༊࿐ shy 𖧧

[makeufeelshy]

shy *.ﾟ❤︎

she/her. 2005. gemini. fandoms death note, monster

🖋️ requests are currently open ࿐

L Lawliet

(dream)

Vanishing Points 1 2 3 4

Light Yagami

Temptation

find my works on ao3 (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) . . . music that inspires my writing

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.

[makeufeelshy]

Vanishing Points . ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. L Lawliet

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 4

“Fuck.”

You muttered under your breath. In the corner of your eye was a tiny speck of light reflecting off glass. A camera. Not the kind tourists usually carried along the Malvarrosa beach boardwalk. It had a high-end, heavy lens. The man carrying it looked too unsuspecting.

A sharp wave of irritation hit you. You were in the clear for almost two years now. You pinched your nose bridge and glanced at the time on your watch. 4:07 PM.

You took a deep breath against the clock ticking in your head. Your new life in Valencia was simple. You lived off of tips as a waitress in a small café that only opened in the evening. It was a cash-only operation, catering to late-night locals and night owls. The manager was a kind old man named Emile who never ran a background check or asked for a resume. The job was yours after a handshake. Within weeks, the café seemed to sit a little straighter. The espresso machine lost its stubborn grime and the tables were cleared before the glass could even settle. You quickly became Emile’s favorite. The regular customers even knew you by your name—an alias. A woman’s name from an old black and white film you saw a few years ago for a history lecture.

You lived completely alone in a sun-bleached loft building right by the beach. It was perfect, the building was old enough to lack a security system or any working CCTV cameras.

Over the weekends, you kept busy by taking care of the old lady’s house next door handling routine household repairs. To the neighborhood, you were just a kind girl, a handy foreigner trying to make a peaceful life in Spain. Slowly, the tight-knit community took you in. They stopped asking questions about where you came from, shielding you with their tender small-town hospitality.

On your days off, you sunbathed on a crowded beach in Valencia and disappeared among the tourists. Today was supposed to be no different. Just a day trip to the big city, to blend into the massive crowds, and sit under the sun with a book in your hand.

Knowing the man next to you was probably a colleague sent by L, you refused to let your posture stiffen.

Listening cue: Manu Chao - Me Gustas Tu

You pulled out a compact mirror from your tote bag and aimed the reflection directly down the barrel of the man’s heavy photo lens. Its size was designed to pull in as much light as possible, not a very smart choice for a location like a sunny beach. When the incoming glare is strong enough, the lens acts as a funnel, focusing the heat into a pinpoint that fries the camera sensor’s micro-components.

There was no way of removing your photo from that SD card now, but at least now, you saved enough time to disappear out of thin air.

You pushed your sunglasses up and pulled your hair tie off, letting the messy bun fall loose over your shoulders. Your hair was way longer now, almost reaching your waist. Just a moment ago, you were lying on your beach mat without a care in the world, reading a Jane Austen novel. Now, every second counted.

As you stood up from the sand scanning for any signs of a backup team, the question burned in the back of your head: What blew my cover? Was it the pharmacy visit when you had that brutal fever? Maybe you left the prescription you forged on the counter. Maybe a stray traffic camera caught your profile when you took the bus into the city. Or maybe, you had simply underestimated him.

Pulling off a successful disappearing act made you feel alive, but a part of you did miss L.

He knew you better than anyone. 

A dangerous smile crept slowly onto your lips as you stepped into the moving crowd. Panic was for amateurs. If L was finally getting closer to catching you, you weren’t going to make it easy for him. You survived your old life. You even survived an encounter with Kira himself. You could survive a few suits in Spain’s most populated cities.

After two years of absolute silence, the adrenaline rushing through your veins felt less like a threat and more like an invitation.

Right on cue, a big crowd of tourists approached you from where you were standing. Shielded by their bodies, you swiftly made a break for the several taxis idling at the curb. Luckily, it made tracking which specific one you got into quite difficult. You slid inside the back seat and told the driver to head north toward Port Saplaya, a peaceful residential village with seaside canals and sweet, pastel townhouses. More importantly, it was where your friend named Lucia lived, who you met from working at the café.

She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek when you came knocking at her flat—where you were safe, at least for the next few hours. “What’s all this about?”

Lucia leaned her back against the door with a coffee mug in one hand, arching a skeptical brow at you turning up so suddenly.

You tossed your sunglasses onto the coffee table and put your hands on your waist. 

“Help me bake some strawberry shortcake.”

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.

[makeufeelshy]

Vanishing Points . ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. L Lawliet

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

author’s note: for more emotional effect i highly recommend queueing up the song i put around the middle of the chapter. you’ll see a listening cue before the scene starts. enjoy c:

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 3

The truth had finally crystallized at that warehouse. Kira’s defeat was clinical and extremely unsettling. Nothing compared to the sight of Light Yagami bleeding on the ground, crying hysterically. It really was him. The horror sank in everyone’s faces then, especially Matsuda’s. Is this what Soichiro had to die for? No one could begin to comprehend the sheer scale of the fabrication, the terrifying lengths that Light had gone to, just to lead them in circles while he killed off thousands of lives.

The next day was even more grim, devoid of any warmth.

One by one, members of the task force took their things and bid their goodbyes. Matsuda, Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide. Well, there wasn’t much to say. They had spent years shuttered away from the world, risking their lives on an investigation that existed outside the reach of the law. The truth had become a looming, monolithic thing. What now? was the question on everyone’s minds. It was impossible to imagine going back to a normal life after all of this. Before parting ways, Watari managed the transition of their documents: the nondisclosure agreements, the falsified records of their absence from the NPA, all high-level security clearances that had technically never existed on paper. Every file that tied them to the investigation was scrubbed and encrypted into a digital vault.

“Your service is officially concluded,” Watari said, his voice as soft and steady as a ticking clock. “Everything inside those folders ensures you are protected from any future inquiry. You are, for all legal intents and purposes, back where you started. I offer you my most sincere well wishes, may you find the tranquility you have earned.”

Aizawa didn’t offer a handshake to either of them before he left, but he turned to look L in the eye—it was a gaze that possessed a solemn and wordless acknowledgement of the burden L still had to carry. He gave a single nod, a silent good luck offered from one soldier to another. L watched him, his own dark eyes reflecting the gesture, before Aizawa turned and left. Matsuda’s farewell was more somber. His bow was heavy, and he was even trembling, fighting back tears. He stepped into his ride slow and phantom-like, as if his spirit had been extinguished entirely. After that, they were taken away in a fleet of black cars that disappeared into the Tokyo traffic.

They lingered outside the lobby for a moment before making their own exit. Watari thought of L’s future successors, Near and Mello, back home at the orphanage. “They’re expecting us back at Wammy’s House.” He opened the trunk of his car and loaded the last of his items while L stood there patiently.

Then, a sudden rain began to drizzle. L only hummed in response, a sound that left it unclear whether it was a yes or no. Once Watari unlocked the car, he slid inside the passenger seat, drawing his knees up toward his chest despite the generous space around him. The anomaly that had consumed his every waking hour for years—Light Yagami—had finally been neutralized. But even with the case closed, L’s mind felt far from the state of rest. His chest felt tight, the silence inside the vehicle pressing against his ears with a heavy weight.

“It’s done…” he suddenly muttered to Watari who was turning on the engine. “We can go home.” Through the rain-slicked streets of Tokyo, the quiet was broken only by the steady, rhythmic sweep of the windshield wipers.

L thoughtfully pressed his thumb against his lower lip, remembering the last thing you ever said to him.

Listening cue: The Shins - New Slang

“People are like planetary bodies,” you said softly. “They’re meant to pull each other out of orbit, lose their way for a while, and then spend the rest of eternity finding their way back to the center of gravity.”

For whatever mystifying reason, you wanted L to leave your disappearance unsolved. To let you be. What was even more bizarre was that he did—he really did honor your unspoken request to let you vanish. Yet, all these years, he had never truly closed the file on you. L had never understood why you permanently occupied the back of his mind, nor could he logically justify to Watari why he still quietly maintained a string of active leads on your whereabouts.

Watari had observed this development over time, recognizing it long before L did. Love, he concluded, was probably a form of surveillance, birthed by L’s insatiable curiosity. But for someone like him who was wired with a superhuman hyperfocus, there was no greater sacrifice than allowing a mystery to remain unsolved.

To the detective next to him, who was perfectly blind to the nature of it, the feeling felt like a curse. The sensation stirred inside his chest once again just as it did most nights, the unnameable feeling that came the moment you vanished. Watari noticed L’s sinking expression, the way his thumb drifted from his lip suddenly, resting his hands on his knees in a rare display of defeat. It was a rare sight. It was only on two or three occasions that Watari had caught him in this state—restless yet subdued profoundly, possessed by a melancholy that conquered him. He didn’t need to ask. Watari could almost see the ghost of you sitting next to L then.

L’s head hung low. Even without closing his eyes, he felt as if he’d suddenly traveled through time. There you were next to him. It was one of those night drives again. A specific memory pierced through his vision—he could still remember how the street lights cast a shadow over your bodies from inside the car. That particular night was the first time he ever saw a shinigami with his own two eyes. There was no way L could sleep soundly that night. Fortunately, you were in the area and it had been a while since you last saw L. Whatever case he was working on only seemed to get increasingly demanding, so you called off whatever plans you had for the evening and met him at a bus stop somewhere.

Without speaking a word, he took the passenger seat and only stared at the road ahead of you.

He looked different that night—and it worried you. Whatever it was, you picked up on the signs that he didn’t want to talk about it.

You stepped on the brake pedal a few miles away from the small pastry shop you always visited and turned to face him. L slowly turned his head to face you. Although his stare was blank, you could still read the look on his face. Why’d you stop the car?

You responded with a deep exhale and lifted your arm. L watched you reach towards him, rubbing soft circles on his back. At first, his shoulders remained tense, hunched forward like it usually was. But as your hand continued its steady motion, you felt the rigidness in his spine gradually give way. The warmth of your palm seeped through the fabric of his oversized white shirt. It seemed to soothe him. L didn’t pull away. He tilted his head slightly, his dark, unruly bangs falling over his eyes as he watched your hand. Then, he turned to you and took a deep breath. The way his wide eyes softened as they met yours spoke volumes. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the tender rhythm of your hand against his back. It was one of the only instances he ever got to experience physical contact, the kind that was gentle and tender.

The memory seemed to soften him in the present, but somehow, it only made everything heavier.

Watari looked at him through the rearview mirror and broke the silence. “Will you tell me what’s troubling you?”

L didn’t answer immediately. He looked up at the window, waking himself up to the present. “It’s done.”

The raindrops rested on the glass in front of him.

“But it’s not enough,” he said finally. “There’s always one last puzzle.”

Watari kept his eyes on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. He knew better than to offer an old man’s consolation. L didn’t want comfort. He wanted a solution to an equation that didn’t quite follow the laws of mathematics. “Perhaps,” he suggested softly, “you’re looking at it the wrong way. A puzzle can be finished.”

“A person… is a constant.” Watari concluded, his gaze drifting briefly to the rearview mirror to gauge L’s reaction.

Something clicked. He didn’t want to be a planetary body drifting aimlessly in the dark. Not anymore.

Suddenly, L sat up straighter, his heart racing. “Watari.” There was a flicker of that classic edge again, a sharp glint in his eye. The defeated look was gone. “The lead from three weeks ago in Madrid, do you remember?”

Watari nodded. “I saved it, just in case.”

“Good.”

Every time L thought he’d finally caught you right in his hand, the trail went cold. On his first attempt, he got the message that the disappearing act was deliberate.

In between the Kira investigation (and with the help of Watari), he’d search through the deepest corners of the web, finding possible traces of your digital footprint here and there—but the moment he felt like he was getting closer, you’d vanish. Like a handful of smoke.

It chewed at him, how you’d left without even leaving a single fingerprint. You were a forensics agent, after all. L Lawliet had met his match—he wasn’t tracking an amateur. You were an asset gone rogue. At that point, with your expertise, you understood the art of an investigation. You knew how detectives think and how evidence aggregates, and so you knew exactly how to leave a trail so clean it left L blind. All that was left was your Camaro, which was parked at Watari’s safekeeping warehouse. L had found it in a grassy field somewhere in the countryside next to a lake. It was your only slip, but a part of him felt that you left it there on purpose. In the trunk was a suitcase that contained remnants of your old life. Some tactical gear, an unloaded handgun, and keys to your old apartment. L had sent Mogi to flip the flat but the rooms were entirely empty, not even a single speck of dust left down to the floorboards.

It was a forensic masterpiece.

Even some members of the faculty tried looking into it, as they had built somewhat of a close friendship with you too. Save for your student information resting in To-Oh University’s digital database and a handful of numbers scattered across a hard drive (bank statements, utility bills, routine receipts), whatever you had left behind on the web was only proof of a quiet and unbothered life. For years, you were gone. Without so much as even an echo.

But as luck would have it, everything shifted a month prior to the final standoff with Kira at the Yellowbox Warehouse.

Apparently, one of Watari’s underground white-hat contacts had found a match on the other side of the world. That unforgettable night at the headquarters, the monitors cast a cold luminescence across L’s features as the satellite data began to compile. Watari was on the phone with him, his steady, grandfatherly voice giving him a lowdown on his findings.

You were in Valencia, a city of stone and sunlight, thousands of miles away from the old life you used to live.

“The match is definitive. The facial recognition scan hit a ninety-eight percent structural alignment, using an encrypted freshman ID photo from To-Oh University as reference. I had to thank an old pal for recovering that one. It really is her.”

L didn’t blink. He watched the images load onto the screen—a blurred silhouette caught on a camera from three days ago. There you were, in a grainy freeze-frame of a crowded train station in Valencia. A digital green grid was overlaid on your face, mapping the precise distance between your cheekbones, the curve of your jawline, your nose bridge, your eye shape.

“She didn’t use a forged passport to cross borders, she simply stopped interacting with the grid. No social media footprint, no registered sim cards, nothing. She’s completely under the radar. If she hadn’t looked up at that specific angle under that specific CCTV camera, she would have remained invisible. Given her background in forensics, she’s a natural.”

He stayed quiet. For the first time in years, the crushing weight felt like gravity, pulling L forward with a determined force.

You weren’t some criminal mastermind that he had to hunt down. You were his constant.

Once they reached the private terminal, Watari and L stepped out into the crisp night air, heading toward the awaiting jet.

L didn’t usually feel his own heartbeat like this, even when he’d finally caught Kira in his trap.

The memory of your face, one single image from that lead in Valencia, stayed behind his eyelids.

“Let’s stop in Barcelona. She knows we found her.”

next

i finally finished this chapter!!!! sorry for being so ia guys !

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.

[makeufeelshy]

Temptation 𓍯𓂃𓏧 ⋆♱ Light Yagami

Light can’t seem to resist his urges.

🏷️ mild/light smut, masochism, making out, rivalry, tension

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

It was your perfume again—jasmine and white musk. Hints of something powdery. Today, silver earrings caught the harsh fluorescent light where freshwater pearls usually glistened, the pair you always wore with your outfits. Light’s grip tightened on his mouse until his knuckles turned white. The mental clutter you brought into this room was starting to irritate him. He forced his eyes back to the screen, focusing on the Kantō region heart attacks. 20 deaths in the same month. If it weren’t for the Sakura TV incident a week ago, he could’ve gotten away with a few more.

You leaned back in your chair with a sigh.

Light felt a warm spike of vexation pierce his chest. “You’re breathing too loudly. It’s distracting.”

It was a lie. You were about two or three meters away from Light. Honestly, he barely even heard it.

An hour had passed since the rest of the task force cleared out, leaving a heavy, dead silence in the air between you and Light. It was fascinating, really, how he could maintain flawless concentration through the task force’s collective racket, yet your mere existence seemed to grate on his nerves. You didn’t want to chalk his hyper-criticism up to blatant misogyny, but sitting here under his microscopic standards, it was getting harder to call it anything else. You wiped the irritation from your face and replaced it with a cold, unblinking stare. Pivoting your chair, you faced him head-on. “I’m going to ask you something.”

He didn’t look up from the screen. You sat there with your legs crossed, looking at him anyway. “Where are you going to hide my body when you kill me?”

Light’s mask didn’t falter one bit, his hands laying still over his work desk. You knew nothing about him the way L did. There was no way you could see through the act he’d built with absolute perfection, and if you knew, you wouldn’t be sitting there asking questions. The sheer terror alone would paralyze you. He knew you would do the smart thing and run. “Maybe the lake,” he said finally.

You tilted your head slightly. “You wouldn’t mind getting some mud on your shoes?”

“It’ll wash off.” He said, turning to you with a bored look on his face. “Are you done pestering me, or did you actually have a point to make?”

Your temple began to sting from a blossoming fit of anger. “You’re no fun.”

He finally turned his chair and leaned back with a certain poise. “Get back to work.” 

The words took your last nerve. There was this sudden, feral urge to lunge forward and rake your nails across that condescending face—but you composed yourself, calmly marching over to Light’s desk until you were standing directly over him. You leaned into his space, your presence a suffocating weight that forced him to finally look up at you. “What do you think you contribute to this case successfully?” You said simply, towering over him. Light didn’t flinch, but your voice cut through the air like a poisonous blade.

“You think I don’t have you all figured out? When are you going to drop the righteous act?” You pushed further, leaning closer to his face. “It was never about helping your father solve this case from the beginning. It was always about the world finally seeing the brilliance of Light Yagami.”

“Your father is a man of principle, you know.” You clamped a hand over his shoulder, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. You leaned in until your lips grazed his ear, your breath a cold contrast to the heat of his rising temper.

“You’re just a spoiled brat with a god-complex.” You said it so quietly like you were a haunting apparition. The entire world was completely silent, your whispering was the only thing he could hear in that very moment.

On the inside, Light Yagami had completely lost it. You could hear his slow, jagged breaths from up close—not knowing that it wasn’t from the weight of your insults, but from the agonizing proximity of your body to his. The helplessness he felt devastated him. The warmth of your lips grazing his ear sent a jolt of electricity through him, it was a feeling he couldn’t escape no matter how hard he fought against it. It was a humiliating betrayal of his own biology. Light loathed the way his heart hammered against his ribs with a desperate, flustered heat.

He wished he could kill you, then and there—to scrub the maddening scent coming from the right side of your neck and erase you from his pristine world. Only a deeply frustrating impulse kept drawing him back, a primal need to pull you closer. Even as a god, or so he told himself, Light Yagami was a prisoner to his own flesh. He found himself staring at the curve of your mouth with a stifled, violent urge to close the distance between you.

He said your name with a low vibration as if to warn you for what he was about to do.

Before you could pull back, his hand snared the back of your neck, fingers viciously tangling in your hair as he pulled you deeper into him. There was no grace in it, only the bruising collision of his mouth against yours—the point of contact turning you into creatures melting into one another.

“Fuck,” he hissed into you, swallowing the sounds you made from your devouring kissing, panting in between, both of your hands reaching for any skin you could find. You met his aggression with a sharp hunger of your own, matching his pace as if you were trying to seize the lead from him. It lasted ten seconds, or maybe even less. The two of you pulled back abruptly with a look of madness that matched your faces.

What the hell just happened?

Light’s breathing was shallow, studying the flushed look on your face. You were in a breathless daze, feeling a satisfied shiver down on your spine. You stood up, wiped your mouth with your thumb, and in one fluid motion, you gave him a slap across the face. The impact stung, effectively sobering him up.

And he didn’t reach for his face. He stayed perfectly still, his head snapped to the side. His profile was simply caught in the blue light when you watched your handprint blooming on his cheek. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

And then you left.

Every point of contact—the memory of your lips grazing against his ear, the soft sensation of your skin, the sharp, stinging heat where you struck him—throbbed in rhythm with the heat spreading down in his slacks. The air in the office was suffocating, having been stripped of the tension that’d been fueling Light’s adrenaline only moments before.

His hand slowly hovered near his face where the strike of your palm still burned, sending a sharper, more desperate ache through his length.

Light sank into his leather chair, out of breath. His cheek smelled like your perfume.

i wouldn’t call light a full sub, maybe a bratty switch 🤔 i can’t imagine ever writing full-on smut with him though, just like with L … we’ll see! well anyway, i hope you guys liked this c: please let me know your thoughts !!! i wrote this during my college lecture lmfao i didn't pay attention at all

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.

[makeufeelshy]

Vanishing Points . ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. L Lawliet

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 2

How you met was kind of a funny story.

The library's east wing was essentially abandoned by the university, left to gather dust while the rest of the building remained in use. Students avoided it because the lights flickered like something out of a horror film. Professors avoided it because half the catalog hadn’t been digitized. Even the custodians seemed to forget it existed. Strips of yellow caution tape hung across the entrance, curling at the ends from aging. Back then it was too dusty, so he had Watari deal with it one weekend. Once L came back, it was spotless. The place successfully became his study. The silence here was perfect, it was different from ordinary silence. It was the kind that let him think.

L sat cross-legged at the end of a narrow aisle, laptop balanced precariously on one knee, surrounded by stacks of books he had no intention of checking out properly. The Wi-Fi barely reached this part of the building, but barely was enough.

A noise interrupted the hum of his laptop. A raspy sound of wood. Heavy books settling onto a table. L didn’t look up. Someone else was here.

He stayed still for a moment and just listened. The silence was punctuated by a soft and repetitive sound of a page being turned, then another.

Curiosity began to stir inside his chest. He rose soundlessly and moved between the shelves until he found the source.

You sat three aisles over beneath a small desk lamp that definitely didn’t belong to the library. Warm light poured across the table around your hands. There were papers everywhere. Maps, old photographs, handwritten notes pinned down beneath river stones.

You wore white gloves. For preservation, L noticed immediately. He watched as you lifted a brittle page with the precision of someone handling bone.

He lingered there longer than he meant to.

Without looking up, you broke the silence. “If you’re going to stare,” you said evenly, “you could at least breathe quieter.”

L blinked. “I’ll try,”

“You left footprints in the floor dust.” You turned another page over. “And you smell like convenience store coffee.”

That made him step out from behind the shelf. Up close, you looked exhausted in the way archivists and insomniacs often did. “You’re not supposed to be here,” L said matter-of-factly.

“Neither are you.”

There was no arguing with that. His gaze drifted to the open document in front of you. Margins crowded with dates and tiny annotations. “You’re cross-referencing the handwriting,” he murmured. “Different ink compositions. Different authors pretending to be the same one.”

You lit up. You turned to him, trying to map out his face clearly. “You figured that out from across the room?”

“The pressure patterns. Some write heavily and indent the page. Some have lighter strokes,”

The two of you looked at each other. Neither of you could get a good read on the other’s face, but something unnameable was hanging in the air between you. You slowly pushed a second cup across the table toward him. L noticed the tea was already poured before he’d even walked up to you. “I was wondering how long it would take you to come over.”

L stared at the cup for a second before folding himself carefully into the chair opposite you.

“I think caffeine is a stimulant for those who are lazy,” you said, smiling at him finally.

“Laziness requires a desire to do nothing. My intake is purely compensatory.” He blew softly on the surface of his tea. “Do you have any sugar cubes?”

next

i’ve been sitting on these first two chapters all week !!! i’m so glad they’re finally out, i hope i finish writing the next ones soon (｡・‧̫・｡).*♡ thanks to everyone whos been showing support 4 my writing ! it keeps me going !!!!! also dont hesitate to dm me because i would love to make friends on here c: Ok bye guys

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.

[makeufeelshy]

Vanishing Points . ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. L Lawliet

The world’s greatest detective is haunted by the most perfect disappearing act.

🏷️ slow burn, non-sexual intimacy, mutual pining, friends to lovers

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

Chapter 1

A dusky amethyst sunset held the clouds while you drove your classic Camaro with the windows rolled down, so the wind blew your hair about. And L Lawliet, your long-time friend, occupied the passenger seat watching the road in silence. You had both graduated just hours before, yet the achievement meant nothing. You two didn’t even attend the ceremony.

You had outpaced the confines of academia together a long time ago. You were ghosts—intelligence assets trained to move through the world without leaving a footprint, your real lives existing only where the light failed to reach.

L’s major was in mathematics. For the first time, the world’s most elusive detective had a face, a name, and a seat in a lecture hall. Emerging from a lifetime of anonymity was a calculated gamble, spurred by a case that defied every logic he knew. Kira was efficient, precise, and terrifyingly righteous. There was no way he could win from behind a computer screen.

You, on the other hand, stood in the perfect blindspot, working for a different private entity like a ghost in the machine. You balanced your studies in classic literature and worked alongside the faculty as an archivist, but really, it was merely a cover for your work as an agent with a specialization in forensics. You hid behind the labs, the archives, and the gallery vaults. It was your sanctuary.

You never spoke of the agency, and L never mentioned his pursuit of Kira. You two made your own deductions of what the other did, but that was it—your friendship functioned on a silent treaty of non-interference. L liked that you didn’t ask questions, and neither did he. You were two people living double lives. The truth was a liability. Even as strange as it appeared, the dynamic worked well between you two. Your presence was an anomaly that L readily permitted as someone who had no interest in having a conventional social life. It seemed that you were the singular exception. Sometimes, without looking up from his work, L would break off the corner of a croissant and nudge it toward your palm; a functional sort of intimacy.

The silence you two always shared was never empty. In fact, it was pressurized and productive, every so often interrupted by the two of you clipping at each other, playful or provocative—the friction was endearing.

The road stretched endlessly ahead of you in the present. Telephone wires cut across the sky in long black lines while the Camaro devoured mile after mile beneath you. Wind rushed through the open windows next to you carrying the scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the passing fields.

Neither of you had spoken in almost forty minutes.

L sat curled slightly into the passenger seat, one bare foot tucked beneath the other, thumb resting near his mouth as streetlights flickered across his face in intervals. Behind you, bags of sugary pastries shifted softly every time you changed lanes. Over the years, he had mastered the nuances of your expression, particularly your silences.

He could tell the difference between your irritated silence to when you were quiet and deep in thought. Something felt off. You were blinking a lot more than usual.

You kept one hand loose on the wheel, oblivious to L’s suspicion.

“You’re leaving,” he said finally.

For a few seconds, only the sound of the engine answered him. You raised your eyebrows and rested your weight on the carseat. “What gave it away?”

L studied your profile carefully, not replying.

You turned to face him for a few seconds. “Would you investigate me if I disappeared?”

“I would investigate you immediately.”

His words almost knocked you over with the way he said it, having so much conviction. “What?” You let out a disbelieving laugh.

L looked back at you with a straight face. “There’s no other course of action. You are my friend,”

A small laugh escaped you then, quiet, tired. The city lights had long vanished behind you now, ahead was only darkness and the endless ribbon of road illuminated by your headlights.

“I would drop everything to find you again,”

As you stared straight ahead, you felt his eyes searching your face in the dim dashboard light. It made your chest tighten, your heart skipping a sudden, erratic beat. The darkness of the night’s sky couldn’t obscure the ache building in your heart at all. For a long moment, you just let the silence rest in the space between you. Then, you gained enough courage to face him fully, your gaze softening as it met his. “That’s if you do find me.”

“You underestimate me. If that’s a challenge…” L looked down, pulling his knees inches closer to his chest. “I don’t need a head start.”

You tucked some loose hair strands behind your ear and pursed your lips. Neither of you could honestly get a good read on what the other was feeling. There was a different kind of air that made L’s heart beat erratically. “People are like planetary bodies,” you said softly. “They’re meant to pull each other out of orbit, lose their way for a while, and then spend the rest of eternity finding their way back to the center of gravity.”

Something in his expression shifted almost invisibly. It was tiny and fleeting. You noticed it, still. “What do you mean?”

You slowed down the car, the tires softly stopping to a halt against the gravel outside a small, quaint bakery. Suddenly, the quiet between you two was the loudest thing. Letting go of the steering wheel, you shifted your weight in the driver’s seat, turning your body completely to face him. L remained slouched, his knees pulled up to his chest, but his head stayed turned to the side, his dark, shadowed eyes locked onto yours.

You leaned your head back against the headrest, letting all the tension drain from your shoulders as you looked at him in the dim and intimate glow of the dashboard light. After a few seconds of silence, your lips formed a smile that was bittersweet and honest, entirely stripped of any remaining defenses. “L, it means I’ll see you when I see you.”

Neither of you saw each other again after that.

Years later, L would still remember the exact cadence of your voice, every last word you had said to him like a record playing over and over, and most especially the way you looked at him—and he would remember with unbearable clarity that less than a week later, you vanished without a trace.

next

the rest of this fic will be posted soon, and on ao3 as well! thanks guys (∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.

[makeufeelshy]

(dream) ⋆˚꩜｡ ˚.⁺⊹ . L Lawliet

Realizing he’s running out of time, L attempts to sever your bond before Kira can do it for him.

🏷️ comfort, implied/referenced character death, non-sexual intimacy, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

༊࿐ inspired by salvia palth's song of the same title. this work was also posted on AO3.

The faint hum of the monitors was the only thing filling the silence of the task force headquarters. On days like these, the rest of the team retreated to their families, leaving the vast headquarters to you and L — and Watari, who frequently checked in on you both and brought in food and other necessities.

Everyone knew what was going on between you two. To them, your relationship was very strange, judging by the way you maintained a professional distance at all times. Light had noticed L’s eyes following you across the room before, but he had always assumed L was incapable of harboring romantic feelings for another person. That was why it had been so jarring when he announced it, not even looking up from his screen. “Y/N and I are in a relationship. Please respect our privacy and remain professional. … Matsuda, you can pick your jaw up from the floor.”

The team thought it was some kind of bizarre experiment until a week later, when Aizawa and Chief Yagami walked in on you sleeping next to each other, your head resting on L’s knee. There was something about the sight of you two that finally gave them a glimpse of L’s softer side.

Even with his relationship now out in the open, L’s obsession with the case remained unchanged. Still suspecting that Light Yagami was Kira, he knew that professing his attachment to you might have seemed like revealing his weakness, but to L, it was taking a calculated measure. By cementing your place at his side, he was ensuring you wouldn’t become collateral damage. He was gambling on the fact that Light was far too intelligent to kill you and risk exposing himself in the fallout.

Being his partner, you made peace with the fact that you would never see the true depth of his feelings. L was never really the expressive type. Yet, you cherished these moments alone with him because it was all you ever needed — like the other night, when the HQ was empty and the two of you sat shoulder-to-shoulder, scanning the notebook in between teaspoons of ice cream.

“If I write ‘death by excessive sugar consumption’ in here…” L paused to wipe the side of his mouth. “How many seconds do you think I have left?”

You took a moment to think before offering a small, tired smile. “If the notebook doesn't get you, the cavities will.”

He took a distracted bite, his eyes never leaving the rules written on the black pages. “The mechanics are fascinating. ‘The human whose name is written in this note shall die.’ If I were a god of death, I…”

“Would have a bit more imagination?” you cut in with a sigh.

L turned his head towards you with his signature expressionless face. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day.”

You leaned forward, resting your weight against the desk as you pushed the empty ice cream bowl aside. “You know L, when people find things funny, they laugh.”

When he only hummed in response, you felt it as a small vibration against your side. He tilted his head back to look up at you, his dark eyes reflecting the blue light of the screens. “If I were a god of death, I’d at least add a ‘conditional logic’ clause. Whoever’s name is written could avoid their terrible fate by choosing a different path… It would make the data more compelling. Don’t you think so?”

“Ryuzaki,” you slid your hand across the cold surface of the desk until your fingers brushed against his. “Was that you trying to make a joke?”

L always touched things with just his fingertips like how he holds his phone or a sugar cube, but with you, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he adjusted his grip, his thumb tracing the skin across your palm absentmindedly. “Yes.”

You didn’t really have much experience with intimacy, but with L, it was truly something else. It wasn’t anything like what you would see in the movies, but it felt much deeper. As someone who never let his guard down, seeing this side of L felt exhilarating, like finally hearing a hidden frequency that no one else could hear. Maybe that’s all intimacy really is. The two of you hadn’t even kissed before, but it didn’t matter. What you shared transcended the physical; it was rare. Wordless. A kiss would have been too clumsy. Your world with L ignored the flesh and thrived as this quiet, delicate dream.

So, you grinned at him, tucking some of your hair strands behind your ear.  “Is that right? And what would my adventure be?”

L let out a tiny huff. It’s a sound that’s the closest he can ever get to a laugh. “Death by…” he paused to lie closer to you. Now, you were both lying on the desk, facing each other.

You stayed still, focused on his gaze. “By?”

 “Being too observant for your own good,” he said softly. “Fortunately for you, I’ve decided to be the only one who gets to watch you that closely.”

Tonight, L didn’t turn around when you entered carrying the usual two coffees plus a box of pastries. He sat like he always did, knees tucked to his chest, his silhouette sharp against the screens’ blue light. You took off your coat and set down the coffee and pastries you’d brought. Like every night, the scent of caffeine was the only warm thing in the room. A sigh escaped you the moment you landed on the chair next to him, your body surrendering to the work ahead of you.

“We have to end things,” the words fell out of him suddenly, completely flat and monotone.

You could feel your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. What the fuck was wrong with this guy, breaking up with you like it was nothing? You figured it was some kind of contingency plan. L was always unpredictable, but a small part of you saw it coming. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to compose yourself. “Because?”

“Because I love you,” he stated. His eyes were wide, underscored by those permanent dark circles. “And I am going to die soon.”

Anyone else would have argued. They would have called him morbid or dramatic, but you knew better. You had worked beside him long enough to know that L didn’t deal in premonitions; he dealt in certainties. If he said the belltower was ringing, it was because he could already sense it getting louder through the floorboards. His deductions were never a matter of opinion.

“L.”

L’s thumb drifted from his lip. He looked so small in that chair for some reason. The two of you stared at each other, him looking up at you. He was waiting for you to walk away, to make the logical choice and save yourself from the inevitable grief.

“I still want to be with you.”

A flicker of genuine surprise crossed L’s face. He blinked, his gaze dropping to your feet and then slowly trailing back to your eyes. “Y/N, that is a highly inefficient use of your remaining time with me," he said, but the usual analytical edge in his voice wasn’t there anymore. “The emotional fallout upon my death will be significantly higher if we continue this relationship. It will be harmful for your well-being.”

“You’re being selfish,” you breathed.

L was confused. “Selfish? I am simply trying to... minimize the damage I leave behind. Please, Y/N. Think about–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me. You’re trying to protect a version of me that exists after you’re gone, but what about the version of me that’s standing right here? You and I are alive right now. I cannot leave you. I want to stay with you and that’s final.”

He went completely still. His hands, which had been restlessly twitching near his knees, froze in his tracks. He looked like a statue, his dark hair falling over his eyes as he breathed in the terrifying proximity of your warmth. He was a man who lived in the margins of the next move, always one step ahead of everyone else — you stood as the beautiful and terrifying gravity of the present. His logic was completely defenseless against the simple fact that your love was so great that you were staying, that you were willing to let his memory haunt you for the rest of your life once he left you behind.

“L,” your voice snapped him out of his trance. “I will stay with you, even when you’re gone.”

His eyes searched yours, wide and frantic. He was stalling. L had no counter to any of that. You closed the distance between you two and finally held his face. And your touch was light as a feather. None of you spoke for a moment, you could feel him beginning to soften into you. He didn’t pull away. He couldn’t pull away. L took a deep breath, tilting his head into your palm as a form of surrender. “I can never win an argument with you.”

“We can’t fight,” you sighed. “Because you’re going to die soon, I guess. Alright then. I love you.” As your hand slipped from his cheek, you felt a sharp wince in your heart. You didn’t want to forget what it was like to touch him, not when the minutes were already dissolving between your fingers. L could read it from the subtle wave of sadness on your face. You tried to read his own. “L?”

The logic finally snapped.

He pulled you into him, his arms locking around you with a sudden, desperate strength that seemed impossible for someone so slight. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his messy hair slightly tickling your skin. It was a desperate, clumsy, and heavy embrace — one that ignored everything but the fact that, in this one single moment, the world hadn’t ended yet. He didn’t say a word, but you could feel the heat from his breath against your neck. It was a surrender to the mercy of your presence. He finally accepted that he didn’t have to face the end alone. This was his weakness. Your softness devastated him. Your tenderness reached the sullen corners of his heart so easily, filling empty spaces he didn’t even know he had. L desperately fought with himself to push you away, but instead, he held you quietly, breathing you in. He couldn’t bring himself to last a single second longer without your warmth.

“My efficiency in this case increases by 6.2% when you are in the room, Y/N,” he murmured into your skin. His breath stayed there. The sensation made you aware of his touch, his heartbeat from his chest, his breathing. “I had attributed that to your efficiency as a colleague, but perhaps it is simply because I am less inclined to let the world end while you are still in it.”

“Wow,” a soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned in closer to him, pressing your cheek fully against his. “6.2%. Very romantic,”

“And when I have to go somewhere else?” you pressed him further playfully. He took a deep breath. “4.8%.”

“Well now you’re just saying numbers,” you laughed again while L silently held you still.

When he finally pulled back from your embrace just enough to hold your shoulders, it seemed as if the tension that had lived in his frame for years finally vanished. “I want to make sure I have every detail correct.” L began examining your features, taking in the way your expression softened just for him. He reached up, his cool fingers trembling slightly as they brushed your hair from the side of your face. “I want your face to be the last thing I remember.”

You looked into the intensity of his eyes and felt the gravity of his confession pull at your heartstrings. “Don’t worry. You aren’t going anywhere I won’t follow.”

alright hey guys so this is my first day out here i hope i did okay coz i have not written a fanfic in almost 5 years. i deeply apologize if you do not fw my writing. i wanted to write l lawliet as an extreme yearner who does not express his affection like most guys do, my hc is he is afraid of physical touch LOL okay thanks guys i will be posting more i just finished watching death note for the first time and i will not be normal for the next coming weeks

© makeufeelshy 2026 *.ﾟ❤︎

All rights reserved. Please do not repost in any format or copy my works.