#l lawliet comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

p0ssywhippedcream · 10 months

Note

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

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

A looks like this;

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

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

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

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

B is a bit more chaos;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

206 notes · View notes

bee-writes-n-spins · 6 months

Text

the mask goes on the minute other people look.

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

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

oh, but you..

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

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

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

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

652 notes · View notes

after-witch · 7 months

Text

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

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

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

Word count: 2700ish

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a helmet.

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

Matt had just smiled and shrugged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not Matt in the doorway at all.

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

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

L blinks.

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

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

“Just uh, you know. To bed.”

He smiles, and your nerves tingle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lip quirks. “I’d get a job.”

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

“I see. What kind of job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff, tears choking your throat.

His grip on you tightens.

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

When your lips tremble, he sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles.

“Sure.”

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

#yandere l lawliet #yandere death note #yandere l #yandere #platonic yandere #afterwitch writes #I meant to finish a vampire fic but I'm stressed about a medical test tomorrow #so vaguely comforting fucked up sibling platonic yandere it is!

412 notes · View notes

trashyshrew · 6 months

Note

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

#death note #light yagami #l lawliet #lawlight #rough sketches #thank you so much for this #always love your asks because they're a little outside what i tend to gravitate towards #so here's my attempt at some yotsuba arc h/c #not sure i stuck the landing on the 'comfort' aspect though...#more like: l wonders if it's bad that your pet serial killer is in a state of acute psychological anguish?#sorry i'm over a week late on this #may have also misunderstood the assignment #😅😅😅

380 notes · View notes

valfeathers · 1 year

Text

obsession

#light yagami #l lawliet #death note #time lapse and OG under the cut !!#2 posts in one day?? crazy #wanted to do smth a lil more experimental !!#death note fanart #i SAY light but like #its his eye #i wanted to break outta the comfort zone hehe #l death note #light death note #so into the funky colours in dn #v’s gallery

700 notes · View notes

ponury-grajek · 2 years

Text

academic year has started so I'm drawing my comfort characters because, woof, I'll need a lot of comfort

#death note #l lawliet #light yagami #lawlight #hurt/comfort but the hurt is my academy and the comfort are the blorbos I draw myself #I sometimes feel like I'm spamming some of you with my drawings #and if you're the victim of my spam #I'm sorry #not that I'm gonna stop or anything

1K notes · View notes

chaoseclips · 10 months

Text

#they are my sillies #comfort characters #fujimoto ponyo #monkey king hero is back #deep sea nanhe #l lawliet #toshinori yagi #balan wonderworld #tack the cobbler #lmk ao lie #donquixote rosinante

166 notes · View notes

poizonedapplez · 5 months

Text

Hopping on this train because it's hilarious

#fanart #death note #traditional art #l lawilet #comfort characters #comfort characters meme #i think we have to kill this guy #princess tutu #princess tutu fanart #l lawliet fanart #death note fanart #shitpost

62 notes · View notes

applealchemist · 1 month

Text

#oh? what's this?#death note fanart?#in my 2024??#more likely than you'd think #anyways i got a bit silly today and decided to test out new colored pencils i got a while ago #(<- got them at christmas. its april now.)#i wanted to draw but also step out of my comfort zone since i usually stick to pencil monochromatic y'know?#death note #death note fanart #misa death note #l death note #l lawliet #misa amane #misa misa #yagami light #light yagami #death note light #my art #traditional art

21 notes · View notes

nateriverswife · 1 year

Text

crying over the realisation that L pushed Aizawa to choose his family over the case because he's also an orphan, that understands what's like not having parents, and didn't want Aizawa's daughter to grow up with a father as he did and because of him.

#Au in which Aizawa dies and L comforts that kid in the same way he wished someone comforted him #Btw the fact that he's an orphan is so overlooked in the grand scheme of things #he is surrounded by two good dads I say that care about their kids #and he's like there 🧍‍♂️ why not me #death note #l lawliet #shuichi aizawa #soichiro yagami #I can't really say if Watari filled that void for him #but he wasn't the stereotypical dad to him #since he also worked for him #dn.l

230 notes · View notes

p0ssywhippedcream · 1 year

Note

Hey ophe! Hope ur day has gone well so far! could I request a fluffy hurt/comfort short-story/blurb for L where Reader is like really stressed because of something and starts like self-deprecating I guess and L is basically like “You dare say that about the love of my life?” Type of thing and like reassures the, or something? Idk if u really do that type of writing so no pressure! 😊

~🐹

I absolutely write this stuff, hurt/comfort is my life rn! This is completely inspired by the fact I couldn’t get my shoe off and today was a ruffff day.

The slam of the door shocked L out of his trance. The gentle re-open and close of it told him it was you disturbing his peace.

He heard a small sigh and a puff of the mattress as you flung yourself on it. Turning his head over his shoulder like an owl, L noted your distressed expression as you sat up and struggled with the straps of your shoes.

“My love, are you alright?” He got a weary grunt as a response.

Powering down his laptop, he stood and made his way over to your body.

“Y/n?” Suddenly you made a noise of rage and struggled with the straps harder, fingers shaking as you desperately tried to rip the shoes off your feet.

L’s hands found yours on top of the black wedges and you stopped, dropping your head and staring at your lap. He kneeled in front of you and searched for your expression under your hair but found none.

Gently, as if scared to hurt you, L began to undo the straps. Slowly, he pulled your foot out of the shoe and set it aside then moved onto the next. Once both your shoes were off, L’s hands moved lovingly on your feet, easing some of the ache of the day.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?” His voice was small but not because he was intimidated, he wanted to be careful with you.

Your eyes met his as his hands worked to massage your pain away.

“I… Why don’t people like me? Or talk to me? Or want me?” You looked so hopeless and pitiful L felt his heart lurch in his chest.

“People like you.” He assured you with as much conviction he could muster, “I like you. Watari likes you. I want you.” He added the last part as if it wasn’t obvious by the way he was looking at you.

You huffed miserably. “You’re my boyfriend, he’s basically your dad. That doesn’t really count, I’d be worried if you didn’t like me.”

L paused for a second then moved his hands up to your calves. “Who doesn’t like you?”

“Everyone.”

L shook his head lightly. “You can do better than that, my love. Be specific.”

“I don’t know! People, everywhere. My parents, my family, my friends. It feels like no matter what I do, nobody really likes me or cares about me.” You dropped your head and glared at the roses on your skirt with so much anger, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they had killed your firstborn.

“I don’t have much expertise with parents or family,” L admitted, “But I do know that your friends wouldn’t be friends with you if they didn’t like you. People can be cruel and it hurts, but most of the time it’s not personal. When it is personal, it’s misdirected or exaggerated and even if you made a mistake, but you deserve to know how to fix it without harsh treatment.”

You looked at your boyfriend. His hands tucked underneath your knees and he gave you a feeble smile.

“You’re really wise, you know that?”

“I would hope so, otherwise I would need a new occupation.”

You giggled softly but it faded to a dull grimace. “It’s hard, L. I seem to always be doing something wrong. People seem to hate me upon meeting me and even when they do warm up to me, one wrong thing and i’m back at square one. I wish I could be one of those easy, pretty girls everybody liked.”

L fingers tightened and you made a curious face. For a second, pain flashed across his face, as if the thought of you insulting yourself physically ailed him.

“You are pretty. You are beautiful. And you are easy for the people who matter. Why do you want everybody to like you? You don’t even like everybody.”

You laughed. It was full and real and it filled the room as yours always does. L hadn’t realized how grim the room felt without your joy until the color returned to the wallpaper as your chuckles bounced off it.

“You’re right. I guess I just feel wrong around people who aren’t you or close friends, like the odd man out.”

L nodded, he understood better than anyone.

“Well, I like you odd. Anyone who doesn’t like you doesn’t deserve to know all the things about you that are worth loving.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like the way your hair looks in the morning. Or the way you giggle when you’re caught doing something mischievous. Or how kind you can be when someone is hurting. You are worth all the oddness and the wrongness to me because you never felt wrong, you simply felt unknown.”

L paused, his words sunk in and made your cheeks turn a light shade of pink. He continued, “If people judge you as soon as they meet you, they don’t deserve to have those good things from you. The good people, the ones who matter will let you be unknown and will be grateful to love you soon after. And you,” He poked you in the belly and you laughed,” You are goodness. If you feel wrong around certain people, it’s not you that is wrong, it’s a sign these people aren’t right for your happiness.”

Your eyes were over pouring with appreciation and gratitude. For a moment, they looked golden in the dim light of the reflected sunset and L saw your usual brightness in them. The butterflies in his stomach were doing flips.

“Okay… okay.” You agreed and tugged him up to you by his arms, “You’re right. And you’re good for my happiness. I’m so glad you met me.”

L’s lips curled and his cheeks pushed his eye-bags up as he grinned like a goof. “I’m so glad you didn’t judge me upon meeting me at first either. Who would’ve thought a giant bear costume would gain me a girlfriend one day?”

You laughed and kissed him until his lips were red. “It was a cute look on you, though really a panda fits you a little better.”

“A panda is a bear.” He murmured into your laughing lips.

90 notes · View notes