I convinced Ryusaki to take some time off. I need you to plan a trip for him, no shorter than a week but something that’s easily extendable.”

The old man chuckled on the other end of the line.

“You convinced him to take a break? I didn’t think anyone was capable; I wonder how you managed.” He seemed amused, implying he knew something through his old man wisdom.

“I’m not entirely certain I did,” L emerged from the closet, looking nearly identical, just less soggy. You smiled at him as he made his way towards you. “But I’ll be very cross with him if he doesn’t. I think he knows that.”

The man you spoke of raised a single eyebrow as if to say, “Oh really?”

You made a similar face that left no room for argument.

“I see,” Watari continued, “Shall I book this trip for one or two?”

You couldn’t hide your surprise at the question. You didn’t know how to answer. You didn’t have to though as L decided then to grab the phone from your hand, pinching it awkwardly between his fingers.

“Two,” he replied on your behalf. “We’ll also need a cover so that the others don’t know we’re together.”

“Understood. How soon would you like to leave?”

L returned the phone to you, trusting your decision.

“We’ll leave tomorrow. We have plans for tonight, and I’d like to rest beforehand.”

“That’s very wise, Ms Ogawa. I’ll send over the itinerary soon.”

“Thank you, Watari.”

You hung up, placing your phone back in your pocket. When you looked up, L’s hand was extended, offering you a sweater.

“If you intend to go out,” he explained, “You’ll need a sweater.”

You took it gratefully, and he turned his head again, giving you space to change. When you finished pulling the shirt over your head, he looked up and felt like he had swallowed his tongue. He never anticipated that seeing you in his clothes would affect him this way. He was truly smitten by you, and that was something he could no longer deny.

“Ready?” You asked, disrupting his train of thought.

He nodded, and you offered him your hand. A small smile spread across his face as he took it. He trusted your hands too, he realised.

You reached the garage, selecting an inconspicuous sedan for your ventures. L moved to open the door when you stopped him.

“Wait!” Your heart was in your throat, but you closed your eyes and forced out the words. “My favourite flowers are poppies. I think it’s cool how versatile they are. The moon absolutely amazes me. I understand how its gravitational pull affects our tides, but I still can’t wrap my mind around it. I also really like The Smiths, which raises conflicting feelings in me because I hate Morrison as a person, but man, if he isn’t great as crying into a microphone.”

You heard a soft chuckle and felt a hand reach out to hold your bicep. You took a deep breath, continuing with Ryusaki’s encouragement.

“I prefer a good milkshake over any other dessert. I think time travel is probably the coolest superpower, but I think it’s too great a power that I wouldn’t trust myself with it. I like cats, but I’ve always wanted a pet raccoon. I don’t think I could get one, morally, but they just look so cute. If I had one, I would love that little guy so much. I would give him a really pretentious name; find a way to grant him Lordship.”

You opened your eyes slowly to see Ryusaki smiling, his thumb tracing circles on your arm. His eyes darted around your face, twinkling in city lights. His heart pounded harder with every word you uttered. Romance was never something he prioritised in his life, it wasn’t something he ever saw happening. Most people were put off by him, and it wasn’t often that he actually met people in his work. He could have lived the rest of his life hiding behind a computer screen, an imperceivable entity known only to one man. But now, he would give anything to stand in the sun with you while you look at him the way you do now. Affection and amnesty dripping from your gaze.

“I’d like to try and kiss you again,” he said timidly. “If you’d show me how.”

Your smile split your face, feeling overjoyed by his words. Each move you made, he mirrored, hands on cheeks and bodies touching as he matched your steps forward. You jumped up on your tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Ryusaki’s eyes widened comically, and a hand rose to his lips as if he’d find your kiss there. But soon, his shock dissipated, replaced by a look of hunger.

This time, he led, dropping a hand to your waist to hold you close and using his other to lift your chin. He moved in so slowly, and your body thrummed with the anticipation of contact. He stopped, his lips barely grazing yours, and you couldn’t hide your desperate tremble when you felt his soft breath against your own. He pressed his puckered lips against yours, and you took no time reciprocating.

You brought a hand to the back of his neck, guiding him and pulling him closer. You felt like you were flying, your heart beating its feathered wings against your ribcage. You pulled your lips away just to bring them back, and you could feel his confidence growing as he tilted his head and his grip on your waist grew tighter. You began moving your lips against his, testing the waters. The rhythm was awkward at first, but he caught it soon enough.

His chest was rising and falling quickly against you, and he brought his hands up to hold your face. You lost yourself in his touch, in the way he clung to you. You were being consumed and felt no dire to run from it. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, and you gasped.

Your eyelids flutter as your brain caught up to what was happening around you. Ryusaki was no longer kissing you but carefully cataloguing the look on your face in his mind. He was reviewing everything he did and how you reacted to it. He had decided that he loved kissing you, and he wanted you to love it too. He wanted love to be something you associated with him, especially now that he knew his brain was making a similar connection. He knew it was probably too soon to say something like that, but he could wait. He would wait forever if he had to. He had the brightest star in the sky in his palms, and he didn’t intend to let this shooting star fall from his grasp.

You were seeing sides of L that you never thought you would, ones you never thought to look for. He held you like a precious stone, something sacred. He looked at you like you were a wonder to behold, the eighth wonder of the world. It made it hard to breathe, suffocated by his silent adoration.

“So, where are we going this evening?” He asked from high above.

“I don’t know,” you said breathlessly, “but we have all of Tokyo, I’m sure we’ll find something.”

He loved this look on you. The joy in your eyes, the lack of stress in your muscles. Your glee was infectious, and he didn’t mind it.

“As long as you’re by my side, I think anything would do.”

He testingly laid a kiss on your forehead as he said it, and you felt like you would melt to the floor in a pile of goo. You removed a hand from his neck, resting it on his, and were delighted when he instantly intertwined your fingers.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, Ryu-”

“Lawliet,” He interjected. You tilt your head, confused, and L does his best not to swoon as you rest your head in his hand on your cheek. “My name is Lawliet.”

You break out into a blinding grin, and Lawiet knows then that smile was the sunlight he was meant to bask in. Those were the rays that would light his darkest nights. The beams that would guide him through the intricate maze of life.

He had found all he needed. A friend who listens to his grief and grievances. One who cares enough to try and understand his mind and soothe it at the same time. Not for her own convenience, but for his betterment; never pushing the boundary of discomfort but bringing thrill to the change. He found a fresh pair of eyes, for when his get dull and tired, to show him the artistry outside of the ghastly monstrosities he and the world bathed in. A person brave enough to show up, even on the bad days. The whole world could fit in his palms when he held you like this.

“I’m not going anywhere, Lawliet.” you corrected.

L smiled, squeezing your hands three times. You returned the sentiment with a kiss to the hand you held in your own.

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I hope you enjoyed the read! Like I said, I don't think I'll do much writing for L, but I really enjoyed this. I hope even if you don't have as much love for this character as I do, you can still get something out of it :))

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