Chapter 1: you stood beside me when i was out of my mind
Notes:
Important note for people who might've found this fic through the Lawlight tag: L/Misa is the main ship here. There will be some Lawlight content as well, including explicit stuff, so I tagged it, but it's not the majority of the story. If you're here just for that, you'll probably be disappointed.
I was unhappy with how I was characterizing L and Misa (and honestly Light as well), so I went back and re-read a lot of the manga and a bunch of fics. This story is not dissimilar to Liability, but we'll be seeing a darker, more manipulative L and a more volatile and unstable Misa, and unlike Liability, Light is sticking around. Because of this, the dynamic between the three of them is going to be TOXIC and messy af. If you want romance and fluff and likeable characters, read Liability. If you want to read about three trash people in a toxic love triangle having a lot of sex, read this. One commenter described the vibe as "like horror told through sex."
Currently updates weekly.
You stood beside me when I was out of my mind
I broke the glass, and you were there to sweep it aside
And if you leave me, rest assured, it would kill meI make a mess and you'll be there to help me undress
I'll be unclean, I'll be obscene, you'll be the rest
And if you leave me, rest assured, it would kill meLike an oleander
White, white leaves- Mother Mother, "Oleander"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L needed to become Kira.
Not in reality, of course. But every night since the case had begun, L found a quiet place to sit alone and he became Kira. It was the only way to find him, to understand his motivations, to predict what he would do next.
Tonight, this time was more important than ever, because tonight, his amount of information had significantly increased. L sat cross-legged on his hotel bed, thinking over the events of the day. The fake execution, and the details of the interaction he had witnessed between the elder Yagami, Light, and Misa. The way that Light had reacted when L had told him he would be participating in the investigation from now on—under the condition that he consent to 24/7 observation, either by cameras or by L himself.
And the conversation, back at the hotel, between himself, Light, and Misa. It was the second time that L had interacted with both Kiras at once, and watched them interact with each other. Assuming, of course, that Light and Misa had been the first and second Kiras, which was not a 100% certainty, but was likely enough that he was taking it as a given for the purposes of this thought exercise. Especially given what Misa had said about seeing Light in Aoyama; as a coincidence, it was simply too unbelievable. By Occam’s razor, Light and Misa could be assumed to have been the Kiras.
The first occasion, at To-Oh University, shortly before L had arrested Misa, had been short, so short that he could not get a strong impression of their relationship. Nonetheless, he could feel that something had changed.
Having Misa around was useful. Light was so careful; he almost never made mistakes. But L had known from the start, seeing the clumsy attempt to make contact via video tape, that the second Kira would be the weak link of the operation. She revealed things that Light never would. She was beyond loyal, of course, but her inability to think before speaking and tendency to wear her heart on her sleeve meant that she gave L a window into Kira’s operation—and to the changes that had occurred while the two of them were in captivity.
For example: when L had first met Misa, she had immediately introduced herself as Light’s girlfriend. Though she had originally kept her mouth shut when taken prisoner, once she had Changed, she had begun proudly declaring her love for him. (L had taken to thinking of whatever had happened to both Kiras during their captivity as the Change, because, while he did not yet understand it, he knew that something significant had definitely happened to them both, after which they had been different.)
Light had not described Misa as his girlfriend during that first meeting, but neither had he contradicted her words. L had gotten the impression that Light did not want him to know of their relationship—because, of course, he knew that she was the second Kira and that being too strongly linked to her might incriminate him. However, once the secret was out, he had not argued, despite the fact that he had been with another woman when L had first approached him.
Tonight, however, this had changed. Light had made it clear that their relationship was entirely in Misa’s head, and he had done so both in front of Misa and after she had left. Now, it was possible that Misa had been deluded from the beginning, but in that case, would Light not have contradicted her the first time that she introduced herself as his girlfriend? And for that matter, when Misa had claimed that Light had responded to her confession by kissing her, he had not argued against that, which meant that she was probably telling the truth.
In addition, after Misa had left, Light had refused L’s request that he feign affection for Misa in order to get information from her. Now, it was possible that this was an excuse for Kira to avoid giving L information. However, his personality had genuinely seemed to change; L was fairly good at reading people, and Light had seemed earnest about his refusal to ‘use a girl’s emotions.’
This had something to do with the Change. L knew it. Light had been the kind of person who had responded to an unrequited declaration of love from Misa by kissing her and allowing her to introduce herself as his girlfriend. Now, apparently, he found this sort of behavior morally wrong. What did this tell L about Kira?
L was Kira. L was Light-as-Kira. The second Kira saw him and knew his name. She came to him and confessed her love and gratitude, told him that he was her hero. She asked to be his girlfriend. She offered to do his bidding, using the power that she had to kill with only a face.
There were two choices: use her or kill her.
Why had Kira taken the first option, rather than the second? The power to kill with only a face was useful, to be sure. But on the other hand, if it was obvious to L that the second Kira was the weak link, it must have been even more obvious to Kira himself, especially after meeting Misa in person. She was impulsive, volatile, and extremely conspicuous.
The first possibility was the most obvious: Misa’s powers exceeded Light’s, at least in the ability to kill with only a face, and possibly in other ways that L was not yet aware of. If these powers were valuable enough to Light, crucial enough to his plans, then he would accept Misa’s offer of a relationship in order to use her.
L didn’t know from what source, or according to what rules, the Kiras acquired their powers. Was it random? If Light had been able to gain the power to kill with only a face, he probably would not have humored Misa’s interest in him. No, for whatever reason, Light’s powers must be (have been?) limited in some way. The new Kira that had surfaced over the past few weeks also seemed to lack the power to kill with only a face. This was further evidence that this power was rare; even for a Kira, it seemed, Misa was unusually powerful. Why? What made her different? He tabled this question for now.
There was a second possibility as well. If the first possibility was the carrot, the second was the stick. If Misa was more powerful than Light, it was possible that he had chosen to use her rather than kill her, not because he preferred the former option, but rather because he couldn’t kill her. If Misa was powerful enough, then Light might have felt himself unable to defeat her. Or he might have chosen to keep her as an ally because he could not afford her as an enemy. He might have even feared that she would kill him if he rejected her.
Either way, it seemed, Misa was the lynch-pin. She was either an extremely valuable weapon to Kira, or the most credible threat to Kira’s power—or, quite possibly, both. If there was some way to take her away from Light, or, even better, to turn her against him… But that was almost certainly impossible. L had seen the extent of Misa’s loyalty and dedication to Light.
In any case, now, Light was no longer willing to play along. Though he had kissed Misa and accepted her confession at first, he was now willing to openly tell her that their relationship was one-sided and that he was not especially interested in her. This had to be a result of the Change. But what had changed?
If L’s hunch was right—if, somehow, Light had previously been Kira, and now he was not—then Light no longer needed Misa, or no longer remembered that he needed her. Clearly his entire interest in her had been feigned. L had suspected for quite awhile that Light was not sexually attracted to women, though whether he was homosexual or asexual was an open question. Besides that, he barely seemed to tolerate Misa as a person, and did not seem to see anything in the girl to make her worthy of his attention, even in a platonic way.
If L was Kira, what would he have done differently? Well, in contrast to Light, he was sexually attracted to women, and to Misa Amane in particular. This was a fact about himself that L could acknowledge, without any emotional charge to it. He had been lying when he told Misa that he was a fan, but his attraction to her was no lie. However, neither did it carry any significance.
This attraction did not mean that L, as Kira, would have been any less frustrated with Misa interfering in his plans and killing innocents, or any less concerned with the possibility of her getting him caught or becoming a threat to himself. The fact that she was attractive would not have prevented him from understanding what a liability she was.
But he wondered if, as Kira, he might have utilized her better than Light. Perhaps this was sheer arrogance, but he did feel that Light could have played the role of her boyfriend better during their first meeting. L wondered if Light’s distaste for the girl might have held him back from fully committing to the act. That said, Misa had been willing to die for Light when imprisoned, so Light had clearly done enough to earn her loyalty.
All in all, though, it was clear to L that Light would not have seriously considered beginning a relationship with Misa if they were not the first and second Kiras. There was no other reason for Light to accept a confession from someone that he had no sexual or emotional interest in, someone whose company he actively disliked. Now that Light no longer seemed to be Kira, and did not have Kira’s motives, it seemed that inertia or a sense of obligation was all that prevented him from completely severing his relationship to Misa.
This was interesting. It meant that, if the bond between Misa and Light were to degrade, Light would not care enough to stop it. If Misa could be separated from Light, it would have to be done now—if Light ever became Kira again, he would remember that he needed her on his side. The chance to separate them would only last as long as this Change, whatever it was.
Light had been willing to use Misa when he was Kira Now, after the Change, Light apparently could not bring himself to manipulate her in this way (unless, of course, this was an act for L’s sake). L himself had no such scruples.
If he were Kira, he would have not only accepted Misa’s confession, but also spoken to her the romantic words that she clearly longed to hear, to bind her irrevocably to himself and to ensure that she could never bring herself to betray him. If he were in Light’s shoes now, he would take their relationship however far was necessary to get any information on Kira that Misa still possessed. Perhaps this meant that he was a worse person than Light—worse, at least, than the Light he had interacted with today, the one who had Changed.
Unfortunately, L was not Light, and his willingness to do whatever was necessary to solve this case could not make up for the fact that Misa wanted Light, not him. The methods that would work for Light would do nothing for him. It was a curious dilemma. Light was in the perfect position to manipulate Misa, but was unwilling to do so; L was more than willing, but lacked the opportunity.
And what of Misa? What was it that tied her so strongly to Kira, and to Light? What had caused the depth of her devotion to him, and were there any gaps in it?
L knew one thing: regardless of how handsome and charismatic Light might be, the root cause of Misa’s devotion lay within Misa, not Light. Six days had passed between Misa seeing Light in Aoyama and Misa’s arrest. She had already seen Kira as her savior, yes, but she had claimed today that what she felt for Kira was gratitude, not romantic love. As far as he could tell, since the Change, she had been completely transparent in her communications with him. Thus, in the span of six days, Misa had moved from feeling grateful to Kira to being romantically obsessed with him to the point of choosing to die rather than betray him.
As far as he could tell, other than the kiss, Light had not gone to great lengths to romance her; if Light had made grand romantic promises to Misa, she surely would have reminded him today. And while Light was popular with women, he did not seem to have inspired this self-sacrificial devotion in anyone else. Misa’s feelings must have arisen from a tendency within herself towards obsessive love, not from Light’s qualities or actions, however appealing. The speed and intensity with which she had latched on to Light was not indicative of a healthy, stable mind.
L had done his research on Misa, had pried into her history and even her medical records during her confinement, when he was unable to extract any useful information from her mouth. The brutal murder of her parents the prior year had clearly traumatized her. And when he stepped back now and took a look at the whole picture that was Misa Amane, it abruptly became clear.
Misa was a young woman—a teenage girl, really—who had experienced an extremely traumatic event in her teens, specifically involving a loss of both parental figures. She now exhibited an extreme co-dependence in her romantic relationships and clearly had an intense fear of abandonment above all else. She idolized Kira as a god and shaped her identity around him, committing atrocities in his name, not due to an internal sense of morality (as seemed to drive Light) but rather due to a need to gain his attention. She was prone to wild mood swings, impulsive and poorly planned actions, and bouts of extreme anger.
In short, as far as L could tell, Misa was a textbook example of borderline personality disorder, possibly with antisocial traits, with her mental illness likely being triggered by the death of her parents.
The strength with which she had latched onto Kira suggested that he had filled a void within her. Most likely, she had needed to feel that the world was just. By punishing the person who had stolen Misa’s attachment figures from her, Kira had restored Misa’s faith that the world was a place of fairness, a place where things happened for a reason, and she had latched onto him as a replacement for her lost family. The fact that Kira had also happened to be a physically attractive and charismatic young man must have also contributed to her attachment.
Of course, none of this excused Misa’s crimes. The fact that she had killed in Light’s name did not shift the blame for those killings from her to him. And Light-as-Kira himself was hardly the picture of sanity, as far as L could tell. No, her potential disorder did not mean that Misa was any less responsible for her actions than Light was for his. The difference between Misa and Light was not that she was more innocent than him, but rather that she was more vulnerable.
If she could be redeemed, it would not be because she had any stronger morals than Light (if anything, it was the opposite), but rather that her crimes were the side-effect of her choice of savior, rather than the result of a deep-seated conviction that Kira’s path was right. If Kira were somehow replaced by someone else, someone who did not support murder, Misa would cease to be dangerous, even if she never came to understand that her actions as the second Kira had been wrong.
Or, to put it another way, both Misa and Light had killed to fulfill an emotional need. In L’s opinion, Light had killed out of a need for control, a clear superiority complex, a desire to feel that he could judge those below him and shape the world as he wanted it to be. Misa had killed out of an all-consuming need to feel loved and secure. Neither need was an acceptable motive for mass murder, but of the two needs, Misa’s was the easiest to fulfill in a way that didn’t involve harm to others.
In addition, if L was correct, now that she had Changed, Misa no longer saw Light and Kira as one in the same. Before she had met Kira, it was clear from Misa’s statements that she had developed a sort of parasocial relationship with her image of Kira. When she had met Light, this had been channeled into romantic feelings for him, which took precedence over her prior, more depersonalized attachment to Kira. As long as Light and Kira were the same person, her feelings for the both of them were combined, reinforcing each other.
Now, though, Misa believed that Light was helping to catch Kira, meaning that the two were in some way opposed. Her parasocial relationship with Kira was now in direct conflict with her relationship with Light. Would the strength of her attachment to Light be undermined by this contradiction?
In fact, L believed that the very intensity of Misa’s connection to Light might make it vulnerable. Because she was so prone to extremes, there was no room for nuance in her perception of others, meaning that her close relationships were likely to be unstable. As far as L understood, if Misa did have BPD, she would be prone to ‘splitting’ in her relationships: a sudden swing from intense love to just as intense hate. However, L was unsure if he could find a way to purposefully trigger this shift in Misa’s perception of Light.
Of course, it would be more difficult to shake Misa’s faith in Kira, given that he had avenged her family, but he already had evidence that Misa would choose her love over her savior, if the two were at odds. This meant that it was extremely important that Misa not remember that Light was Kira until after she had been separated from him. And if one were to attempt to separate Misa from Light, she would need a replacement to latch onto. The most promising path would be to appeal to her need for validation, attention, and security. If Light no longer represented her savior, Kira, then it might theoretically be possible for another person to fill that void within her, to place themselves at the center of Misa’s bottomless need for love.
That, however, would be something quite different than what L had requested of Light this evening. It was one thing to encourage an unrequited romantic interest in oneself for the sake of the Kira case. It would be another thing altogether to purposefully take advantage of a young woman’s untreated mental illness and actively encourage her to develop an unhealthy emotional dependence on oneself for ulterior motives. Misa’s feelings towards Light weren’t a mere crush, but rather, an unhealthy and extreme need for another person to fill the void within her.
Had Kira understood that? Had his entire reluctance to use Misa come from disinterest in her, or had even Kira seen the depth of Misa’s need and balked at using it against her? Did Light as Kira have the humanity to see the wrongness in that? Or, perhaps more likely, did he not even give Misa enough thought to understand how mentally unwell she was? With the size of Light’s ego, he might not have even arrived at the hypothesis that Misa’s obsession with him was the sign of a deeper problem.
These questions, of course, were a diversion. The real question, the one that L did not want to ask himself, was this: whether Light had known that Misa was mentally ill, L certainly did. He was not entirely certain that she had BPD in particular, but the odds were high that she had some sort of mental illness, likely within the spectrum of Cluster B personality disorders. Knowing this, and knowing that her weakness might be the key to breaking apart Kira’s plans, could he take advantage of this? Could he bring himself to stoop that low?
It wasn’t likely that he would even get the chance. There was a high probability that Misa’s loyalty to Light was unbreakable, and even if it was theoretically possible for someone to come between them, L was not likely to be the person to accomplish such a task. Besides his complete lack of experience with romance, dismal social skills, unappealing physical appearance, and off-putting habits and mannerisms, there was also the fact that Misa seemed to personally loathe him.
Not quite as much as she would loathe him if she knew that Ryuuzaki, as she called him, was one in the same as L, the person responsible for her imprisonment and torture, but still. She could clearly barely tolerate his physical presence.
All of this, of course, was a distraction, a way of avoiding answering the question that L did not want to ask himself. He attempted to force himself back to the topic of hand. Leaving aside entirely the question of whether he had the ability, or would ever get the chance—would L, given the ability and the chance, stoop so low as to take advantage of Misa’s damaged mind (damaged, he might add, by the same trauma that had shaped his own early years, the loss of both parents) in order to turn Kira’s greatest weapon against him and potentially solve the case?
Yes, he realized. He would. When L had taken this case, he had been prepared to sacrifice anything, including his own life. Compared to that, there were very few lines he would not cross, very few ways in which he would not degrade himself in order to gain an advantage. If it meant stopping Kira, the ends would justify the means.
Which, of course, was what Kira must believe about his new world—the two of them were more alike than L cared to admit.
L had never attempted to use intimacy in his investigations. It was messy and had a tendency to over-complicate things, and besides this, he felt that he lacked the skills to pull it off. He had almost no experience with intimate relationships, whether romantic, sexual, or purely platonic. And though he wished to believe himself beyond such feelings, he could not deny the discomfort that he felt with the idea.
L did not expect to ever have an intimate connection with another human being. It simply did not seem to be in the cards for his life. But to initiate his first such experience in order to manipulate his partner was a possibility that made even L feel a slight sense of discomfort, or even disgust. He had given away almost every bit of humanity that he possessed in pursuit of justice. This was one of the few parts of himself that he had not yet traded away.
But if it meant stopping Kira? Then he would sell out even this last private piece of himself.
Almost certainly, L would never get the opportunity, and even if he tried, he would be likely to fail. He calculated the odds as 97% against him. But L would watch, and wait, for a crack to open in the bond between Misa and Light. And if that crack appeared, he would do everything in his power to widen it, no matter how low he must stoop to do so.
After all, he was justice.
Notes:
I decided to tag this as "Grooming" because Misa, despite being 19, is L's prisoner and in a vulnerable position in this fic, and the fic is from L's POV as he purposefully emotionally manipulates her for the purposes of the case. So even though his intentions aren't necessarily bad, he's still using the same tools that an abuser or groomer might. If you think this would be triggering to you, probably don't read this.
I've always headcanoned Misa as having BPD, partially thanks to this Tumblr post, but other than a brief mention in my first fic, I haven't really explored it because I've felt unqualified to. I don't have BPD and I'm not a psychologist or anything. But I really wanted to write this, despite worrying that people will be offended by it. I did run the premise by a friend of mine with BPD but that doesn't mean that other people won't be bothered by it.
Find me on Tumblr at gigantomachy1916
Chapter 2: she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding
Notes:
She can kill with a smile, she can wound with her eyes
And she can ruin your faith with her casual lies
And she only reveals what she wants you to see
She hides like a child, but she's always a woman to meShe'll promise you more than the Garden of Eden
Then she'll carelessly cut you and laugh while you're bleeding
She'll bring out the best and the worst you can be
Blame it all on yourself, 'cause she's always a woman to me- Billy Joel, "She's Always a Woman"
Chapter Text
The first opportunity came by accident.
It was only a few weeks later, and the task force had moved into their new headquarters. Though L had decided against his idea of potentially chaining Light to himself, determining that the ability to act without being observed by Light outweighed the advantage of constantly monitoring Light in person (as opposed to via the surveillance cameras), L had still insisted on supervising the date between Light and Misa.
Allegedly, this was because he could not risk the two Kira suspects conspiring in his absence. In truth, he was partially treating the date as an opportunity to further observe the interactions between the two suspects, to look for potential weaknesses in their relationship or clues given away by Misa’s actions towards Light—or vice versa.
Without any other ideas, he had even gone so far as to tell the two of them his prevailing theory: that Light and Misa had been controlled by Kira before their memories were erased and the power passed on. Of course, this then assumed that ‘Kira’ referred to some sort of mastermind who was not themselves killing criminals, but rather choosing other people to kill criminals for them, given that even the earliest deaths seemed clearly attributable to Light Yagami.
More likely, he thought, was that Light was this mastermind, and had in some way engineered the situation in which he and Misa ceased acting as Kiras, whether temporarily or permanently. However, L chose not to mention that possibility. As it was, even the revelation that he was certain they had acted as Kiras at one point, along with his apparent disinterest in the case, had been enough to start a physical altercation between himself and Light.
And so, though he had been interested to see Misa’s reaction to his theory, when he hung up the phone with Matsuda and surveyed the destroyed living area of Misa’s floor, he had not been thinking of her at all. It was only afterwards, when she had pressed him to tell her what Matsuda had said on the phone, that he remembered her presence.
“Apparently Misa has risen to first place in the popularity poll in Eighteen magazine,” he informed her.
Misa squealed, pumping her fists in the air, and immediately turned to Light. “Did you hear that?” she demanded. “Misa’s career is really taking off!”
Wincing slightly at the volume of her voice, Light said, “Yes, I heard.”
L could see Misa’s expression turn into a pout at the lack of reaction. “Aren’t you proud of me, Light?” she asked, staring up at him with those brown eyes of hers, looking like nothing so much as a dog waiting for its owners’ approval.
But Light, still on edge from their fight, only snapped, “Look, Misa, we have more important things to worry about right now, okay?”
Misa visibly deflated, shrinking back from her boyfriend. L could sympathize with Light’s irritation; after all, he himself had dismissed Matsuda’s call as unimportant and idiotic. However, as frustrating as Misa’s constant attention-seeking behavior was, it was also an opportunity. Her hopes had been built up, only to be crushed by Light once again. She was vulnerable.
L didn’t say anything right away, not wanting to seem too obvious. As he and Light headed out the door, though, he turned and leaned in towards Misa, who shrank away, looking nervous. “Congratulations,” he said, speaking plainly, as though he didn’t care much either way. “I am not surprised that Misa won the poll.”
She blinked up at him, seemingly confused. Not a good reaction, but not a bad one either, so he pressed on. Though he had lied when he claimed that he knew her from Eighteen magazine, rather than from the Kira investigation, he really had seen and remembered that specific photoshoot. So he continued, “Misa is a very cute and talented model, and her photos in Eighteen last summer were truly unforgettable. Particularly the ones where she wore that pink dress.”
L watched curiously as emotions flickered over Misa’s face: excitement that her achievement was being recognized, surprise that he remembered such a specific detail about her photos, but also distrust of his motives. For a moment, he thought she might call him a pervert again, but instead, she seemed to decide to switch into Misa-Misa mode, just as she had when they first met and he had claimed to be a fan.
A dazzling smile spread across her face, which was flushed a little pink from the unexpected attention, and her eyes shone. “Thank you, Ryuuzaki!” she cheered. “That is so sweet!”
L shrugged, not wanting to overdo it. “I am only stating the facts,” he told her. Without another word, he turned and followed Light out of the room.
That night, when L was alone, he had Watari put him into contact with Thierry Morrello. A con-artist who primarily worked through social manipulation and seduction, Morrello owed L his freedom and occasionally assisted on his cases. Of course, he used his usual voice modulation, as the man had never seen his face or heard his real voice.
“L,” Morrello greeted him, his voice as smooth and pleasant as always. He continued in French: “To what do I owe the pleasure? It’s rare for you to contact me yourself—I’m used to going through Watari.”
“Yes,” L admitted, dangling the phone beside his ear as he spoke, crouched in the armchair in his living quarters. “I thought it would be best to speak to you directly, as the assistance I need is not a specific task, but rather advice.”
“The great L wants my advice?” Morrello asked, clearly trying to flatter him. After all, that was his job. “I’m honored.” And then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “I’ll still be paid my usual rate for this?”
“Of course.” L paused, thinking of how to explain the situation without giving too much away. Morrello would still likely pick up on the fact that he was talking about the Kira case, and would glean some details of the case from their conversation, but L would pay him more than enough to keep him quiet.
“I am currently working on a case that involves face-to-face contact with two of my suspects, a couple in their late teens. The boyfriend is clearly the mastermind, and the girl has already made several mistakes that have led to their status as my primary suspects. Interestingly enough, they currently see me not as their enemy, but rather as their ally and friend, and so they have lowered their guard. I intend to get to him through her by gaining her trust and manipulating her so that she grows to depend on me.”
“Are you planning to seduce her?”
Of course he would want to know that. “If necessary, yes. Whether through seduction or friendship, the goal is the same: making her grow attached to me to the point that her primary emotional dependence switches from her boyfriend to myself. Her boyfriend is already disinterested in her, and is clearly only putting up with her for the sake of their collaboration. Currently, he seems unmotivated to maintain their connection, as though she is no longer necessary for his plans. What’s more, I strongly suspect that the girl has undiagnosed borderline personality disorder. Mentally, she is quite unstable and seems to quickly develop extreme attachments to others.”
There was silence on the other end of the line as Morrello took this information in. “It sounds like you already have a clear idea of your plan. What do you need my input for?”
Though L hated admitting weakness, he had no choice here. He could not learn from Morrello without first explaining what knowledge he lacked. “My life has been entirely devoid of romantic or sexual entanglements. Not only am I a virgin, I have never even kissed another person, nor been on a date, nor had anyone display interest in me,” he stated flatly, showing no emotion at the admission. After all, L did not see the point of personal relationships, so there was no reason for him to view his virginity as anything more than a neutral fact about himself.
“Not only that, but I have not had many platonic relationships or friendships. I have always been extremely isolated due to the nature of my work. I find myself now in terra incognita. Not only that, but most people seem to find my mannerisms and appearance unnerving. This girl in particular has repeatedly accused me of being a creep or a pervert.”
To his great annoyance, Morrello laughed heartily on the other end of the line. “I understand now,” he said, still chuckling as he spoke. “It seems I have my work cut out for me. Would you like me to instruct you in person?”
“Not yet.” L did not want to bring one of his allies to Japan and get them involved in the Kira case when it was unnecessary to do so. “For now, let’s see what you can teach me over the phone. I am a fast learner.”
“I’m sure.” Despite himself, L could not help his feeling of satisfaction at the words, knowing that his confession had not lowered the man’s high opinion of him. “Alright, here’s what you’re going to do…”
After that, L started looking more closely for opportunities. Though he sometimes acted randomly, not wanting his motives to be obvious, he kept a specific eye out for instances in which Misa was clearly seeking positive attention and was denied it by Light.
It was small things, mostly. When she was dressed up, he would comment on an aspect of her outfit, or the way she had done her makeup, having learned from Morrello that women preferred compliments on aspects of their appearance they had selected themselves, as opposed to intrinsic physical attributes. When she wore especially revealing clothing, he would allow his eyes to linger just a second too long—enough to draw her attention, but not enough that she would take offense, at least not usually. When she tried to contribute to the Kira case, he would compliment her efforts, even if she never thought of anything that had not already occurred to him months ago.
Most importantly, he paid attention. When she mentioned things about herself, he stored the facts away and referenced them later in conversation, so that she would know that he remembered. L was good at this sort of thing—at making observations about people and collecting them in files in his head. He did not suppose that Light was incapable of this, only entirely lacking in motivation when it came to Misa. The last thing that Light wanted to do, it seemed, was to encourage her interest in him.
L was not flirting. Not really. To do so would be to open himself up to criticism from the other members of the task force, along with making Light suspicious. Not to mention that L was not entirely sure he knew how to flirt. He’d had more than one long phone call with Morrello, but so far, the lessons had primarily focused on generic social interactions and ways of making a person feel more favorably towards oneself. Flirting still seemed a step beyond his abilities, and Morrello had pointed out that he did not want to give Misa any more reason to think of him as a creep by trying to flirt when she was uninterested.
L also based his demeanor partially on observations of what Misa seemed to like and dislike in others. For example, while she was bothered by Light’s lack of interest, she did not seem to enjoy Matsuda’s attentions. Now, it was possible that this was based entirely on superficial differences: Light was 18 and abnormally handsome, whereas Matsuda was 25 and just slightly above average in looks. If this was the case, then there was nothing L could do, being nearly as old as Matsuda and significantly less attractive.
However, if there was something to be learned from Misa’s differing reactions to the two men, it was this: Misa did not appreciate a man who was overeager or diffident. She preferred someone who was hard to get, so to speak, and did not prostrate himself at her feet as Matsuda seemed to. This could work to L’s advantage: while he worked to make himself more available and friendly to Misa than Light, his naturally self-contained nature meant that he would never fawn over Misa the way that her ‘manager’ did.
And so, though he continued to show interest in the girl, he did not act overly familiar or show any signs of seeking her attention in return. He complimented her offhandedly, as though he was just saying whatever came to his mind, without strong feelings either way.
Mostly, he was just attempting to build a foundation of trust and positive feelings by acting like Misa was a person worthy of paying attention to. Which wasn’t too difficult for him, considering that she was. Not just because she was almost certainly the second Kira, but also because her blind devotion to Light was interesting. L wanted to peel back the layers, to understand what drew her to the boy so strongly.
Yes, Misa was irritating, but she was also strongly motivated by attention. Like an untrained child or dog, if Misa could not get positive attention, she would act out in order to provoke negative attention instead. He found that the more he fed into her obvious need for validation, the more pleasant she became.
And there was the fact that this small diversion was not unpleasant. As the Kira case had stalled, filling L with a sense of unease as he wondered what Light had planned, it was nice to feel that he was making progress in some small area. To be able to do research, apply what he had learned, and see the results was gratifying, even if in this case, rather than an arrest or a confession, the results were that Misa was smiling at him more often, displaying more open body language, and beginning to aim her bids for attention at himself almost as often as she aimed them at Light.
She was still clearly enamored with Light, but from the perspective of behavioral psychology, the shift in the direction of her attention made sense: when Misa looked to Light for validation, she received negative reinforcement. When she did the same to L, however, she was positively reinforced. It was only natural that she would begin seeking out his attention more and more, knowing that her odds of a positive response were much higher.
In addition, he had another reason to prioritize this avenue of attack: he suspected that Light had not predicted he would do this. If he was right, then everything that had happened so far—Light turning himself in, Changing, and becoming a member of the investigation team—had been planned in advance by Light, and L could not shake the feeling that he was playing right into the boy’s hands, despite his apparent innocence. But he did not believe that Light could have predicted this.
If his judgment of Light as Kira was correct, he was too arrogant to believe that Misa could be taken away from him. Besides that, by turning himself in, he would have been expecting L to focus all of his attention on him, to dedicate his time to profiling and interrogating Light. Light did not see Misa as worthy of attention, and he would expect L to dismiss her just as easily, to recognize Light as his true opponent and devote himself to studying him.
Of course, L had considered the possibility that he had underestimated Light, and that somehow, this entire situation was exactly what Kira wanted. If Light and Misa had planned for L to attempt to get closer to Misa, then he would be in a bad situation. However, he thought he was probably safe. Even Light could only plan so far ahead, and if Misa was encouraging his interest, she was being unusually subtle about it compared to her usual approach. In their interactions, she still seemed hesitant and confused by his friendliness, clearly wary of his motives even as she slowly opened up to him. If she was playing him, she was a social mastermind exceeding even Morrello.
No, while this plan of action was a gamble, it was an acceptable one. And so L continued.
After over three weeks of this, L determined that it was time to take a risk, and to test if his actions had made any noticeable difference in Misa’s feelings towards him. The next step was obvious: physical contact. Nothing sexual, nothing that would make her feel threatened or like he had ulterior motives. As he had learned from Morrello, the thing to do was to make some sort of incidental physical contact, something that did not seem to carry meaning or require a response from her. If she yelled at him or shrank away, then he would know that he had overestimated his progress.
Misa, being a social creature by nature and feeling encouraged by L’s friendliness, had begun lingering in the main hall of the headquarters while they worked, and the rest of the task force had begrudgingly allowed her presence when L made it clear that she was welcome. And so, the following day, while they were all sitting around the room, engaged in various discussions, L saw his chance. Approaching Misa’s chair from behind, but making sure that she saw him coming and would not be startled, he leaned over her to take a pastry from a platter on the table in front of her. Not only did this put him in her personal space, but as he did so, he placed one hand on her shoulder.
Misa did not jump or yell. She did tilt her head to the side, looking up at him curiously as he loomed over her—but then, seemingly satisfied that he was only going for the sweets, she returned to her conversation with Matsuda, unbothered. He straightened back up again, leaving his hand on her shoulder for exactly three seconds longer before withdrawing, and she showed no signs of discomfort whatsoever.
As small as it seemed, L knew this was a great victory when compared to their relationship at the end of her imprisonment. She now felt comfortable enough with him to allow for casual physical touch, and for him to crowd her by leaning right over her, with no negative reaction. They had come a long way already—but he knew there was even farther to go.
A week later, Misa got her movie deal. She was so excited that she hugged them both: first Light, then, L.
When was the last time someone had hugged him? When had he last allowed it? The other kids at Wammy’s had quickly learned that L would not tolerate hugs, and Wammy, of course, respected his physical boundaries. There had been one time when L had not only allowed but actually tried to initiate affectionate physical contact himself, with Naomi Misora. It had gone badly, to say the least—she had kicked him down a flight of stairs.
No, L could not remember ever having been hugged, though he knew his parents must have hugged him as a child. The last physical contact of any sort he had experienced, other than touching Misa’s shoulder, was his fight with Light.
Had it not been for his plan, he would have stopped Misa before she got her arms around him. Not that she was repulsive, but L simply did not do hugs. In fact, after so long without any physical contact, some part of him was convinced that he would be unable to respond to it normally, and that the other person would immediately know that he had absolutely no experience in this matter. He would be paralyzed, or throw up, or alternatively, he might like it too much and be unable to let go.
Morrello had been right when he’d said that he had his work cut out for him.
As it was, he at least managed to avoid doing anything to scare Misa off. Mostly, though, this was because he was unable to do anything. Startled and fighting back the instinct to push her off of him, L went completely rigid, hands dangling by his sides, as Misa threw her arms around his neck, rising up onto the very tips of her toes to reach him. If she wasn’t so small, she might have knocked him off balance. At least his horrible posture prevented their bodies from touching too much, but he could still smell her, feel the warmth of her, the top of her head brushing the side of his jaw.
Other people did this, he thought. Touched each other. Held each other. All the time, like it was nothing. But not him. And as much as he wanted it to, it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like his heart was beating much more quickly than was comfortable, and like every bit of his skin that she touched was tingling, his body waking up as if from a long sleep. L thought that he preferred his body asleep and manageable, thank you very much.
He had only just began to consider the idea of hugging her back when, to his relief, she let go, turning back to Light and chattering excitedly. Clearly she hadn’t thought twice about hugging him, or seen anything unusual in his awkward response. Light, on the other hand, shot him a smirk over Misa’s head, clearly amused by his discomfort.
That was just as well. If his reaction caused others to believe that he wanted to keep his distance from Misa, that her affection had made him feel uncomfortable, then they would be less likely to suspect his actual motives and plans for her.
A little while later, however, when she turned back to him and asked, “Isn’t it great, Ryuuzaki?”, he made a point of praising her, regardless of how it might look to the others.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I am sure that Misa will do very well. She is a genius actress.” As usual when he was complimenting her, he felt as though he was obviously overdoing it, but she only beamed at him, eating it up.
“If you keep complimenting Misa like that, she’s never going to leave you alone,” Light teased him later that evening, after Misa had gone to bed. “She might even hug you again.”
L shrugged, but he knew that he needed to provide a believable explanation for his behavior. “It cannot hurt to have her positively disposed to me. In the event that we need her to cooperate with the investigation, it will be easier this way.”
Light seemed unconvinced. “I don’t know if that’s even necessary. She’ll already do whatever I tell her.” He said it so blatantly, already taking Misa’s complete devotion to him as an immutable fact about the world. It only made L want his plan to succeed even more, if only to yank the carpet out from under him. Then Light continued, “Unless you expect to ask her to do something that I’d disagree with.”
That was hitting a little too close to L’s plan for comfort, but he did not allow himself to react. “Light really is paranoid, reading sinister motives into a single compliment.”
“I’m not paranoid,” Light said, looking him in the eye. “I just know you. You don’t do anything without a reason.”
In response, L picked up a cupcake from the desk and shoved the entire thing into his mouth, wrapper and all. Partially to force Light to look away in disgust, and partially to remind him that L did plenty of useless things.
As they returned to their work, he thought about Misa’s movie. He did have some concerns about allowing her out of headquarters for the filming, both because of the risk that she might still be the second Kira and because it was easier to manipulate her when she was isolated from the outside world, but there was not much he could do about it. If he prevented her from taking part in filming, he would lose some of the goodwill he had gained so far. All that he could do was make sure that Matsuda kept a careful eye on her when she was outside of headquarters.
When the first day of filming came and went, with no apparent incidents or changes in Misa’s behavior, he allowed himself to relax a little bit, but he knew that the situation could change at any time. He would only have to hope that things would remain the same long enough for his plan to work. In the meantime, she had begun running straight to himself and Light when she returned from the set, telling them both all about her day. And though she was still attempting to engage Light, she had become accustomed enough to him ignoring her that she now tended to directly address L when she spoke.
“Light! Ryuuzaki!” she shouted as she entered the room. Matsuda trailed behind her, looking haggard, carrying her purse. “Misa had a long day today!”
L considered pointing out that this was obvious, seeing as they all knew exactly when she left for the film set and when she returned, but he kept quiet instead. He suspected the point of the comment was not to communicate information, but rather, to seek out validation on the amount of effort that she was putting into her work.
This was confirmed when she continued, “Misa’s sooo tired, but she got a big scene done today, even though the director made her do a million takes. But Misa knows it was important to get the scene just right! It came out great, just wait till you see the movie.”
Light didn’t say anything, and seemed to look annoyed that she was still going on about her day. L, on the other hand, felt proud that he had guessed Misa’s motivations. The lessons with Morrello really were helping. He held out a macaron between two fingers and said, “This is for all of your hard work today. Good job, Misa.”
As expected, Misa turned down the sweet, but she beamed at his words, rocking from side to side on her feet like she was too happy to stay still. It was actually very cute. She seemed to seek compliments from him out like a pet looking for treats, and he doled them out dutifully—not every time she approached him, but frequently enough. It was a fun diversion, tossing scraps of attention to Misa and observing her responses.
Light had not commented again after the previous time, though he seemed to watch them more sharply when they interacted. Now, for instance, he was giving L a strange look. To L’s slight surprise, however, it was Matsuda who commented on his behavior this time, not Light. Matsuda was still standing behind Misa, her purse dangling from his hands, and he suddenly turned on L, his frustration seeming to bubble over. “You know, it’s hard work acting as Misa-Misa’s manager all day, too.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” L responded dryly. “Is Matsuda jealous that he did not get a sweet? Or perhaps he would like a gold star…” Behind him, he heard Light snort.
Matsuda turned red, looking away, and muttered, “I’m just saying, I don’t understand why you only encourage Misa, when she’s not even helping with the investigation!” Then, a sudden look of worry on his face, he turned to Misa and quickly explained, “Not that Misa-Misa isn’t doing a great job! I only mean to say that the rest of us work hard, too, and it would be nice for that to be recognized sometimes.”
Determining that he could get away with the comment, that others would attribute it to his abrasive personality rather than to any real interest in the girl, L replied, “Sorry, Matsuda, but there is a simple reason why I treat you and Misa differently: she is much cuter than you.”
He paused for effect as Light choked on his coffee, Matsuda’s mouth fell open, and Misa blushed, before continuing, “That, and the fact that you are a member of this task force, and thus it is expected that you do your job. I thought that your salary, and the satisfaction of working to catch Kira, would be adequate compensation. But if you would like those gold stars, I am sure it could be arranged…”
At that, thoroughly embarrassed, Matsuda muttered, “Never mind, Ryuuzaki, forget I said anything,” and returned to work.
From that day on, since he had so blatantly acknowledged his preferential treatment in front of everyone, not bothering to hide it or make excuses, the other members of the task force seemed to accept L’s inexplicable indulgence of Misa as just another of the detective’s quirks. He liked sweets, he sat strangely, and he was rude to everyone except for cute girls. Sometimes, he mused, having a reputation as an eccentric with no regard for social norms came in handy.
Chapter 3: a woman of chances with no family or friends
Notes:
A note about layout, since this will come up often: I'm picturing the floors at headquarters as having a landing, with an entrance to the stairwell and the elevator, that's closed off by a door from the rest of the floor. Therefore, in order to confine someone to their floor, or to make a floor off-limits, the door to the landing is locked. Since L and Light aren't chained together in this fic, each of them, along with Misa, has their own private floor with several rooms, like an apartment. The main room, with the computers and stuff, has open stairs leading to a landing on the floor above it, so to isolate the main room, a door between that landing and the stairwell leading to higher floors must be locked.
A woman of chances with no family or friends
In Argentina, she knows only men- Natalie Merchant, "Sally Ann"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
One night, not too long after Misa began filming, L was working late when he heard her voice coming through the computer speakers: “Hey, Ryuuzaki!” The volume was down low, but the room was quiet, so he could easily hear her. He looked up to see her standing in her living room in her night shirt, looking up at one of the cameras. “If you’re listening, can you let me out?”
Misa and Light, being suspects, needed permission to leave their floors at night. However, since she asked, L saw no reason not to grant it. He was curious to see what she wanted, and it would be easy enough to keep an eye on her on the security cameras. So he entered the command to unlock the door, knowing that she would hear the buzz and know that he had granted her request.
When she left her quarters, he was curious to see that she immediately headed to the main hall where he was working. He sat there, watching her progress on the security feed, listening to her bare feet padding quietly down the stairs to him, just barely audible over the sound of heavy rain outside. Still, he pretended not to notice until she reached the bottom of the stairs, making her way to the couch where he was sitting.
Before he turned to look at her, L carefully saved his files and closed the lid of his laptop. Though he was perfectly capable of multitasking, he thought that it would please Misa to see that he was giving her his full attention.
“Misa is not usually out of bed this late,” he commented, craning his neck around to stare at her. “Is something wrong?”
“I had a nightmare,” she admitted in a small voice. “Couldn’t fall back asleep.” The thunder cracked again, and he noticed that she jumped slightly, eyes widening. Perhaps she was scared of storms? As he expected, though he had hoped it wouldn’t be the case, she asked, “Is Light awake?”
“No, he went to bed several hours ago,” L replied, wondering if she would insist on seeing him anyway.
“Oh…” Misa said, staring down at her feet. She had clearly been hoping that Light would comfort her. “Do you think he’d be mad if I woke him up?”
L had to tread carefully here. Forcing Misa to reckon with her boyfriend’s lack of interest in her would only backfire, making her cling to the relationship even more tightly. Still, he hoped to keep her away from Light. “Light is very grumpy when woken up,” he finally said. “When I disturbed his sleep in the past, he became quite irritable with me.” This way, Misa wouldn’t think it was a problem with her specifically, but rather a consequence of Light’s temperament.
He half-expected her to insist on it anyway, but instead, Misa let out a defeated sigh. She hung her head, and since she wasn’t wearing her usual pigtails, her straight blonde hair fell in her eyes, hiding her from sight. She turned around again, preparing to leave.
“You can sit, if you would like company,” L said. “I realize I am a poor substitute for Light, but I will do my best.”
To his surprise, Misa’s mood rapidly changed in response to his words. “Thank you, Ryuuzaki!” she chirped, throwing herself down on the couch beside him. Before he could even react, she had lifted his arm and wedged herself underneath it, so that she was leaning against his side, his arm lying across her chest, her legs stretching the length of the sofa.
This was unexpected. They had engaged in casual physical contact before, but Misa had never attempted to cuddle with him until now. L did not think that he liked this. He was not used to being touched by anyone, even Watari, and to have his personal space so completely invaded made him feel uncomfortable. And he felt exposed in the too-large room, knowing that it was technically possible someone else could be out of bed at this hour and discover them. However, he would continue to play his part. To reject Misa now would be to undo his weeks of hard work.
And, despite her sudden cheerfulness, he could feel Misa’s body trembling against his. She must still be frightened. Both of her hands were clutching his arm, holding it against herself like a seat-belt. Misa is motivated by the desire for love and security, he reminded himself. Misa did not want love from him, but she seemed to be looking for security, and he would give her that. Gently, still fearing that her mood would change again, he reached up with his free hand and stroked her hair. Misa only made a soft noise and nestled further into him.
This close, L could smell her shampoo. He felt slightly light-headed. He had thought that his attraction to Misa was an asset, something that would make it easier for him, compared to Light, to give her the attention that she wanted. Now, though, he wondered if it might be a weakness instead. The degree to which his reasoning seemed to be reduced merely by the feeling of her body touching his was genuinely alarming. This was something to discuss with Morrello on his next call.
He knew what she was. He knew that this wasn’t real, that he was only playing a necessary role for the sake of the investigation. But that didn’t change how he responded to her touch. He had this small, soft little creature tucked against him, looking to him for comfort and protection. No one had ever sought such things from him before. She almost made him feel like an actual man. Knowing how dangerous she was did not seem to do anything to reduce the strength of his desire to protect her. Her total openness, her inability to hide or defend herself on an emotional level, awoke a part of himself that he was barely aware of: the desire to be looked at as a hero. To have her look at him the same way that she looked at Light.
And, well, the fact that he could tell that she was clearly braless, could feel the softness of her breasts pressing against his arm through both of their shirts, did not make the situation any better.
Still, it helped that L’s instincts were telling him to do exactly what he needed to do in order to deepen her trust in him: to comfort her, to make her feel safe. “It’s alright, Misa,” he said quietly as she trembled. “You’re okay.” Then, on second thought, he wondered if comfort was what she wanted, or if she’d prefer a listening ear. “Do you mind if I ask what the nightmare was about?”
At first, when she didn’t respond, he thought that he had overstepped. But then, in a quiet voice, she said, “My parents.”
Ah. He should have expected that. It had only been a year and a few months since their murder, after all. It was only natural that she would still be scarred. “Do you dream of them often?” he asked.
“Almost every night,” Misa admitted. “It’s not always like tonight, though. Sometimes, they’re… you know, alive. Those aren’t as bad. Until I wake up and have to remember that they’re gone.” She laughed quietly, without humor. “Actually, maybe those are worse.”
L knew that he needed to take this opportunity. Morrello had told him that sharing things about himself, particularly secrets, would help Misa grow to care for him. However, talking about himself was not something that L felt comfortable with or had much experience with. He supposed that he could make something up, but the consequences if she found out he lied could be severe, and besides that, it would be easier to seem genuine if he told the truth.
So, taking a deep breath, he said, “I understand. I dream about my parents some nights too. Not as often as I used to, in the years after they died, but sometimes I still do.”
As he had expected, Misa immediately twisted around in his arms to look up at him in surprise, her curiosity overwhelming her somber mood. “Ryuuzaki is also an orphan?” she asked, and he nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “How old were you when they…?”
“Six,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “To tell the truth, sometimes I wonder if the parents I see in my dreams are my real parents, or just people that my mind has made up based on what I think parents should be like. I have barely any memories of them.”
Misa looked at him with such sympathy that his discomfort only increased. He wasn’t sure if he had ever felt as bad for himself as she seemed to be feeling for him in this moment. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know.”
He shrugged slightly, trying not to jostle her. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I have not told many people. In fact, I would prefer if you could keep this between us.”
“Of course! Misa would never betray a friend,” she said, and then, after a pause, “I shouldn’t tell Light, either?” He wanted to sigh. He knew that she would not be so easily separated from Light, but it still bothered him that she would consider sharing L’s personal information with him.
“No,” he said. “I would not wish for a person like him to know this about me.”
“Hey, what does that mean? ‘A person like him’?” Misa grumbled. Right, he probably shouldn’t insult her boyfriend in front of her too much if he didn’t want to push her away. Still, maybe he could phrase it in a way that she would understand.
“I mean no offense to Light. I only mean that he is different than Misa and myself.”
“Different?” Misa cocked her head, clearly wondering why he would put the two of them in a separate category.
“People like you and I, Misa, who are without those deep connections, who have lost our safe place in the world, so to speak… I believe we are different than someone like Light, who has always been treated well by life, who has lived a life surrounded by the love and support of others. He cannot understand how it feels to lose that, to be alone in this world. That is not a judgment of his character. It is a mere fact.”
Maybe it was a judgment of his character. L wondered if some of his resentment for Light might arise from the fact that, while rivaling him in intelligence, the boy had everything that he lacked: a stable, loving family, good looks, a thriving social life, the acceptance of others. And yet, that had not been enough for him, if he had felt the need to play god as well. He wondered why it seemed that the people who had the most in this world always wanted more, as if they felt it was owed to them.
Perhaps some of this feeling was due to the fact that what little socialization L had in his life had come from his fellow residents of Wammy’s House, which was not a place that a person ended up without suffering some major loss. On some level, he wondered if he was unable to trust or relate to people who’d led happy, comfortable lives, people who seemed to belong in the world. They truly felt like a different species to him.
He could not relate to Misa on the same mental level at which he related to Light, or the other Wammy’s kids, but he felt a different type of kinship with her, knowing that she was of the same breed as himself and all those kids: a person alone in life, without a home to return to. It had not escaped his attention that, despite her fame, there had been no concerned relatives or friends to placate when he had taken Misa into his custody. Light still had to field calls from his mother and sister, lying about where he had gone. Misa, on the other hand, had no one left to worry about her.
“Oh.” Misa was quiet for a moment. “I guess that makes sense. I haven’t told Light about my nightmares. Somehow, I feel like if I had found him tonight, instead of Ryuuzaki, he wouldn’t have been interested in hearing about it. But I didn’t want to be all alone in my rooms, so I had to try.”
It wasn’t much, but it was something. A small crack between Misa and Light, a way to draw her closer to himself, to show her that they had more in common than she believed. However, he was slightly bothered by how the conversation had affected him as well. Having to think about how recently she had lost her parents, and to compare that explicitly to his own experience, made him feel more sympathetic towards her than he probably should.
“I will alter your privileges in the building,” he told her. “You will still be observed on the security cameras, but if you have another nightmare, you are free to leave your floor to seek out myself or Light, or even simply to visit the shared kitchen for a midnight snack, if you want something that you do not have in your own kitchen.” This served two purposes: if she sought him out again, they might grow closer, and if she felt that he was giving her special privileges and trust, she might feel more positively towards him. “However, please don’t tell the others. I would not want to be accused of favoritism.”
He thought she might argue that he should give Light the same privilege, but instead she just smiled softly and said, “Okay.”
After some time, her trembling died down, though the storm was still raging outside. L divided his attention between soothing her while also attempting to keep himself under control, to avoid being too taken in by her. Still, he must not have been very successful, because Misa suddenly tilted her head back against his chest and opened her eyes, staring at him upside-down.
“Your heart is beating really fast, Ryuuzaki,” she commented, and he could tell that she was feigning innocence. She knew exactly what she was doing to him. “Are you scared of storms, too?”
“No,” L replied. “Misa is making me nervous.” The easiest way to lie, after all, was with the truth.
To his surprise, Misa broke into a fit of giggles, grinning up at him. Seeing her smile at him like this, right up close, made something clench in his chest, though he wished that weren’t the case. “Ryuuzaki, you’re so silly!” she said between giggles. “Misa isn’t that scary.”
No, she’s terrifying, L thought to himself. The fact that she could kill hundreds of people in cold blood, and he could know this, and yet still find himself believing that she was something soft and helpless, find himself compelled to protect her despite knowing what she was… It made her one of the most dangerous people he had ever met.
L didn’t say any of this. He would have, if Misa were Light, but he was not as blunt with her. Talking to Misa was a chance to exercise social skills that he rarely used. With most people, he did not bother sugarcoating his statements, because he had no practical reason to. But to achieve his goals with Misa, it was necessary for him to treat her more gently than he would if speaking freely, to at least present the truth in a way that she wanted to hear it. And so he gave her a half-truth: “It’s not every day that I have a woman like Misa in my arms.”
Misa blinked up at him, her cheeks turning slightly pink, and muttered, “Pervert.” But the word sounded almost affectionate now, rather than the derogatory way she used to say it, and the corners of her mouth were clearly trying to turn up in a smile. She quickly closed her eyes again and returned to her previous position, hiding her face once more. Feeling bold, L leaned down and planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head, through her hair. She only snuggled further into him, and so he rested his chin on top of her head, closing his eyes as well.
L woke several hours later, finding that he had sunk down against the armrest, Misa still lying half on top of him. Carefully, he extracted himself from under her, gathering up his belongings. She made a sleepy noise of discontent, attempting to cling to him so that he wouldn’t leave. L tried to tell himself that he wasn’t moved by this, that the evidence that she was unconsciously seeking his touch didn’t make his heart race. He was not especially successful. With a sigh, he lifted the sleeping girl into his arms and carried her back to her room.
L called Morrello the moment he returned to his own quarters, not caring that it was the middle of the night in France. He was certainly paying him enough for the inconvenience.
“We have a problem,” he said, opening the call without any greeting, as though they were already in the middle of a conversation.
“I thought you said the plan was going well.”
“Yes, it has been. The girl’s attachment to me is growing.” L sighed, slightly embarrassed to admit such a thing. “But my own attachment to her is growing in kind. I am worried that I am getting in over my head.”
Morrello whistled. “This girl must be something, to turn the famous L’s head.”
“Yes,” L said wearily. “Yes, she is.”
The fact that you feel something for her is not necessarily a bad thing, Morrello had told him. The closer your actions are to your heart, the more she will buy them. You only need to have the strength to do what you have to do in the end. Let your feelings be what they are, but don’t let them control you.
If only it were that simple.
And now, L had an additional problem: as Misa’s comfort with him grew, so did the level of physical contact and affection she displayed towards him. She began greeting both himself and Light with a hug each time she returned from the set (which also had the side effect of hurting Matsuda’s feelings, as, despite spending all day with him, he was rendered basically invisible once Misa saw the two younger men). She had begun standing behind him on her days off, chattering about her life, and the other day, she had even started braiding his hair without his consent.
As L did not exactly have a reputation as a cuddly person, it was inevitable that this would begin to arouse suspicions.
Watari, of course, had been aware of L’s manipulations almost since the beginning. Not much escaped his notice, particularly as he was the main supervisor of the security footage. As expected, he raised no moral qualms—Watari had seen L do much worse things, and had done much worse things himself, than attempting to seduce and emotionally manipulate a suspect.
He had only warned L to be discreet, particularly around the other task force members. The police, particularly Aizawa and Yagami, were uncomfortable enough with L’s methods as it was. If they believed that he was abusing his power to take advantage of a teenage girl who also happened to be his prisoner, L might end up with a genuine mutiny on his hands.
He had also given advice about avoiding overconfidence and the possibility that Misa might be manipulating him right back, taking advantage of his inexperience to emotionally compromise him. L mostly tuned that advice out, not because he thought he was immune to such risks, but rather because he told himself the same thing almost every night before he slept. Not to mention all the times he had heard it from Morrello.
Other than Watari, Light was the next to notice that something was going on. He waited until the late evening, when only the two of them were left working, before confronting L.
“You’ve been paying a lot of attention to Misa lately,” he said, glancing at L from the corner of his eye as he continued looking at the computer screen, clearly feigning disinterest.
“Is Light jealous?” L questioned, rolling his eyes up at the ceiling. “As you are both Kira suspects, it is only expected for me to split my attention between the two of you.”
Light clenched his jaw slightly at the reminder of his status. However, he pressed on, “I’m also assisting in the investigation, Ryuuzaki, while Misa seems to be doing her best to distract from it.” Then, with a sigh, he continued, “Sorry, that’s beside the point. What I mean to say is that you are paying a different kind of attention to Misa.”
L rotated his chair to face Light, staring straight at the boy’s profile. “If Light is implying something, he should speak plainly.”
Finally, Light turned to face him as well, mirroring L’s movement. “You like Misa. You’ve been flirting with her.”
“I have no idea what you mean,” L said, blinking at him. “I speak to Misa as I would any other friend.” A blatant lie, but that wasn’t the point. The point was to maintain plausible deniability, just as Light did with his identity as Kira. No matter how obvious it was, just continue to deny it.
“Uh huh,” Light said, unimpressed.
“I did not expect Light to be a jealous boyfriend. Especially over Misa,” L added, staring off into space.
“Jealous?” Light scoffed. “I would be happy for anyone to take her off my hands. Or at least divert some of her attention away from me.”
“Perhaps you feel that way now, but when you remember that you are Kira, it will certainly be an inconvenience if you have lost your loyal second Kira.” L watched Light’s face as he spoke, taking a certain pleasure in Light’s clear exasperation.
Of course, Light had to retaliate. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like there’s any universe in which a guy like you would have a chance with Misa.”
Ouch, L thought to himself, mostly sarcastically. He had told himself the same thing often enough for the thought to lose its sting. So he only responded, “I suppose Light is lucky, then.” And with that, they returned to their work.
Notes:
pervert (affectionate)
Chapter 4: i go wild, 'cause you break me open
Notes:
I go wild, 'cause you break me open
Wild, 'cause you left me here
I go wild, 'cause your promises are broken
Wild, don't you get it, dear?
You're not the only one who runs on instincts
No, I've got instincts of my own- Poe, "Wild"
Chapter Text
As Light had noticed, it was only a matter of time before the slower members of the task force began to pick up on it as well. Before that happened, L needed to move on to the next stage of the plan he had concocted with Morrello.
The first step, to encourage positive feelings for himself in Misa, had been a surprising success. He doubted those feelings were romantic at all, but she at least liked him enough to seek out his company and attention, and to see him as an ally within the task force, at least when it came to things unrelated to the Kira case. And the night of the thunderstorm, she had at least been flattered by his interest in her, rather than creeped out.
The next step would carry more risk and would not be quite so pleasant. Possibly because of the death of her parents, or possibly because of something inherent to her character, Misa seemed to have sizable abandonment issues. In order to destabilize her attachment to Light, he would attempt to purposefully trigger Misa’s fear of abandonment, to make her feel isolated and alone. Because of the groundwork he had laid, this would then prompt her to turn to himself for comfort.
Or, at least, that was his goal. Because there was only so far he could deepen his connection with Misa so long as Light was still in the picture. Her hopes would have to be completely crushed in order to separate her from him.
Due to Light’s clear disinterest in Misa since they had been released from confinement, she was already primed for this, living in what seemed like a constant state of anxiety over Light’s feelings for her, or lack thereof. The more Light pulled away from her, the more desperate she became, acting out in an attempt to win back his attention. It would only take a small push.
However, the move would have to be subtle enough not to be easily traced back to L. Doing something like forging an invitation to a date from Light in order to stand her up would not be viable. It would be too easy for Misa and Light to compare stories and realize L was manipulating them, thus destroying the small amount of trust he had built with Misa.
Luckily, nothing quite so drastic was required. Since releasing the two suspects from isolation, L had occasionally encouraged Light to take Misa on dates. He had claimed that this was for the sake of keeping the peace, but in reality, he mostly wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to watch them interact—and being seen as the good guy when he said to Light, in front of Misa, “I am sure we can spare the time for the two of you to have a date,” did not hurt.
In order to substantially decrease the amount of time that Light spent on Misa, it was sufficient for L to simply stop encouraging it. He did not forbid them from having dates—and if Misa asked, he made it clear that he was not stopping them—but neither did he put any pressure on Light to maintain his relationship. Without this impetus, Light spent less and less time on dates with Misa, though she continued seeking him out in the main room.
Of course, Light must have noticed this change in L’s behavior. Luckily for him, Light’s belief that he was infatuated with Misa actually provided the perfect alibi. If Light believed that L had romantic feelings for Misa, and thus felt jealousy over their relationship and no longer wanted to witness their dates, that was for the best. It might prevent him from coming up with another hypothesis—for instance, that L was purposefully isolating Misa from everyone but himself.
L had also considered making Misa feel socially excluded around himself and Light—speaking to Light in ways that she would not understand, ignoring her contributions, and making it clear that Light preferred his company to hers, which was quite true—but it was too likely that this would lead to her placing the blame onto himself for taking Light away from her. Besides, he did not want her to associate him with negative feelings.
And so he began simply by allowing Light to ignore Misa to his heart’s content, while continuing to behave normally towards her himself. Despite the fact that Light’s attention had not been exactly forthcoming previously, this shift seemed to have an immediate impact on Misa.
One thing that continued to surprise him about the girl was how incredibly sensitive she was when it came to Light. Not ‘sensitive’ as in ‘emotional,’ but ‘sensitive’ as in ‘perceptive and intuitive.’ She might be willfully ignorant of his lack of feelings for her, at least on the surface, but she clearly was aware of even the smallest of shifts in Light’s behavior towards her.
As the time without any dates stretched on, and Misa grew more strained, L kept an eye out for opportunities to enact the next part of his plan. He could manufacture such an opportunity himself, but it would be better if it arose naturally. There would be less chance of it being traced back to him.
He did not have to wait too long before an opportunity appeared. Misa had been bothering them all day, interrupting their work in an attempt to get Light’s attention, and she had finally left to return to her rooms. Light let out a long sigh of frustration, and to L’s surprise, Matsuda spoke up.
“She just wants to spend time with you, Light.”
Light turned to look over his shoulder at Matsuda, giving the man an irritated look. “She could just say so, rather than acting like that.”
Discreetly, L hit a few keys on his keyboard. He had created the shortcuts several days ago: the command would lock the stairwell to the upper floors that Misa, as he could see on the monitor, was about to try to enter to return to her room. Finding herself locked out, she would either come back to them or pass by the top of the stairs again as she took another path. Either way, if the timing was right, she would end up overhearing whatever Light and the others said about her. L knew that Misa already had a tendency to eavesdrop, and because the main room was open to the floor above, noise tended to travel.
Next, he minimized the window on the computer containing the camera view of the landing at the top of the stairs. It wouldn’t do for Light or anyone else to notice that Misa was listening in. Then, turning back to join the conversation, he pointed out, “To Misa’s credit, she does say so. Rather frequently and loudly, I might add.”
“Yeah!” Matsuda said, seeming gratified that L was backing him up for a change. “She’s always asking you for dates. If you just took her on one now and then, she’d probably be less clingy the rest of the time.”
“That’s not how Misa works,” Light grumbled. “You give her an inch and she takes a mile. Trust me, if I give her any attention at all, she’ll just feel free to demand even more from me.”
In L’s view, this was both true and false. True, because Misa’s desire for Light’s love seemed infinite, but false, because her level of acting out really was correlated to how much attention she was receiving from him. When Light paid more attention to her, she was less overwhelmingly needy, at least, even if she would never be fully satisfied.
“Do you even like her?” Matsuda asked, doing L’s work for him. “You don’t talk about her like she’s your girlfriend.”
Light smiled then, a self-deprecating sort of smile meant to indicate that he knew he wasn’t being kind, but could you blame him? “To be honest, I don’t really. She was the one who asked me out, and I suppose I just got swept up in it.”
L could see that Yagami, who was looking through some files on the other side of the room, had begun listening to the conversation with a disapproving expression on his face. He wasn’t speaking yet, though, apparently wanting to see what else Light would say.
“I don’t get that at all,” Matsuda said. “I mean, she’s really cute, and she’s crazy about you. I spend a lot of time with her at the film set, and she’s always talking about you. What’s not to like?” L could have kissed him; he was steering the conversation in exactly the direction he had hoped.
“‘Crazy’ being the key word there,” Light replied. “She’s one of the most frustrating people I’ve ever met. It’s like she doesn’t think. She doesn’t care what I want, or that we’re trying to catch Kira, or whether her behavior is causing problems for us. All that she cares about is going on dates and getting validation from others and making sure everyone thinks she’s pretty. It’s honestly a little sad.”
L touched his thumb to his lip, looking back and forth between the two men, trying not to look too eager. This was more than he had even hoped for when they began speaking.
“But she is pretty,” Matsuda argued. “She’s probably one of the most beautiful women in Japan. You can’t deny that.” L felt a little embarrassed, seeing the blush on Matsuda’s face. He felt embarrassed for Matsuda, but also for himself, knowing that this was his company. He thought he was clearly superior to Matsuda in intellect, and yet, he found himself just as taken in by Misa’s charms. Well, at least L had enough self-respect to be ashamed by his susceptibility to her. To realize just how ridiculous he was.
Light shrugged. “I suppose she’s alright, if you like that sort of thing. I just prefer a more serious type of woman. Someone who’s more composed and intelligent. The whole ‘Misa-Misa’ thing, the pigtails and frilly dresses, it’s all a bit… childish, don’t you agree?”
Matsuda shook his head, looking at Light like he was crazy. “No way. She’s super cute! There’s a reason she’s as popular as she is.”
“Well, if you want to take her off my hands, you’re welcome to her,” Light said, using the same phrasing he had used with L, the same subtle tone of scorn. Clearly he didn’t believe that either L or Matsuda would be able to compete with him in the realm of dating.
“You shouldn’t treat a young woman this way.” It seemed that Yagami had finally decided to speak up. “I raised you better than this. Not that I’m not relieved that you’re not serious about her, but if you don’t like Misa, you can’t keep leading her on.”
“I’m not leading her on,” Light argued. “I barely speak to her anymore, and I haven’t taken her on a date in a long time. The whole relationship is basically in her head. But you’ve seen how she can be. If I just come right out and dump her, there’s no telling how she’ll react. I have to live with her, and see her every day, until the investigation is over. I’m just trying to keep the peace.”
Light’s father looked down at him, seeming only half-convinced. “Still,” he repeated. “It’s not right.”
L tuned them out, turning back to the computer and briefly opening the camera feed again, unlocking the doors. He was just in time to catch a glimpse of Misa fleeing in tears.
When Misa finally snapped, the results were unexpectedly dramatic, even for her. It happened only a day after she overheard the conversation between Light, Matsuda, Yagami, and himself. They hadn’t seen her all morning, and L found himself on edge. He just had a feeling that something was about to happen.
His suspicions were confirmed when the gothic L appeared on his computer screen. “Miss Amane is acting unusual,” Watari informed him—and, by extension, the task force. “She has gone to Light’s floor and is attempting to enter his bedroom.”
This by itself would not be unusual for Misa, except that Light was currently sitting right next to L. Since the night of the thunderstorm, Misa’s movements had been unrestricted throughout the building, but this would be the first time that she really abused that privilege. It surprised L a bit that she would try something so blatant. She must know that she would immediately be caught.
Light immediately sat up straight, looking alarmed. “My room is locked,” he said. The suspects were allowed to lock their doors, though L and Watari, of course, had the master key. “What on earth is she doing?”
“Let’s see,” L responded, bringing up the security footage on the computer. Behind them, the rest of the task force were approaching, trying to get a look.
On the black-and-white video, Misa seemed to be rather violently attempting to break down Light’s bedroom door. When kicking it failed to have any effect, she grabbed onto the handle with both hands and yanked, even going so far as to plant both feet on the door frame and push, lifting her entire body off of the ground. This was especially futile, seeing as Light’s door opened inwards.
L and Light glanced at each other. This was one of those moments where they seemed to instantly understand each other without even needing to speak. Silently, they stood and made their way to the elevators, followed by Matsuda, Aizawa, Yagami, and Mogi.
When the elevator stopped on Light’s floor, they could hear Misa’s voice the moment the doors opened. She was shouting and cursing incoherently, apparently yelling at the door for keeping her out. As the crowd of men stepped out into the living area, though, she finally stopped, realizing she had been caught.
“Misa, what are you doing?” Light asked, aghast.
“Misa knows Light is hiding something!” Misa shouted, stalking across the room towards them. “He’s probably talking to other girls! More ‘serious’ girls.” She even made air-quotes around the word ‘serious.’ “Misa is going to find the evidence!”
Light glanced at L, looking startled. This version of Light, the one he had known since the Change, seemed more easily caught off guard. “I’m a suspect just like you, Misa. I never leave the headquarters, and I only use my phone to talk to my family, with Ryuuzaki’s supervision. When would I have the chance?”
L, meanwhile, was standing hunched over with his hands in his pockets, silently watching the exchange. He wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself, lest Misa turn her rage to him.
“Then why?!” Misa demanded, putting herself directly in front of Light, staring up into his face. “Why have you stopped paying attention to Misa? Why don’t you want Misa anymore?”
To L’s surprise, Matsuda decided that this was the time to try being brave, because he stepped forward, hands held out in front of himself like he was calming a cornered animal. “Misa-Misa, maybe you should try taking a few deep breaths and—”
Misa whirled on Matsuda and screamed. Not even any words, just a shriek of pure fury that sent the man scampering backwards to hide behind Mogi. As though she hadn’t even been interrupted, Misa turned back to Light and shoved one finger against his chest. “Something is going on! You haven’t taken me on a date in weeks!”
Light reached up and took Misa’s hand in his own, and for a moment, she seemed to calm in response to his touch. “Misa,” he said, with more emotion than he usually used when speaking to her, “I promise there is no other woman I am interested in. We haven’t had a date because I’ve been busy with the investigation. Catching Kira is important.”
Misa blinked up at him, her eyes beginning to water, and L wondered if Light was going to pull this off. That would be irritating, but he could not interfere now. Then, with a pout, trying to revert back to her usual cutesy persona, Misa asked, “More important than Misa?”
There was a long silence as Light failed to think of a tactful way to answer that question.
“Light,” Misa prompted, a tone of warning in her voice now.
“What do you want me to say, Misa?” Light asked, letting go of her hand and taking a step back. Misa made a half-hearted attempt to reach out to him, visibly distressed to see him retreating from her. “Yes, I’m sorry, but catching the most prolific serial killer in the world is more important than going on dates together.”
“But Light, I love you,” Misa pleaded. “I’m your girlfriend. Shouldn’t you want to spend time with the person you love? No matter what else is happening, Light is the most important thing to me!”
“The person I love?” Light repeated, and L heard Matsuda suck in a breath behind him. “Misa, I’m sorry, but I barely know you. I wouldn’t use that word so easily. You’re the one who decided that we were together, not me.”
There we go.
Misa seemed to crumple for a moment, her eyes filling with tears. “But I thought that once you got to know me, you would love me,” she whispered. Then, moving closer to Light again, a hopeful look in her eyes that bordered on mania, she said in a pleading tone, “Maybe you just haven’t had enough time yet? Maybe if Misa is good enough, tries harder… There’s got to be something, right, Light? Some way for Misa to make you love her back?”
Light looked distinctly uncomfortable now, and L couldn’t help but feel slightly pleased by this crack in his composure. Watching Light and Misa’s relationship collapse, part of him felt like he was gawking at a wreck on the side of the road. The rest of the task force seemed to be in a similar frame of mind, as none of them were interrupting, not even Yagami. Maybe they just didn’t want to face the same reaction Matsuda had.
“Misa, I’m sorry,” Light said, still speaking gently and calmly. “You’re a very nice girl, but I just don’t have time for that kind of thing. This case is too important. Dating is the last thing on my mind.”
“But when we catch Kira?” Misa demanded, still stepping closer, even as Light backed up. “Then you’ll have time to fall in love with Misa?” When Light said nothing, only looked away, her voice grew louder. “Light! Light, please.”
Misa tried to throw herself forward, into Light’s arms, but he sidestepped her again, so that Misa fell to her knees on the floor in front of him. She grabbed onto Light’s hand with both of hers, clutching it tightly so that he couldn’t pull away. “Light!” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “You kissed me!” she reminded him. “You said we could be together! There has to be some way!”
L noticed as Light’s eyes shifted away from Misa, stopping momentarily on his father, who was staring straight at him. The sight seemed to strengthen Light’s resolve in some way, as though his father’s admonitions about how he should treat people were actually having an effect. Once again, L was struck by just how different Light had been since the Change.
“I’m sorry,” Light repeated. “There isn’t. I can’t think of any way that I would fall in love with you.”
He was still speaking softly, like he was trying to let her down easy, but it was clear that Misa was not going to allow herself to be consoled. As Light extracted himself from her grip, stepping away, she grew even more frantic. “Light, Light, please,” she begged. “Don’t leave me! Don’t—”
Her voice trailed off into incoherent pleas, the words punctuated by sobs, as she tried crawling her way towards him on the floor. When he put himself out of her reach, she actually wailed, wrapping her arms around herself. L watched with growing alarm as Misa dug her long fingernails into her own bare arms, clawing at her skin, still sobbing.
“Misa,” L said softly, stepping forward, trying to crouch down to her level, to stop her before she hurt herself. A mistake, but for a moment, he had acted without thinking.
Misa reached up and shoved him, so that he nearly toppled over, shouting, “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me, you freak! Pervert! This is your fault! You took my Light away from me!” She kept on shoving at him, mostly ineffectively, but he allowed himself to be pushed away.
“Mogi,” L said quietly, turning back to the other men. “Please restrain Miss Amane before someone gets hurt.”
Mogi dutifully stepped forward, grasping Misa from behind and pinning her arms to her side. This only upset her further, and she thrashed in his arms, throwing her head from side to side and writhing, trying to break free and get to Light. She was still screaming wordlessly as Light stared at her in shock.
L opened his phone, dialing Watari, stepping aside so that he could be heard over Misa’s shouts of rage. He needed to handle the situation, but without making the others suspicious of his relationship with Misa. He would approach her later, when the task force members had left or fallen asleep. In the meantime, he would leave her in Mogi’s hands. It was better that he not seem to have much contact with her while she was in this state. “Mogi is bringing Miss Amane to her room. I want you to cover your face and deliver him a sedative and some food and water,” he instructed.
Then, flipping the phone shut and turning back to Mogi, he instructed, having to speak quite loudly to be heard, “Watari will bring you some supplies. If you think she is likely to hurt herself, sedate her. I trust your judgment. Once she is under control, see if you can get her to drink some water and eat something. She does not seem to have been eating lately.”
Mogi nodded gravely and, with a still-struggling Misa wrapped in his enormous arms, he stepped into the elevator and left. As the elevator carried them away, Misa’s screams faded out, leaving the remainder of the task force standing around in silence. Aizawa and Yagami looked grim and disturbed, and Matsuda was white as a sheet. Even Light looked a little rattled.
“Jesus,” Matsuda said quietly. “I’ve never seen Misa-Misa act like that before.”
L knew what he meant. It was one thing to see Misa banging her fists against Light’s chest while calling him a ‘baka.’ That was vaguely comical. To see her screaming in rage, clawing at her own skin, tears streaming down her face, was another thing entirely. And the sight had a different meaning for himself than it did for Matsuda or even Light, because L knew that he had driven her to that point on purpose.
L was not a sadist, and he did not take pleasure in seeing Misa’s complete emotional devastation as a result of his manipulations. It was enough to make him wonder if he truly was a monster. He tried to tell himself that it was like ripping the band-aid off: surely short-term emotional pain was better than Misa continuing on this path, which would likely lead to her death, either via government execution or at Kira’s hands once she outlived her usefulness. But he could not banish the memory of the look on her face, the sound of her voice, as she had begged Light not to leave her.
L entered Misa’s room late that night, after everyone else had either left or gone to bed. Mogi had updated him a few hours ago that Misa had been given a Valium and had fallen asleep. When he entered her room, however, she was awake again, staring up at the ceiling in silence.
He approached her gingerly, wondering if she was still angry with him, but it seemed that she had just been lashing out when she yelled at him, because now she just looked at him sadly.
“How are you doing, Misa?” L asked, coming to stand at the side of her bed, looking down at the reclining girl.
“Everyone thinks Misa is crazy now,” she muttered. “Even Ryuuzaki. I can tell. I’m not an idiot.”
L grabbed a chair from behind him and pulled it closer, climbing up to crouch on it at her bedside. “I don’t think you’re crazy, Misa,” he said softly. “I think you were just very upset.” He took one of her hands in his as he spoke. The fingernails were chipped, and one finger was bloody. “Here, let me help you with this.”
L had brought a first-aid kit with him. He could have had it given to Mogi earlier, but he had specifically decided that he should be the one to attend to her injuries, even if that meant leaving them untreated for a few hours. He suspected that Misa would respond well to feeling cared for.
Misa peered up at him distrustfully, though she allowed him to begin cleaning her wound and bandaging her hand. Finally, she said, “No one understands how badly it hurts. I’m losing him, Ryuuzaki. Every time I’m around him, I can feel him moving further and further away from me, slipping out of my reach. It makes me feel so cold and empty and alone, and then I do crazy things. I can’t just let him go. If I do, then I won’t have anybody at all.”
L understood. Misa lacked the emotional tools to withstand losing the person she loved. When she lashed out, it was because it felt like the only way she could cope with her feelings. But he didn’t think she would like to hear this.
Instead, he said, “I do know that Misa’s love for Light is the strongest in the world. So I know that it must have hurt Misa terribly to hear the things that Light said about their relationship.” L’s breath caught for a moment as he realized that his comment could be taken as implying that he knew Misa had been eavesdropping on them, but luckily, she seemed to assume he was only talking about the conversation on Light’s floor.
“Exactly!” Misa said, eyes widening, though her mood was still more subdued than normal, thanks to the sedative. “You really do understand me.”
“Yes,” L said slowly, and then, hoping this wouldn’t be laying it on too thick, added, “Misa is clearly the perfect woman for Light.” Though the statement sounded forced to his ears, he suspected that Misa would be too pleased to question it.
“Yes!” she cheered. A moment later, though, her smile faded. “But he still doesn’t want me.”
L couldn’t argue with this, so he only shook his head apologetically.
“If he doesn’t want me, then what’s the point of me?” Despite himself, L felt an ache deep in his chest at the look on her face, the way that her voice broke with her words. In some moments, despite everything, she could be so breathtakingly vulnerable.
“Misa, your worth doesn’t come from Light,” L said, setting her hand down and moving on to the other one. “Light is smart in many ways, but he must be blind and stupid not to want you.”
This was the right thing to say, it seemed, because Misa flashed him a bright smile, her shifting mood disorienting to observe. “If you were Light, you would want Misa?” she prompted.
L paused to think for a moment. He had to tread carefully. It wouldn’t do for her to think that he had come here to make a move on her while she was vulnerable. Besides that, because of the power differential between them, it would be best if any escalations of their current relationship were initiated by her. If she thought that she was the one in charge, that she was seducing him, then she would not suspect him.
With a flash of inspiration, L figured out what shape to bend the truth into for this purpose. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” he told her somberly. “Misa is my prisoner, not to mention a fair bit younger than me.”
“Ryuuzaki isn’t that much older than me, is he?” she asked. “And I’m nineteen. It’s not like I’m a kid.”
L fought back the urge to ask, Then why do you style your hair like one? “Nevertheless,” he continued. “It would be very inappropriate for me to take advantage of my position.”
Misa fell for it more quickly than he had expected. A bit of sparkle returning to her eyes, she gripped his hand and asked, “But Ryuuzaki wants to? Take advantage, I mean? You want Misa?”
L did not have to try hard to fake discomfort, looking away from her face as he said, “Please, Misa, this conversation is not appropriate. Let’s just say that I value your friendship.”
He wasn’t sure whether he felt disappointed or relieved when Misa allowed him to change the subject. “Misa values Ryuuzaki’s friendship, too,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like you’re my only friend in the world. You never treat me like I’m stupid or annoying, the way everyone else does.”
A pang went through L, a heady combination of triumph and guilt. This was what he had wanted, but he couldn’t help but feel like a horrible person. This moment was necessary. He had to bind Misa to himself, to make her depend on him as she had depended on Light.
“You’ll stay?” Misa asked, squeezing his hand even tighter. “You’ll stay here tonight? You won’t leave me alone?”
“Of course,” L said. “I’ll stay as long as Misa needs.”
When morning came, L awoke curled in the armchair beside Misa’s bed, her hand still held in his own.
Chapter 5: you call me a gentleman, but you're easy, easy to please
Notes:
(I've got no soul left to sell)
You don't talk much, but I can tell
(I can play insecure to make you self-assured
I don't mind
Do what you like)You call me a gentleman
But you're easy, easy to please
You call me a gentleman
But you're easy, easy to please(Are we easy to love when we're down on our knees?)
- July Talk, "Gentleman" (because I can't write an L/Misa longfic without some July Talk... check out their body language in the video, it's perfect)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Misa avoided all of them for several days. It was easy to do, since she spent most of the day at the film set, and besides that, there was no requirement that she join them in the main room. She had only been visiting in order to see Light. Light himself seemed rather relieved by her absence. L, on the other hand, was waiting curiously to see how she would act upon her return. Would she continue acting like her relationship with Light was still intact, or had her hopes finally been shattered?
L tried sitting down with Matsuda one evening and asking for an update on Misa’s condition, given that he spent the most time with her. However, the man was not especially useful. He only said that Misa had been snapping at the director more often, but she had rebuffed all of Matsuda’s attempts to get her to talk about her breakdown.
On the morning of the fourth day, however, she bounded in, dressed up in a form-fitting black dress, just as bouncy and cheerful as ever. The main change seemed to be that she was pointedly ignoring Light, only to throw glares at his back when he wasn’t looking.
That was not the only change, however. She also brought with her a plate of freshly baked cookies, walking right past Matsuda and Mogi, who eyed the plate hungrily, to stand directly at L’s side. He rotated himself to face her, curious to see that she looked almost… shy? Misa was looking down at the plate bashfully, her cheeks slightly pink as she held it out in front of her.
“Ryuuzaki, these are for you,” she told him. “As a thank you. Misa-Misa baked them herself.”
“No fair!” Matsuda complained behind them. “Why does he get homemade sweets from Misa-Misa?”
L had to suppress the urge to sigh in annoyance. As much as he loved cookies, he knew that this was going to make him look more suspicious. Right now, the last thing he wanted was people paying too much attention to his interactions with Misa. Still, he would act like it was nothing. “Misa and I had a conversation after her fight with Light,” he explained to the task force. “I suppose I must have cheered her up.”
“Yes, you did. Very much so,” Misa said, sincerity ringing in her voice, and he resisted the urge to wince at the way others might perceive her words.
And he wasn’t wrong to worry. “I’m sure Ryuuzaki tried very hard to comfort Misa,” Light muttered darkly, looking at L from behind Misa’s back.
L kept his eyes on Misa, not reacting to the comment, and took the plate from her. “Thank you, Misa,” he said, as sincerely as he could. Right now, gaining her trust was more important than avoiding looking suspicious in front of others, especially because the latter was a lost cause. Then, with a smirk, speaking around one cookie stuffed in his mouth already, spewing crumbs on his desk, he said to the other men in the room, “You see, I am a gentleman. And that is why I get cookies and you don’t.”
Misa’s laughter, high and tinkling like a bell, made him feel satisfied, even as some of the men gave him questioning looks.
Light caught him on his way to bed that night, grasping his arm to prevent him from walking away.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said.
“Oh?” L asked, regarding him blankly. “What am I doing, then?”
“You’re trying to steal Misa for yourself.”
Technically, I can’t steal her if she’s no longer yours, L thought. Instead, he said, “If I were, would this upset you? I thought you were ‘happy for someone to take her off your hands.’”
Light narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want Misa to be my girlfriend, but that doesn’t mean I want her to get hurt, either. And you’re going to hurt her, because you think that she and I are Kira. You’re trying to use her, just like you told me to do. And when you find out that we’re innocent, you’ll drop her just like I did. She doesn’t deserve that.”
This new and morally improved version of Light was somewhat irritating, and L found himself trying to push the boy’s buttons in retaliation. “Lucky for me, then, that you are both Kira.” He watched with amusement as Light clearly took a second to restrain his anger. He wondered if Light was even counting to ten inside his head. As soon as Light seemed to have calmed down, he threw in another jab. “Of course, all of this is purely hypothetical—if I ‘were’ trying to steal Misa. As I am not, there is nothing to worry about. Light shouldn’t be so paranoid.”
L pulled himself free, shoving his hands into his pockets as he turned and walked away. He could feel Light’s eyes burning into his back as he went.
Once Misa could no longer look to Light for attention, her behavior towards L escalated surprisingly quickly. Only a few days after the cookies, Misa caught L alone in the shared kitchen, eating a bar of chocolate. L blinked at her in surprise: she seemed to be seeking him out on purpose, but he wasn’t quite sure why. In addition, there was the issue that it was the middle of the day, and one of the other task force members could conceivably interrupt them.
With this in mind, L tried not to show too much interest in Misa’s presence, quickly moving his eyes away and returning to his sweets. However, he could still see Misa out of the corner of his eye, his guard rising as she silently moved closer to him, eventually coming to lean against the counter a yard or so away.
Not knowing what she was up to made him tense, though he tried not to show it. L wondered how many lessons from Morrello he would need to stop feeling awkward in such situations.
Finally, with a sigh, he looked up again, only to find Misa staring directly at him. Or, well, he couldn’t quite tell if she was looking at him or the food. Probably the former, but because sweets were forbidden to her due to her career, he suspected that Misa had a secret yearning for them as well. For this reason, and to continue acting oblivious to her interest, he asked her, “Do you want one?”
To his surprise, after a pause, Misa smiled deviously and said, “Yes, I do.” What is she up to this time? he wondered. He developed some suspicion when, instead of holding out a hand for a piece of chocolate, Misa opened her mouth expectantly, making a cute face at him. He had to fight the urge to snort in amusement at the sight of her. She really could be too much sometimes.
Playing along, L broke off a square of chocolate between his in and fed it to Misa by hand. However, he had not expected her to go as far as she did. Wrapping one hand around his wrist, Misa took not only the chocolate but also L’s fingers into her mouth. She maintained steady eye contact with him as she pursed her lips around his fingers and sucked, running her tongue over his skin as though she were making sure to get every last bit.
L clenched his jaw and swallowed hard, all of his blood immediately rushing south at the feeling of Misa’s mouth and the thought of how it might feel on other parts of his anatomy. Despite everything, he still seemed to consistently underestimate how far she would go in order to get his attention. He was struck dumb, reduced to standing there, frozen in place, eyes glued to Misa as she sucked and licked his fingers clean. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she released his hand and pulled back, a wicked grin on her face. Her lips were wet and slightly swollen from the suction. He couldn’t stop looking at them.
“Thanks for the chocolate, Ryuuzaki,” Misa said and, with a wink, she turned and walked out of the room.
He spent an hour on the phone with Morrello that night. The con artist laughed his ass off before telling L to start masturbating early in the day, before he encountered Misa. Apparently it would ‘help him keep a clear head around her.’
L was beginning to wonder what he had gotten himself into.
It seemed to be too much to hope that he could continue manipulating Misa in secret. As time went on, most people seemed to notice that there was something going on between the two of them, even if they couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. L continued with his initial strategy of stubborn denial, refusing to admit that there could be anything out of the ordinary going on.
This strategy was somewhat challenged when Misa returned to the headquarters one day, pushed L’s legs down, and sat herself on his knee to tell him about her day, acting as if this was completely normal. Unable to push her away without hurting her feelings, he just had to accept the glares of the other task force members, particularly Aizawa and Yagami.
Of the two of them, L had expected Aizawa to be the first to confront him, but instead, it was Yagami. He supposed he should not have been surprised. After all, the man was himself a parent to someone near Misa’s age. He called L away from the others for a conversation before he left for the day and told him, “I hear from Matsuda that Misa has been talking about you a lot these days.”
“Has she?” L asked disinterestedly.
Yagami’s response was shockingly direct. “You cannot sleep with her.”
L bit back a sarcastic response—that is untrue; I assure you that I am physically capable of the act. He opted for a response that was only slightly less sarcastic: “I will be sure to write that down.”
“Ryuuzaki,” Yagami said sternly, clearly disapproving, and fixed him with an unsettling paternal glare over the top of his glasses. L wondered how old Light had been when that glare had stopped working on him.
With a sigh, L forced himself to be serious. “I am not sleeping with Misa, nor do I have any intention of doing so. Since her argument with your son, she is merely looking for attention. Honestly, I suspect she is trying to make him jealous.”
“Hmmph.” Yagami seemed unconvinced by this. “Well, I hope for the investigation’s sake that this is as innocent as you say. My men and I have put up with a lot of unconventional behavior from you, but I draw the line at taking advantage of a prisoner. I am trusting you with my son.” Of course, that was why Yagami had been the first, he realized: if L would take advantage of Misa, why not Light as well? “Don’t let me down.”
Aizawa and Yagami left at the same time, casting glances at him over their shoulders as they did so. L wondered to himself if they would discuss him on their way home. He wondered how long he could hold this task force together. Everyone was getting antsy, the lack of leads beginning to wear on them. L himself was growing nervous, waiting for the ax of Kira’s plan to fall on his head. Misa was the only area in which he was making progress, but by pursuing her, he risked losing his only allies.
He only hoped that he was following the right path to Kira, rather than driving himself and the investigation right off a cliff.
Still, the situation was in some sort of unsteady equilibrium for the moment, but that was soon to change. As much as L wished to stay in this in-between place, where the stakes were still low, it was time to move forward with his plan.
The next step would be the most unpleasant yet. Provoking Misa into confronting Light had at least been justifiable as something that was in her best interest in the long run. And treating her nicely, of course, hardly felt sinister. He could almost allow himself to believe that they were friends, that he was free to care for her. As for her flirting with him, well, that could be viewed as a sort of harmless game.
This, on the other hand, would be nothing but abject cruelty, a coldhearted manipulation of Misa’s feelings in order to deepen her dependence on him. It would also have the added benefit of slightly reducing the task force’s suspicions of him. Hopefully Yagami would interpret his behavior as a sign that his warning had made an impression.
L told himself that he was doing this for the right reasons: protecting lives from Kira. He was no stranger to using morally questionable methods to solve a case. But to use methods that came directly from the toolkit of emotional abusers and groomers, purposefully breaking Misa down so that she would cling to him even tighter, made him feel slightly nauseous.
That morning, L steeled himself. For the next several days, he would shut off his emotions as much as possible. This was not an unusual state for him, but he had allowed himself to get comfortable in his growing connection to Misa—the first one like it he had experienced. Now, he would revert back to his usual self.
Walking to the meeting room that morning, he passed by Misa in the hallway. Her face lit up, and he wondered how long she had been reacting so happily to his presence, and how he had managed to become so quickly accustomed to it. Smiling, she waved at him, bouncing slightly on the tips of her toes.
L kept his face blank and didn’t make eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Misa’s face fall as he passed her by without acknowledging her existence at all.
A few hours later, Misa tried again, entering the main room like nothing had happened. He guessed that she had tried to believe it was just a fluke, that she might have even imagined it.
“Ryuuzaki!” she called out. L didn’t turn around or pause in his conversation with Light, even when the boy gave him a confused look. “Hey, Ryuuzaki!”
He kept on ignoring her until he felt her hand tap him on the shoulder, at which point, he promptly turned around, a polite yet slightly distracted expression on his face. One that he had seen on Light a thousand times.
“Hey, didn’t you hear me calling you?” Misa asked, looking uncertain.
“No, sorry. I suppose I’m a little distracted today.” Misa laughed uncertainly, and he continued, “Did you need something?”
“N-no…” Misa said, her voice small, wavering slightly, nervously twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. “I just wanted to say hi, since I didn’t get a chance to greet you this morning.”
“Ah.” The silence stretched out between them awkwardly, and L let it. Finally, he said, “Well, if you don’t mind, Light and I have a lot of work today.” Before Misa could answer, he turned around again, resuming his conversation.
L still had half his attention focused on Misa, who stayed standing silently behind him, watching him as he talked to Light, as though waiting for him to turn around and tell her it had all been a prank. He knew she must be tense and confused, hoping that he would resolve the tension if she only waited long enough. But he would not. Finally, Misa gave up, leaving the room without another sound.
This was how it had to work: Misa had grown accustomed to L’s presence and attention. He had gotten close to her, positioned himself as the one person in the building who would consistently show interest in her and treat her as though she was important.
Next, he had set up a situation with Light that would cause her to feel abandoned by him, driving a crack through their connection. Because he had positioned himself as her friend and confidant prior to this event, she had then turned to him for comfort, relying on him to make up for the hurt that Light had caused her.
Now that she had come to rely on him, and to take for granted that he would be there for her, that she had won his attention, he had to yank the rug out from under her. Not permanently, no. Only long enough to make her desperate. To prey on her insecurities, making her fear that she might lose L as a source of comfort and validation. She had grown to see L as reliable and safe, at least in comparison to Light, who could be unpredictable and cold.
Now, though, she would find herself at the disadvantage, having to fight to win his attention back, realizing that she could not take it for granted anymore. This should raise his value in her eyes, according to Morello.
It was a classic result of behavioral science: a rat, when provided with a lever that always produces food, will push it fairly often. But if the lever is altered to provide food only sometimes, and in an unpredictable pattern, the rat will push the lever even more, compelled to seek out the reward, to find out if just one more push might bring a treat. The scarcer L’s attention seemed, the harder she would try to get it.
L kept it up for several days, hating himself all the while. When she addressed him directly, he replied. He was always polite and cordial towards her, merely disinterested. He watched with a growing sense of unease as her bids for his attention became more and more extreme, the volume of her voice rising, her ‘accidental’ wardrobe mishaps around him increasing in frequency. She complained more, whined more, tried to insert herself into his conversations with Light.
There was something deeply unsettling about the entire thing. L had studied behavioral psychology, but it was another thing entirely to watch how predictably someone he had become quite close to responded to his behavioral prompts. It made him feel like he was performing some sort of science experiment on her: reduce the level of attention Misa receives, and watch her insecurity and emotional instability grow in real-time.
Light did not seem to know what to make of it. This was not surprising. To be sure, Light was smart and perceptive and manipulative. But since the Change, he had a new earnestness to him that would not allow him to stoop to such methods as L was now using against Misa. Besides that, on some level, Light still seemed to view him as too socially inept, particularly in romantic and other close interpersonal relationships, to exert this level of social control over someone.
“Misa has been driving me crazy recently,” he remarked quietly to L one day after Misa had stormed back to her room, having failed, once again, to provoke the reaction that she wanted. “Is she bothering you, too? I wouldn’t blame you, you know, if you were getting annoyed with her.” He peered at L intently, clearly trying to get a read on what might be causing his hot-and-cold behavior towards Misa.
“Yes, well,” L murmured, trying to avoid responding with anything of substance. “She’s definitely… energetic.”
Light paused, clearly waiting for L to elaborate. When he didn’t, he continued on. “I do find it funny, the way that you scolded me for neglecting Misa when she was bothering me. But now that you’re the target, you probably understand me better.”
“I suppose that must have been very difficult for you, Light,” L said, though without any sarcasm in his voice. He knew that the words would sound condescending enough on their own.
“Whatever,” Light said, unable to hide his annoyance. “Let’s get back to the case.”
L was watching the monitors alone that night, long after Light had retired to bed, when he heard Misa’s voice. At first, he thought she was going to ask to leave her floor again (even though, technically, she still had the ability to leave without his permission). However, he realized quickly that she was actually talking to herself… more or less.
“Boy!” Misa announced, leaning back on her couch in a manner that struck L as someone trying too hard to look casual. “I’m sure glad that Ryuuzaki isn’t bothering me anymore! What a creep!” She spoke too loudly, especially when she said his name, and forced a laugh at the end. Overall, he felt like she was auditioning for a play, and this impression was only reinforced when she briefly paused and glanced up at the security camera. When nothing happened, she frowned slightly to herself before pasting on a broad smirk and continuing.
“It was fun messing him for awhile. You know, he’s such a loser, there’s no way he’s ever had a girl as hot as Misa before.” She spoke almost like she was talking to a friend on the phone, but her cell was lying on a table across the room. “It was sooooo funny to see how awkward and weird he was. I bet he really thought that Misa liked him!
“But it was really getting sad, and Misa doesn’t need to waste her time with a geek like that anymore. Especially since that hot guy at the film set asked me out! Yeah, he said I was beautiful, and he’s way hotter and cooler than Ryuuzaki or Light. So Misa is too busy to care about messing with Ryuuzaki anymore!”
L watched curiously as Misa glanced up at the camera again. Slowly, her forced smile faded, and she stood up, crossing her arms.
“You hear that, Ryuuzaki?” she shouted, staring straight at him from the monitor, apparently giving up on pretending she wasn’t talking to him. “You didn’t dump Misa. Misa dumped you! I bet you feel stupid now! You perverted jerk!” And with that, she kicked her coffee table as hard as she could, knocking it over onto its side, and fell back onto the couch, clutching her foot and swearing.
After watching long enough to confirm that Misa’s foot wasn’t seriously injured, L muted the video and minimized it, pulling up some case files instead.
The next morning, as she passed through the main room on her way downstairs to leave for work, Misa glared at him and asked, “See anything interesting last night, Ryuuzaki?”
Not a very subtle question, but he supposed that Misa was not someone who could tolerate uncertainty about whether her bids for attention had been noticed. L simply tilted his head in response and said, “No, I went to bed quite early, actually. Why?”
For a second, he thought she was going to explode, but finally, Misa swept her hair over her shoulder and stalked away.
Misa’s attention-seeking behaviors were nearing a fever pitch, and so it was a relief to L when she finally broke. He received a call from Watari, late one night, informing him that Misa was alone in the main room, and that she seemed quite angry not to find him there. He called the phone that set next to the computers and watched her on the security feed on his laptop as she answered, looking confused.
“Hello?” she asked.
“Are you looking for something, Misa?” he asked, not bothering to introduce himself. He assumed she would know his voice.
“Yeah!” she responded, immediately switching from confusion back to anger. “You, Ryuuzaki! Why aren’t you here?”
“I do sleep sometimes, you know,” he said, though that was not why he wasn’t there. He did usually retire to his own quarters at some point in the night, but he often ended up continuing to work on his laptop, simply in a more comfortable environment. Such was the case tonight. “If you need to speak to me, you can come to my rooms on the thirteenth floor. The door will be unlocked for you.” Before she could say anything else, he hung up.
L watched her progression on the cameras as she took the elevator to his floor, but he did not react to her arrival, even when she opened the door to his living room and marched in. In addition, this time L did not shut his laptop for her, but Misa took that into her own hands, slamming it shut for him and standing in front of him with her hands on her hips.
L only gazed up at her placidly, waiting for her to speak. He knew from experience that Misa was uncomfortable with silence. The best way to get her to spill everything on her mind was to simply stay quiet until she got fed up and started talking.
“Why are you mad at Misa?” she demanded, and he could hear the hurt under her anger. He wanted to soothe her, but he wouldn’t. It wasn’t time for that yet.
“I don’t know what Misa is talking about,” he said instead. Deny, deny, deny. “I am not angry with Misa in the slightest.”
“Bull!” she shouted. “You’re acting… weird! And I want to know why!”
L shrugged, putting his laptop aside. “I suppose I have just been very focused on the Kira case. Catching Kira is important, you know.” That last bit was a purposeful reference to Light’s words to her, the ones that had set her off. He could see that the blow landed in the way that her lower lip trembled.
“But I thought…” Misa trailed off, clearly at loss for words. He suspected she wanted to say something like ‘I thought we were friends’ or ‘I thought you liked me,’ except that she was now feeling so insecure that she thought he might laugh at her or dismiss her entirely if she did.
“You thought…?” L prompted, feeling rather cruel. He watched detachedly as tears began to well up in Misa’s eyes.
“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, unable to take it anymore. “Whatever Misa did, she’s sorry! Just please tell me what I did wrong, and I won’t do it again. Just don’t, don’t look at me like that anymore.”
“Like what?” L asked, like he didn’t already know.
“Like I don’t matter!” Misa cried. “Like I’m just some stupid girl. Don’t look at me the way Light looks at me. You never did, not until recently, and I don’t understand why. Is it me? Is there something about me that makes everyone I lo—care about start to hate me after a while? I can’t stand it!” She wrung her hands, and L remembered the other night, the way she had dug her fingernails into her arms. He realized somewhat distantly that he had almost broken her. It was time to reel her back in.
“Sit down,” L said, his voice soft. Misa hesitated, startled out of her tantrum, but when he glanced at the spot on the couch next to him, she immediately sat. He turned to look at her, focusing his full attention on her and watching the way she reacted to it, as if she was being given water after days without.
(He would know just how she looked in that scenario, his mind reminded him unpleasantly. He pushed the thought aside.)
L reached out and put one hand on Misa’s shoulder, looking her in the eyes, and said, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to make you feel that you were insignificant to me.” A lie. That was exactly what he had meant to do. “Misa is a very important person to me, even if I do not always show it. I will try to be more considerate from now on.”
He felt slimy, like it was obvious what he was doing. But Misa soaked it up, the tension seeming to drain out of her. And then, to his surprise, she burst into tears and threw herself forward, landing with her wet face crushed against the front of his t-shirt. L was frozen in surprise for a second before he regained control enough to wrap his arms around her, and Misa sobbed in relief, shaking in his arms.
“It’s alright, Misa,” he murmured into her hair, trying not to think too much about how her body felt on top of his. She only cried harder at that, her fingers clutching his back tightly, as though she was afraid he would push her away again. It was only natural that she should feel that way. After all, that had been the point of this.
The next day, at Morrello’s suggestion, to further reward her for coming to him with her fears, L had Watari place a dozen red roses on the counter in Misa’s bathroom, which was never visible on the monitors, while she was out for the day. He included a note as well:
For my wonderful Misa. I am very sorry for any hurt I have caused you.
- Ryuuzaki
PS: Please be a good girl and don’t tell anyone about this. They wouldn’t understand.
Notes:
Told y'all L was going be a dick. Also I partially came up with his strategies just by thinking about what would work on me, since I'm a very clingy person who needs a lot of attention. That and reading PUA forums; this is basically what they call "dread game."
Chapter 6: just a peeping tom, on my own for far too long
Notes:
As I said on Tumblr, I've got a ton of work things this summer, so my update schedule is gonna be sporadic for awhile; please bear with me. The next chapter will probably be posted in two weeks, or maybe next weekend if I have time, but then I won't post again until the first weekend of July, and I'll be posting every two-ish weeks after that.
I'm careful not to fall
Have to climb your wall
Cause you're the one who makes me feel much taller than you are
I'm just a peeping tom, on my own for far too long
Problems with the booze
Nothing left to loseI'm weightless
I'm bare
I'm faithless
I'm scared- Placebo, "Peeping Tom"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The next night, to L’s surprise, Misa returned to his personal quarters. He had programmed the door to allow her access—only when he was already there, of course—and had been curious to see if she would use it, but he had not expected her to try so quickly.
She arrived very late at night, having tried the main hall first, but he had locked it when he departed for the night. Knowing that Misa might be wandering the building on her own, he felt it was best to prevent her from messing with any of the files or equipment stored there.
Caught up in his work, L had not been watching the cameras, though he knew that Watari would inform him if anything happened. The man slept almost as little as he did. It couldn’t be good for him, at his age, but Watari could handle himself. L did not trouble himself over his handler’s health; he had enough to think about as it was. In any case, he did not know that Misa was approaching until his phone buzzed, notifying him that the elevator had stopped on his floor. He closed his laptop as she opened the unlocked door to his living room and stepped inside.
“Another nightmare?” L asked before he even turned around, letting her know that he was aware of her presence. But instead of answering, she only flung herself forward, throwing her arms around his neck from behind. He stiffened, surprised, though he should have expected it.
“Thank you for the flowers, Ryuuzaki!” she squealed. “They’re beautiful.”
“No problem,” he said, not having to fake his awkwardness at her effusive thanks. After a moment longer, she let go, and he turned around to see her standing behind his couch, hair down, wearing a t-shirt for some rock band that barely reached the top of her thighs and, as far as he could tell, little else. The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter.
“I mostly came to tell you that, but also, I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Do you mind if I hang out with you?”
“Sure.”
And so Misa joined him on the couch, sitting cross-legged next to him, so that the whole of her bare thighs were visible, the shirt only just covering the space in between. “What do you do when you can’t sleep?” she asked him.
“I work.”
Misa pouted, leaning a bit closer. “Really? That’s so boring, though. Don’t you ever get bored of working all the time?”
“Not especially. I enjoy what I do. It is not only my job, but also my hobby and interest.” L paused. “Besides, I am not working now,” he lied.
“That’s ‘cause Misa’s a good influence on you,” she teased, grinning at him and turning to lay sideways on the couch. She stretched her legs out and pointed her toes, prodding his legs with her feet. He was not quite sure what she was getting out of this, except that she seemed to enjoy teasing him. He could see all the way up her legs to the shadow in between. He wasn’t going to stare. Really.
Misa caught him pointedly not staring, and a small, pleased smile came to her lips.
“Or perhaps I am a bad influence on Misa,” L said, forcing his mind back to the conversation. “Because she’s now staying up late like I do. Soon, Misa will have dark circles under her eyes, just like me.”
“No!” Misa gasped, looking horrified. “That would be awful! There’s no way I could model looking like that!”
L wanted to laugh at her reaction, but instead, he feigned a hurt expression and said, “Careful, Misa. I have feelings too, you know.”
Misa’s eyes widened, and she immediately leaned forward, speaking earnestly. “Misa didn’t mean to insult Ryuuzaki! Ryuuzaki’s eyes suit him. But they wouldn’t suit Misa-Misa, is all I meant.”
L kept up his serious expression for a moment longer, and then he grinned at her triumphantly, and Misa’s mouth fell open as she realized that he had only been joking. “Jerk!” she shouted, reaching out to shove him on the shoulder, but she was laughing as she did so.
And so they passed the evening, joking around and talking about nothing in particular. Finally, though, Misa yawned and stood up, stretching her arms high over her head in a catlike motion, causing her shirt to ride up and expose her panties. Distracted, it took him a second to process her words: “Misa really should be going to bed now. Ryuuzaki should go to sleep too! It’s not healthy to stay up so late all the time.”
“I will,” L assured her. Another lie.
And yet, Misa didn’t walk away. She only hovered there, like she had something more she wanted to say, but couldn’t quite get the nerve to spit it out. He waited patiently, not rushing her at all. Then, to his slight surprise, she suddenly bent down and pressed her lips to his cheek.
Caught off guard, it took L a moment to realize what she had done. By the time his brain caught up, and he raised a hand slowly up to touch the spot her lips had touched, Misa had already turn and fled back to the elevator with a call of, “Goodnight, Ryuuzaki!”
That marked the beginning of a strange new time in their relationship, in which Misa came to L’s rooms almost every night. The encounters were almost the same every time: she would claim difficulty sleeping (but turn down any offers of medication), sit there and talk to him for awhile, and then kiss his cheek and run away before he could respond.
He called Morrello less often. He told himself this was because his plan was now going so well that he did not see the need for additional lessons, but some part of him also didn’t want to talk about his own feelings for Misa—or the way they had been changing. He would handle it himself, without having to reveal this weakness to anyone.
He developed a new program for the cameras, one activated by a few presses of the buttons on his cell phone. When activated, it would trigger an automatic loop of old footage of her quarters, to be used during the time when she was with him. Just in case Light or one of the other investigators should decide to view the monitors late at night and notice that Misa was out of her room. He did lock the door to the main room at night, as well as the computers, but one could never be too careful.
The real footage from her rooms during those times, like the footage from L’s personal quarters, were stored in a special folder that only L and Watari had access to. The rest of the task force could not even see that the folder existed, as it was only accessible from L and Watari’s personal computers, and only if one had the correct file path memorized.
Some nights, when he stayed working late, she found his quarters locked and sought him out in the main room instead. However, he did his best to return to his rooms at the same time every night. It appeared that she was trying to say good night to him, as though it was important to her that they see each other before bed. In truth, he often stayed up much later after she left, or did not sleep at all, but he allowed her to believe that he was going to bed.
It was obvious that Misa was aware that their interactions were not entirely innocent, because she spent the most time with him and spoke to him most freely during these late night encounters, when no one else was around, and she did not reference these meetings around others. He was uncertain how long this good behavior would last, but he would enjoy it while he could.
This change in her behavior, particularly her desire to see him before she slept, seemed to be the result of his earlier actions, when he had purposefully undermined her sense of security with him before repairing it. There was a similar quality to her as he had seen her display towards Light in the past, a sense that she was continually needy for more and more of his time and attention, never fully satisfied. He suspected that seeing him before bed was her way of reassuring herself that he had not reverted back to ignoring her, that he was still there if she needed him. Perhaps it really did help her sleep.
As time went on, Misa grew bolder, and L had a problem. The problem was that, given that L was making the conscious choice to allow Misa to attempt to seduce him, he had expected it to be less effective than it was. He had thought that he would be able to keep his head about him, observing her attempts from a distance, judging how well his plan was going.
What he did not expect was for it to work all too well. He remembered how, once, months ago, he had believed that his attraction to Misa would be an asset. As time went on, though, it was only adding to his problems, and he could not bring himself to contact Morrello and admit the full, humiliating extent of it.
L was obsessive in almost every area of his life. When someone or something interested him, he wanted to uncover every last bit of relevant information. Over time, Misa grew to occupy an uncomfortably high percentage of his thoughts. Even when she was back on her floor, rather than joining them in the main room, he would find his eyes being drawn to the video feed of her, causing his attention to drift away from his actual work. Sometimes, when she looked especially appealing, he copied the recorded footage over to his personal computer to watch again later.
Everything about her captivated his interest. It was strange, because he still knew that she was a murderer who lacked any real conscience, and he also still found her behavior frequently annoying and irrational. He did not hold her in much higher esteem than he had when they first met. However, none of this prevented him from becoming captivated by her.
His eyes were always drawn to her: her thighs, her lips, her hair. The bare skin that showed when she wore a low-cut top, or a crop top, or a short skirt. The way she moved and the sound of her voice and laughter.
And it was not only the physical. L had always found Misa physically attractive, so that was not exactly the root of the problem. What he hadn’t expected or planned for was the way that she made him feel.
No one had ever sought out his company and attention so frequently, or had seemed so interested in him before. In L the detective? Sure. Many people, Light among them, were interested in L for his skills and his brains. But it was another thing entirely to feel that someone was interested in L the human being, the person behind the computer screen. Over the years, he had grown to feel that he was barely a person at all, that he was just a tool meant to work in the service of justice. That he was nothing more than a brain, not a physical or social creature.
But Misa treated him like a person. Like a man. She sought out his company, night after night, because she wanted to be near him. L wasn’t sure if anyone had ever really wanted to be near him before.
L had a connection with Light as well, one that was born of intellectual respect, their minds working together to solve the Kira case. Often, they seemed to arrive at the exact same conclusion at the exact same time. But precisely because Light was his intellectual equal, Light didn’t look up to him the way Misa did. And L did not kid himself into believing that Light would put up with his strange behavior if he did not need to for the sake of proving his own innocence. Besides that, he could never trust Light, could never really let his guard down with him.
He shouldn’t trust Misa either. To let his guard down around her would be incredibly foolish. And yet, some part of him wanted to. Her openness made him feel at ease. Unlike Light, he could always understand what she was thinking and feeling. She wasn’t like himself and Light, not a born manipulator or liar, even though he knew she was capable of both. She was something softer.
And the way that she looked at him these days. Like he was a hero, someone who could protect her. Like she trusted him, respected him, admired him. Like she needed him. Had anyone ever needed him before? L began to wonder how far he would be tempted to go in order to make her continue looking at him like that. Even knowing that he had artificially engineered her dependence on him, that it was an artifact of her deeply troubled mind, did not lessen his feelings.
He had wanted to make her depend on him for the sake of the Kira case, but there were times when he wondered if that was his real motivation. Because part of him just wanted her. Wanted her to belong to him more than he had ever wanted anything. Sometimes, remembering how she had spoken about Kira, he found himself almost wishing that he was Kira—or, alternatively, that he could go back in time and get justice for her parents before Kira did. Just so that she would see him as her savior. Or maybe what he wanted was to be her god.
The day he first had this realization, L stayed in the main room much later than usual, long after everyone else had gone to bed. He knew that he was being a coward, avoiding Misa’s nightly visit. He just didn’t trust himself to be alone in his quarters with her. She could still find him here, of course, but it was a safer setting. Less intimate.
Or so he had thought. L was forced to reconsider this assumption now that Misa was sitting directly on his lap in his computer chair, curled up sideways with her head resting on his shoulder. Why was he letting her do this, again? Oh, right, the Kira case. An excuse that was seeming flimsier by the day, but one that he still needed. Because if he wasn’t doing this for the case, then he was doing it for himself. And what kind of person did that make him?
“Ryuuzaki,” Misa said in a singsong. She had draped one arm over his shoulders and now moved her hand to the back of his neck, massaging gently and making him shudder. “You’re so tense and quiet. Am I making you nervous?”
“I’m simply wondering if it is wise to behave like this in a public area,” L said, a half-truth. “Someone could see us.”
Misa pouted at him. “You’re embarrassed of Misa? You don’t want to be seen with her?”
It was sometimes difficult to tell whether Misa was genuinely upset or not. Sometimes she would seem to be teasing, only to suddenly shift into actual hurt or anger. He had to speak carefully. “That is not the case. It could damage my reputation as an investigator if someone were to know that I am so close to you.”
“You are embarrassed!” Misa insisted. “You think Misa is bad for your reputation because she’s not smart and serious like you. You made me keep the flowers a secret too! You’re just like Light.”
Clearly she hadn’t gotten over Light’s comments about preferring a more serious woman. L wondered if it was really so hard for her to understand his worries, or if she was feigning ignorance to start a fight for some reason. To test him, maybe.
As patiently as he could, he explained, “That’s not what I meant. I’m in a position of power over you. If others believe that I am taking advantage of you, they will lose trust in me.”
“But you’re not!” Misa argued. “You’re not taking advantage of me.” And then, seeming to shift moods again, she leaned in towards him, looking earnestly into his eyes and running her tongue over her lower lip. “You know, though, Ryuuzaki… Sometimes, I wish you would.” Her voice was low and breathy now, and she’d put one hand on his chest, fingers running over the fabric of his shirt. He swallowed hard, unable to break eye contact with her. “Take advantage of me, I mean.”
“Misa,” L said warningly, frustration evident in his voice. He wasn’t acting anymore. One of these days, he knew, he would probably give in to her. Morrello had confirmed that it sounded like things between them were heading that way. But here? Now? Where, as he had said, anyone could walk in and see them? “Speaking to me that way is unfair. I am trying to be a gentleman, and you are making it quite difficult.”
L wanted to laugh at himself for that. He wasn’t being a gentleman; he was being a coward. Having decided to use Misa for the sake of the investigation, he was now second-guessing whether he could actually go through with it. He knew that he could only stall for so long, and yet, he kept on stalling.
“Good,” Misa breathed, staring into his eyes. But when he put one hand over hers, looking at her seriously and shaking his head, she sighed and sat back, apparently deciding to move back to safer waters. “If you weren’t investigating me, though?” she asked. “You wouldn’t be embarrassed of me then?”
Saying things like this didn’t come naturally to L, but he could force the words out for the sake of his plan. He had been educating himself on romance novels and movies, learning how to phrase things in ways that would appeal to Misa, even if saying such things did not come naturally to him. “To have others see that Misa Amane likes me would make me feel extremely proud of myself,” he told her truthfully. “I would probably get an even bigger ego than I already have.”
“Hey, who said I like you?” Misa teased with a grin. “I just think you’re a comfortable seat.”
They went on like that, talking about things of little consequence, teasing each other. Misa did most of the talking, while L only half-listened. He kept hearing her words playing on repeat in his head: Sometimes I wish you would. Take advantage of me, I mean. Take advantage of me. He kept catching himself staring at her. Her lips. Her cleavage, right below his chin, continually drawing his eyes downward. Her legs sitting sideways over his, her hand resting on her own bare thigh.
Of course he was getting hard, and the way Misa kept squirming around on top of his lap only made it worse. He put one hand on her waist, trying to hold her still. It didn’t seem to help. He could smell her shampoo. Images kept playing in his mind’s eye. Her hand on her thigh, so close to him. He could unzip his pants, take her hand, move it to that place between his legs. Tell her to wrap her hand around him and stroke. It was just the two of them now, and she trusted him. She would do it, would touch him if he told her to. She wanted him to take advantage.
He was so pent up, too, and sensitive as hell from the years without knowing anyone’s touch but his own. In his current state, he would probably explode the second she touched him. There was something both humiliating and erotic about the idea (though maybe he just found anything involving Misa to be erotic). She would get one hand on his bare penis and he’d immediately cum, shooting all over her hands and thighs and clothes. Misa would probably shriek in surprise, or even yell or laugh at him, and he would be ashamed, but he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He wouldn’t be able to do anything but cum and cum and cum until he was completely drained and Misa was covered in it. It would feel so good, a real release after months of inadequate self-pleasure and fantasies.
L had never been drunk before, but he wondered if this was what it felt like. His head was swimming.
“—ki? Ryuuzaki?” Misa snapped her fingers in front of his face, and he started, guiltily forcing his gaze back to her face. Probably a bad idea; he could only imagine what his expression must look like to her, half-drunk on lust as he was. She must be able to tell, because she was blushing. “That hurts,” she said, and it took him a second to wrap his mind around what she meant. Right, his hand, which had slipped down from her waist to her hip. He had been squeezing her too hard in an attempt to keep himself from following through on his fantasy. He let go immediately, releasing her with a rush of shame. He felt disgusting.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, and then Misa made it even worse, shifting her weight on top of him again, and his eyes closed for a second at the wave of sensation and he bit his lip, and if she hadn’t known before, she sure as hell did now.
“Ryuuzaki, you’re—” Misa began.
“Misa,” he choked out. “I think you should go back to your room now.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could be this close to her without doing something he would regret. He’d never felt like this before, like his body was seizing control of his mind rather than the other way around.
“But Ryuuzaki, I don’t mind! Really!” Misa peered at him for a second, and then she leaned in, closing her eyes, clearly about to kiss him. L groaned and stood up abruptly, pushing her to her feet and stepping back.
“I’m serious, Misa. Please. Not tonight.”
L felt like a coward. He knew what she wanted, and he knew it was the next step in deepening their bond, just as he had planned. But he couldn’t silence the part of himself that felt disgusting every time he touched her. He couldn’t get over the suspicion that he was wrong for wanting this, that he had only been lying to himself when he said that it was for the sake of stopping Kira. Because if he wanted her this badly, then wasn’t it more likely that he had told himself whatever was necessary to rationalize his way into this? And now he was in over his head with her. He needed space. He needed to think.
Further increasing his shame, Misa’s face fell, her eyes starting to water. He was an idiot. He knew that she didn’t take rejection well. He had gone to such extremes to make her trust him, and now, he was doing the opposite of what he should be doing in order to accomplish his goals.
“Fine,” she said. “Fine, Misa doesn’t care! I thought you were different, but you’re just like Light!” And she turned to run away.
L had to fix this somehow, but he couldn’t go through with it, not yet. But maybe he could present it in a way that would make Misa feel wanted rather than rejected. It would mean being more honest with her than he was comfortable with, but he would do what was necessary. So he reached out, catching Misa by the wrist, and pulled her back towards him. She stumbled, about to fall, but he wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, catching her in his arms.
Misa’s eyes were wide and startled, but she didn’t look afraid of him, just surprised. L leaned in and hid his face in her hair with a low groan of desire, not wanting to look her in the eyes when he spoke. “Misa, please. I do want you. I want you so badly that it scares me sometimes. I don’t have a lot of experience with this kind of thing. Please, just give me a little more time.”
Misa shivered. She had put her hands against his chest to catch herself, and now she clenched them both in his shirt, holding him against her. “You mean, Ryuuzaki has never—” she questioned, trying to sound innocent, but he could hear the smugness underneath. She liked the idea of being his first. He rubbed her lower back with his hand and felt her tremble again.
“Misa would be the first,” he confirmed. “She’s already the first, in many ways. The first to sit on my lap, the first to fall asleep on me, the first to kiss my cheek. The first to make me want her like this.”
Misa let out a small, needy whine, pressing herself closer to him. He felt uncomfortable, revealing himself like this, but he knew it was necessary. Misa wanted to feel special, and he would give her that. That was what this whole thing was about.
Then, with visible effort, Misa pressed her hands flat against his chest and pulled back, putting enough distance between them to look up at him. Her eyes were so bright. Misa never looked more alive than when she was made to feel important, special, wanted. When she was like this, she seemed almost magical. Enchanting, in the literal sense of the word.
“Misa has never gone all the way either,” she confessed in a soft whisper, her cheeks pink. “She was saving it for someone special… Misa wants Ryuuzaki to be her first.”
A pang hit him, a mixture of possessiveness and shame. It was bad enough to do this to her without knowing that he would be taking her virginity. Virginity was an outdated concept based on a culture that saw women as property, but he also knew that to a romantic like Misa, it would feel very important. And he had manipulated her into offering this to him. The worst part was how badly he wanted to do it, to possess her like no one else had. Not even Light.
“Misa…” he said.
She smiled. “Misa can—I can wait for Ryuuzaki to be ready.” And then, to his surprise, she stood on her tiptoes, grasping onto his shirt for leverage, and pressed a kiss to his closed lips. His first kiss. It happened too fast for him to even think about kissing her back, but she still looked pleased when she pulled away. “But don’t make me wait too long.”
He was still standing there in the same spot, two fingers pressed to his lips, long after she was gone.
As soon as L had recovered his senses, he strode quickly back to his quarters, entering his bedroom and dropping to his knees beside the bed. He rarely used it, usually passing out on the couch or in an armchair when he did sleep. But underneath the bed was a large cardboard box containing his Misa Collection: magazines featuring her photoshoots, CDs containing recordings of video footage from her room, and articles of clothing stolen from the laundry or from her room—including several pairs of panties. The most recent pair, he had slipped out of her dresser the morning after her fight with Light, after spending the night in the chair beside her bed.
Disgusting and creepy? Absolutely. But L had given up pretending that he wasn’t obsessed with her. And since he couldn’t yet have the real thing, this was his last resort for getting control of himself again. Following Morrello’s advice, he had masturbated this morning, in the shower, but it clearly hadn’t been enough.
L was no stranger to self-pleasure—despite his lack of experience with partnered sex, he still had an active solo sex life, and had experimented with many different methods and toys. However, in the past, he had mostly engaged in these experiments between cases, during times when they would not distract from his work. Until recently, his libido had never been strong enough to force him to masturbate regularly, simply to keep his mind clear. He found it discomforting; he had much preferred when self-pleasure was an optional hobby to pass the time, rather than a compulsion.
Rummaging through the box, he grabbed his favorite magazine and the newest pair of panties and climbed on top of his bed, rising up enough to unzip his pants and shove them down to his ankles, not bothering to fully remove them.
He sank back down into his usual crouch on top of the bed, but now with his pants and underwear pooled around his ankles, and flipped through the magazine until he reached the pages with Misa’s pictures. He was already breathing hard, his face warm and flushed.
It was a lingerie photoshoot, Misa’s most revealing, taken shortly after she turned eighteen. The red lace bra was sheer, so that her bare skin and nipples could be seen underneath, and the underwear barely covered anything. In one photo, she was bent over at the waist with her backside facing the camera head-on, looking over her shoulder at the viewer as though caught by surprise. In another, she was sitting on the floor with her arms braced behind her, back arched to tilt her head up to the ceiling, hair cascading down behind her. In a third, she was looking up at the camera coyly, her arms wrapped around herself with each hand grasping the elbow of the other arm, pushing her cleavage up and forwards, lower lip protruding in a pout.
Even taking into account his walk through the building to reach his room, L’s encounter with Misa had left him teetering on the edge. It wouldn’t take much to push him over. Breathing hard, he took Misa’s pink silk panties in one hand and wrapped them around himself, grasping his cock through the fabric and stroking. With his other hand, he held the magazine only a few inches from his face, so that he had to cross his eyes slightly to see her.
Too aroused to feel ashamed of his actions, L stuck out his tongue and licked the first photo. It tasted bitter, like ink, but it satisfied him somehow. He closed his eyes, pumping himself faster now, remembering Misa sitting on his lap, the scent of her right up close to him. Her breasts, her thighs, her lips, her lips, her lips. Her hand on his chest as she leaned in, daring him to kiss her. I wish you would take advantage of me. Fuck. What was she doing to him?
L was accustomed to having structural power. His money and prestige as a detective allowed him to get away with things that others could not. He was able to access classified documents, to imprison people, to control the movements of hundreds or thousands of police officers. And of course, within the task force, he had the power of leading the investigation, telling the others what to do.
But he had never had such intimate power over another person before—as himself, not as a letter on a screen. Misa Amane, being an idol, had a lot of social power in her natural environment, and in her everyday life, she would never have looked twice at someone like him. And yet, in this specific situation, he had power over her. She was looking to him for validation and approval, desperate to please him, because of how he had manipulated her. She was offering him her body, her virginity.
In this separate world he had created, hidden away in the headquarters of an organization that he thoroughly controlled, he was the powerful one. He knew every inch of the building, could control every lock and camera with just a few presses of buttons. He could do anything, get away with anything. She knew this, and she was practically egging him on.
Whether L found his power over Misa sickening, exciting, or both mostly depended on how aroused he was at the time. Currently, with her scent still on him and his cock throbbing in his hand, his feelings were firmly on the ‘excited beyond all rational thought’ side of the scale. And this, more than anything, was why he had turned Misa down tonight. Because this side of himself was new and disorienting, and he was slightly afraid of what would happen if he fully surrendered himself to the impulses that Misa triggered within him.
But god, he wanted to. He wanted to keep her locked up here forever, to keep her like this, off-balance and desperate for his approval. He would hate himself for it later, but right now, it only spurred him on to remember how she had practically prostrated herself before him, begging him to care about her. It had been so easy, a few transparent manipulations and he had her in the palm of his hand, moving to his whims like a puppet.
Everything he had done to her, the horrible ways he had treated her, had only made her try harder to please him. It was like there was no limit, no depth to which she would not sink in order to be loved. And L was discovering, unsettling though it sometimes was, that he was just starved enough—of affection, of admiration, of everything that Misa was offering up to him without reservation—to take advantage of that. He knew that the way Misa was could not be healthy for her, but the benefits of it were too enticing to pass up.
He flexed his legs unconsciously as he touched himself, his knees moving back and forth, first spreading them as far as he could, then squeezing them together around his hand and cock, then repeating the motion. He rocked a little on his heels, fucking into the tight circle of his hand, and dropped the magazine onto the bed so that he could bring his free hand up to his mouth. He toyed with his lip and tongue, panting slightly and sucking on his own fingers, totally devoid of shame.
What pushed him over the edge was nothing lewd, but just the thought of the way Misa looked at him sometimes. Her eyes wide and trusting, wanting him, needing him, trusting him. Like she’d let him do anything. Like she belonged to him. Like she—fuck.
L had promised himself he would stop doing this, because if he had to ask Watari to get him even more copies of this magazine, he would know. But he still always seemed to end up doing it, opening his eyes to look at the magazine lying open below him, tilting himself forward on his heels, and jerking himself until he came all over the third picture with a gasp, on Misa’s round breasts and pouting face. He couldn’t stop himself. It was like he was addicted to the sight of his semen on Misa’s body, even if only in a photograph. It added to his pleasure, made him climax even harder.
Then, when it was over, it also added to his shame. L collapsed backwards onto his backside, breathing heavily, a pair of soiled underwear in his hand and another ruined magazine on his bed, and he hated, hated himself, felt like the most disgusting pervert on the face of the earth. Misa had liked to hear that he wanted her, but if she knew that he wanted her like this, with this overwhelming desire to possess her and dirty her and consume her, she would hate him.
That didn’t stop him from repeating these actions almost every morning and night, jerking off to Misa’s pictures before he went to work in the morning and after she left his quarters at night. He was clinging desperately to Morrello’s advice, not wanting to go back to the con artist and admit just how far the situation had spiraled out of control. It was the only way that he might be able to keep a clear head around her next time, to maintain control of the situation rather than getting swept away by the force of his desire for her.
A losing battle, but a man had to try.
Notes:
Welp, things are getting spicy
Chapter 7: i don't know what to do with your kiss on my neck
Notes:
I wanna be alone, alone with you, does that make sense?
I wanna steal your soul and hide you in my treasure chest
I don't know what to do, to do with your kiss on my neck
I don't know what feels true
But this feels right, so stay a sec
Yeah, you feel right, so stay a secLet me crawl inside your veins
I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain
It's not like me to be so mean
You're all I wanted
Just let me hold you like a hostage- Billie Eilish, "hostage"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Misa continued to visit him in the evenings. Though she had accepted his desire to wait before going all the way, she still took any opportunity she could to climb all over him, curling up under his arm or pushing her legs onto his lap, seeming pleased by his reactions to her.
L was just grateful that Misa was inexplicably charmed by his awkward, socially inept demeanor, rather than turned off by it. He didn’t understand why she liked it—well, on some level, he knew that she wanted to feel desired and therefore powerful, but he was still continually surprised that she could look at him and see anything other than a creepy Halloween decoration masquerading as a man.
True, L and Misa were both virgins, but he did not believe that they could truly be put into the same category. Misa was apparently a virgin in the sense that she had never been physically penetrated by another person, but he was sure she had done other things. She’d had boyfriends, Light Yagami among them, and had kissed and touched and gone on dates.
There could be said to be degrees of virginity, and L, who had never experienced an affectionate touch from anyone other than a parent or guardian before Misa came into his life, felt that he was inexperienced to an extent that Misa could not comprehend.
This in spite of the fact that he could be said to be more experienced than Misa from a purely mechanical, experiential point of view: he had experimented with toys that produced all types of sensations. He had used toys that mimicked the feeling of another person’s orifice, as well as mechanical devices that automatically stroked him to climax without any effort on his part. He had penetrated himself anally, both with fingers and with toys, in order to experience prostate orgasms. He had even once purchased himself a hyper-realistic, top-of-the-line sex doll.
And yet, none of these experiences had been able to prepare him for the warmth and excitement of another person’s touch, or for the feeling of being truly desired for the first time in his life. Even though he had done things to himself that would make Misa blush, he was the one driven incoherent and useless whenever their bodies came into contact.
For instance, right now, when he should be listening to Misa’s story about her day on the film set, rather than reminiscing about his adventures in self-pleasure.
“Your director sounds very frustrating,” L commented, hoping that he had the right idea from the tone of her voice and the few snippets of the story that he had caught.
“He is!” Misa agreed, looking pleased—it seemed he had gotten away with his lack of attention. “And he’s always saying that I should do more kissing scenes.”
L wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this, as he didn’t understand why she would be bothered by such a thing. It seemed normal for an actress. “Misa doesn’t like kissing?” he asked.
She laughed, nudging his thigh with her bare foot. “Of course Misa likes kissing!” she said. “But Misa doesn’t kiss other guys when she has a…” She trailed off, suddenly looking unsure. “A person that she likes.”
“Oh.” L blinked, feeling like an idiot for not thinking of that. On paper, he supposed that he knew Misa had feelings for him, but the most mundane consequences of this fact did not easily occur to him. His first instinct was to say that it didn’t bother him if she kissed someone as part of a film, but he somehow thought that Misa would be offended by this. From what he had observed of her interactions with Light, she seemed disappointed when her partner wasn’t possessive of her.
“But then again,” Misa continued, a sly look of faux innocence coming to her face, “it’s not as if Misa is kissing anyone these days.”
Oh. L had not considered, when telling Misa that he was not ready for sex, that there might be intermediate actions that she would appreciate. It seemed obvious, now that he thought about it, but still filled him with no small amount of trepidation. After all, their previous and only kiss had been entirely initiated by Misa, and he had not been required to do anything. If he were to kiss her himself, the potential for error would be much greater.
However, perhaps there was a benefit to this. He was never going to feel comfortable being physical with Misa if he did not begin dipping his toes in the water.
“Would Misa like to kiss me again?” he asked, turning to stare at her, and Misa immediately blushed and looked away.
“I didn’t say that!” she snapped. A moment later, though, she added, “But I guess if Ryuuzaki really wants to, it would be okay with Misa.”
So she did want to kiss him. Unfortunately, this now put the impetus on L to figure out how. Moving carefully, he leaned closer and reached for Misa’s face, and she quickly closed her eyes in anticipation of his touch. He ended up taking her face gently in both hands, just the tips of his fingers pressing against the sides of her jaw, and with a deep breath, pressed his lips to hers and held them there. Up close, his eyes still open, he could see her dark eyelashes against her skin, the black powder on her eyelids that had not yet been washed off for the day.
After a moment, Misa opened her eyes questioningly, only to find his own wide eyes staring at her from an inch away. She jerked backwards with a small “Eep!”
“Sorry?” L said, not entirely understanding what he had done wrong, but he could tell from her reaction that his attempt at kissing her had not been successful.
“You’re supposed to close your eyes!” Misa scolded. “And, and move your lips or something. Don’t just stay there without moving.” When he continued looking at her quietly, not truly understanding her vague instructions but not wanting to ask either, she sighed. “Fine, Misa will show you how, I guess.”
He was still in his usual crouch, though he had turned his body on the sofa to face her, and Misa shifted onto her knees so she was in between his raised legs. Latching onto the clearest portion of her instructions, he quickly closed his eyes, and so he was slightly startled when her lips met his, letting out a huff of surprise through his nose.
Misa moved her lips slightly against his, and then she opened them, sliding her tongue against his closed lips. L was caught off guard again, even as he reminded himself, Right, sometimes people use their tongues when they kiss. He was not certain how he felt about having another person’s tongue in his mouth, or coming into contact with their saliva, but he knew that he had to follow the plan, so he opened his mouth for Misa anyway.
And when her tongue first slipped into his mouth, L suddenly found that he no longer cared about things like saliva or germs. Particularly when she moved her whole body forward, pressing her chest to his, until he ended up sprawling backwards against the armrest of the couch with Misa stretched on top of him, bracketed by his bent knees. Her stomach pressed into his crotch, and his whole body jolted slightly at the pressure, and at the same time, her tongue was sliding against his own, and she made these little breathy moans into his mouth. L felt a low groan in his chest before he even realized that he was the one making it.
Tentatively, L put one arm around Misa’s lower back to pull her closer, and she wiggled slightly to shift up his body, a motion that had him gasping into her mouth. And she must have noticed, because as she continued kissing him, she did it again, purposefully rocking her hips against his as she nestled into his chest. He could feel her breasts pressed against his body, and when he chanced a peek, hoping Misa wouldn’t get mad at him for opening his eyes again, he could see her cleavage was practically overflowing her low-cut top.
Head swimming, L found himself completely lost to the instincts of his body. And Misa was not shy at all anymore: she grabbed his hand, the one that wasn’t on her lower back, and pointedly moved it down her body to her ass. There, he discovered that she was wearing one of her poofy little skirts that didn’t even cover her backside, so that his hand quickly found the bare flesh exposed past the edge of her panties. He squeezed harder than he meant to, pulling her roughly against him with another groan, and Misa broke the kiss just enough to whimper into his mouth.
“Ryuuzaki,” Misa whispered, drawing the name out so that every syllable came out with a separate breath, and twined her arms around his neck, squirming on top of him. L’s was breathing hard, his eyes still squeezed shut, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, and he realized all at once that if they didn’t stop, he was going to ejaculate in his pants.
Moving quickly, L released her and scrambled his way up into a sitting position, pushing her gently backwards, just enough that their bodies weren’t pressed together anymore. When he opened his eyes, however, he found his resolve immediately tested: Misa’s mouth was red and swollen, her hair and clothing disheveled, cleavage still practically falling out of her shirt, her eyes glazed over with lust. “Why’d you stop?” she murmured, trying to move closer again, and he put out a hand to stop her. Unfortunately, his hand brushed the top of her cleavage in the process, and he quickly jerked it away, swallowing hard.
“We were getting carried away,” he said, staring at the wall past Misa’s head to avoid being distracted by her again.
“Oh,” Misa said. Some awareness returned to her eyes again, and she giggled. “I guess we were.”
Both of them were blushing as they said goodnight, coming to an unspoken understanding that it was better to separate before they got carried away again. L followed Misa on the cameras as she returned to her own floor, fixing her clothing in the elevator on the way down. And though he still felt disgusted with himself on some level, he kept the camera footage open as he unzipped his jeans and began to stroke himself.
Misa changed into her pajamas in her bedroom for once, rather than the bathroom, which didn’t have any cameras. He wondered if she did it on purpose, if she thought he might be watching her. He made a note to copy the recording over to his personal computer later as she stripped all the way down, underwear and all, leaving her slight body completely naked to his view. L gulped at the sight of her bare breasts, hanging lower now that they were free of her bra, and the curve of her hips, and the dark shadow of hair between her legs—the quality of the camera would not allow him to see any more detail.
He came into his hand with a gasp before she even made it into her bed.
The following evening, L made sure to keep a physical distance between them. Now that he knew how easy it was to get swept up in the moment, he thought it was best they refrain from kissing until he was actually prepared to follow through. Misa seemed slightly awkward as well, toying with the hem of her dress as she sat a respectable distance away from him, telling him about her day. Neither of them mentioned what had happened the night before, and she left his floor early, claiming to be tired.
However, to his surprise, she returned to his floor in the early hours of the morning. Luckily, this was one of the nights where he stayed up until sunrise working, and so he was there when she returned.
“I had another nightmare,” Misa told him, throwing herself into his arms on the couch the very second that he moved his laptop out of the way. After their distance earlier in the night, the sudden contact caught him off guard, and he immediately flashed back to his memories of Misa undressing in front of the cameras.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he responded after too long of a pause, forcefully dragging his mind out of the gutter. “Your parents again?”
“No,” Misa said, and then, quietly, “It was about my confinement.”
“Oh.” L’s stomach sank. Somehow, despite knowing exactly what Misa had been through, what he had put her through, it had not occurred to him that she might still be experiencing lasting trauma from those fifty days. Maybe because she had never mentioned it before. He felt so stupid, now, that he had thought it was something she might have just forgotten. Just because Misa didn’t show her pain on the surface, putting on a bubbly persona most of the time, did not mean it didn’t exist.
“I don’t know how much you saw,” Misa continued. “But I was kept in a straitjacket and blindfold all the time, with chains and leather straps pinning me to this board. I had to stay upright all day, even when all the blood went out of my limbs and they started tingling. I couldn’t even use the toilet without someone watching, and even then, I wasn’t allowed to see anything. In my dream, I was back there again. I kept screaming for someone to let me out, but no one came.”
L froze, unable to think of a response. His heart was pounding again, not from the physical proximity, but from the thought that Misa might find out that he was the one who had done that to her. Somehow, in making his plan, he had not thought in too much detail about the fact that he would need to hide this from her, or that there was a risk of one of the other task force members letting his identity slip. If that happened, would there be a way to recover their relationship?
“I’m sorry,” he finally mumbled. “That sounds… Misa must have been very scared.”
“I was,” she whispered into his shirt. “I felt completely alone. No one came to help me.”
He wasn’t sure whether she was talking about her dream or the real experience. Either way, he felt a sudden, desperate wish: that he could have done something, back then. Let her out of her chains, just for a few hours, and cleaned her, and brushed her hair, and told her that it was okay. He could picture the way she would have clung to him, latching onto any savior, even the person that had put her in chains to begin with. But, of course, he had not conceived of his plan until after her release.
Probably, he thought, he felt this desire because he knew that she had been at her most vulnerable then, and thus it would have been a good time to plant the seeds for his future manipulation of her. That must be it, because otherwise, what would be the point? Why bother wishing that he could have shown her a few hours of kindness, or even freed her altogether, when he knew that her confinement had been necessary, a step on the path that he hoped would lead to Kira?
In any case, though his desire to somehow change the past was not important, his present desire thankfully aligned well with what he needed to do: to make sure she did not find out his identity. To hold her against him, cradling her head to his chest, and tell her, “You’re safe now, Misa. I won’t let anyone do that to you again.”
He did not say: ‘not even myself.’ But he thought it.
It was a few nights later, and Misa had been acting strange all evening. Fidgeting, staring at him out of the corner of her eyes, repeatedly seeming as if she was about to speak, only to change her mind. It made L paranoid. Had something happened while she was at the film shoot? Was she going to do something?
But she only continued acting twitchy. As the night went on, and L waited for Misa to do something or say something, he had to excuse himself to the restroom. While he was in there, he received a notification on his phone that the door to his bedroom had been opened. It could only be Misa.
Rather than go running out and catch her in the act, he decided to wait, remaining in the bathroom slightly longer than was necessary in order to give her time. He wanted to know what she would do. If she was back on the couch when he came out, he would pretend not to know, and then check the camera footage after she left. (Yes, even his own bedroom was under surveillance, just in case something like this happened, but only he had access to the footage.)
Maybe she was looking for something, snooping around? There was nothing related to the Kira case in his bedroom, but there was the risk of her finding his Misa Collection. Somehow he didn’t think she’d take too kindly to that, even if she was (bafflingly) interested in him. Or maybe she was trying to plant something? A weapon of some kind? After all, he had been assuming that she didn’t know she was the second Kira, but he had been wrong before.
When he returned to the living room, though, he found the room empty, and the door to his bedroom was ajar. It seemed that she wasn’t hiding her intrusion into his personal space—unless she had simply lost track of time, but even Misa was better at subterfuge than that.
L walked carefully to the cracked door, ready for a fight if necessary, uncertain of what he was going to find. What he saw as he pushed the door open made his mouth fall open.
Misa had stripped down to her underwear, a matching lingerie set of sheer black that perfectly accentuated her petite body. She was stretched out on his bed, laying on her side, propping herself up with one hand. Like she was waiting for him.
“Ryuuzaki,” she almost purred. “Are you coming to bed?”
For a full ten seconds, for the first time in his life, L’s mind went completely silent.
“Ah,” he said. “Excuse me.” And then, for some reason, he turned and walked back out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
L stood outside the closed door, behind which Misa was contained, and tugged at his own hair absently. What? he thought. His mind provided him with the helpful image of Misa lying on his bed in her underwear. What??
Misa tried to open his door, and without thinking, he grabbed the handle and yanked it shut again, preventing her from exiting the room. How was he supposed to deal with something like this? Morrello should have said something. Warned him. Told him what to do.
It was one thing for Misa to like the attention that he gave her, or to tease him. It was another thing for her to want him to. To want to. Fucking hell, he did not feel prepared for this. No one had ever wanted this from him and he hadn’t expected that anyone ever would. Even when Misa had been on his lap, leaning in to kiss him, even when she had told him that she wanted him to be her first, some part of him had assumed that she was faking it or that she would back out when things got serious.
“Ryuuzaki!” Misa shouted, and he realized that she was banging on the door and tugging on the handle. He could feel it wiggling in his grip. “Ryuuzaki, let me out!”
Whoops. As if he’d been burned, he yanked his hand backwards from the door handle, and Misa yanked it open. She burst out from the room, looking flushed.
“What’d you do that for?” Misa demanded, hands on her hips, but she was still in just her lingerie, and he was having difficulty responding. He looked away.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I panicked.”
At that, Misa softened. She came to stand in front of him, looking up at him with gentle eyes, and he still didn’t want to look at her, but he forced himself. If he just kept his eyes on her face, it would be fine.
“I know Misa promised to wait until you were ready,” she said. “But I couldn’t! I just really, really wanted to, and I felt like you weren’t ever going to make the first move, so I thought it would be better if I did.”
L supposed he should have expected that. Patience was not one of Misa’s strengths. He knew that he should take advantage of the situation, act confident, but he found himself being all too honest instead. Maybe Morrello would approve. Maybe he would say that showing vulnerability would only make her trust him more. But it still felt terrifying. “Why?” he asked, his voice quiet. “Why would you want me?”
Misa’s eyes were so soft. He didn’t feel like he deserved to be looked at like that. He supposed it just meant his plan had worked, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to be happy about that.
“You’re… you know, you’re Ryuuzaki! You’ve always been nice to me, even when I was calling you names. You’re super smart, but you never treat me like I’m stupid or talk down to me. You make me feel special. And, and safe. And yeah, you’re really weird, and kinda creepy,” ouch, “but I like weird and creepy things! You should see the dolls I collect at home. And you look at me, you know, like a woman. Like Light never did.”
L’s heart felt heavy. She was describing everything that he had wanted her to believe. Some part of him felt almost angry at her for being so gullible, so defenseless.
“I want to be with you, Ryuuzaki. I love—” Misa began, and suddenly, L could not stand to hear her finish the sentence. He could not bear standing there while Misa told him that she loved him, blissfully unaware of how coldly he had manipulated her to this point.
And so L did the only thing he could think to do to shut her up: he kissed her.
Misa gasped and opened her mouth, her tongue touching his lips, and he didn’t know how to do this, but he let her tongue into his mouth, wrapping his arms around her, and everywhere he touched was just more soft, warm, bare skin. He felt like he had been put in front of a buffet of every sweet he had ever dreamed of and been told it was all for him. He had no idea where to start, but together, they managed to stumble backwards into his bedroom until they collapsed onto the bed. Misa kept grabbing him, pulling at his shirt, and he realized that she was trying to take it off, so he let her, not even remembering to feel self-conscious about his scrawny, pale torso when he was able to feel her skin touching his.
He pushed her onto her back on the bed, and he didn’t know how to do this, but it seemed like his body did, because she had spread her legs for him and he was grinding against her through his jeans, fumbling blindly with the clasp of her bra until she giggled and took pity on him, undoing the clasp herself, and then his hands were on her breasts and her giggles turned into moans in mid-breath, and she kissed him again with her mouth open and needy.
Pleasuring your partner is a good way to distance yourself if you feel overwhelmed, said Morrello’s voice in his head. Orgasms release dopamine, which will bond her to you, and merely by prioritizing her pleasure, you will already be putting yourself ahead of her other lovers.
Right. Right, L could do that. He slipped his fingers into her panties, and she was already slick and wet and hot, his fingers sliding right into the center of her so easily it felt like a dream, and he wondered for a second if he was dreaming, because she made this perfect mewling sound into his mouth and he felt like his head was going to explode. Or something else was.
Put distance between yourself and her noises and her mouth. Stop thinking about how that clenching heat would feel around your penis. Slide your way down her body and pull her panties down so you can use your mouth on her. He could do this, he could. He had to remember what Morrello had said, what he had seen in the videos he watched. He just wanted to get as much of her taste onto his tongue as possible, so he laved over the whole of her vulva, and then he did it again when she squirmed and gasped, “Ryuuzaki!” He grabbed her thighs and pulled them closer to his head, trying to muffle her noises that way, so that he could focus, could think.
He could still hear her muffled voice calling his fake name. He wanted her to call him L, but that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t tell her that he was really L, not now. Not only because he was afraid she wouldn’t forgive him for the things he had done to her, but because he was afraid that she would. If he had to watch her forgive him for one more thing, he wasn’t sure how he would live with himself.
So he focused on just this, just licking Misa until she came apart underneath him, screaming for him, and hoped this would be enough for her, because he didn’t know if he could do anything more. Pleasuring her was one thing. That could be for the plan—release the dopamine, increase her attachment. To take something for himself was less justifiable.
L wiped his mouth on the sheet and moved back up Misa’s body. She was flushed and dazed looking, her hair wild around her head like a halo. She’d never looked more beautiful. He kissed her on the forehead and stroked her hair. He had done it. It could be enough.
“That was,” Misa panted, smiling up at him, not even able to finish her sentence, and he flushed with stupid pride. But the satisfaction disappeared when she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hungrily, pulling him on top of her again, reaching down between them to fiddle with the fly of his pants.
L broke the kiss and said, “Misa, wait,” grabbing her hand to stop her.
She tossed her head back, a look of exasperation on her face. “No, I’m done waiting,” she said. “Stop thinking and just fuck Misa already.”
L had never heard such vulgar language from her, and the combination of that and the cutesy Misa-Misa-speak was both jarring and oddly arousing. “But—”
Misa cut him off, staring up into his eyes and pressing her fingers to his lips. She was so stupidly beautiful and she was gazing up at him with pure, liquid want in her eyes, along with something else—a hint of fear.
“Don’t you want me?” she whispered, and her voice broke slightly, and he realized with alarm that there was a high probability that she would cry if he said the wrong thing.
And so, instead of any of the excuses he had been rehearsing, L told her the truth. “More than I have ever wanted anyone or anything in my entire life.”
“Then take me.”
Something fell apart inside of him, and though he felt like he was watching himself from afar, L managed to undo his pants and to shove them down, along with his boxers, kicking both off his feet so that they fell to the ground. He would be glad later that he had already made Misa orgasm, because he didn’t think to prepare her further, nor was he in a state where he could last very long. He just lined himself up with that slick heat and pushed his way in, and Misa whimpered and dug her nails into his arm, and then he was inside of her and he was damned.
He was damned because he knew then that if he had received the perfect foreknowledge that this act would ruin him, would cause him to lose the Kira case, he wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t stop. He was damned because everything he had done to Misa up until this point, the ways he had broken her down and made her into something he could control, felt suddenly worth it, because she was his now.
As if she had read his mind, Misa looked up at him, her eyes wide and lip trembling with emotion, and she said, “Now Misa belongs to Ryuuzaki. And Ryuuzaki belongs to Misa.” And L leaned down and kissed her and let himself be ruined.
The word for Misa, on a physical level, was needy. Her entire body seemed to be trying to hold him, to pull him further in, like quicksand. Not just her vagina, which clenched around him, so tight that he could barely reign himself in, but the rest of her too: her arms and legs, wrapped around him; her mouth, greedily sucking on his tongue, stealing his breath; her eyes, every time he pulled back enough to see them, looking up at him in that way of hers that seemed to drive every thought from his mind except the desire to make her his.
“God,” he panted into her mouth, because she wouldn’t let him pull back at all. He had switched back to English without realizing it, unable to focus on his Japanese when his cock was inside of Misa Amane, the woman who he had wanted since the first moment he laid eyes on her, underneath him now, not merely accepting him but actually wanting him, noisily pleading for more. He felt like Morrello should have warned him, but he wasn’t sure what words could have conveyed this experience to him in a way that he would understand. “God, Misa.”
“Yeah—ah,” she whined, drawing it out, her hands moving down to grasp his buttocks and pull him into her even deeper. “Yeah, Ryuuzaki, please, please.”
He didn’t have the presence of mind to pleasure her, to do anything but fuck her as hard and deep as he could, but she squirmed under him, grinding up against his pelvis and moaning into his mouth over and over.
There was nothing that he wouldn’t do in order to have this, to keep this. God, he was never going to be able to give her up now, not even if it cost him everything. Everything he had done, he would do again a thousand times over for just one night like this. He was her first, and she was his. She was his. She had been about to say that she loved him before he had stopped her. All those nights, even before they had met, when she was just a picture on a page, furiously bringing himself off to the thought of her, and now she was his.
And she needed him, like no one ever had before. He knew she didn’t eat enough, because he had been watching her, and because her body was small and frail under his. He knew she was still hurting from everything she had been through, much of which was his own fault. He could protect her, and take care of her, and take her, and be the only one to have her, and. Fuck.
She must have been able to tell he was close, because she broke the kiss to beg him, “Cum inside me, Ryuuzaki, please,” and if he hadn’t known she had a birth control implant, that might have been alarming, as might have the way she locked her legs around his hips, preventing him from withdrawing even if he’d wanted to. As it was, it was just unbearably arousing, to be wanted in this way, and to realize that she was reaching her climax too, because she whined again, “Ryuuzaki, please, I—” before breaking off into a wordless cry, her needy quicksand body clamping down around him and milking him dry, and he was lost, could do nothing but bury his face in her neck with a sob of surrender and hold on to her desperately as all of it—his months of feverish longing, his shame and desire, his desperate need to take her and protect her and keep her for himself—built up inside of him and burst forward, pouring into her. Which was just a romanticized way to say that he was ejaculating semen inside of her, but that was how it felt.
His body shook on top of hers as he finished, and she held him almost protectively, a reversal of the roles he had been craving, kissing him so tenderly on the cheek. And he almost wanted to cry as the clarity came back and he realized how much he had taken from her, and given to her, all for the purposes of winning.
“I know,” Misa whispered to him in the dark, her head resting on his chest.
“You know what?”
“Misa knows… I know that you’re using me. I’m not stupid.”
L’s breath caught in his chest. Sometimes Misa had these flashes of pure animal cunning that caught him off guard, making him realize that she understood people on a level that he never had. Like with Light, when it came to emotions, Misa was an extremely sensitive instrument.
“If you know, then why did you let me do that to you?”
When she spoke again, it was in the same tone of voice he used to hear her use with Light sometimes: soft, pleased, almost wistful. “Because you really do want me as much as you say you do. That wasn’t a lie, right?”
“No, it wasn’t,” he admitted.
She nuzzled against his bare skin, her body relaxed and comfortable, though his own was frozen in something like fear. “I don’t care if you use me, as long as you don’t leave me. You won’t leave me, will you, Ryuuzaki? You won’t leave me alone?”
Somewhere in his mind, L heard the sound of a trap swinging shut around him. “No,” he whispered, so quietly he could barely be certain he had spoken at all. “I won’t.”
Notes:
Yeah this fic is gonna be quite smutty from here on out. And posting will still be slow for awhile, but I'm working on it.
Also, don't worry about Misa telling L to finish in her. It's just there for kink reasons, not foreshadowing reasons. I don't ever write about pregnancy.
Chapter 8: when her edges soften, her body is my coffin
Notes:
I already mentioned this in the notes on the first chapter, but since I've been getting some comments about it, I figured I should say it again: yep, L/Light is tagged on purpose, in a shippy way, not a platonic way. However, there's a difference between there being enough Lawlight content to merit a tag vs. this being a Lawlight-centric story. The Lawlight stuff is not the main focus of the plot, so if that's all you're here for, you'd probably be better off finding an actual Lawlight fic. And to be clear, it's a love triangle, not an OT3 endgame.
High maintenance means you're a gluttonous queen
Narcissistic and mean
Kill me romantically
Fill my soul with vomit then ask me for a piece of gum
Bitter and dumb, you're my sugarplum
You're awful, I love youShe moves through moonbeams slowly
She knows just how to hold me
And when her edges soften
Her body is my coffin
I know she drains me slowly
She wears me down to bones in bed- Ludo, "Love Me Dead"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L woke up on his back, a heavy weight across his hips, pinning him down. He was startled into full consciousness, eyes flying open, preparing to defend himself, before his brain resolved the blob on top of him into a very naked Misa Amane.
“You’re a heavy sleeper,” she told him conversationally. “I bet it’s because you don’t sleep enough.” She was straddling his hips, sitting over his erection, which lay flat against his stomach.
“Oh?” L was too distracted to come up with a better response than that.
“I already snooped through all your stuff,” she told him. He wasn’t surprised that she would do such a thing, but he was surprised that she would admit it so easily. Then again, he supposed, he had promised her last night that he wouldn’t leave her, so the stakes must be rather low. What was he going to do, scold her for doing exactly what anyone could have predicted she would do?
She continued, “I had wondered why my underwear kept disappearing. But it’s funny, I thought I was definitely missing more than four pairs.” He was naked as well, and she was already slick enough that their bodies slid together easily when she started to grind slowly on top of him.
L swallowed. It seemed unfair for her to be doing this, using his body against him before his brain was fully awake, luring him into conversational traps like this. Unable to think of an excuse, he simply told her, “The rest are being washed.”
“Oh?” Misa leaned down until her face was right above his, hair forming a curtain around them both, and asked, “Did you get them dirty doing perverted things with them?”
L nodded, blinking up at her.
“What did you do?”
Apparently she wanted him to say it. L was uncertain how dirty talk was supposed to work—he had hoped to avoid it as much as possible—so he just stated, “I used them to masturbate.”
Misa wrinkled her nose like she was disgusted, except that her eyes were bright and interested. “Pervert,” she said, rubbing against him again, and he inhaled sharply. “I saw all the magazines. Did you look at Misa-Misa’s pictures when you did it?” When he didn’t respond, she grabbed him by the chin and raised her eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“Did you think about doing dirty things to her?”
“Yes,” he said again, having learned what she wanted.
“Did you get your dirty stuff on Misa’s panties and pictures?”
“Yes, Misa, I did.”
Satisfied, Misa planted a hand on his chest and pushed herself upward again. She rose up onto her knees and grasped his cock, holding him up to her entrance.
“Ryuuzaki is stupid,” she said, pausing there with the tip just resting against her as he stared up at her dumbly. “Doing all that when Misa was right there, waiting for him. Stupid.”
“Yes, Misa, I’m stupid,” he told her. This seemed to be the right answer, because she lowered herself down, taking him inside of her, and his eyes closed in pleasure.
Misa began to move, not up and down, but instead just slowly rolling her hips, grinding on him. It still felt good, though it was a bit of a tease—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to reach orgasm this way. But the sight of Misa naked in the morning light, rocking on top of him and rubbing herself, was enough to make up for it.
“Doesn’t this feel better than your hand, Ryuuzaki? Isn’t it nicer to do it with Misa?”
“Yes,” he said absently, putting his hands on her hips and trying to coax her into a faster motion. She didn’t let him. It seemed Misa was in a demanding mood this morning.
“Now that he has Misa, Ryuuzaki shouldn’t do that anymore,” she said, looking down at him through half-lidded eyes.
His brain was working more slowly than usual, but after a second, he caught on and asked, “Is Misa forbidding me from masturbating?”
“Yeah,” she moaned, drawing out the sound as she rubbed herself where they connected. “Ryuuzaki doesn’t need to do that anymore. He can use Misa’s body instead, as many times a day as he wants. His stuff should only go inside of her.”
It surprised him a little that Misa was already so sexual after having her first time last night, but he figured he should have expected it. It was like she had been pent up, waiting to be allowed to unleash all of this on someone. And yet, she still couldn’t bring herself to say the actual words.
“Is Misa talking about my semen?” he asked, and she squeezed her eyes shut, looking momentarily embarrassed.
As she touched herself further, though, she seemed to get over that. “Yes,” she said. “Ryuuzaki’s semen is only for Misa now. We can do it in the morning, and then I’ll go and film the movie with your stuff running down my legs, and everyone will see and know that I’m yours.” She seemed to forget about the third person as she got closer to orgasm, he noticed.
“What if Misa is busy?” he asked.
“That won’t happen!” she shook her head fervently. “Whenever Ryuuzaki wants to cum, Misa’s holes are available!”
He fought back a laugh at the way she said it, sounding so cheerful and determined for such a lewd statement. Had she been reading hentai or something?
“What if Misa’s at work?”
“Mm….” Misa seemed stumped, especially as she was half-distracted by her own fingers on her clit. “Ryuuzaki can wait until I’m back!”
“And if people are around?”
“Misa doesn’t care!”
He thought of asking if that included Light, but he didn’t want to discuss Misa’s ex right now. Instead, he asked, “What if Misa’s sleeping?”
“Wake me up,” Misa said, and then, leaning forward slightly to change the angle, gasped, “Or—or just do it while I’m asleep. Yeah, like that…” She moaned, clearly getting close as she got deeper into the fantasy. “Misa’s body is Ryuuzaki’s to use whenever he wants. As long as he only uses Misa.”
“Okay,” he agreed. He probably shouldn’t have, but he was getting excited now, listening to Misa talk. He watched her eagerly as he ground her hips on him, rubbing her clit frantically until she finally came. Misa’s face when she orgasmed was really appealing; she looked so overwhelmed that she appeared almost pained, and she made all these high-pitched, breathy noises, and her insides clamped down on him in a rhythmic squeezing motion.
It was good that she was satisfied, because L couldn’t hold back anymore. Hands tightening on her hips, he pressed his heels against the bed and thrust his hips upward, causing Misa to lose her balance and fall forwards onto his chest with a gasp of surprise. He moved his arms up to wrap around her back, holding her tightly against himself so that he could thrust upwards into her as hard and fast as she wanted, finally free to chase his own orgasm. He fucked the breath right out of her, so that Misa could only whine and bury her face in the crook of his neck, sucking and licking his bare skin, and L thrust upwards as hard as he could one last time, emptying himself into her with a shout.
He held her to his chest, both of them panting and sweaty as they caught their breath. He was going to have to shower, which would make him even later for work than he already was. He couldn’t bring himself to care.
After their shower together, which involved a not inconsiderable amount of groping, L spoke to Misa as they dressed. “Do you remember what I said before, about how it would damage my credibility with the task force if they find out about us?”
“Yeah,” Misa agreed, though she was already pouting.
“That’s even more important now, okay? We have to act like there’s nothing going on, or it will cause a lot of trouble.”
For a moment, Misa was silent, and her gaze darted down his body, though he wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Finally, she agreed, “Okay, Misa gets it.”
The tone of her voice made him nervous. Looking back on his first meeting with Misa, he was almost certain that Light had told her to keep their relationship private, and she hadn’t listened to him. How could he be sure that Misa would listen this time?
“I know you don’t like it,” he said, reaching out and pulling her into a hug. She let herself be pulled against him, sighing, and he cradled her head against his chest. “It’s just for a little while, until we catch Kira. So if you want to be able to tell people about us, you should hope we catch him quickly.”
He didn’t think that she would get on board so easily, since Kira was still her savior, but at least he had gotten her thinking about it.
“Okay!” she said, pulling back and giving him a bright smile and a thumbs up. “Misa will do her best!”
When L entered the main room, some part of him expected everyone to already know somehow, or at least to suspect. It felt very obvious to him, like his body language must be broadcasting what he had done, despite the fact that he was used to keeping secrets.
The task force members only glanced at him, however, before returning to work. All except for Light, who gave him a scrutinizing stare that made him want to fidget in discomfort. But that was just Light being himself, right? Though L felt paranoid, there wasn’t any actual way he could have known.
“Did you have a good night last night, Ryuuzaki?” Light asked, adopting a casual tone that seemed clearly fake.
“Not especially. Nothing out of the ordinary happened,” L responded, keeping a straight face as he sat down.
“I see,” Light said, and then, raising his voice, “I wouldn’t call it ‘ordinary’ for you to come to work an hour later than everyone else and with a hickey on your neck.” At that, every conversation in the room stopped at once, and he could see the four other men turning to look at them.
Fuck. L flashed back to the image of Misa’s gaze darting down from his face; she must have been looking at his neck. That would explain the tone of voice she had used as well. She had decided not to warn him, and since he rarely looked at himself in the mirror, he had missed seeing it.
With a long sigh, as though Light were simply annoying him, L replied, “Not that my personal life is any of your business, but I hired a prostitute last night. Even I need to blow off steam sometimes.”
“You’re lying,” Light retorted immediately. “You were with Misa, weren’t you?”
A few of the men had gotten up and walked over to them, apparently deciding they needed to be involved in this conversation. Just what he needed.
“Light’s jealousy is becoming quite severe,” L said, blandly addressing their audience. “He is obsessed with the idea that I might be involved with Misa.”
“Yeah, I don’t think Ryuuzaki would do something like that,” Matsuda chimed in quietly. “Or Misa, for that matter.”
Aizawa snorted. “I’m not so sure about that.”
With another sigh, L said, “Since it seems several of you are not convinced, I will show you the video footage from Misa’s room last night.” He had used his usual program, so there was already a recording of Misa sleeping soundly in her bed for the entire night, copied over from an earlier night during their time in the building.
The video footage managed to placate the majority of the team, though Aizawa still seemed skeptical. L suspected the man didn’t like him much already, so he would have to tread carefully if he wanted to keep him on the team. Of course, whether or not he cared enough to keep him was something else altogether. If maintaining his lies became too onerous, he might be better off without the police, especially as that would free him up to bring in criminals like Morrello.
Light, of course, clearly did not believe a word he said. His first question after seeing the footage was, “Is there also footage of your whore entering the building?”
“Light,” Yagami said sharply, taking affront at his son’s language, and Light shot him an apologetic look.
“Unfortunately not,” L said. “I value my privacy. I had Watari bring her in through my personal entrance to the building.”
“I never would have pictured you for the type to, you know,” Matsuda said, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed.
“Yes, well, in the future, I would appreciate if all of you could refrain from picturing what I might do in my personal time. Particularly Light.” This earned him a glare from the younger man.
When everyone went back to their stations, though, Light rolled his chair closer to L’s and muttered under his breath, “I know what you’re doing. And when I manage to find proof, I’ll tell all of them how you lied to us.”
“Best of luck with your investigation, Light,” L replied. “Now, can we talk about the Kira case, or do you have any more questions about my sex life?”
“Would Misa like to tell me why she didn’t warn me about the hickey?”
It was later that night, and Misa had come to his personal quarters, like usual. She had attempted to distract him immediately, but L managed to push her off of him long enough for them to talk.
“I thought you’d be mad at me!”
L sighed. It was one thing to know that Misa was bad at planning her actions, or to see her bungling Kira’s plans. It was something else to have this flaw of hers impact him. “So, to be clear, you believed I would be less mad if I was unexpectedly caught with a hickey by the members of my investigation team, rather than if you told me while I still had the opportunity to cover it?”
“Well, no, when you put it like that,” Misa admitted. “I just panicked! I saw it and I knew you’d be mad, and I didn’t know what to do, so I just didn’t say anything.”
Right, he shouldn’t be surprised by this. Misa was afraid of being rejected or abandoned, so she would go out of her way to avoid doing anything that might upset him in the moment, even if the long-term consequences were even worse. He took in a long breath and let it out.
“Next time, please just tell me, Misa. I promise I won’t be angry with you.” That was a lie, but he thought he would be able to hide his anger well enough that she wouldn’t notice.
“Okay,” she agreed, nodding her head, still looking guilty. “Was it really bad?”
“I was able to assuage their suspicions for now by claiming that it was from a prostitute,” L said, and Misa’s head snapped up.
“You don’t see anyone like that, right?” she demanded. “Misa is going to be really mad if you do.”
With a sigh, he pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly and kissing the top of her head. “No, of course not,” he said. “It was simply a lie to keep them from finding out about us. I have no intention of sleeping with anyone other than Misa.”
“Good,” she said. “If I see you with another woman, I’ll kick her.”
It surprised L that Misa would direct her anger at the sex worker in this scenario, rather than at himself, but he let it go, only saying, “I understand.”
“Besides,” Misa said, “Misa will do anything a prostitute would do. Even weird stuff!”
“I’m sure Misa has some limits. Things she wouldn’t like to do.” L wasn’t sure why he was saying this, except that the way Misa talked sometimes made him nervous.
“Hmm…” Misa thought about it. “No, Misa doesn’t have any of those. Anytime Ryuuzaki wants Misa’s body, he can have her and do anything he wants, so don’t go to anyone else, okay?”
“Okay.” It seemed Misa had really meant her requests that morning, while he had thought they might be nothing more than dirty talk. Not that he had any intentions of asking Misa for ‘weird stuff’ or fucking her while she was asleep, but he got the feeling that arguing Misa out of her ‘anything goes’ position would be futile. So he just agreed and held her, stroking her hair.
After a moment, the tension left her body, so he continued. “Matsuda definitely bought it, but Aizawa and Light are very suspicious of me. We’ll have to be even more careful from now on.”
“I hate this!” Misa suddenly blurted out. “Everyone says they care about Misa, but then they want to hide her away!”
“Misa, you know that I’m not hiding our relationship because I want to. I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s necessary for now.”
“Relationship?” Misa pulled back, looking him in the eyes. “We have a relationship?”
“Well, I would hope so,” L said. And then, feeling inspired, he thought of a way to placate Misa. Since she had been the one to ask Light, she might be insecure about this. “Misa, do you want to be my first girlfriend?”
“Yes!” she cheered, practically throwing herself into his arms. L gathered her up, carried her to the bedroom, and let himself be distracted.
The next few days went as well as L could have hoped. Misa kept her distance during the day, especially since most of her time was spent on the film set. He felt anxious that she might let something slip during all the time she spent with Matsuda, but he supposed that out of the members of the task force, Matsuda was the least likely to trick Misa into revealing something. He would just have to hope for the best.
In the meantime, now that L had developed a close relationship with Misa, it was time to use it. He couldn’t just continue reveling in the physical connection; that wasn’t the point of this.
The Change, whatever it was, had left Misa so certain of her innocence that she was willing to say even the most incriminating things about her feelings towards Kira and her relationship with Light. She had somewhat resisted his questions before, but he suspected that had been out of annoyance, not self-preservation. Now that she trusted him, he might be able to get more out of her.
He would focus on that day in Aoyama. He had a feeling that there was more to learn from Misa, some piece of information that would make it all fit together.
One night, as she lay in his bed, L asked, “Misa, you want to be able to be together, right? And to not have to hide our relationship anymore?”
“Yes, of course!” she replied instantly, rolling onto her side to face him.
“Then will you help me with the Kira investigation? The sooner we catch Kira, the sooner we’ll be free to be together.”
“I guess, but I don’t really know what I can do to help,” she said.
L paused, wondering how angry she would get if he brought up the fact that she could be the second Kira. Well, there was no way around it. “I want to talk again about the day you met Light. If we try hard, maybe you can remember something.”
Misa’s eyes widened. “You still think I’m the second Kira!” she said, glaring at him. “I can’t believe you! I keep telling you I’m not.”
“I believe you,” L said, pausing to let her calm down before continuing. “I believe that you are telling me the truth. You don’t believe you are the second Kira. But it’s possible that Kira did something to you to make you forget.” Misa puffed up her cheeks, looking angry. “Misa, I know it bothers you, but can you play along for a minute? It would really help me. And if you’re not the second Kira, then I’ll find that out more quickly, and we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”
Misa regarded him suspiciously, but in the end, she said, “Fine, if you want to waste your time.” He made a mental note to buy her more flowers for this.
“Okay, so, to make sure I remember right, on May 22nd, you saw Light for the first time in Aoyama?” Misa nodded. “And that’s when you fell for him, correct?”
Misa frowned. “Does Ryuuzaki really want to hear about Misa’s relationship with Light?” she asked. “Doesn’t it make him jealous?”
This seemed like a trick question. If he said no, she would be offended, but if he said yes, she would try to use that to dissuade him. Finally, he responded, “Yes, very, but I will bear it for the sake of being able to be open about my relationship with Misa sooner.”
“Aw!” Misa gasped, her eyes shining. “That’s so romantic… Okay, I did see Light there, and I thought I fell for him.” With the drastic shift in her feelings towards Light, she didn’t seem to like recalling her past feelings.
“How close were you to Light when you saw him? Did you pass by him on the street?”
Misa frowned and wrinkled her forehead, trying to remember. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”
“Were you outside or inside?”
She closed her eyes for a second. “I was inside, sitting down, I think. Light was walking by… I saw him through the window.”
L reached over to his nightstand and produced a few printed photographs. Each one showed the interior of a different cafe or restaurant in Aoyama. He’d searched the internet for the phrase ‘Aoyama note’ and discovered the existence of the Blue Note cafe. One of the pictures showed this cafe, while the others were included in order to avoid a false positive. He lay them down on the bed in front of Misa.
“Can you remember if you were in any of these places that day?” he asked.
“Hmm.” Misa peered over them slowly, running her index finger over each photograph. Finally, she stopped on the picture of Blue Note. “That one.”
“Are you sure?” L kept his voice neutral, trying not to give her any cues.
“Yep!”
That was a big step in the right direction. What else could he ask? Had the word ‘note’ only served as a hint as to the specific location, or did it hold a deeper meaning? Light had volunteered to visit both Aoyama and Shibuya, so there was no way to tell if the line about trading notes had stood out to him specifically. Just in case, he asked, “Do you remember if you had something with you? For instance, a notebook?”
Misa pursed her lips as she thought about this. “Um… Misa doesn’t think so. I’m a model, not a student, so I don’t usually carry a notebook with me.”
What else could he ask? “Did you talk to anyone else when you were in Aoyama? For instance, did you see any of your friends there?”
“No,” Misa said, sounding more confident of this. “I went by myself, and I didn’t see anyone there. Oh, I did talk to the cafe workers when I ordered my drink, I guess.”
“How long were you in the cafe?” L asked.
“Oh, a few hours, I guess. I got there pretty early.”
“Did you leave right after seeing Light?”
Misa paused. “I think so.”
So Misa went to a cafe alone, ordered a drink, sat there for several hours, and then left shortly after seeing Light. She had almost certainly been waiting, on a sort of informal stake-out.
L decided to move on from Aoyama for now. He could ask her more about it later, when he’d had time to think of additional questions. “So you didn’t talk to Light in Aoyama. At what point did you introduce yourself to him and become his girlfriend? And where did this encounter take place?”
“I went to his house to meet him. Let’s see, it must have been…” Misa paused, counting on her fingers. “Three days later? I think.” May 25th. That would have been after the second Kira mailed the tape saying they had found Kira, but on the same day that we received it.
“Do you remember what time of day it was?” L asked. Light had been with him at the hotel in the afternoon, listening to the tape.
“Oh, yeah, I think it must have been late in the evening. Light’s mom wanted him to walk me to the train station after, but I told him it was okay.” So Light had come to the hotel and heard the second Kira’s tape, in which she said she had found the first Kira, but at that point, he had not had any contact with her. Had he been surprised? And then, after that, he had received an unexpected visit from Misa at his house. Which raised another question.
“You went to his home…” L repeated. “Did you follow him there from somewhere?”
“No!” Misa said, giggling. “Misa isn’t that crazy. She doesn’t just follow people around.”
L wondered if that was a subtle dig at himself. He brushed it aside. “So you must have known his address somehow. Do you remember how you knew it?”
Misa looked away for a moment, as if embarrassed, but she finally admitted in a small voice, “Misa might have searched on the Internet for Light. She found his middle school, and then got a yearbook, and used that to find his address.”
Not that crazy, huh? L thought to himself. But something was nagging at him. He held up a finger to Misa, indicating that he needed a minute to think.
He was Misa, the second Kira, sitting in a cafe in Aoyama. He watched people pass by the window outside. He saw Light Yagami through the window and somehow knew who he was, and that he was Kira, leading him to develop an emotional attachment to him without ever speaking to each other. He left without making contact and searched the Internet for him. Three days later, he went to Light’s house and introduced himself. What did this tell him?
Oh. OH. It was so obvious. He could have put it together the first time Misa told him about Aoyama, straight out of confinement, but he had been processing too much new information at the time. He had needed this extra push to put it together.
The second Kira still needed a name and face to kill, just like the first Kira. The difference was that the second Kira could use the face to get the name! In other words, just by seeing a person’s face, Misa had been able to automatically learn their name. That was how she had known Light’s name, and that was how she had killed criminals whose pictures she had seen in magazines or on television.
“I think Kira still doesn’t have the eyes.” The eyes, then, referred to the ability to learn a person’s name from viewing their face. And, possibly, given the phrase ‘the eyes,’ the information was received visually: Misa actually saw the name, rather than the knowledge just appearing in her head.
And the word ‘still’ implied that it was not as simple as a Kira having or not having ‘the eyes’: it was a power that could somehow be gained, though whether that was through some act of chance or through personal choice was anyone’s guess. A Kira could somehow acquire ‘the eyes,’ even if they did not possess that ability to begin with.
There was something else. Somehow, when Misa had seen Light Yagami, she had instantly learned not only his name, but also that he was Kira. Did the eyes give her the ability to recognize another Kira? In the same message, she had said, “When we meet, we can just confirm each other’s identity with our shinigami.”
At the time, he and Light had posited that the word ‘shinigami’ referred to the ability to kill: that they would kill someone in order to confirm their identity. However, since Light had not yet Changed at that point, L could expect that he would have wanted to lead him astray, and so this idea might have been a red herring. When taking ‘the eyes’ into consideration, it could be that there was some visual proof that a person was Kira, that only another Kira could see.
However, “we can confirm each other’s identity” was mutual. In other words, even though Light didn’t have ‘the eyes,’ it seemed probable that he would be able to identify Misa as a Kira on sight, just as she had identified him. So perhaps if Light had looked into the cafe, he would have known that Misa was the second Kira? Had she purposefully arranged things so that she could see him without being seen herself?
L was getting too far into speculation now. He reigned himself back in. What did this mean for his first encounter with Misa? He closed his eyes, trying to remember every detail as Misa stared at him impatiently. Luckily, his visual memory was quite strong. He had introduced himself to Misa as ‘Ryuuga Hideki,’ and she had reacted oddly, repeating the name as if surprised, and her eyes had shifted away from his face. In what direction? Upward, he thought. He remembered getting the impression that she was looking at something over his head, behind him.
And then, before she said anything further, Light had put himself between the two of them, telling Misa something like, “Isn’t it strange that his name is the same as the pop idol’s?” Light had been acting strangely in that moment, his words just a little too forceful.
L thought he understood. Misa had used ‘the eyes’ to see his name, which seemed to be located in the air above his head. She had been confused by the fact that the name she saw did not match the name he had given her. Perhaps she had been especially confused because his real name was foreign, not Japanese. Light, knowing that she was seeing his true name, had stepped in and stopped her before she could say anything.
The odd thing was, he would have expected her to know immediately that he was L. After all, if he was Misa, looking for someone who went by the alias L, and then saw a suspicious person in Light’s company who introduced himself with a fake name but whose real name was actually L, wouldn’t those dots be easy to connect? Even for Misa, who sometimes struggled with things like that.
L opened his eyes. “Misa, what’s my name?”
“Huh?” she asked, blinking at him. “Isn’t it Ryuuzaki? Except before, you told me it was Ryuuga Hideki… And I guess I don’t know your family name. Hey, Ryuuzaki, what is your family name?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed her. He saw her gearing up to take offense, and quickly interrupted, “Please, I need another minute to think.”
L closed his eyes again. So Misa had either failed to realize that he was L, or she had known, but forgotten when the Change occurred. Perhaps any information she gained with ‘the eyes’ had been lost? If something happened, if she were to somehow Change back, would she then recall his name? Or, for that matter, would she get ‘the eyes’ back and be able to discover it again?
He was almost certain that Misa’s presence in that encounter had not been planned by Light. First of all, Light had no way of knowing that L would appear at his university then. Secondly, if he had somehow known, he would have been smart enough to replicate his encounter with Misa in Aoyama: to station her somewhere that she could see L, and therefore his name, without being seen herself. No, Misa had been acting on her own.
The very second after she had left, however, Light had called her. He hadn’t even waited until after parting ways with L; he had been too eager. What would he have said if he had gotten Misa on the phone? “Kill him”? Or, more likely, “Give me his name.” Light would have probably wanted to be the one to kill him, rather than having Misa do it. Once he had the name, he could have waited until the right moment, secure in the knowledge that he could kill L whenever he wanted.
L had suspected that he came quite close to disaster that day on To-oh campus, but it was another thing altogether to have it confirmed. If he had not taken Misa’s cell phone, if she had not been arrested quickly enough, his life would have been over.
“Ryuuzaki?” Misa said quietly, and he opened his eyes, wondering why she had interrupted him. “You’re shaking,” she said.
“Oh.” L considered his body. “So I am. It is cold in here, and I do not usually wear so little clothing.”
“Misa can warm you up!” she said immediately, but instead of hugging him, or trying to seduce him into another round, both of which he had expected, she cupped her hands in front of her mouth and blew on them hard several times, puffing out her cheeks comically, then rubbed them together. Finally, she placed both hands flat against L’s bare chest.
L blinked at her, not sure what to make of the sight of Misa trying to stop him from shaking by warming him with her hands. It was so comically ineffective, yet somehow an extremely cute and innocent gesture, especially when juxtaposed with his memory of how she had nearly ended his life.
“Warmer now?” she asked, grinning at him, rubbing her hands against his chest, and L realized all at once that if he continued down this path, he was going to fall in love with her.
Later that night, when Misa was asleep, L reached inside to find the part of himself that had come to life in that moment, with Misa’s hands on his chest, and buried it. He folded it up small and hid it where no one could find it—not even him.
If he were to make it out of this alive, he could do anything else—date her, fuck her, tell her whatever she wanted to hear. But he couldn’t fall for her. He couldn’t give her that part of himself and still bear to give her up at the end, to send her to her death.
Notes:
This month is pretty hectic for me, so I can't guarantee that I'll be updating in two weeks, though I'll try my best. You can check my Tumblr for information on when the next update is coming.
Now with TWO fancomics of the final scene from this chapter! Check out this amazing comic from ecolekua and this gorgeous one from misa-lawliet (warning for boobs).
Chapter 9: block the circulation till we're all completely numb
Notes:
They'll pull you close, but never really
Looking warm but feeling chilly
You'll describe us as impassioned
When it's just a front we fashion'Cause guys like me, we all vow to become
Clear and free of the fife and the drum
And block the circulation till we're all completely numb
Let's hear it for guys like me
Let's hear it for guys like me- Aimee Mann, "Guys Like Me"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Unfortunately, L could not share his discovery with the rest of the task force, not without explaining why Misa had confessed it to him. The more suspicious the others became of him, the less useful they became: his seduction of Misa, and subsequent success in getting her to share more information, were his best leads on the Kira case, and yet he was forced to keep this to himself, letting the others believe that he was failing to make progress.
He began to wonder if it was even worth it to keep them around. It was not as if the police had been very helpful recently.
Light and Matsuda had been working on something, it seemed, but they didn’t have anything to show him yet. Light kept saying that it would take a few more days. They were being slightly secretive about the whole thing, clearly wanting to have a big reveal that they could take credit for. L allowed it, though if it took much longer, he would just go through Light’s files while the suspect slept.
He continued his conversations with Misa, coaxing information out of her slowly over the course of many days, stopping whenever she seemed distressed. He got her to confess that she had come to Tokyo hoping to meet Kira, and that Light had specifically told her they couldn’t see each other more often than once every two weeks, even though she couldn’t recall why. Since she thought she was innocent, she seemed to have no issue with sharing the most incriminating details with him, confident that she would be cleared of suspicion if she just cooperated with him.
Her trust made him feel slightly sick.
Light continued staring at them and asking pointed questions, but so far, he didn’t have any proof of his suspicions. However, a few days later, L hit another snag.
That evening, something was different when Misa and Matsuda returned from the film set. As usual, Misa cheerfully greeted him, but there was an undercurrent of anxiety coming from her. And Matsuda, who was usually enthusiastic and happy to get back to working on the case, looked uncharacteristically grim, his eyes locking onto L from the moment he entered the room.
“Ryuuzaki, can I speak to you in private?” Matsuda asked. Light turned to look between the two of them, too sharply, and L felt slightly on edge. He tried not to show it, though, as he lazily got to his feet and followed Matsuda upstairs. They did not stop until they were out of earshot of the main room, at which point Matsuda, with no prompting, blurted out, “What is going on between you and Misa?”
“What does Matsuda mean?” L asked after pausing for slightly too long. He fought the urge to cover his face with his hand, realizing that Misa must have slipped up in some way.
“She’s been talking about you all the time,” Matsuda told him. “She keeps complaining that you’re too focused on the case instead of listening to her. Then she said something like, ‘Even late at night, he’s always working!’ How does she know that you’re doing late at night?”
If that was it, L thought it would be easy enough to explain. “Misa has nightmares sometimes. I allow her to join me in the main room while I work. She doesn’t want to be alone, and Light doesn’t want to be disturbed while he sleeps—not to mention they haven’t been on the best terms lately. I’m usually awake, so it doesn’t bother me.”
But Matsuda didn’t look convinced. “Okay, but when I told her that you had to do your job, she compared you to Light. Something about men always telling her that Kira was more important than her. And when I said that it wasn’t the same, since Light had been her boyfriend, while you weren’t, she started to say something. She stopped herself, but it seemed like she was trying to say that… that you were her boyfriend. Or something…” Matsuda trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
This was worse than L had thought. Misa was still technically obeying his request not to tell anyone, but she was doing an extremely poor job of it. It seemed almost like she wanted to be caught, which meant it was only a matter of time before she said something even more incriminating. What L needed to do was to discredit Misa in Matsuda’s eyes, to make sure he would stop believing the things that she said about him. Paint her as the girl who cried wolf.
L sighed, leaning in, as though he had reluctantly decided to share more information. “To be honest, since her break-up with Light, Misa has become fixated on me,” he said. “I don’t understand why—I think she may just be looking for attention. In any case, it seems she might have escalated to saying that we are involved, in the same way that she believed that she was in a serious relationship with Light despite all evidence to the contrary.
“I had worried things might turn out this way. It seems to me that, when it comes to her relationships with others, Misa believes what she wants to believe. It is troublesome for me that she has created this idea that we have a relationship, and that she is going so far as to tell others about it. Please try not to encourage her. This sort of thing only distracts from the investigation.”
He could tell that Matsuda wanted to believe him, but was struggling with his own skepticism, his intuition telling him that something was off. “You’re really not involved with her?” he asked. “I mean, I could imagine Misa making something like that up, but you do act differently towards her than everyone else.”
“I am only trying to keep her happy and cooperative for the sake of the investigation.”
“But there was that time when you had a hickey on your neck… I don’t know, Ryuuzaki. Your behavior is really suspicious.”
Something else would be needed to convince him, and L had a sudden inspiration as to what that could be. He could confide a secret in Matsuda, something that would explain his suspicious behavior, as well as making the man feel as though he were being admitted into L’s confidence. Matsuda was much like Misa in that respect: he was clearly desperate for someone to make him feel important.
“Can you keep a secret?” L asked, and Matsuda immediately nodded, his expression completely genuine and determined. So he continued, “In truth, I am attracted to men. And I prefer to keep my private life exactly that: private.” Actually, none of that was a lie. He did find men attractive, as well as women. But he would let Matsuda draw the conclusion that he was a homosexual, despite him never having said that.
“Oh!” Matsuda looked shocked, his mouth falling open, and L could practically see the gears turning in his head, re-contextualizing L’s prior compliments to Misa as the harmless flattery of a gay man towards a female friend. “I never would have guessed!”
L fought back slight irritation at the implication that his sexuality should somehow show in his behavior. Instead, he just gave Matsuda a nod. “So, you see, it is very uncomfortable for me that Misa has misinterpreted my friendliness towards her and begun pretending that we have some sort of romantic relationship.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s stressful,” Matsuda agreed, looking sympathetic. “Don’t worry! I won’t listen to her. And I’ll keep your secret.”
And L, remembering the tools he utilized with Misa, nodded at Matsuda as though he were a trusted confidant, and said, “Thank you. I knew I could count on you.” The man beamed, practically falling over himself at L’s praise, and L couldn’t help but think that he should have had Morrello train him years ago.
Unfortunately for L, it seemed, it was just one hurdle after another. While Light had been unable to prove his relationship with Misa was sexual, he managed to find another way to interfere in his plans. It happened one evening, after the three older members of the task force had already gone home, just as Misa was leaving the main room for bed. As she was saying goodnight to L, Light turned to Matsuda with a sigh.
“Since L is busy flirting with Misa again, how about we take another look at that data?” he said. “I think it’s almost ready to show the others.”
“Ryuuzaki,” Matsuda corrected him automatically, but it was too late. Misa had stopped mid-sentence, turning to stare at Light.
“What did you say?” Misa asked Light. L wanted to interfere, but there was nothing he could do now, except kick himself for not telling Misa first. At least that way he could have controlled how the truth came out.
“I said that Matsuda and I might be able to show what we’ve been working on soon.” It was very well done. Light had made it seem like a completely innocent mistake, sounding as if his only concern was the work he and Matsuda were doing. However, Light had never slipped up and called him L in front of others before, and L was completely certain that it was no coincidence he had done so now, in front of Misa.
“No,” Misa said, and she grabbed him by the shoulder. It was the first time she had touched Light since their fight on his floor. “Before that. About us flirting. What did you call Ryuuzaki?”
“What do you mean?” Light said. He was still pretending that it had been an honest mistake, that he was now trying to fix it by gaslighting Misa about what she had heard, but L could see through his act.
“L?” Misa repeated. “Did you call him L? Why would you say that?”
This wasn’t going to be resolved in any way than with the truth coming out. L was going to bite the bullet and tell her himself, but before he could, Light sighed and said, “Okay, I guess we can’t hide it anymore. Ryuuzaki is L. Everyone else already knows, but I guess he’s been keeping it from you.” The look on his face appeared to be one of genuine concern.
“Light!” Matsuda scolded, and Light frowned at him.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help but worry about Misa. Ryuuzaki has clearly been manipulating her, hiding who he really is so that she’ll trust him. I can’t just sit back and watch anymore. She deserves to know the truth about him—that he was the one who arrested her and imprisoned her for almost three months.”
“Ryuuzaki?” Misa turned back to look at him, her eyes wide and already tearing up. “That isn’t true, is it?”
“I’m sorry, Misa,” L said, wanting to reach out to touch her, but Light had him at a disadvantage, forced as he was to balance between consoling Misa and keeping their relationship under wraps. “I should have told you.”
“I can’t believe you!” Misa gasped, beginning to cry. “God, and I thought you were…” When L started to stand up, she jumped backwards. “Don’t come near me,” she told him, hands clenching into fists at her side. “I hate you!”
With that, Misa turned and fled up the stairs, the sound of her sobs fading away as she left. L considered following her, despite the suspicion that might invoke, but he thought it was best if she have some time to cool off.
“Is Light satisfied now?” he asked instead, giving the younger man a cold look.
“Of course not,” Light replied. “I didn’t mean to do that, it just slipped out. But, you know, if you had just told her the truth, you wouldn’t be in this situation. I told you that it wasn’t good to play with people’s emotions.” Despite his earnest words, he was unable to completely hide the smugness in his eyes.
L regarded him blankly for a moment, fighting the urge to punch him. He had never struck Light first, though, and he certainly wouldn’t do so in a situation like this. That would only further incriminate himself in front of Matsuda, while also making Light feel like he had won. Instead, he said, “Yes, I suppose that I should learn to be a kinder, more honest person, just like Kira. Oh, my mistake. I meant to say ‘Light.’”
Matsuda had left shortly after, unable to handle the silent tension between the two men. Once he was gone, L returned to his floor, not caring about looking suspicious in front of Light, since he clearly wasn’t going to believe L’s lies about his relationship with Misa. However, he still couldn’t let Light get proof to show the others, so he quickly used his laptop to take the past hour of Misa crying in her bed and put it on a loop before making his way to her floor.
Her living room looked like a tornado had gone through it. Furniture was tipped over, her things strewn everywhere. L walked through the wreckage of the room and stopped at the door to her bedroom, rapping on it with his knuckles. He was going to need all of his lessons from Morrello to deal with this one.
“Go away!” Misa shouted. Something hit the inside of the door with a loud thump, shaking the door in its frame. L paused a moment before opening the door, ducking as another object—a shoe, it seemed—went flying over his head. After another few seconds, in which Misa didn’t throw anything else at him, he entered her bedroom.
All the lights were on, and Misa was lying on her stomach on her bed. Her face was red and wet with tears, her eyes narrowed and fierce.
“Misa shouldn’t have found out this way,” L said, tentatively approaching her bed. “I should have told you myself.”
Misa barked out a laugh and sat up, moving to the far end of the bed, as far away from him as she could get. “Yeah, that’s what I’m mad about,” she said. “Not that you imprisoned me. Not that you had me tortured. Just that you lied about it.”
L sighed. “I didn’t know you then,” he told her. He knew that his actions were not ones that any rational person would forgive from a romantic partner. He would only have to hope that Misa was not rational. “I didn’t feel… the way I feel about you now. I was doing what I thought was necessary for the Kira case. If I could take it back…” I wouldn’t. But he didn’t tell her that.
“For the Kira case!” Misa repeated. “You don’t care what you do or who you hurt, as long as it’s for the Kira case! Did you fuck me for the Kira case too?” Again, L was sharply reminded how unpredictably perceptive Misa could be. “And to think I thought I lo—” Misa cut herself off. “I hate you!” she said, as she had earlier, but he knew what she had been about to say. And, at the same time, he knew how to salvage this situation.
“That’s a shame,” L said, “because I love you.”
L couldn’t remember ever telling another person that he loved them. He supposed he must have told his parents, as a child, but he had been so young that he couldn’t remember it now. As for Wammy, while they cared deeply for each other, they did not have the type of affectionate relationship where they said things like that. Perhaps the two of them were simply too British.
In any case, it made L slightly nauseous that his first time saying it had been a lie for the purposes of manipulating someone into forgiving the unforgivable. He felt like, bit by bit, he was carving out every last bit of humanity in himself and sacrificing it to this case. To his role as L. But above all else, he had always been a pragmatist. He would do what he had to do.
On the other hand, if it was a lie (and it was, it had to be), that was better than the alternative, which was saying it and actually meaning it.
(Deep inside himself, some forgotten thing fluttered, trying to break free. L only shoved it further down, not allowing himself to even notice it was there. Not really.)
Misa’s mouth fell open, and she stared at him, shocked right out of her anger. “What?” she said.
“I’m in love with Misa,” L repeated. “I know that I have hurt you very badly. I could never have done it, feeling the way that I feel about you now,” (and that, at least, might have been true), “but I still did it, and I can’t take it back. I’m so sorry.”
“You think you can just say that you love me and have everything be okay?” Misa demanded, recovering enough to be angry again. But when L took her hand, she didn’t stop him.
“No,” he said quietly. “I know that it’s not okay. Misa suffered a lot because of me. I can only hope that she will allow me to make it up to her somehow.” Then, hating himself more with every word, he pulled out the trump card. “But if Misa would prefer that I leave her alone, I’ll respect her wishes.”
“You won’t leave me, will you, Ryuuzaki? You won’t leave me alone?” L knew that he was all that she had, and he was using that against her now, betting that she wouldn’t want to lose him and be alone, no matter how angry she was. And just as he had expected, Misa’s hand gripped his tightly, and a little of the anger left her face.
“No,” she said, though she still glared at him through her tears. “But Ryuu—L has a lot of apologizing to do. I’m expecting flowers. Dozens of them. Jewelry, too.”
“Understood,” L said. If Misa’s forgiveness could be bought, he had plenty of money to spend.
Misa didn’t sleep with him for three days after that, not until he bought her six dozen roses and a diamond necklace and apologized twice over. When she finally did, though, she cried and held onto him tighter than ever. And she called him L when she climaxed. After that, things between the two of them seemed to go back to normal.
Now, today, it was her day off. Misa had come into the main room in the morning, where all six of them were working—L, Light, Matsuda, Yagami, Mogi, and Aizawa—and greeted them brightly. She hung out for awhile, more quietly than usual, watching them work. And L was so absorbed in his work, enjoying the rare good behavior from Misa, who usually tried harder to distract him, that it took him quite some time to notice that she had left the room altogether.
Finally, though, L looked up, a nagging thought finally coming to the forefront of his mind. Where was Misa? She wasn’t in the room, but he didn’t see her on the monitors, so she hadn’t returned to her floor. Was she wandering around the building on her own, getting up to trouble? Watari would have told him if she was causing any damage, but he still felt like he should look into this.
He could look on the monitors, but Light was watching him too closely. If Misa was up to something, he wanted to find out before the others did. “Excuse me a moment,” L said, standing up. Most of the others didn’t take much notice of this, but Light’s eyes followed him until he left the room.
L checked his own quarters first. When she wasn’t there, he dialed Watari on his personal phone. “Miss Amane can be found in the public kitchen,” Watari said the moment he picked up, clearly anticipating L’s question. L hung up without a word, feeling oddly embarrassed.
When L entered the kitchen, Misa wasn’t even pretending to have a reason to be there. She had clearly been waiting for him to follow her: she was sitting on top of the counter, one leg crossed primly over the other, watching the door. At the sight of him, she smiled, hopped down to the floor, crossed the room, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Took you long enough,” Misa said, kissing him deeply, immediately pressing her body up against his as she did. This managed to distract L for a few moments before he finally remembered where they were, and the fact that she was acting very suspiciously, and pulled back.
“What prompted this?” he asked. “Misa seems unusually affectionate today.”
“Do I need a reason to kiss my boyfriend?” Misa asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Before he could reply, she pulled him into another kiss, arching up into him and molding her body to his. She was clearly trying to turn him on, rather than simply sharing a kiss, as she rubbed her body against his and let out a soft noise into his mouth.
It took L longer than it should have to break the kiss again. “Misa,” he hissed under his breath. “This is a terrible idea.” They needed to be discreet, not start having trysts in public areas where anyone could walk in. “We’ll be ca—ah!”
L broke off in mid sentence as Misa reached down between their bodies and grabbed his cock through his jeans, palming him through the fabric. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to get ahold of himself, and Misa took advantage of this to kiss him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth as she rubbed him to full hardness.
Finally, L managed to regain enough willpower to break the kiss again and tell her, “Misa, I’m serious. We can’t. You need to stop.”
Unfortunately for the little restraint he possessed, Misa responded to this by dropping to her knees in front of him, and he promptly lost it again. She looked up at him with those eyes, full of desire and promises of what was to come, and said, “Make me.”
L knew that he could, should, stop her. Misa wouldn’t actually force anything on him. She was waiting, testing him to see if he actually meant to stop her. He could grab her hands and pull her back up to her feet, or just step away from her. Leave the room, maybe. But he couldn’t gather up the strength to move. He just had to tell her again, to say, ‘Stop.’ His mouth moved, but he couldn’t get the words out.
L couldn’t bring himself to stop her. They had never done this before. Morrello had told him how to pleasure her, and some details of intercourse, but the only thing he had told L about receiving oral sex was not to ask her for it, to let her come up with the idea herself if she wanted to. But nothing about what to do after that, or if she got the idea in a public place in the middle of the work day, or if she was clearly up to something.
But then, in the time he was panicking about this, she unzipped the front of his jeans, pulled his boxers down and out of the way, and took his cock into her mouth. Just like that, L forgot what he had been so worried about in the first place. The small chance of someone walking in just ceased to seem as important as the fact that Misa Amane was on her knees in front of him, sucking his cock.
The second she sealed her lips around him and began sucking, he gasped, hips jerking forward unconsciously, so that the tip prodded the back of her throat and made her cough. He quickly withdrew again, looking down at her apologetically. But he hadn’t been prepared for the way she would look with her lips wide around him and her soft blonde hair falling in her face.
“Fuck,” he swore at the sight of her, quickly biting down on his knuckles to keep from making noise. With his other hand, he gripped the counter, needing support to keep himself upright.
Misa’s mouth was just as needy as the rest of her body, seeming to draw him in without pause, and she used both hands to stroke what she couldn’t fit. He knew that penis size was not a measure of a person’s worth, but he was used to seeing his own hands on it, and the sight of Misa’s own small hands, barely able to wrap around his girth, made him feel a sense of deep gratification. She was so beautiful, such a dainty thing. He still couldn’t believe that she would want to do this for him.
It felt different than what they had done before. Even intercourse could be excused as a way of releasing dopamine and promoting bonding. But this was entirely for his pleasure, and it felt strange. Amazing, but slightly unnerving. Misa was the beautiful, well-formed, sparkling one. It made sense for him to pleasure her, to touch her, to give her what she wanted. But for her to lower herself to this for him, when she gained no pleasure from it, did not make sense. To have the perfect lips and tongue that he had obsessed over now servicing him felt self-indulgent and perverse.
L had never been one to feel shame about his sexuality and pleasure—not until he had begun this experiment with Misa, and found himself more and more disturbed by the things that he fantasized about, the things that he did. Perhaps it was because of the mixing of his pleasure with his work. He had done all sorts of unseemly, morally questionable things in the pursuit of justice, but they had never been things that he enjoyed. There had never been any question why he was doing them.
It might have been better, on some level, if Misa was repulsive. At least then he could know that he was doing this for the sake of justice, rather than for the sake of his own pleasure. Still, there was no way in hell that he was going to stop her now. One way or another, until she decided to stop on her own or he climaxed, this was happening.
The only sounds in the room were the wet slurping of Misa’s mouth as she serviced him and L’s ragged breath, panting hard around the knuckle in his mouth, occasionally moaning. Misa pulled back suddenly, looking up at him with wet lips. Though her hands were still on him, they had ceased moving, just holding his penis in a light grip as it twitched and he let out a whine of loss. It took his brain a second to even process the words she was saying: “Do you still want me to stop?”
God, he knew that they needed to be quiet, but he couldn’t help himself. He knew she wasn’t going to be satisfied until he said it. And though Morrello had told him not to be pushy, he still couldn’t help moving one hand to her head, trying instinctively to push her back towards his swollen cock as he begged, “Misa, please.”
“Please what?” Misa giggled, looking up at him with amusement in her eyes. “You have to be specific, Ryuuzaki. What do you want me to do? Stop?”
He knew she wouldn’t be satisfied without a response, so L gave in. “Please… put my penis back in your mouth. Keep sucking it.” His hands moved to her pigtails, tugging at them slightly, trying to pull her back towards him. Then, realizing that if he wasn’t specific, she might decide to tease him again, he added, “And don’t stop until I’m finished.”
And she did, humming happily around him as he gasped and fought to keep his hips still. It was a lost cause, though, and he couldn’t help himself from tugging on her pigtails in time with the bobbing motion of her head, each time trying to keep her on him just a little longer. She didn’t seem to mind, only looked up at him with accepting eyes.
“Good,” he muttered, mostly to himself, but Misa hummed as if pleased, so he repeated, “Good. Good girl.” Not really thinking anymore, just babbling in his building pleasure. “Keep going, good. Feels so good, Misa.”
He was getting close now, looking down at her, his beautiful Misa, with her lips pursed so obscenely around him, lipstick smeared on her face and his erect cock, blonde head bobbing back and forth. Though in the past, he had fantasized about seeing his semen on her face, now he suddenly, desperately needed to ejaculate in her mouth, to see her swallow it. He didn’t fully understand why he needed it, just that he did. He wanted to coat her perfect tongue in his semen and make her taste him, fill her whole mouth until her cheeks puffed up and cum leaked out the corners of her mouth.
He supposed he really was a pervert. Misa had shown him that.
So lost in his building pleasure, his intention to cum in Misa’s mouth, it took L longer than it should have to realize that he could hear the voices of what sounded like several men walking down the hallway towards the kitchen. When he finally noticed, they were almost at the door already, and he realized all at once that he hadn’t even taken the time to close it. Desperately, he wondered if he could manage to get Misa off of him and pull up his pants in time to avoid being caught in the act.
Misa didn’t even let him try. When she felt him tense up, realizing they were about to be caught, she did the exact opposite of trying to hide it: she suddenly dove in, deepthroating him without warning, so that the entire length of his penis, from root to tip, was suddenly and shockingly engulfed in that wet heat, and wrapped both arms around his hips to hold him there. She gagged but refused to pull back, just swallowed convulsively around him, her throat muscles stimulating him beyond the point of no return.
More than that, what pushed him over the edge was the knowledge that Misa Amane was willingly choking herself on his penis, stubbornly enduring the discomfort for the sake of his orgasm. Her arms were so tight around him, like a boa constrictor, locking him in place, squeezing tighter even as she struggled with the intrusion to her throat.
Every muscle in his body tensed, his weight shifting onto his heels so his toes could curl and rub against each other, his spine curving forward over her, his buttocks clenching and balls drawing up tight to his body. He tightened the hand that was already on her head, pushing her down further and holding her there unthinkingly.
Just then, Light, Matsuda, and Mogi walked into the room, and L swung his head automatically to look at them. Their mouths fell open in shock as his fell open in pleasure, and he could only moan helplessly as he came down Misa’s throat in front of all of them, hips bucking against her mouth, holding her head down on him even as she let go of his hips completely, leaving him free to move again. He squeezed his eyes shut and trembled, moaning, “Ah, ah, ah!” in time with each wave of his release, losing himself to the pleasure and hiding from the reality of his situation for just a second longer.
The silence prevailed as Misa finished swallowing, pulling backwards and leaving his wet, twitching penis bare to the eyes of his task force. She was looking up at him with something like satisfaction, but he doubted anyone else would notice. L moved to cover himself, turning his body away from them, his sense of self-preservation finally overcoming his pursuit of pleasure. “Misa did this on purpose,” he murmured, to himself as much as to her. “Why?”
Misa blinked up at him in innocent confusion, transparently fake to his eyes, and said, “Ryuuzaki, why are you mad? Misa only did what you asked. You’re the one who told Misa, ‘Put my penis in your mouth, and don’t stop sucking it until I’m finished.’ Didn’t Misa do a good job? Misa tried so hard to be a good girl for L.”
It was well-played: calling him L implied that he had invoked his authority as L when telling her to perform fellatio on him. In an instant, images flashed before his eyes, as if he were seeing the pair of them from the eyes of the three men in the doorway.
Misa Amane was a beautiful idol, one that he felt attracted to to the point of obsession. He had arrested her, held her in inhumane confinement for months, even had her tortured. And now she was out of that confinement—though still his prisoner—the other members of the task force were growing more and more convinced that she was innocent. He was the only one left who still truly believed she was the second Kira. The rest of them saw only a cheerful and naive, if frequently annoying, young woman. Or, really, a girl still, even at nineteen. Young enough to be the daughter of several of the men.
And now, after weeks of him denying any interest in her, ceaselessly and shamelessly lying to everyone—about hiring a prostitute, about being gay—even as Misa clearly grew more and more attached to him, they had walked in on him with her—his teenage Kira suspect, his prisoner—on her knees, blowing him. In public, while the rest of them were working. They had seen him shamelessly holding her head down on his penis while he came down her throat. They had seen her coughing and struggling for air when he finally released her, had heard her say that he had commanded her to do this.
This task force was over. There was no way that he was going to talk his way out of this one. If he was unlucky, they would even come to the conclusion that he had been insisting on Misa’s guilt, despite the evidence to the contrary, in order to keep her at his mercy, to maintain his sexual access to the idol. Or, even, that this was the reason he had arrested her in the first place.
He should have known, after Light had revealed his identity, that Misa would not just let it go. He had forgotten the way she operated—when Misa wanted to hit back, she could always find an attack that he wouldn’t see coming.
Finally, after this long silence, Matsuda shouted, “What the hell, Ryuuzaki?!” and all hell broke loose.
Notes:
Well I made it 9 chapters before adding a gratuitous blowjob scene. Go me.
Not totally sure when the next chapter will be posted yet, probably in either 2 or 3 weeks. Also I'll be adding some tags as I write ahead of triggering stuff that's coming up, so if you're worried about that, you should keep an eye on the tags.
Chapter 10: darling, i'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream
Notes:
Cherry lips, crystal skies
I could show you incredible things
Stolen kisses, pretty lies
You're the king, baby, I'm your queen
I’ll find out what you want
Be that girl for a month
But the worst is yet to come, oh noScreaming, crying, perfect storms
I can make all the tables turn
Rose garden filled with thorns
Keep you second guessing like
"Oh, my God, who is she?"
I get drunk on jealousy
But you'll come back each time you leave
'Cause darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream- Taylor Swift, "Blank Space"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L stood quietly, watching Matsuda rage at him. Mogi only looked quietly dismayed, while Light, of course, had a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He must be loving this.
“I believed you!” Matsuda kept yelling. And then, to L’s surprise, he tried to approach them, extending a hand to Misa. “Misa-Misa, are you okay?” he asked, apparently having decided to pull her away from L on his own.
Misa, however, responded to this by getting to her feet and wrapping both arms around L’s waist, latching onto him so tightly that the breath was driven out of him. “Leave Misa alone!” she shouted at Matsuda. L felt slightly relieved—with the way she had acted the second the men entered the room, the things she had said, he had been afraid that she was going to pretend he had forced her. However, this didn’t seem to be the case.
“But he was—” Matsuda began.
“It’s none of your business what Misa and Ryuuzaki were doing!” Misa pressed her cheek to L’s chest, head turned towards the men, glaring at them as she clung to him. What is her goal here? L asked himself, arms hanging at his sides, neither embracing Misa nor pushing her away.
“You’re a suspect!” Matsuda responded. “You’re his prisoner! He’s taking advantage of you.”
“We’re in love!” Misa retorted, and L fought the urge to cover his face with his hand. He doubted that this outburst was going to help their situation. “You can’t stop us from being together!”
Though L was frustrated, he finally gave in, wrapping one arm around Misa and holding her close, even as the others stared. He had already resigned himself to losing his task force. Might as well strengthen his connection to Misa in the process.
“What the hell is this?” To L’s dismay, Aizawa and Yagami had appeared in the doorway behind the others, apparently drawn by the yelling.
“We walked in on Misa giving Ryuuzaki a blowjob,” Light told his father, clearly trying his best to look shocked and appalled rather than delighted by the entire situation. “Apparently they’re ‘in love.’”
For a moment, Aizawa seemed so angry that he couldn’t even speak, only sputtered, pointing one finger at the unlikely couple standing in front of the kitchen counter. Yagami, meanwhile, fixed L with a look of such grave disappointment that even he felt a sliver of shame.
Pushing that aside, L sighed and said, “Let’s discuss this somewhere we can all sit down. Misa, can you go to your room, please?”
“No,” Yagami said, with such authority that even Matsuda and Aizawa went silent. “I will speak to Miss Amane myself, to determine the extent of your abuse of the girl.”
“Abuse?” Misa repeated. “I told you guys, Ryuuzaki and I love each other! He’s not abusing me. And I won’t let you separate us!”
L considered leaning on his authority and sending Misa back to her room anyway, but he decided to let this play out. If they believed he was forcing her, they might do something drastic. “Misa, can you please let him ask you a few questions?” When she pouted up at him, about to argue, he cupped her hand in one cheek and leaned down, whispering, “It’s okay. They don’t have the power to take you away from me. Just let them talk to you for a minute.” He could tell the others were staring, taken aback by the display of affection from their usually detached leader.
“Fine,” she said, reluctantly letting go of him, and folded her arms over her chest.
“I’ll wait in the meeting room. When you’re finished with Misa, please have someone escort her back to her floor, and then we can talk.”
L waited alone in one of the headquarters’ meeting rooms, thinking over his situation. He could not figure out Misa’s motivation. If she wanted the others to believe he had forced her, that would mean that she somehow felt that insisting their relationship was consensual would lead everyone to the exact opposite conclusion. However, if she didn’t want them to believe it was forced, what had she been trying to do?
Despite not having conclusive proof, his gut feeling was that Misa had set them up to be caught, but he couldn’t understand why. He wondered if she was still angry about his true identity, or if she had just gotten fed up with hiding their relationship from everyone.
In any case, regardless of her intentions and motives, he certainly did not look very good in the task force’s eyes right now. He contemplated showing them the surveillance footage from before they entered the room, which would prove that Misa had initiated the encounter, but decided against it. After all, she wasn’t arguing otherwise, and even the knowledge that she had initiated this encounter would not prevent them from believing that L had manipulated her into a sexual relationship in the first place.
Besides that, their reaction was as emotional as it was rational: they felt betrayed, lied to, and disgusted. He suspected that showing the task force a recording of himself receiving fellatio would only strengthen their negative emotional response.
Finally, after what felt to L like an eternity, the five men filed back into the room. “Well?” he asked, trying not to look too interested, though inwardly, he was hoping that Misa hadn’t said anything too damning.
“Miss Amane insists the sex was consensual, despite the fact that, as a prisoner, she is clearly not in a position to give consent. Though I intended to insist that she be released into police custody, her reaction to that idea suggested that this might cause more harm to the girl than you already have.”
“She threatened to hurt herself if we took her away,” Matsuda cut in, his face pale and dismayed, ignoring the glare from Yagami.
L exhaled slowly. Though he believed that he had the authority to insist on keeping Misa in his custody, no matter what Yagami said, he knew that the men could cause problems for him if they decided to publicize his behavior to the rest of the police force. If they thought that it wasn’t worth trying to take Misa away from him, that would save him a fair amount of hassle.
Yagami settled down in the chair across the table from him, and the other men took a seat as well. “You’ve let down every man on this task force,” he said without further preamble. “We trusted you with our lives, and you used your position to take advantage of a vulnerable young prisoner for sexual gratification. In all my years as police chief, I have never seen such an egregious abuse of power.”
“How could you?” Matsuda added, which was basically a more straightforward version of what Yagami had been saying.
If L said that he was using Misa for the Kira case, it would not help, and Light would tattle to Misa the first chance he got. Instead, he simply shrugged and said, “You knew that I was not a conventional person when you signed up to work for me. Regardless of your opinions about the morality of our relationship, I intend to continue seeing Misa.”
“You’re not even ashamed of yourself,” Aizawa said, a look of disgust on his face. “I can’t believe this.”
“He manipulated me,” Matsuda said to the others. “Misa tried to tell me, before, but Ryuuzaki convinced me that she was delusional. If we hadn’t caught him, he would have kept on lying to our faces forever.”
“I told you the truth when I said that I prefer to keep my private life private,” he replied to Matsuda. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business what Misa and I choose to do during off hours.” Of course, he did understand their concerns. He was simply playing dumb, because the alternative was to admit that he had chosen to use Misa, knowing exactly how wrong it was, in order to gain an advantage against Kira. Better that they see him as oblivious to social norms and caught up in lust. Light wouldn’t buy it, but the others might.
“You—” Aizawa jumped up from his seat, looking like he was about to lunge across the table at him, but Mogi grabbed him by the arm and held him back.
Light, who had so far been sitting there quietly, radiating satisfaction, finally spoke. “There’s no point to trying to appeal to his morality,” he told the others. “Ryuuzaki doesn’t care about right or wrong. He only cares about getting what he wants—sleeping with Misa and proving that I’m Kira.”
It was a sign of how irredeemable L’s situation was that the other members of the task force didn’t even argue with Light’s judgment of him.
Yagami, however, chose this moment to tell L something he didn’t know. “I was going to tell you all when I first arrived today, before all this happened, but the Japanese police force has caved to Kira. We are forbidden from continuing to work on the case. To be honest, I had considered leaving my job in order to continue on this task force. But after what I’ve seen today, I know what I have to do. This investigation has become a disgrace. I will be leaving and continuing to investigate Kira in my own free time, without L. I invite the rest of you to join me.”
Matsuda’s mouth fell open, but Aizawa seemed to take the information in stride. “I’ll be joining you, chief. This is the final straw. I’ve hated Ryuuzaki’s methods from the start.”
At this, Mogi spoke up for the first time. “I’ll join you both as well.”
And Matsuda, of course, was unable to resist the peer pressure. He did seem to struggle more with the decision than the others, though, and when he turned to L, there were actual tears forming in his eyes. “I was ready to lay down my life to help you catch Kira,” he told him. “But you lied to me, and to everyone else. I can’t trust you anymore, so I can’t work for you. I’ll be going with the chief.”
L sighed. “As I expected,” he said. “Well, you are all free to go. I am accustomed to working alone. And even if you all quit your jobs, without the resources of the police department, you would not be much help to me.”
Aizawa looked slightly murderous at that comment, but held his tongue.
L had known this would happen since the moment they caught him with Misa, even though he hadn’t known the police department had given in. However, he did not expect Yagami’s next comment: “And I will be taking my son with me.”
Light turned his head to stare at his father, and L paused for a long moment before he spoke. “I understand how you feel, but I cannot allow you to remove Light from this building. He is still my prime suspect.”
“Kira has been operating since the second week that Light was in his cell! Even as you lied to me and told me that this was not the case,” Yagami retorted. “There is no way that I will leave my son alone with you after seeing what you have done to your other ‘suspect.’ If you refuse to release him, I will take you to court and have a judge order you to let him go. As the Japanese government is no longer pursuing Kira, you have no right to keep him.”
L touched a finger to his lips in thought. Given his level of international influence, he did not think Yagami would be able to force him to release Light from his custody. However, the police could still cause him quite a headache in the attempt.
To his surprise, though, it was Light who spoke up against this. “Dad, it’s alright. I’m staying. I’ll keep helping with the investigation here until we catch Kira.”
“But—” Yagami began, but his son cut him off.
“I know you’re worried that Ryuuzaki will take advantage of me too, but you heard everything Misa said. He clearly used manipulation to get her to sleep with him, not force. And I’m not stupid enough to fall for that. So even if he did like men, I would still be safe.”
L was slightly irritated by all of them speaking about him like he wasn’t even in the room, but he allowed it, knowing that it would be easiest to keep Light in his custody if he let Light do all the arguing for him.
“I won’t allow it,” Yagami insisted, setting his jaw.
“Light, do you really believe that you and Ryuuzaki will be able to catch Kira together?” Aizawa asked. “It seems to me that he’s forgotten all about the case in favor of fooling around with Misa. This ‘investigation’ is a joke.”
“That’s why I have to stay,” Light said. “He still has all the resources of L. If I’m here, I can access those resources to make sure that Kira is caught.” Then, turning to his dad, he pulled out his trump card. “I might not be with Misa anymore, but I still care about her. I don’t want to leave her alone with Ryuuzaki. I don’t think she’s safe with him. As long as I’m here, I can try to protect her from him, to stop him from going too far.”
Yagami’s face softened at that, filling with pride for his son’s chivalry, and L knew that it was decided. The four policemen would leave, and he would be left alone with Light and Misa until Kira was caught.
Eventually, they came to an agreement: Light would be permitted a phone call with his father every day, to make sure that L wasn’t doing anything nefarious to him. They would not be allowed to share details of the case. When Kira was caught, Light and Misa would be released, unless L found additional evidence against them. (Of course, in Misa’s case, this was meaningless if she would simply run right back to L’s side the moment they set her free.)
Before they left, Light and Matsuda went over their research with L, showing him the way that the Yotsuba corporation’s stocks had risen in correlation with the accidental deaths of prominent rivals in the business world. Matsuda had spent the entire explanation staring mournfully at L, as though trying to say, ‘Look at everything I did for you! Don’t you feel guilty now?’
In truth, it had the opposite effect: the excitement of the new lead, along with the discovery that Kira could kill through methods other than heart attacks, after months of nothing, was enough to erase his disappointment at losing his task force. But he forced himself to look appropriately somber as he escorted the four men out of the building.
When he returned, Light was sitting in his computer chair with his legs sprawled apart, a smug grin on his face. “Good work today,” he told L. “You’ve managed to alienate everyone who believed in you, all for a measly blowjob.”
“You’re mistaken,” L told him, watching with enjoyment as a slight look of annoyance touched Light’s features. “That was not ‘everyone.’ If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go call a few friends of mine. They should be joining us in a few days.” As he walked past Light, heading for the stairs, he added, “And it was a fantastic blowjob, actually. I have no regrets.”
L spent the rest of the evening on the phone with Morrello and Kenwood (or, as he would be calling them to his suspects, Aiber and Wedy), working out the details of their travel to Japan.
When Misa came to his room that night, L stopped her in the doorway. Catching her in his arms, he grasped her by the hair and tilted her head back, making her look at him. All of her acting experience and she still couldn’t hide the pleased look in her eye, taunting him, daring him to do something.
“Why did you set me up?” he asked her, not bothering to build up to it.
To his slight surprise, Misa immediately answered. “Light said that I was lying about you for attention. It made me really mad. I just wanted to show him that you really did want me, that I wasn’t just some crazy girl playing pretend like he said.”
In other words, Light had baited Misa, and she had completely fallen for it. She had probably wanted to fall for it. In one move, she had forced their relationship public, gotten revenge on him for hiding his identity, pushed away all of his allies, and increased her own power in their relationship. At any time, she could decide to change her story, to run to Yagami and the others and play the victim, and make L’s life very difficult.
Meanwhile, in doing all of this, she had given Light exactly what he wanted. L supposed he should have expected something like this to happen, but he couldn’t restrain his anger. He had spent so much time pushing back his emotions, playing the part of Misa’s perfect lover, never getting irritated with her or holding her accountable for anything, so that she would fall for him. He couldn’t do it anymore.
“My task force is gone,” he told her. “They quit because of you. Because of us.”
“So?” Misa asked, shrugging her shoulders. “They took up too much of your time anyway. You had to pretend not to love Misa because of them. You were always busy with that stupid case instead of spending time with your girlfriend. Now there’s nothing stopping us from being together whenever we want. Isn’t that nice?”
L sighed and bluntly told her, “I’m very upset with you. The case was important to me.”
“Misa’s sorry,” she said in her stupid cutesy voice, widening her eyes up at him, feigning innocence.
Suddenly he understand how Light must have felt when she came to the university. It was his own fault for not seeing this coming, but he still couldn’t help but feel something like hatred. “No you’re not.”
“No, I’m not,” Misa agreed, giggling. He tightened his grip on her hair and pulled harder, forcing her head further back, and her laughter turned into a moan, though the smile never left her face. She looked beautiful and cruel.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he told her, leaning in until their lips were inches apart. She tried to lean upwards to kiss him, but he held her back, letting his words ghost over her lips. “Will you be happy when everyone has left me but you?” He knew he was a hypocrite for begrudging her this—after all, he had isolated her first.
“Kiss me,” she begged, and when he did, she bit down on his lower lip, hard enough to break skin. He felt her soft, sweet tongue sweep over his wound, licking the blood away into her own mouth, and then she giggled into the kiss. If this case killed him, he hoped then that his death would come at her delicate hands. He wouldn’t stop her any more than he had stopped her in the kitchen earlier today.
Not letting go of her hair, L led Misa into his room and pushed her down on the bed. “Get on your hands and knees and flip your skirt up,” he said, and she complied eagerly. He didn’t know where this confidence had come from, except that, maybe, he was too pissed off to be in awe of her right now. And he knew she liked this, because the crotch of her panties were already soaked through, and she was moving her hips slightly, rocking back against the air like a cat in heat, waiting for him.
He pulled her panties down and unzipped his jeans. Without bothering to undress, he mounted the bed behind her and sank his cock into her in a single stroke, gripping her ass cheeks tightly in both hands and squeezing them, using them for leverage. Misa made a soft mewling noise, and he could see her hands twisting in the sheets as he took her hard from behind.
“Sometimes,” he grunted, pausing between his words, breathing hard, “I can’t stand you at all.”
In response, Misa only begged, “Show me. Harder! Make it hurt.”
And he did.
Until Aiber and Wedy arrived, it would only be L, Light, and Misa at headquarters. For an exorbitant fee, L hired an old contact, who would be working under the code name Yui Hasegawa, to act as Misa’s new manager and bodyguard (slash babysitter). She would not see L’s face, be permitted into the headquarters, or given any more information about Misa’s situation than was necessary to do her job. He had considered asking Aiber or Wedy once they arrived, but he suspected that they would not take kindly to being expected to watch Misa all day. Besides, they would be busy elsewhere.
Misa seemed to prefer the young woman to Matsuda—she was more professional, and didn’t beg Misa for attention all the time, apparently.
At the moment, since Misa was out at the film set, L and Light were completely alone, working together in the main hall. Light had seemed quite focused on something on the computer for several hours, and L found out what that was when Light called him over.
“I’ve infiltrated the Yotsuba computer system,” Light told him. “Unfortunately, I haven’t found anything to tie them to Kira. Though I suppose that’s to be expected; I wouldn’t expect them to leave evidence.”
A thought struck L, and he decided to blurt out exactly what was on his mind, wondering how Light would respond. “I had no idea Light possessed such hacking abilities. With this kind of skill, breaking into the police computers must have been easy.” No wonder Kira had seemed to have inside information on the case.
Light tensed his jaw. “I’m doing this work for the case, and that’s your first response? Maybe you should focus more on catching the actual Kira, rather than trying to goad me over your suspicions. It’s getting a little old.”
Light was correct, insofar as L did need to focus on catching the Yotsuba Kira. After all, that was his best lead into discovering how the Kiras killed. (Also, catching him would save many lives, but that was secondary.)
However, since Light had not actually found anything, L didn’t see any reason not to continue goading him. It probably wouldn’t gain him any new information, but at least it would relieve his boredom and irritation over the situation with Misa. So he sighed and responded, “Imagine how I feel, then. This innocent act was interesting for the first few weeks, but now, I think I might miss the old Light. You were much more fun back when you were murdering people, rather than just sitting here complaining and judging me.”
Well, on the other hand, L didn’t exactly miss being constantly in fear of his life. But he was telling the truth: his interest in the case had rapidly declined when Light had been replaced by this new, boring Kira, someone who was killing for something as mundane as greed and leaving an enormous trail behind him. If it weren’t for the knowledge that this lull was part of some larger plan by Light, he would feel that this case was hardly even worthy of his attention anymore.
“Fun!” Light snapped. “Never mind that people are dying, as long as the great detective L is having fun.”
L sighed. Moralizing was not a very good look on Light. “I’m sorry to shatter Light’s image of me, but yes, I solve cases because I enjoy them. If a case is not difficult enough to interest me, then I do not bother with it. Solving difficult cases is my hobby.”
For a moment, Light just stared at him, before muttering, “Funny, because I would say you’ve been having more than enough ‘fun’ with this case. After all, you had so much fun with Misa that you lost your entire team.”
So we’re going there. L had wondered how long it would take Light to bring up the situation with Misa again, but he was surprised that Light had only waited a couple of days. Perhaps it was to be expected, as Light had clearly been seething over it.
After all, if Light had told himself that romantic matters were a trivial distraction from the investigation, then having to see L, who he seemed to respect on an intellectual and professional level, seemingly ignoring the case—and Light—to pursue a sexual relationship must be a constant source of offense to him. He suspected that this, more than anything, had motivated Light’s mission to uncover his relationship with Misa.
“Intellectual fulfillment and sexual gratification are hardly the same thing,” L pointed out, enjoying Light’s look of distaste at the words ‘sexual gratification.’ “Though I have to say that Misa is certainly more interesting than Light at the moment, and not just because of all the orgasms she gives me.”
Which wasn’t entirely true—Light’s condition was interesting, as L still did not understand the mechanism behind the Change, or what entirely it had entailed. However, it was easier to investigate this Change through Misa, as she was more open than Light. And Light as a person did not hold much interest for him recently, except for seeing how much provocation he could take before he snapped. He did also find some interest in the way this Light seemed to believe in his own goodness, despite his pettiness and childish behavior when it came to L.
“Gross, Ryuuzaki,” Light snapped, though a moment later, he seemed to decide to match L’s level of vulgarity, saying, “Misa must be an incredible fuck if you’re willing to screw up this entire investigation just to keep her. Maybe I should have tried her out after all.” L inwardly noted that the younger man only seemed to use crude language when he wanted to knock him off guard. “Or maybe you’re just so desperate that you’d make a fool of yourself for the first person willing to touch you?”
L tilted his head slightly, regarding Light, seeing if he could discomfit him with his silence. Finally, he replied, “Will Light be satisfied if I tell him? Does he want to hear about the things I do to Misa? The way she begs me for it?” He paused, watching Light grit his teeth. L had never been in this position before—having a high-status sexual partner to brag about—and he found a certain childish pleasure in waving it in Light’s face. “I would suggest that Light find some pornography online, or perhaps more of those magazines, rather than trying to bait me into telling him something he can think about when he—”
“Fuck you, Ryuuzaki,” Light said, standing up with an abrupt motion. “I’m going to my room.”
L thought of asking whether Light was going to go masturbate to the thought of himself and Misa together, but he wasn’t in the mood to get punched in the face again. Instead, he just let him go. He remarked to himself that he had never realized how much the presence of the others—particularly Yagami’s paternal influence and Matsuda’s peacekeeping—had served to keep him and Light from going for each other’s throats. Now that there was no one left to intervene, the tension between them was escalating into an all-out war.
Notes:
Not totally happy with this chapter, but I'm hungover and haven't updated in weeks, so it'll have to do. Things are pretty busy right now but I should be updating again in another few weeks.
Chapter 11: when you took me in, absolved my sins with your flesh and skin
Notes:
Ummm I may have gotten carried away with the smut in this chapter. Y'all are warned. CW for nonconsensual exhibitionism/recording, see notes at the bottom for details. Also warning for L being extra weird here, some free-use and degradation themes.
You better calm me down
Oh, calm me down
Use your teeth and your mouth
Use your body
Use it to put me to sleep
Your body, oh, soothe my soul
So beautifulAll my life, oh, all my life
I hurt myself and cut myself
Put myself through living hell
All so I could feel what I felt
When you took me in, absolved my sins
With your flesh and skin
Use your skin- Mother Mother, "Calm Me Down"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Light hadn’t left his floor for the rest of the day. He hadn’t masturbated either—yes, L had gone so far as to check the cameras. As far as he could tell, Light had spent most of the day sulking.
The next day, however, Light was back to work—and Misa, who had the day off filming, joined them. Now that the others had left, Misa seemed to have elected herself an honorary member of the investigation, and L had allowed her to involve herself, hoping that her past memories might prove useful. And so L, Light, and Misa were sitting in the main hall, going over the information on Yotsuba on the computers, when Aiber and Wedy arrived.
The two had only just flown into the country, going straight from the airport to the investigation headquarters. When the two blonde foreigners entered the room, Misa and Light immediately turned to stare at them, clearly curious. L got to his feet to make introductions.
“This is Aiber and Wedy. He is a con artist, and she is a burglar. They are both proper and real criminals who I encountered on previous cases. In exchange for being pardoned for their crimes, they are both in my debt and occasionally assist me. There are others who I can call on if needed, but for now, I believe they have the skills necessary to infiltrate Yotsuba.”
“It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Aiber said.
“Yes, agreed,” Wedy said. “It is an honor to meet the famous L.” She extended a gloved hand for him to shake.
In a flash, Misa was on her feet, wrapped around L’s arm possessively. “Hi!” she said, somehow managing to sound bubbly and aggressive at the same time. “I’m Misa, L’s girlfriend.” Behind him, L heard Light chuckle.
“Ryuuzaki,” L corrected them both automatically. He realized that this was the first time he had interacted with another woman in Misa’s presence. He supposed that he should have expected this. It was fortunate that she was unaware of his bisexuality, he thought, or else they would probably have to go through this with every new person in his life.
He noticed Aiber stealthily appraising Misa. He must have been curious, after all of this time advising L on his relationship with her. L knew that he could trust Aiber not to let slip any hint of their conversations. Later, when Misa was out of the room, he would have to speak to Aiber alone and see what his impression of the situation was.
In the meantime, Wedy smoothly offered her hand to Misa instead, who reluctantly shook it. “Pleased to meet you,” she said, her American accent clear even though her Japanese was fluent.
“You wouldn’t happen to be the model, Misa Amane?” Aiber asked, looking Misa up and down. When she nodded, he took her hand as well, but instead of shaking it, he drew it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Enchantée. I had no idea that L had such a talented and lovely girlfriend.”
Misa giggled, and L had to fight back a surprising twinge of jealousy, despite knowing that charming women was Aiber’s entire career and that, being on his payroll, Aiber would do nothing that could sabotage the investigation.
Behind them, Light cleared his throat loudly, and L uncharitably thought to himself, Poor boy. It must be terrible, not being the center of attention for the first time in his life. In fact, L was still irritated by Light’s gloating the other day, and he was happy for an opportunity to piss him off. And since his last task force had been frustratingly resistant to L’s theory, it couldn’t hurt to let everyone know where the investigation currently stood.
“Sorry, I forgot to introduce someone,” L said, turning to gesture towards the man behind him. “Meet Light Yagami. You may also know him under the name ‘Kira.’”
Even when Aiber had to pull Light off him a second later, leaving L spitting blood onto the floor from where Light’s fist had opened his previous wound from Misa’s teeth, L thought to himself that it was worth it.
Misa slept in L’s room almost every night now. Since they didn’t have to hide their relationship anymore, he no longer bothered editing the camera footage. That night, she asked him, “Do you really still think that Light is Kira? Or, was Kira, I guess?”
“I know he was.” In their conversations, Misa had already given him more than enough information to incriminate herself. There was still reasonable doubt about Light—he supposed that one could claim that Misa had only fallen for him at first sight, due to his looks, and that he had kept their relationship a secret because she was famous—but he still believed, with full conviction, that Light had been acting as Kira.
“Then you think I was the second Kira?” Misa asked. “Even after I answered all of your questions?”
L frowned. “Misa, before you and I began dating, please imagine what you would have done if you had somehow gained the power of Kira.”
“Hmm.” Misa always scrunched up her face when she was thinking hard. He found it stupidly endearing, despite his residual frustration with her. “I guess I would’ve tried to get Kira’s attention somehow. I would have wanted to meet him, to find out what kind of person he was.”
“Misa, the second Kira’s tape said, ‘I want to meet Kira.’ That was their stated motivation. It’s exactly the same as yours.”
“Yeah, but you’re ignoring something really important: I know I’m not the second Kira! I know you think that my memories changed somehow, but how is that possible? You can’t just forget killing a bunch of people!”
She really was too earnest sometimes. This was how he knew that pursuing her had been the right move. If Light remembered anything incriminating, he would likely be sly enough to keep it to himself, even if he believed himself innocent. He was wary of falsely incriminating himself. Misa, on the other hand, had this total trust that if she knew she was innocent, she couldn’t possibly be convicted.
“Kira is able to give people heart attacks from thousands of kilometers away with only a name and a face,” he told her. “He’s able to manipulate people’s actions before death, and to kill them through accidents and disease as well, it seems. Compared to this, erasing someone’s memories doesn’t seem too far-fetched.”
Misa looked confused at that. It seemed that she had not entirely accepted the supernatural nature of this case, despite all the evidence. He tried something else.
“When you were first arrested, do you remember how you felt?”
“What kind of question is that? I was really scared, and confused, obviously!” L just nibbled his thumb in response. He wondered if the memory erasing power could also change Misa’s memories of her own emotions. He had asked how she felt because if getting arrested had been part of her and Light’s plan, then she might remember feeling surprisingly calm or confident. The fact that she didn’t wasn’t proof that the arrest had been unexpected, but it was at least weak evidence in favor of that hypothesis.
After a moment of silence, Misa asked in a small voice, “What if I was the second Kira? Would you send me to jail? Or to be…”
She trailed off, but he knew the word she was thinking of was ‘executed.’
L could not tell her the truth, which was that he still fully intended to bring both Misa and Light to trial as Kiras. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he wanted to believe that he would still be able to send Misa to trial, regardless of his own feelings.
When he imagined his future, he saw himself speaking at Light and Misa’s trials as they raged against him, watching Misa’s heart break, turning himself to stone to get through it. Some part of him enjoyed pissing Light off, hurting his feelings, but not Misa. Never her. He imagined that he would spend the rest of his life thinking about her, long after she was dead, watching over and over the recordings of their sexual encounters that he had been secretly saving on his computer. She was his first, and she would probably be his last as well.
However, since saying this would go against his goal of making Misa trust him, he wouldn’t. Instead, he allowed his mind to wander, giving himself permission to fantasize about how, exactly, he would deal with Misa if he decided to say to hell with justice and simply do whatever he wanted.
“As L, I could probably get away with keeping you in my personal custody rather than handing you over to the law,” he mused. After all, he had gotten Aiber and Wedy off the hook for their crimes, though they were certainly less notorious than the Kiras. “However, if your identity became public knowledge, it would be best to leave Japan and change your appearance in order to avoid assassination or kidnapping by groups hoping to capture Kira’s power. Perhaps we could go overseas, to somewhere like South America.” Or Wammy’s House, though he wouldn’t tell her about that.
“You’d really do that for me?” Misa asked.
He didn’t even have to lie when he told her, “Yes.” Yes, he would, but he knew that he could not. “However, your modeling career would probably have to stop.”
“Oh no!” Misa said.
“Well, compared to prison, you’d still be getting off pretty lightly.”
“I guess,” she admitted. “Hey, even though I’m not the second Kira, you could take me away with you if you wanted. Then I could stay by your side.”
“That would be nice.”
L waited until Misa had fallen asleep in his bed before making his way to Aiber’s floor. Wedy met the two of them there. Both foreigners were bleary-eyed, having napped for a few hours upon arrival, only to be forced to wake in the middle of the night to meet with their employer.
They had already been briefed on the investigation into Yotsuba. Now he would be briefing them on the other side of things.
“As I informed the both of you over the phone, your purpose here is twofold. On the one hand, you will be assisting with the investigation into Yotsuba, infiltrating the organization, with Light and I planning our approach from behind the scenes. When it comes to this, all five of us—you two, Light, Misa, and myself—are on the same side.
“On the other hand, you will be assisting me in a second investigation, one in which the three of us are on one side and Light and Misa are on the other. Misa has already given me enough information for me to know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that she was the second Kira. I strongly believe that Light was the first Kira, but as of yet, I do not have solid proof, nor do I know the method of killing.
“My previous task force was biased in their favor, as Light’s father was the chief of police. Until now, I have been carrying on this ‘shadow investigation,’ so to speak, largely on my own. They did not trust my suspicion of Light, nor did they approve of my methods.”
“By ‘methods,’ you mean your relationship with the Amane girl?” Wedy clarified.
“Primarily so. In addition, they would not have allowed me to bring in criminals such as yourselves.”
“This is pretty complicated,” she pointed out. “They must know you’re investigating them, right? How are we supposed to try to catch Kira—the Yotsuba Kira, or the original ones—when they’re watching our every move, able to interfere with our work?”
“That’s the thing,” L said. “As far as I can tell, neither Light nor Misa remembers acting as Kira, or currently has the power to kill.” Aiber’s eyes widened at this, though Wedy remained inscrutable behind her sunglasses. He continued, “They seem to believe themselves completely innocent, and are thus fully cooperating with the investigation under the belief that this will clear their names.”
The three of them sat awake late into the night as L told them everything that had happened before, and everything that he had learned or suspected from his interactions with the suspects. It was a genuine relief to have confidants, allies on this case who would actually listen and take his suspicions seriously, rather than dismissing them out of hand. By the end of the night, the two criminals seemed prepared to provide L with whatever support was necessary to uncover the truth.
When he crawled into bed at dawn, L felt more optimistic about the case than he had in months.
The next day, everyone got to work. Wedy spent the day napping and studying the building plans for the Yotsuba headquarters, preparing to infiltrate and place cameras as soon as she got the opportunity. Aiber was out at a bar where Yotsuba employees tended to congregate, seeing what conversations he could overhear.
Everyone except for Misa, that was. It was a gray day, rainy and cold, and her film was primarily being shot outdoors, so the director had given them another day off. While she sometimes liked to help with the investigation, today Light had snapped at her when she tried, and she’d ended up scampering back to her room. It seemed as though Light had been in a bad mood ever since Aiber and Wedy arrived. In all likelihood, he had already noticed the fact that they shared L’s suspicions of him, and so he now found himself in a much less favorable environment than the one the task force had created.
There wasn’t much for L to do, other than to wait for Wedy and Aiber to do their jobs, and he found himself zoning out, looking up at the monitor where Misa was on display, lounging on her couch with a magazine. She looked oblivious, but somehow he felt that she knew he was watching, that she wanted him to look at her. One camera was angled just right to view up Misa’s short skirt, showing the crotch of her black panties. L gulped slightly, drinking the sight in.
He was growing hard, but luckily for him, his standard crouch hid this problem quite well. Even still, he shot a guilty look at Light, who was obliviously typing away on his computer. It felt risky, just being aroused around him.
Then again, what could Light do? The days of hiding his affairs from the task force were long over. If Light had a problem with it, the most that he could do was complain to his father, and L doubted that he would do so after working so hard to convince the senior Yagami to let him stay here. No, at worst, Light would probably just complain or insult him.
Besides, it was nothing Light hadn’t seen before. With a small jolt of pleasure, L remembered the day the men had caught himself and Misa in the kitchen. At the time, he had been startled and angry, but thinking about it in hindsight, particularly while he was aroused, there was something appealing about the memory. Knowing that Light, and others, had seen him getting his cock sucked by Misa, had seen him orgasm.
Part of it, he thought, was that it made him feel proud. He knew that he wasn’t an attractive man, and yet, they had seen him being pleasured by a woman as beautiful as Misa Amane. Secondly, there was some part of himself that enjoyed the discomfort of others, the thrill of breaking social taboos to do something shocking. It was the same part of himself that liked to eat like a pig, or walk around barefoot, just to see people’s reactions. It felt like power, being able to totally disregard what was socially acceptable, without anyone being able to stop him.
He wished Misa was in the room right now, so that he could fuck her in front of Light, make him watch them together. His cock twitched in his pants at the idea. He wanted Light to see that he had won.
“Are you planning to work, or are you just going to ogle Misa all day?” Light’s question was loud in the quiet room, and L jerked his head to face him, feeling a shock of adrenaline at being caught even though he hadn’t even been trying to be stealthy.
Seeing annoyance on Light’s face, L couldn’t help himself. Ever since he had realized that his sexual relationship with Misa bothered Light, he found himself wanting to flaunt it right in his face. “Hmm,” he said, tilting his head like he was considering the question. “I think I’ll continue ogling Misa. I’m too aroused to focus on work right now.” Light’s lips curled in distaste, which only amused L, so he continued, “I already had intercourse with Misa twice in the past twenty-four hours, but I think that I would like to go again.”
“Jesus, Ryuuzaki, you shouldn’t just say things like that,” Light said, giving him such an affronted look that he wanted to laugh. “That’s disgusting.”
L shrugged, taking a panda candy from the table and rolling it between his fingers. “Light shouldn’t ask questions he’s not prepared to hear the answer to.”
In response, Light only made a noise of irritation. A few minutes later, though, he spoke up again, continuing their conversation as if it had never stopped.
“You know she’s only with you because I turned her down,” Light said, his voice pleasant and casual. “If I had wanted her, you wouldn’t have had a chance.”
“Regardless of the reason, the fact is that she is with me now, and I intend to take full advantage of that fact.” Despite his calm, inwardly, L was slightly bothered. He couldn’t say that Light was wrong. In a battle between a totally disinterested Light and an L who was actively pursuing her, he had come out on top. But if Misa had been given the choice between Light and L in a situation where both of them were equally affectionate to her, he knew that he would not have won. Even now that she said she was in love with him, he didn’t know if she would choose him over a version of Light that actually wanted her.
Like he had read L’s mind, Light added, his tone bright and curious and infuriating, “It makes me wonder what she would do if I changed my mind. Maybe I could give it another chance, ask her to take me back. What do you think, Ryuuzaki? Would she stay with you, or would she drop you the second I paid her any attention? We could wager on it, if you like.”
L did not like the direction this was going. “No thank you,” he said, even though he knew that Light would interpret this as weakness. “Unlike you, I don’t play games with people’s feelings.”
Light snorted. “That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard, Ryuuzaki. I would say that you never do anything else.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. L didn’t think he would win this argument, so he kept quiet. However, it seemed Light wasn’t done needling him.
“But then again, maybe Misa is different. After all, you’re ‘in love.’” The way he said this phrase made it clear just what he thought of L’s feelings for Misa, and vice versa.
“Yes,” L agreed, in a deadpan voice meant to make it impossible to tell whether he was being sarcastic or sincere. He didn’t even know himself.
Light made a skeptical noise, but he returned to his work, seemingly dropping the topic. L, on the other hand, was more distracted than ever, his arousal now paired with irritation and nerves as he couldn’t help but wonder just how well his bond with Misa would hold up if Light truly decided to try to win her back.
L didn’t like that Light had gotten under his skin in this way. But Light’s words had affected him, as did the knowledge that Light was going to keep pushing, having apparently made it his mission to separate L from Misa, just as L had done to him. L couldn’t let that happen. And yet, his arousal had not abated. If anything, it had only grown in response to Light’s challenge, to the risk of losing Misa. As he looked up at the video of Misa relaxing on her couch, he was struck with a sudden wave of possessive longing, wanting an outlet for the frustration swirling around inside of him.
He didn’t care anymore that it was the middle of the work day, or that Light would know exactly what he was doing. He wanted Misa now. He wanted to show Light, and himself, that she could not be taken away from him so easily.
“I’m taking a break,” he said abruptly, getting to his feet. He noted with a twisted sort of satisfaction the way that Light’s eyes swept him up and down, clearly glancing at his crotch, the slight bulge there, before looking away. He didn’t know why it should thrill him so much to make Light uncomfortable, but it did. Perhaps as a form of retaliation, but twisted up with sexual charge. As he made his way to the elevator, L couldn’t help but feel that he had scored another point against Light in whatever game they were playing.
The moment the elevator doors closed, leaving L alone inside, he slumped against the wall and reached one hand down to grasp his hard cock through his jeans, slipping the fingers of his other hand into his mouth to suck on them. He grunted, pushing forward slightly into his hand.
It felt incredibly indulgent and good to be able to do this. This was his building, his investigation, his Misa, and if he wanted to indulge himself in the middle of the work day, he would. He knew that Light could be watching, that there were cameras in this elevator. Part of him hoped that he was. He wanted people to see just how wanton he had become.
He felt slightly dazed, like he was in a dream. It was strange: he could tell that his thinking abilities were reduced, and normally, that would disturb him. But this felt good, to shut off his brain for a moment and let his body take charge. After all, his brain had more than had its turn to steer the ship, and it had never led him to anything half as good as this.
He felt almost animal, like some mindless creature, led around by this unruly organ between his legs and the pleasure that it gave him. And though a small part of him found this unsettling, the rest of him enjoyed it—at least now, when he was aroused beyond belief. It was a relief for his decisions to be simple for a change. There was no second-guessing anymore, just the overwhelming drive to fuck something. Anything.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. L’s fixations—sugar and work, mostly—had always ruled him. There was some part of himself that seemed prone to latching onto the closest source of dopamine and milking it dry. And this was a bigger rush than sugar by far. When the case was frustrating him, this was an easy path to satisfaction.
L rubbed himself through his clothing, not bothering to take anything off, just teasing himself. He wanted his need to build up as much as possible before it exploded, and he wanted to be with Misa when it did. After all, she had asked for this, had told him to use her body instead of his hand when he was aroused. Though he knew it was psychosomatic, even his balls felt different—heavier, more swollen—at the knowledge that he was going to empty them into, or onto, Misa’s perfect body. Like she belonged to him, like her purpose was to receive his semen.
On some level, L felt like something was wrong with him, that his thoughts were getting perverted even by his standards, but he was too turned on to care. Even when the elevator stopped on Misa’s floor, it took him a moment to notice, as absorbed as he was in his fantasies about her, his hand gripping the straining erection in his pants.
Finally, though, he managed to pull his hands away from his body and step out of the elevator. He didn’t bother trying to make himself look less debauched, knowing it was no use. The obscene tent in his pants would still give him away, and he could feel that it wasn’t going down until he found his release.
Misa’s head shot up as he entered the room. “Ryuuzaki?” she questioned, eyes widening as she took in his appearance.
“Get undressed,” he said, not even bothering to say hello, and she blushed.
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I’m the head of this investigation,” L pointed out. “I decide when I work.”
“What about the cameras?”
“They’re off.” That was not entirely true. He had entered in a command on his phone to switch off the display in the main room, and instead to record the video footage only on his personal computer. It would be inaccessible to everyone but himself. There was no need for Misa to even know that he had it.
“O-okay,” Misa agreed, reaching for the hem of her shirt, and then paused. “Should we go to the bedroom?”
“No, we’ll stay out here.”
Misa paused a moment, looking doubtfully around the room, and he wondered if she would reject him. After a moment, though, she pulled her shirt over her head, and L felt a thrill, not just at seeing her body, but also at knowing that she would obey him even in something like this.
L knelt on the floor, in front of Misa’s sofa, watching her hungrily as she undressed.
“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Misa asked, and as she slipped her panties down her legs, she playfully nudged her foot against his chest. However, L easily caught her foot in his hand, brought it to her mouth, and began sucking her toes without the slightest bit of self-consciousness, his eyes never leaving Misa as she squealed and squirmed, gasping, “Ryuuzaki! That tickles!”
But L didn’t let her ankle go, even as she wriggled in his grasp. Instead, he began kissing up her bare leg, his tongue running over her soft skin. He could taste the slight salt of sweat, even though she had showered only this morning. As he made his way higher, Misa’s giggling transformed into breathy moans, and by the time he reached her center, she was trembling, spreading her legs wider as she pushed herself to the edge of the couch, seeking his mouth. He eagerly obliged.
This was not just for Misa’s sake. L was in an indulgent mood, and he wanted to take his time, to let his arousal build as much as possible before seeking relief. He continued palming himself through his jeans with one hand as he licked Misa, his other arm wrapping around her thigh to hold her to his mouth. As dazed as he already was with desire and anticipation, her moans and cries sounded even better than usual, and he made an internal note to save the audio recording in particular.
He looked up at Misa from under his shaggy hair, his mouth never leaving her. She looked overwhelmed, still startled by how quickly her quiet alone time had turned into this, and she was using one hand to play with her own breasts, stimulating her nipples as L took care of her clit. Her brow was furrowed, lips trembling slightly, and L groaned into her pussy at the sight of her.
And he’d thought she was beautiful before. The way Misa looked in magazines was nothing compared to this, the sight of her up close as she trembled and came, unable to hold back a loud cry. The taste of her on his tongue. She had been beautiful before, but like this, she was perfect.
While Misa was still recovering, L got to his feet again. He put one hand on the back of the couch, his body looming over hers, but when she automatically moved towards him, he pushed her back. “Just watch,” he told her. His old fantasy, from when he used to jerk off to her magazines, had resurfaced in his mind, and he suddenly needed to ejaculate on her face more than he could ever remember needing anything. As he grasped his cock in one hand and began to stroke, he knew it wouldn’t take long.
God, she was so perfect. Next to her, he didn’t even feel like the same species. But if he could have pressed a magic button to make himself more attractive—like Light, perhaps—he wouldn’t have. It somehow made it even better that she was so astronomically more attractive than him. It felt gratifying, knowing that he was ugly and yet she still wanted him, accepted him, let him do such depraved things to her. It made him feel like he was dirtying her beauty, just by touching her. And god did he want to dirty her.
He bit his lower lip, pumping himself right in her face, staring fervently down at the contrasting image of Misa’s delicate face and his obscenely swollen cock, his long skeletal fingers wrapped around it, squeezing hard. She looked like she had stepped right out of the pages of a magazine, like she couldn’t possibly be real. Not like this, not with him.
Misa seemed to switch into her performance mode, grasping her breasts in both hands and pushing them up and forward as L touched himself right in front of her face. And though he knew she couldn’t be experiencing any physical pleasure from this act, she looked up at him with an unbelievably lewd expression, tongue hanging slightly out of her open mouth, her eyes even crossing a little. She even let out a little moan, as if to encourage him, rubbing her own breasts.
He realized that she seemed to be imitating something from a hentai anime, but to his slight shame, it absolutely had the intended effect on him, even knowing it was an act. L had watched his fair share of hentai, and seeing such a perverse expression on Misa Amane’s face was too much to bear. With a helpless groan, he came hard, his body curling forward as ropes of semen splashed all over Misa’s face and breasts.
Misa closed her eyes and squealed slightly, even though she must have known what to expect. L wondered if she had ever let anyone do this before, and part of him burned at the thought. Most of him, however, was occupied by memorizing every last bit of the sight in front of him. It was just as satisfying as he had thought.
“I want to do this every day,” he mumbled to himself, not even really realizing he was speaking aloud.
Misa still heard him and responded, though. “If Ryuuzaki wants,” she said, licking her lips slightly, and even though he was spent, he couldn’t stop himself from making a soft groan at the sight. At her response. “Ryuuzaki can have anything he wants. You know that.”
L stared down at her. He still didn’t understand what fluke of the universe had given him the opportunity to have this. Then, on impulse, he said, “I’m the only one, aren’t I? You wouldn’t let anyone else…”
“You already know,” Misa said, giggling slightly. “Misa belongs to Ryuuzaki now. I don’t want anybody else.”
Not even Light? L thought to himself, but he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know the answer.
Still, this act of possession, and Misa’s words, had not been enough to quell the unsettling feelings that Light had provoked in him. And so, as he was leaving to return to work, acting on a thoughtless, petty impulse, L discreetly pressed the button on his phone that would restart the camera feeds again. If Light was still in the main room, trying to work, he would be greeted with the sight of his ex-girlfriend sitting naked on her couch, absolutely covered in L’s semen.
Misa would be angry if she knew, but Light needed to know that Misa was L’s, and that when he tried to take her away from him, L would only use it as motivation to pull her in closer. To tighten his hold.
Light didn’t comment on it, but he had seen the aftermath of L’s afternoon tryst with Misa. L knew because he had watched the footage from the main hall that night. He had watched it on repeat, zooming in on Light’s face, looking for the exact moment when the camera feed switched back on, reveling in Light’s momentary expression of shock. It gratified L in a way he didn’t entirely understand, knowing that Light had seen the mess he made of Misa.
The next day, they continued work like nothing had happened, but L could feel the tension between them, the air thick and heavy.
At least they received a small distraction when L’s symbol appeared on his computer, Watari informing him that Masahiko Kida, head of the planning department of Yotsuba’s Tokyo office, had contacted Eraldo Coil, offering an enormous financial reward if he could discover the identity of L.
Despite their current level of animosity, Light at least cared enough to look concerned about this. “Do you think he’ll be able to find anything out?” he asked. “After all, he’s one of the top three detectives in the world.”
“Oh, I’m not worried,” L said. “In fact, this is very useful, since I am Coil. Now we know the name of at least one person at Yotsuba with some connection to Kira, and we have a way to get inside information.”
Light only stared at him for a long moment, his expression a mixture of admiration and irritation. Finally, he replied, “Of course you’re Coil. Why did I expect anything else?”
Ignoring the passive-aggressive tone, L pressed the button to speak to Watari. “Call Aiber back to headquarters.” Eavesdropping at bars had not been very successful so far, and now, he had a more important job for him.
Notes:
The CW is for L purposefully allowing Light to see video footage of Misa after a sexual encounter, while she's still naked and has certain bodily fluids on her. Also for L saving the full recording of the encounter for himself, along with every other encounter he has with Misa.
I did warn y'all that everyone in this fic is terrible.
Might be up to a month before I can update again, but if I get a chance earlier, I'll try. Also, check out this amazing fanart ecolekua made of the final scene from Chapter 8.
Update: ecolekua did it again!! Here's a piece of fanart they drew of the smut scene from this chapter (very NSFW, shared with their permission).
Chapter 12: i'm such a fool for sacrifice
Notes:
I found God, I found him in a lover
When his hair falls in his face, and his hands so cold they shake
I found the devil, I found him in a lover
With his lips like tangerines and his color coded speakNow we're lost somewhere in outer space
In a hotel room where demons play
They run around beneath our feet
We roll around beneath these sheetsI've got a lover, a love like religion
I'm such a fool for sacrifice
It's coming down, down, coming down
It's coming down, down, coming down
I've got a lover and I'm unforgiven
I'm such a fool to pay this price
It's coming down, down, coming down
It's coming down, down, coming downI found a martyr; he told me that I'd never
With his educated eyes and his head between my thighs
I found a savior; I don't think he remembers
'Cause he's off to pay his crimes, and he's got no time for mine- Halsey, "Coming Down"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Aiber returned to headquarters and contacted Kida under the identity of Coil. The Yotsuba employee seemed suitably startled, especially by the speed at which his identity had been uncovered following his initial message to Coil. As instructed by L, Aiber stated his terms and gave Kida twenty-four hours to consider it. L hoped they would hear back from him by mid-afternoon Saturday.
L was quite pleased at this new opportunity to infiltrate Yotsuba, particularly when combined with the knowledge that Wedy would be breaking into the building to place cameras tonight, once the last of the workers had gone home. He had already sent her a message telling her to focus her attention on Kida in particular. He spent the rest of the day in quite the good mood, making light conversation with Aiber and occasionally needling Light as the three of them worked, and in the evening, things only got better.
Misa returned from her day on the film set and greeted L with a kiss far too intimate for the setting, even pushing his legs down to seat herself on his knee as she did so. L, wanting to show his good mood, wrapped an arm around her waist and yanked her closer to himself, making her squeal happily in response. She seemed emboldened by the fact that they no longer had to hide their relationship, not paying any mind to the presence of Aiber and Light in the room.
If anything, she seemed spurred on by the fact that her ex-boyfriend was watching. After all, L thought, Misa had always been upset about Light’s lack of affection towards her. She had always sought his attention, even when others were in the room, and had been disappointed when Light refused to give it. Now that she had someone who would lavish her with attention whenever she wanted, who didn’t care about propriety, it was almost like she wanted to flaunt it in Light’s face.
Which worked well for L, given the surprising exhibitionist streak he had developed recently, particularly where Light was concerned. L glanced briefly at Aiber, who was watching with undisguised curiosity from the couch, and Light, who was glaring at the pair of them with a mixture of disgust and incredulity on his face, before closing his eyes and allowing Misa to twine her arms around his neck. He kissed her deeply, purposefully making a show of it, and then, feeling bold, he placed one hand high on her leg, above the top of her stockings, and slipped it up her skirt—not all the way, but high enough to squeeze the soft flesh of her inner thigh, only an inch or so below the juncture of her legs.
Misa made an honestly adorable noise at that, wriggling on his lap, and L bit down gently on her lower lip, relishing in the power that his touch seemed to have on her. With the successes of the day, he found himself feeling confident and more energetic than usual. And, if he was honest with himself, the situation with Misa might be going to his head.
To have gone from his usual life, working alone at a computer, to this—having one of the most beautiful women in Japan sitting on his lap, kissing him and allowing him to put his hand up her skirt in front of his employee and his suspect—made L feel like a new person completely.
Though most of his exhibitionism was reserved for Light, he also couldn’t help but imagine how impressive he must look to Aiber in particular, who was aware that he had been a hopeless virgin only a few months prior. He knew that he looked like a slob, even a creep, and yet he had this beauty turning to putty in his hands. From the look on Aiber’s face when L snuck a peek, it seemed that he was entertained by the juxtaposition.
“Ryuuzaki,” Misa whispered, finally pulling back, a pleased flush on her face. “Is it okay to do this in front of them?”
Aiber had apparently overheard, because he suddenly stood up from his seat. “I think I have some files on my floor that I need to go over.”
Light was less diplomatic. “Since we clearly aren’t getting any more work done, I’ll be going to my room.” As he walked off, L could hear him muttering something about ‘unprofessional, disgusting people.’ L only grinned to himself, kissing Misa with renewed fervor.
Despite his enjoyment of the situation, part of L knew that he really shouldn’t be getting distracted by Misa right now. He did have quite a bit more work to do before the evening fell and Wedy made her first attempt to infiltrate the Yotsuba building. However, once Misa got him turned on, it was difficult to think of anything else. Particularly when he felt like this, almost on top of the world. Everything was working out for him, and if Light was upset, well, that was only a bonus.
Misa, as well, seemed extremely pleased by the situation. He knew, from seeing her with Light and from his own arguments with her, that this was what she had wanted this whole time: someone who wasn’t afraid to kiss her in front of everyone, to show affection openly. And he was beginning to notice that, even though he was the one using her (for some definitions of ‘using’), Misa always seemed to get what she wanted.
So, while Aiber and Light were still only halfway up the staircase, L moved his hand further upward until he was stroking Misa through the soaked crotch of her panties. She immediately closed her eyes, brow furrowing, and let out a small whimper. He kissed her, swallowing the sound into his own mouth, and worked his second hand under her shirt, pushing the band of her bra up and out of the way so that he could cup her bare breast in his hand.
“Ryuuzaki!” she gasped, opening her eyes again and glancing around, seeming torn between pleasure at the attention and anxiety about the setting. “Shouldn’t we go somewhere else?”
In response, L simply pushed aside her panties and pressed two fingers into her, making Misa cry out again. “I don’t care,” he said. “This is my building, after all.” After all that time of trying to hide this from the task force, he felt like doing what he wanted. Who was going to stop him? Light? If Light wanted to come back and yell at him, that was fine by him. L would just keep on feeling Misa up right in front of him.
Misa had one arm around his shoulder, and she tightened her grip, clinging to him as he touched her. Her legs were spreading further apart to make room for him, so that she ended up in quite a lewd position, sprawled on his lap with her legs wide open for anyone to see. Since her eyes were closed again, he was free to look at her as much as he wanted. She was so beautiful like this, cheeks pink, chest moving with her ragged breaths, biting down on her lower lip to keep quiet. And her body was gripping his fingers so tightly, particularly when he moved his hand so that he could rub against her clit at the same time.
While he was aroused, of course, there was something addictive about simply touching Misa and watching her reactions. He had spent so long watching her from afar, in photographs and over cameras, that to be allowed to see her like this, to hold her in his lap and watch her fall apart, was extremely satisfying. As was being able to do it out in the open, in the main room of his headquarters, knowing that if anyone had a problem with it, they wouldn’t have the power to tell him to stop. Knowing that Light was probably furious right now, unable to clear his mind of the image of L’s hand up Misa’s skirt.
Misa was rocking her hips against his hand now, having slid down his lap quite a bit, so that she had to crane her neck upwards to reach him, lips parted, not even opening her eyes as she made a sort of pleading sound. Guessing what she wanted, L tilted his head down and kissed her with a possessive fervor matched by her own. Suddenly, Misa’s legs clamped shut around his hand, holding it against her, and she shook hard in his arms, moaning brokenly into the kiss. L held her tightly to him and kept on rubbing her, more gently now, as she came down.
After a moment, Misa broke the kiss, leaning her head against L’s shoulder and opening her eyes. He gazed back at her: she looked dazed and pink and happy, and so very, very beautiful. All of a sudden, he couldn’t believe that he was allowed to have her. “Oh my god,” she said, giggling. “I can’t believe we just did that.”
On impulse, though he normally was not into that sort of cutesy couple stuff, L leaned in and kissed the tip of Misa’s nose. She crinkled her nose in response and grinned at him, still clearly in that dopey post-orgasm state when everything seemed wonderful.
“Do you want me to…?” she asked, and for a second, L considered it. He could have her straddle his lap and ride him right in his computer chair, or get on her knees on the floor… But he really did have a lot to do, and Misa’s fervor seemed to have been decreased now that she was satisfied.
“I need to get back to work,” he said, and Misa pouted. “If you wait in my rooms, I’ll come join you when I finish up here. Then I’ll be able to take my time with you.” After all, he needed to give her a reason, or else she would feel rejected. He was learning what Misa needed. It wasn’t so hard, since she tended to be very vocal about her feelings.
“Okay.” Misa blushed, still looking at him, her head tilted against his shoulder. She was looking at him with such adoration that he could barely meet her gaze. He had never imagined that someone might look at him like that. Then, leaning in, she whispered in his ear, “I’ll dress up while I wait for you. You like my lace stockings, don’t you?”
L shuddered, squeezing her side, tempted for a moment to just say fuck the investigation and follow her to bed. But no matter what Light believed, he really did care about catching Kira, and besides, a little anticipation wouldn’t hurt. So, with only a little reluctance and a few more kisses, he released her from his lap and turned back to his computer, idly licking his fingers clean as he did so.
It was not until later, when he checked the footage, that he discovered Light had been listening from the top of the stairs the entire time.
Kida called back first thing in the morning, informing ‘Coil’ that Yotsuba would be accepting his offer, and not only that, but they would be more than doubling the hush money requested. And there was something else, too, at the end of the call. L, Light, and Misa were listening over the speaker as Aiber talked with the Yotsuba employee, so they also heard when he asked, “Also, please look for any information concerning L’s current relationship with the police. In particular, try to find out whether they have really stopped working on the Kira investigation, or if some members of the NPA are still collaborating with L behind the scenes.”
Once Aiber had answered in the affirmative and ended the conversation, L and Light turned to each other.
“It sounds like the police might have done something to arouse Yotsuba’s suspicions,” L said. “Has your father mentioned anything to you?”
“You know we don’t discuss the case, Ryuuzaki.”
“Right.” L sighed. “Well, even if we were to tell them to back off, I doubt that they would listen to me anymore. We can only hope that they don’t do something rash and ruin our chance. We’ll want to move quickly, in the hopes that we can close this case before they tip Yotsuba off.”
Light nodded. “Because we found the evidence together, Matsuda feels particularly strongly about catching them, I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to act on his own.”
L nibbled on his thumb with a frown. Matsuda going rouge was the last thing that he wanted to deal with right now. But there was nothing to be done, so he pushed it aside.
“We need to figure out what information ‘Coil’ is going to give them,” he said. “I am wondering if there’s some way for us to use this connection to gain more information on Yotsuba. Aiber, do you think you can get closer to them?”
Aiber looked up from where he sat sprawled on the couch. “Maybe, but it might be tough. They’re on their guard with Coil, now that they know that he knows about the connection between Yotsuba and Kira.”
That was frustrating. Aiber’s specialty was getting close to people, but since they already knew his voice as Coil, he wouldn’t be able to pass himself off as someone harmless and trustworthy. It might be possible to push Yotsuba such that they decided to bring Coil into their operation in a more active sense, but at the moment, they seemed suspicious of him.
If only there were someone else, someone that might be able to infiltrate Yotsuba. However, they would also be suspicious of any new person that suddenly contacted them, unless that person had a clear reason to be in touch with them.
“I have another idea,” Aiber said, and L turned to look at him again. “Ryuuzaki, can I speak to you in private?”
L glanced at Misa and Light for a moment, wondering if it was okay to leave them alone together, but his curiosity overruled his concern, and he followed Aiber into the conference room, shutting the door behind them. Both Light and Misa glared after them, clearly perturbed at being excluded from the discussion.
“Misa seems very attached to you,” Aiber said as soon as they were alone. L looked at the man in surprise—he hadn’t expected this topic of conversation. Or, he had expected it at some point, but it didn’t seem relevant to what they had been discussing.
“Yes, your advice was very helpful.”
Aiber chuckled. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments. I was saying that, now that you’ve got the girl under your thumb, it’s about time that you actually use her.”
“Use…” L repeated, titling his head, before catching on. “Are you suggesting that we send Misa into Yotsuba to gather information?”
“She’s the obvious choice,” Aiber replied. “She’s an actress, and she knows how to manipulate men. If they somehow got the idea to use her for an ad campaign…”
L’s mind was working in overdrive, adding on to Aiber’s plan. “That would also give Coil something to tell them. If he says that Misa Amane was taken into custody by L on suspicion of being the second Kira, and then released, they will certainly want to talk to her. If only to try to gather information about myself, but also, possibly, to try to take advantage of her power.”
“Brilliant.”
Despite his vain pleasure at the compliment, L could not deny his sense of unease. “She would be in great danger. If someone there is really Kira, they could end up trying to torture her for information, or else deciding she is too great a threat and eliminating her.” The idea of sending his trusting Misa into that lion’s den, using her love for him to make her agree to it, made him feel slightly ill.
Aiber smiled at him, but with a hint of condescension that made L bristle. “I warned you about this,” he pointed out. “The job has to always take priority over your feelings. You need to use your relationship with her as a tool, not allow it to become a weight around your ankle, dragging you down. Don’t forget why you started this in the first place.”
L sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Aiber was right. Everything he had done, everything he had put Misa through, had been in the service of one objective: catching Kira. To back down now, just because he felt guilty, would mean that it was all for nothing.
“You’re right,” he admitted, and then, reluctantly, “Thank you. Let’s go talk to Misa.”
“No way.”
To no surprise of L’s, Light was the first to object.
“I can’t believe this, Ryuuzaki. This is your idea? Using your girlfriend as bait?”
“Misa can do it!” Misa cut in, standing between L and Light with her hands on her hips. “Misa wants to be useful to Ryuuzaki!”
“Oh, you’ll be ‘useful.’ Just like a tool. And no one cares if tools get broken, do they?”
“That’s enough, Light,” L interjected. Aiber was watching quietly, seeming to see no benefit in getting involved. He knew this had to be seen as L’s decision. “Misa is strong, and she’s her own person. If she wants to do this, you can’t stop her.”
Light ignored him, looking down into Misa’s eyes. “Misa, please listen. If Ryuuzaki really cared about you, he wouldn’t be putting you in danger like this. Even if we’re broken up, I still care about you, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Misa laughed loudly. “You ‘care’ about me?” she repeated. “You just want to ruin my relationship because you can’t stand seeing me be happy! I’m a part of this investigation too, and I’m going to help my love, whether you like it or not!”
L fought back a smile as Light made a noise of frustration. “You’re so blind,” he hissed. “This is pointless. You’d walk right off a cliff if Ryuuzaki told you to.” And with that, he stalked out of the room.
The second he was gone, Misa turned to L, a proud smile on her face. “Just tell Misa what to do!” she said. “She’ll crack this case. Just wait and see.”
L, Misa, and Aiber discussed their plan for the rest of the afternoon. Finally, when the sun was setting, Aiber and Misa both left, leaving L alone to think. Aiber would wait a few days before calling Yotsuba back. After all, it wouldn’t do for this to look like a setup.
L sighed, shifting on top of his computer chair. Somehow, once Aiber had suggested the idea, he felt like he had been carried along, caught up in some kind of momentum that was only now dissipating, leaving him to wonder what he had done.
No matter what he had said about Misa being able to make her own decisions, Light had been right. L had manipulated Misa to this point, and now, he would be putting her right in the line of fire. What if something did happen to her?
He reminded himself that even if Misa survived this investigation, she would only be executed as Kira anyway. Somehow, this didn’t make him feel any better.
His thoughts were interrupted when a gothic L appeared on his computer and Watari’s robotic voice addressed him through the speakers. “Ryuuzaki, you may want to check the video feed from the corridor on the fourth floor. It seems that Light has stopped Miss Amane on her way upstairs. There is no audio surveillance on that floor, but from what I can see, she seems distressed.”
With a slight jolt of adrenaline, L pulled open the camera feed. Even in the low-resolution video, the body language was clear: Light was blocking Misa’s way down the hallway, speaking heatedly, and Misa was yelling back, though she looked to be on the defensive rather than the offensive by the way she was shrinking away from him.
L pressed the shortcut key to lock all the computers in the room and quickly made his way up the stairs. Misa had left the room perhaps twenty minutes ago, and it would not have taken her more than five minutes to reach her own floor, had she not been intercepted by Light. Thus, they must have been speaking for some time before Watari noticed.
He could hear the argument as soon as he got to the fourth floor, before he even turned the corner to where Light and Misa were speaking, and so he stopped, wanting to know what he was walking into.
“You should have heard the way he’s been talking about you,” Light was saying—he must be referring to their earlier argument over Misa, L thought.
“You’re just jealous!” Misa retorted, though her voice sounded shaky. Light must have been getting to her. “Ryuuzaki loves me!”
“Ryuuzaki ‘loves’ getting laid,” Light retorted. “I’m sorry, Misa, but even you have to admit that you’re not that bright.” Misa made an outraged noise in response, but he kept talking. “Do you really think that Ryuuzaki wants you for anything other than sex and an obedient pawn in his schemes? You have nothing in common. You can’t keep up with him intellectually, not the way that I can.”
‘The way that I can.’ Was Light actually jealous, but because he wanted L, not Misa? Or was he just angry that L didn’t value him more than Misa because of his intelligence?
“Misa is smart, she just cares about things other than solving cases!” Misa retorted. “Anyway, that kind of stuff doesn’t matter when it comes to love.”
“Okay, well, if that doesn’t matter, what about the fact that he still believes we’re both Kiras? If you’re smart, then surely you must have noticed that he still suspects you just as much as me.” Misa didn’t reply to that, because, of course, she did know.
L wondered if he should step in yet, but he was curious to see how far Misa’s loyalty to him went. If he let Light test her now, he did risk her confidence in their relationship being shaken, but he believed he could build it back up. It was better to see if Light could expose any cracks that needed filling.
“Come on, Misa,” Light continued. “What do you really think is going to happen? Even if you survive this stupid Yotsuba plan, either he’ll find some way to convict us, even though we’re innocent, and he’ll send us both to our death without a second thought. Or, if he’s forced to admit we’re innocent, he’ll get sick of you as soon as the novelty wears off and you’re not useful to him anymore.”
Projecting much, Light? L wondered. He had the suspicion that because of his similarities to Light, since Light held Misa in contempt, he could not envision L feeling differently. Light would see it as a matter of values: the two men were brilliant and dedicated to their work, and Misa was shallow and frivolous, at least in Light’s eyes. For L to truly value her as a person was unthinkable to Light, because he saw no value in her himself.
“That’s not true! He told me himself. Even if I was Kira, Ryuuzaki wouldn’t let me die. We’re going to run away together! He’ll take me someplace where we’ll be safe and no one will be able to find us.”
L had told Misa that in confidence. He worried briefly that Light might tell his father that L planned to flee the country with Misa, but then he remembered that it was nothing but a fantasy. Light might be blind in many ways, but he was right about one thing: when Misa and Light were caught, they would be facing justice. L would not turn them over ‘without a second thought,’ but he would still do it.
From around the corner, L heard a strange sound. A moment later, he realized it was Light’s laughter, soft and cruel. He seemed to require a moment to compose himself before responding. “You fell for that? Misa, all that Ryuuzaki does is lie. He’s dedicated everything to catching Kira.” Whatever happened to me ‘screwing up this entire investigation’? L wondered, but he knew the answer—like himself, Light would bend the truth into whatever form was most useful to him. “You can’t really believe he would let you go free, just because you opened your legs for him.”
“Light just doesn’t understand love!” Misa shouted, but her voice was wavering now. “You think everyone else is as cold and emotionless as you, but we’re not. You don’t understand people like us.” Unknowingly, it seemed, Misa was echoing L’s words to her from that night long ago. Once again, he was reminded of how perceptive she could be. He had to agree with her judgment of Light, even if her opinion of himself was rather too favorable.
“No, you’re just blind to the truth, because you can’t stand the thought that your relationship is a complete sham. It’s just like when we were together: you’ll tell yourself anything to avoid facing what’s right in front of your nose. L is the greatest detective in the world. There’s no way he could ever really love someone like you. You’re just a deluded little girl.”
“Shut up,” Misa said. It sounded like she was crying now.
“You didn’t even notice that I could barely stand you, back when you were calling me your boyfriend. And now you’re doing exactly the same thing with Ryuuzaki. Same story, different guy. The only reason he’s putting up with you is that he thinks he can use you to draw out the Yotsuba Kira, and then use your stupidity to put us both in prison.”
Misa didn’t respond, so Light went in for the kill.
“Ryuuzaki doesn’t care about you; he only sees you as a tool. He’s taking advantage of you for being stupid enough to believe his lies and easy enough to give it up to him. He’s laughing behind your back—with me, with Aiber and Wedy—about the fact that you actually believe he loves you. Hell, he even showed me the footage after he came on your face, like some kind of sick trophy. Everyone knows that all he wants is to fuck you as many times as possible before he has us both executed.”
Misa let out a sob, and L heard a strange noise, a sort of muffled thump. It was enough to break him out of his momentary paralysis. He should have never let this go on for so long, but he had been too curious to hear what Light would say about him, to see if he could learn anything about Light’s thought process.
When L turned the corner, walking quickly, as though he had walked there straight from the elevators rather than standing around eavesdropping first, he saw what the thump had been: Misa had slid down the wall to sit on the floor, apparently unable to stay standing under the onslaught of cruelty from the boy she used to love. Her hands were covering her face as she sobbed, but when she heard L approaching, she looked up at him, stricken.
Light, meanwhile, was watching him approach with a rather smug expression on his face. L somehow got the impression that he had known all along that L was listening. “Oh, Ryuuzaki,” Light said with a cruel smile. “Misa and I were just talking about you.”
L didn’t have any patience for verbally sparring with Light right now. He needed to take care of Misa now. At least her emotional distress would make for an opportunity for him to comfort her and thus deepen her attachment to him, thought some cold part of his brain that he almost hated. “Go away, Light,” he said flatly. “I want to talk to my girlfriend.” When Light did not immediately respond, he pulled out his phone and said, “Return to your room or I will call Aiber to pick you up and carry you there.”
He enjoyed the way Light’s eyes narrowed. Even if Light was feeling some satisfaction at successfully causing strife for L, he clearly didn’t like being ordered to his room like an unruly child, much less threatened with being manhandled there as Mogi had once done to Misa. After a moment of charged silence, L’s fingers still on the buttons to call Aiber, Light nodded sharply, turned, and stalked away.
When the younger man was at last out of sight, L felt some of the tension leave his body. He was always on guard around Light now, more so than he had been since before the Change had occurred. But right now, there were more pressing issues, so he directed his attention back to Misa, who was still curled up on the ground, arms around her knees, sniffling quietly.
“Misa,” he said gently, pulling her to her feet and into his arms, holding her close to him. “It’s okay. I’m here now. Whatever Light said to you, don’t believe it. He’s only trying to keep you away from me, because he’s jealous. You know that I love you more than anything.”
For a moment, Misa only clung to him as tightly as she could, shaking. After a moment, though, her arms began roaming his back, and her wet face nestled against his neck, nuzzling his bare skin. She seemed desperate for contact, and after a moment, she pushed up onto her tiptoes until she could reach his face, moving blindly against him, clumsily attempting to find his lips for a kiss.
L obliged, but he had only thought she wanted comfort, some reassurance of his feelings. He was surprised by the immediacy with which she escalated. In a second, she had jumped onto him, forcing him to catch her as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her tongue thrust sloppily into his mouth and she moaned. He wasn’t even hard yet, and she was already grinding on him anyway, tightening her legs around him and rocking up and down in his arms as she rubbed her crotch against his through their clothing, panting into his mouth.
He had whiplash, unable to keep up. Just a second ago, she had been sobbing on the floor, and now she was humping him like she would die if she didn’t touch him. He felt something wet on his cheeks and realized with a sliver of alarm that she hadn’t even stopped crying.
L broke the kiss and looked at her, concerned. Misa’s eyes were still red and wet, but also lustful in a frantic, slightly unsettling way. “Misa…” he said slowly, wondering what to do.
“Fuck me,” she pleaded, continuing to rub herself on him. “Stick it in me and make me yours.”
In his head, L was doing calculations. It would take a few minutes to walk to his floor, or to hers, and they could run into someone on the way. And should he even be doing this? Misa was clearly having a bit of a meltdown, and he wasn’t sure that sex was the best solution to that. But it was so hard to think when she was all over him like this.
“Can you get down and come to bed with me?” he asked, moving to let her down, but Misa made a loud noise of protest and clung to him tighter.
“No!” she said. “No, don’t make me wait. I don’t want to think about it. Just do it here.”
L would take to his grave the truth of how much it turned him on to see Misa Amane crying as she begged for his cock, rubbing herself against him like she couldn’t stop herself. In some part of his mind, he knew he was quite stupid for going along with this, but he still gave in, turning to press Misa’s back against the wall for support.
She reached down between their bodies and unzipped his pants, lining him up and shifting her body upwards just enough to sink down on him, letting gravity do most of the work. He hissed, kissing her harder, and began to thrust, fucking her against the wall in the middle of the hallway where anyone might walk past.
He didn’t even know if Light had left the floor yet, or if he was lurking nearby, just as L had been a few minutes ago. He didn’t care. Let him see. In fact, the thought only made him thrust even harder into Misa, holding her tighter, wanting to make it clear to Light that she was his. That he would not lose her to anyone, least of all Light Yagami.
This position, with Misa pinned upright to the wall, made him recall an image of the confinement he had put her in, the board she had been chained to, blindfolded, straight-jacketed, chains wrapped around her thighs like his hands were now. He pushed the thought aside.
Misa broke the kiss to twine her arms around his neck and bury her face in his hair. “Don’t leave me,” she begged, gripping the back of his shirt in her fists. “You can do anything you want to me, just don’t leave.” Her mouth moved to his neck, sucking noisily at his skin. He’d given up on stopping her from leaving marks on him; he didn’t care anymore if people saw, and it felt good. And anyway, Misa would do what she wanted. She always did.
L wondered in a haze why it was that the quality of the sex seemed inversely correlated with Misa’s mental stability. He knew he was an awful person, but he couldn’t avoid noticing how good it felt like this. Her cunt seemed even tighter than usual, clenching around him like her body was trying to keep him inside of her. She was so light that he barely even needed the wall to support her, could step back and hold her body himself, bouncing her up and down his cock like a sex doll.
Misa clung to his shoulders, alternating between sucking harshly on his neck and whispering darkly sexual nonsense into his ear, stuff like, “Even if I try to leave you, don’t let me. Lock me up and keep me like a pet and use me every day. I know you could do it if you wanted to, do it like before. I wouldn’t be able to stop you.”
L moaned loudly, thrusting harder, as he wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. Why did that make him so hard? For that matter, why was Misa like this?
“Yeah,” she moaned in his ear, “Yeah, make me your prisoner, L, let me be your pet, your slave, just keep me, keep me by your side, don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t leave.” L closed his eyes and made a sound in his throat, something like surrender, as disturbed as he was unbelievably aroused, wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she gasped, and came inside of her, so hard that he rose up onto his tiptoes and crushed her against the wall, straining deep into his Misa’s sweet body. And even though he knew that she hadn’t climaxed, she made let out a strange, ecstatic moan of relief, tears falling from her chin onto his shoulder as she clung to him with all her might.
“I won’t let you go, Misa,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re mine. If anyone tries to take you from me—”
Misa interrupted him, finishing his sentence before he could. “I’ll kill them,” she said, and he believed her. A chill went down his spine. It should have felt like fear, but it didn’t. It felt good. God, it felt incredible.
L fell asleep earlier than usual that night, around 2 am, only to be woken by a phone call from Watari less than an hour later. He knew at once that something was wrong: normally Watari would never disturb L when he was actually getting some rest.
“I’ve just received a call from Yagami,” Watari told him. “Matsuda is dead.”
Notes:
Sorry my update schedule is so irregular right now! Hopefully it'll get better soon, but it might still be like this for a bit. I haven't had time to write so I've been eating into my backlog of prewritten chapters.
Chapter 13: in the shadows, hiding from yourself
Notes:
In the blazing sun, I saw you
In the shadows, hiding from yourself
When the lights are on, I know you
See you're grey from all the lies you tellNow you hold me close, so tender
When you fall asleep, I'll kick you down
By the way you fell, I know you
Now you're on your knees- FKA twigs, "Fallen Alien"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L didn’t sleep the rest of the night, too busy getting as many details as possible from both Watari and other sources. He woke the others as early in the morning as seemed acceptable, sat them down in the main hall, and said, without preamble, “Matsuda was killed in a traffic accident around 10 pm last night.”
Misa let out a choked-off sort of sob, one hand covering her mouth. Aiber’s jaw tightened. Wedy’s face was impassive as ever behind her sunglasses. L’s attention was on Light, however, wanting to see his reaction, and he was surprised by the strength of it: Light’s mouth fell open, and he stood up abruptly from his chair, saying, “What?! No!”
L continued without emotion in his voice: “This matches the deaths that the Yotsuba Kira had wanted to go unnoticed so far, such as those of Yotsuba’s business rivals: a death from accident or illness occurring over the weekend. Combined with Masahiko’s question to Coil about the police during yesterday’s call, we can safely assume that Matsuda did something to arouse the attention of the Yotsuba Kira and was killed in response.”
“Oh my god,” Misa murmured under her breath. She looked slightly ill; it was the first time he had seen her show signs that she cared about any of Kira’s victims. L supposed it must be different when it was someone she knew.
“I was able to place cameras in the building late on Friday night,” Wedy said. “We can review the footage from Saturday.”
“I was thinking we would start there,” L agreed. “Most likely, the incident occurred on Friday or Saturday, as Kira would not want to wait too long to act. However, it is possible that it happened any time between last Saturday,” which was when the task force had quit, “and yesterday.
“While Wedy had not yet bugged the building, there should still be footage from Yotsuba’s own security cameras for the past week. Light, can you hack into those?” L didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “To assist us, Chief Yagami has sent over a timetable of when Matsuda was at the police headquarters. We will start by looking over the Yotsuba footage during times he was off-duty, since he had been forbidden from investigating Kira as a police officer and would not have gone there during his shift.”
“Hold on,” Light said. He had sat down again, but now he raised one hand up, palm out towards L. “Just wait a second.”
“Yes?”
“Matsuda—a man who worked with you for months, my friend—is dead, and you’re talking about him like his death isn’t anything more than another lead on this case. Do you even care at all?”
Of course L had been shaken by the news of Matsuda’s death, but he had been aware of the information for hours longer than the rest of them, and had been able to process it while he worked. Besides, wasn’t this the best way to respect Matsuda’s memory? He told Light as much. “I am focusing on the case because of Matsuda. Rather than sitting around feeling sad, isn’t it more respectful to focus all of our attention on catching the person who killed him?”
“Yeah, but.” Light stopped for a moment, seemingly unsure how to argue with this, and L watched him with curiosity. He had rarely seen Light so shaken up. “The rest of us are human, you know. We can’t just turn off our emotions when it’s convenient.”
“Hey!” Misa interjected, which was really the last thing that L needed—Misa starting a fight with Light in his defense. “Ryuuzaki is human! He’s just… Ryuuzaki. You know!”
“Yes, I do know what he’s like,” Light said. “That’s the problem.” Then, after a pause, he continued, “You know this is your fault, right? Both of you.”
“And how would that be?” L questioned, putting a hand on Misa’s shoulder before she could explode at him.
“If your disgusting ‘relationship’ hadn’t gotten the entire task force to quit, Matsuda wouldn’t have gone off on his own and gotten killed.”
L considered that. He was not certain that he could have prevented Matsuda from acting alone if he had wanted to, but Light might have a point. If Matsuda had remained on the task force, he would have at least had his fake badge and IDs with him, along with the emergency button on his belt buckle. The men had left all such things behind when they quit. Most likely, Matsuda had been caught with his real ID, making it easy for the Yotsuba Kira to find out his name.
In any case, they would never know what would happen if the task force hadn’t quit. Maybe Matsuda would have survived, but other things could have been worse—for instance, if the policemen’s refusal to believe that Light might be Kira had ended up giving Kira the advantage over him.
“If Light would like to blame me, that is fine with me,” L drawled, deciding not to point out that if Light hadn’t become Kira in the first place, none of this would have happened. At this point, he could tell that if he said anything about Light being Kira, Light would snap completely. “But I’m going to try to find Matsuda’s killer. Light can either help me or leave the room if he’s more interested in yelling at me for things that can’t be undone.”
Light gritted his teeth, but after a moment, he nodded. “I’ll help, but I’m doing this for Matsuda, not for you.”
Wedy’s cameras turned up nothing, suggesting that if Matsuda had been in the Yotsuba office, it was probably before Friday night. And though the Yotsuba Kira was no Light, it seemed like they were still smart enough to delete any footage of Matsuda entering their building. He supposed it made sense for Yotsuba Kira to be cautious, if they suspected that Matsuda had been working with L at one point. They must have expected L to take a personal interest in his death, even with the obfuscation of killing via accident rather than heart attack.
However, lucky for L, he had experience in doctoring camera footage, and he doubted that they would have been skilled enough to hide it completely.
“Look over everything again, working backwards from the time Friday night when Wedy placed her cameras,” L told the group. “Check the metadata and see if and of the camera footage repeats. For instance, they could have taken the footage from an hour earlier, or later, or another night, and spliced it into the place where the missing footage was.”
Light gave him a considering look from the corner of his eye, and he knew that the boy must be putting together that that was how L had hidden his time spent with Misa. He said nothing, however, knowing that Aiber and Wedy would not care what L had done. Though he supposed that Light might tattle to his father during their next phone call. Well, let him. It couldn’t exactly make things any worse.
Because they were working backwards, it didn’t take long for someone to find it. “Here!” Wedy said. “The footage from 7 to 9 pm on Friday night seems to be copied from the same time period on the previous day.”
The rest of them gathered around Wedy’s computer, even Misa, who had been zoning out for awhile. “Good!” L said, starting to get excited. “Now, let’s check the footage before and after that time slot, see who was still in the building that might have come into contact with Matsuda.”
“Their security system also tracks which employees are still in the building,” Wedy pointed out, and L was glad, once again, to have brought her on board. Her expertise was turning out to be quite helpful. “They all sign in and out each day. That’s how I knew when it was safe to infiltrate the building.”
After a bit of checking, they found that a fair number of employees were still in the building at 7 pm, but most left within a short time after that. However, there was one cluster of employees that had signed out for the day late, just before 9 pm—so their departure wouldn’t have been visible on the cameras. And included in that group was none other than Masahiko Kida.
Alongside Masahiko were seven other names: Arayoshi Hatori, Kyosuke Higuchi, Shingo Mido, Reiji Namikawa, Takeshi Ooi, Suguru Shimura, and Eiichi Takahashi. Wedy pulled up the profiles for each of the eight men, showing their names and photos to the group.
“All eight are executives, but of different departments,” L mused. He pressed a few buttons, rifling through the Yotsuba files. “They’re not listed in the company software as being on any boards together or having a meeting on this Friday evening. There’s not a strong reason why they would be leaving the building all at once like this.”
“Maybe they’re friends?” Misa asked, then blushed when everyone turned to look at her, surprised that she had spoken. “I’m just saying…”
“That’s a good suggestion, Misa,” L said, ignoring the way that Light glowered at the compliment. He wasn’t lying, either. The helpful part of having Misa around was that she thought outside of the box. “They’re all in different departments, so it would be somewhat unusual for them to have formed such a group, but it’s certainly a possibility.” He thought about it for a moment.
“Wedy, can you look farther back in the security system? Before this week, even. Check if there are other occurrences of this specific group entering or leaving the building together. Be sure to account for the possibility that they might not be the same exact group every time—if only five or six of them are together, or more men are with them, that’s close enough.”
After all, even if this group was related to the Yotsuba Kira, it was possible that only some of them were actually involved, and the others had just happened to leave the building at the same time as them. Still, a lead was a lead, and this was the biggest breakthrough on the case they had made since finding the connection to Yotsuba in the first place.
L remarked to himself how ironic it was that both of their leads had been partially due to the work of Matsuda. He wondered if Matsuda would have been happy to know that, even in his death, he had managed to help lead them to Kira.
It took several more days of work, but eventually, Wedy pulled the data together: the same group of 8 men had stayed longer than most other employees, and left the building together later in the evening, every Friday night for months. In fact, she was able to show that the meetings had begun in mid-June, at almost the same time as the Kira killings had re-started after Light’s confinement.
What’s more, they hadn’t bothered to erase the footage of any other Fridays besides the most recent one, when Matsuda had apparently been there. And so they were able to see the group of eight men enter the same meeting room every Friday night, staying there for several hours. Unfortunately, there were no cameras inside of the room, but it was a start.
“This is what I suspect,” L said to Aiber, Wedy, and Light (Misa was out at the film set). “These men have something to do with Kira. Perhaps they are all Kiras, or perhaps only one or two are, and the others are acting as some sort of advisory board. In any case, they determine the deaths—that is why they have all occurred on the weekends, directly following these meetings.
“Matsuda must have entered the Yotsuba building after hours and stumbled across their meeting. He saw or heard something that he wasn’t supposed to, and in response, the Yotsuba Kira killed him.
“Wedy,” he said, turning to face her, “did you place any cameras in that meeting room?”
“I’ll double check, but I doubt it. There are hundreds of rooms in the building, and I didn’t know that room was special.”
L nodded, touching his thumb to his lip. “In that case, tonight, I want you to go back to the Yotsuba building. I want cameras in every corner of that room, and full audio. When they meet again this Friday, we will be ready to capture everything.” Of course, there was the possibility that the incident with Matsuda might have spooked them. If they moved the meeting to a different day of the week, it would still be okay, as long as it was after today. But if they moved to a different room…
“And add extra cameras to every other meeting room on that floor, and three floors in either direction. When you’re done with that, I want you to begin infiltrating and bugging the houses of every man on that list, beginning with Kida.”
Though he had just dumped an enormous workload onto her plate, Wedy was a professional, and she accepted the tasks with nothing more than a solemn nod. She knew, just as they all did, how important this was. They were closing in on Kira. Or, a Kira, anyway.
Wedy got to work immediately, as did Aiber, who L had tasked with gathering as much information as possible about the eight men—without making contact yet. He had not yet ruled out the possibility that it might become prudent for ‘Coil’ to meet with the Yotsuba men in person.
With what he had deduced about ‘the eyes,’ he did not think the Yotsuba Kira had them, at least not yet. And if he was correct, then a Kira could only learn a person’s name if they were looking at their face while they had ‘the eyes.’
Which was to say that Aiber would not be in danger if he allowed himself to be seen by Yotsuba Kira now, and then that person later acquired ‘the eyes.’ Unless, of course, they were able to capture his image in a photo or video—or unless L was wrong.
However, Misa would be in much more danger if L was to go through with his plan of sending her into Yotsuba to gather information, for the simple reason that her real name was public knowledge. If the Yotsuba Kira suspected her or wanted her dead, she would have no protection.
It was possible, of course, that they would gain enough evidence from the video surveillance that Misa’s involvement would not be necessary. However, it was equally possible that they would learn just enough to make it worthwhile to send her in, to meet with one or more of the men individually and see what she could get out of them.
For a moment, L briefly considered whether it would be possible for Misa to seduce them for information, but he dismissed the thought—Misa wouldn’t even kiss her co-star. To ask her to seduce another man would be unthinkable. He was not dismissing the idea for his own jealousy, of course, even if he had to admit that the feeling existed within himself. It simply wasn’t on the table given Misa’s monogamous nature.
She doesn’t want anyone else but me, L thought, unable to stop himself from marveling at the thought. Then, however, a bit of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and L was unpleasantly reminded that if there was an exception to that statement, it was right there in the room with him: Light Yagami.
L couldn’t help but remember Light’s earlier taunt: “Maybe I could give it another chance, ask her to take me back. What do you think, Ryuuzaki? Would she stay with you, or would she drop you the second I paid her any attention?” Even though Light had certainly pissed Misa off, between dumping her and telling her that L didn’t really love her, had her feelings for him really dissipated?
“What?” the man in question asked, and L jerked slightly, eyes widening. When he didn’t respond, Light explained with an annoyed sigh, “You were staring at me.”
L couldn’t come up with something sarcastic to say at a moment’s notice, so instead, he said, “I was simply thinking and looking off into space, and Light’s face happened to be in the way.”
“Uh huh.” Light didn’t sound convinced. “And the way you were glaring at me would just be your thinking face, then?”
Despite himself, L was caught off guard. Had he actually been glaring? His poker face was usually better than that. “I don’t know what Light is talking about,” he said, unconvincingly. He really was not doing well in this interaction.
Light sighed, setting his papers down and turning to completely face him now. “If you have a problem with me, just say so. Trying to work with you while you’re clearly hostile towards me is frustrating.”
“Between the two of us, I would say that Light is the most hostile,” L pointed out. “After all, you have attacked me how many times now? Two? Three? Not to mention your harassment of my girlfriend.”
“‘Harassment’ of your ‘girlfriend’?” Light repeated, laughing to himself. Just below the surface of L’s mind, the thought floated past that Light was always most beautiful when he was cruel. “First of all, I was trying to help her, not ‘harass’ her. She needs someone on this investigation to consider her best interests.”
Implying, of course, that L was not. Well, he could not argue that point, though he did not believe that Light was prioritizing Misa’s well-being any more than L was. “Secondly, the fact that you keep calling her your ‘girlfriend’ is ridiculous. I know you better than that, Ryuuzaki.”
“Oh?”
“This entire charade of a relationship between you and Misa is ridiculous and no one is buying it—except her, I guess. You can keep on denying what we both know is true, but that won’t make me believe you. Misa isn’t your girlfriend, she’s your tool.”
“Just like she was yours?” L asked, watching Light’s jaw tighten. “I’ve long suspected that you might simply be incapable of connecting to another person, and thus view others as your tools, but that does not mean that I am the same. You are projecting your own worldview onto me. Light seems to do this a lot.”
“Just because I didn’t love Misa doesn’t mean that I can’t connect with anyone,” Light argued. “It just means that Misa and I aren’t compatible.”
L considered Light for a moment, tapping his fingers on top of his knees as he peered over them at the man sitting across from him. “Name one person you have felt a genuine connection to.”
Light paused for a long moment, looking away, before stating, “You.” L was actually startled into silence for a moment, and Light continued, “You’re the first person who has been able to keep up with me. The first person who has actually understood the way I think, even if you’re also convinced that I’m a horrible person. That’s why I know that your feelings for Misa can’t be real. Because we’re the same.”
“We’re not.” L spoke without thinking for once. “I would not do what Kira has done.”
“Neither would I!” Light said, frustrating bleeding into his voice. “That’s what I keep telling you: I’m not Kira. I want to catch him just as badly as you do.”
L let his forehead tip forward to rest on his knee with a sigh of irritation. It was often impossible to talk to this Light, because they were not working from the same beliefs about the world. Whatever Light had done to himself in Changing, it had left him unable to look at all the evidence objectively, too assured by his belief in his own innocence.
He tried a different tack, since talking about Kira would lead them nowhere. However, he found himself resorting to a startling, unexpected honesty. “Regardless of whether or not you are Kira, we are not the same person. You are looking for something in me that doesn’t exist: a mirror to show you the person that you like to believe that you are. But I will never be that for you. Your ego could not bear for you to see yourself as I see you.”
“And just how do you see me, then, Ryuuzaki?” Light asked. “Because you think Misa is Kira too—you have more solid evidence against her than you ever had against me—but you seem to reserve all of your scorn for me, while treating Misa like you actually like her.”
And there it was—Light’s real problem with their relationship. At the core, he was simply angry that L treated Misa better than him. He saw himself as superior to her, and since he admired L, it rankled him that L didn’t rank them the same way.
Still, L was enjoying the chance to actually say what he thought about Light, so he continued. “How do I see you?” he mused, rubbing his thumb against his lower lip. “I suppose I see you as a bright but spoiled boy who has had everything handed to him, and yet is still nursing a deep resentment that the world does not see him as he sees himself—as a higher being. And that is why you hate me most of all: because you believe that I truly see you, and yet, I do not validate your belief in your own inherent superiority.
“You may respect me, but you are not able to connect with me, because that would require the vulnerability of allowing yourself to be judged by someone other than yourself. Indeed, during the times that I remind you most blatantly that I am a separate person who is capable of passing judgment on you, you are prone to lashing out with physical violence. This is for the same reason that, as Kira, you hoped to kill me: because you are unable to control what I think of you, and so you must resort to physically harming me as a way of compensating for your feelings of powerlessness.”
This was the most honest L had ever been with Light, and he could see that the younger man did not like it at all. His face had grown darker as L talked, twisting into a scowl that L had only rarely seen on his usually handsome face.
“What about you, Ryuuzaki?” Light retorted. Clearly trying to turn things around because he does not have a rebuttal. “You think that you have the right to judge me? You’re as bad as you think I am. The way you treated Misa and I during the investigation, the way you treated Matsuda and my dad and the other men who put their lives on the line for you, and you don’t even care. Can you name one thing you’ve ever done for anyone other than yourself?”
“My cases—”
“Don’t even start,” Light interrupted. “We both know that you solve cases to entertain yourself, not to help people.”
“It doesn’t matter,” L said. “I never said that I was a better person than Light. I did not mean that I am able to judge Light because I am superior, but rather, that simply by virtue of my being a separate human being, I have a mind capable of forming judgments of Light. Just as anyone else does. Except that you can dismiss everyone else’s judgments because you consider them to be beneath you. My judgments are the only ones capable of provoking a real reaction from Light because I am the only one he sees as an equal.”
“We are equals,” Light pointed out.
“We are both extremely intelligent people,” L agreed. “But intelligence is not the only trait of importance, nor does it make us inherently superior to others.” It only set them apart.
“Doesn’t it? Are you telling me that you’re not bored to death of everyone else?”
L remarked to himself, once again, that Light was quite different when they were alone. He would never have allowed the others—Matsuda, his father—to hear him speaking like this.
“Whether I am bored by a person or not has no bearing on their value. Unlike Light, I do not think highly enough of myself to believe that my judgment is anything more than a subjective reflection of my own perspective.”
And that was the difference between them: Light took his separation from others as proof of his superiority, while L, on some level, hated himself for it, saw himself as beneath the people that he could not seem to connect to or stand to be around. That was why he could never be the same as Light.
“And I do not find everyone boring. Many people, yes, but not everyone. Misa, for example.” Something flashed in Light’s eyes at the name, but he continued. “If Light believes that everyone lacking his exact level of intelligence is boring, he might consider whether that is a reflection on himself, rather than on the people he judges.
“As I said earlier, Light lacks the ability to truly connect to others, and because of that, he is incapable of seeing value in them. After all, then you might have to admit that there exist other types of value than the ones you possess, and that might lead to the discovery that you are not as superior as you believe.”
At some point during their argument, the two of them had gotten to their feet, and L noted detachedly that Light’s fist had clenched and he was taking a step forward as he said, “You’re the one who’s deluding himself, Ryuuzaki, not me. You’re trying to convince me that you think Misa is worthy of your respect? You just want to see yourself as someone who thinks that other people’s lives have value so that you can believe you’re a better person than me, but the truth is, you don’t respect them any more than I do. I’m just more honest with myself than you are.
“I mean, just look at how you treated Matsuda. You saw him as a bumbling idiot, and you never missed a chance to make fun of him. Then he went and got himself killed, and now you suddenly want to recognize his contributions to the Kira case and avenge his death? Just admit that you don’t give a shit about him and never did. You’re only pretending to care now because you feel guilty, but if Matsuda was still alive, you know as well as I do that we would still be mocking him behind his back any chance we got.”
“Light really is deeply invested in believing that I am as heartless a person as he is,” L responded, but he wasn’t so sure that Light was incorrect. Still, he went on, “Why do you care so much? It’s seems unhealthy for Light to need so badly for me to validate his belief system. He must be awfully insecure.” Light’s arm jerked at this, and L smirked slightly as he asked, “Going to hit me again, Light? Maybe if you just punch me enough, I’ll finally tell you what you want to hear. Get down on my knees and praise—”
Light moved forward, his arm coming up, and L reflexively flinched away despite himself, but Light didn’t hit him. He only grabbed him by the back of the neck, and L had only a split second to be confused before Light’s mouth was on his.
Notes:
I'm pretty proud of this chapter. It might be a month or so before I can post again, but I wanted to update while I had the chance.
Chapter 14: think about shooting birds (everyone has got a violent streak)
Notes:
Sorry it's been awhile, I've been sad ngl
This chapter probably needs the biggest CW of any so far, for things that have been included in the story tags. I don't want to say exactly what because spoilers, but if you want more detail of what you're getting into before reading, skip to the notes at the end.
Drink seltzer, smoke weed when you can't sleep
Think about shooting birds
Everyone has got a violent streak
I think my face looks like glass
But my body feels plastic- Slothrust, "Like a Child Hiding Behind Your Tombstone"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Oh.
Light’s kiss was nothing like Misa’s—rough, angry, his tongue snaking into L’s mouth almost the second their lips met. And he didn’t embrace L so much as he grappled him, taking him down to the floor with him in a furious motion of limbs, elbows knocking together as he wrestled his way on top of L. And he pressed his whole body onto L’s as he kissed him, pinning him down, rubbing their bodies together, and L realized that Light was already hard, just from arguing and pinning him down.
When Misa first kissed him, L had at least known it was coming. Now, he didn’t know how to react. He bit down hard on Light’s lower lip, and Light made a sharp noise and pulled back, looking down at him with blood on his mouth.
“It doesn’t matter,” Light muttered, and L wondered if he was talking to L or to himself. Then he continued, “It doesn’t matter whether it’s me or Misa, right? Everyone already knows you like to screw your suspects.”
“Light—” L began, but then the younger man reached down and grabbed his penis through his pants, and he gasped, instinctively arching up into the touch, getting hard despite himself. Fuck, despite his occasional thoughts about Light’s jealously, it hadn’t consciously occurred to L that Light might actually want him like this, or vice versa. But looking back, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment, as inevitable as water flowing downhill.
No, no, this was bad. Not because Light was a man—L didn’t think that mattered to him one way or the other—but because Misa would kill him if she found out. And besides that, he and Light had just been verbally eviscerating each other a moment ago. This couldn’t be healthy. (Not that being with Misa was healthy either, but that was beside the point.)
But just as L worked up the will to say something, Light managed to get his pants undone and free his cock, grabbing it roughly in one hand and squeezing, and he moaned, surprised to find himself so aroused by the rough treatment.
“You don’t care at all, do you?” Light muttered, pumping him firmly, and L squirmed under him. “You don’t care anymore if you catch Kira, or if Misa and I are innocent or guilty, or if people get hurt. You only care about this.” He squeezed just a little too hard for emphasis. “As long as you have somewhere to stick your cock, as long as you get off, the rest of it doesn’t matter, right? We don’t matter.”
Light leaned down and kissed him again. His lips tasted like blood. He pulled back, his lips just an inch above L’s, and hissed, “You’re disgusting.”
Light’s hand was still pumping him, sliding L’s foreskin up and down, squeezing him too tight, and L closed his eyes, trying to convince himself to stop this. Instead, he found himself saying, “Yes,” arching up into Light’s hand. He had a brief moment of deja vu of his first morning with Misa, when she told him he was stupid.
L had his pride in some areas, it seemed, but not this one. Yes, I’m stupid. Yes, I’m disgusting. Yes, yes, just keep touching me. He had never realized that he would be so shameless. Things like dignity just seemed so small compared to the way this felt.
“Just because Misa’s the first person to ever let you fuck her, you think you’re in love with her? You’re not. You could never respect someone as stupid as her. You’re just addicted to the way she makes you feel. If I got you off, you’d probably think you were in love with me, too.”
At that, L opened his eyes again, managing a moment of clarity. “No,” he said. “I could never love Light.” He peered into Light’s startled eyes, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “You’re empty. Sterile. There’s nothing there to love, except the outsides. That might be enough to fool others, but not me.”
Light’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he looked just like he had looked when they first met, back before the Change. He looked dangerous, and for the first time since their fight had begun, L found himself slightly nervous. Then, before he could react, Light moved down his body and engulfed him in his mouth.
L’s entire body arched off the ground in shock, drawn tight like a bowstring. He bucked up into Light’s mouth, and Light didn’t stop him, even when he choked and sputtered. L couldn’t see Light willingly taking a submissive role in most regards, but it seemed that because he had seen Misa doing this for L, he now felt the need to outdo her, even in allowing L into his throat despite his clear lack of experience giving blowjobs.
Being with Light was nothing like being with Misa. With Misa, L was always mindful of the way he was trying to make her feel. He was always calculating his moves, trying to make her feel cared for. And as stubborn and dangerous as she was, she was still physically much smaller and weaker than him. He had to be gentle with her, even when she wanted some amount of roughness from him.
He didn’t have to be gentle with Light. Light was sturdy enough to take it, and besides that, he had practically forced him into this. He didn’t, couldn’t, love Light—in fact, he found that he almost hated him. But, slightly disturbingly, this hatred did not make it harder to have sex with him. In some twisted way, it made it easier.
L planted his feet on the floor and began thrusting up into Light’s mouth, not holding himself back in the slightest. He yanked Light’s hair, fucked his face viciously, purposefully making him gag and groaning in furious satisfaction when he felt him choke. “This,” he grunted, voice thick and broken by his thrusts, “is what Light wants, right?” After all, Light thought that he was disgusting and perverse, using others for his pleasure without caring about them. He could live down to Light’s expectations.
Light groaned in response, the vibrations further stimulating L’s cock. So he likes this, too. It was different than it was with Misa, though both of them seemed to like it rough. Misa accepted L’s rough treatment submissively, always encouraging him to give her more, pleading for it. Whereas Light seemed to treat it like an endurance contest, a trial that he couldn’t fail.
L got a perverse pleasure from using Light’s stubbornness to his own advantage, knowing that Light’s pride wouldn’t allow him to be the first one to back down. Even knowing that Light must view this as degrading and humiliating, that he was treating it as something to be endured, did not prevent L from wanting to take advantage. Maybe Light was right about him after all—maybe this was all he cared about in the end.
He also suspected that Light appreciated his brutality in the same way that L appreciated Light’s: as something honest, a way of venting off the pressure that built up throughout their rivalry. He purposefully messed up Light’s hair, pulling on it roughly. He could feel that Light’s face was wet from his own saliva and maybe even tears, eyes watering from the rough face-fucking. Between his experiences with Misa and Light, L was beginning to realize that he took a twisted sort of pleasure in defiling things of beauty during a sexual act. Maybe, he thought, it was because he wanted to drag them down to his level.
When L came, he squeezed his legs together, trapping Light’s head between his thighs with the full length of his cock down his throat, and held him there for the length of his orgasm, months of frustration and resentment pouring out not only in his orgasm, but in the way he clenched around Light’s head as hard as possible, his whole body shaking with the release.
Finally, panting, L lay back against the tile floor, his legs falling open again as the strength faded out of him. But Light wasn’t done with him yet. Light crawled up his body and kissed him again, making L taste himself, as he unzipped his own pants and pushed L’s shirt up, letting his own erection fall against L’s bare stomach.
Looking up lazily at Light, L felt a sudden desire to be cruel, to see what kind of reaction he could provoke. It was rare that Light was this exposed, this raw, and now that his head was somewhat cleared by his orgasm, he couldn’t resist the opportunity. And, for that matter, he was in a bad mood now, angry with both himself and Light for doing something so stupid.
“That was alright,” L drawled, staring up at him, “but if Light wants to replace Misa as my favorite, he’ll have to improve his blowjob skills.” After all, wasn’t that what Light had implied—that L treated Misa better than him simply because she was sleeping with him, and not due to any personal virtues she had that Light lacked?
Light looked down at him, his eyes suddenly gone cold, and L felt a moment of apprehension before he found himself suddenly manhandled onto his stomach, his jeans yanked down. A sudden jolt of fear went through him as he wondered if Light was actually planning to penetrate him—not that L was against receiving anal sex in general, but he was certainly not prepared for it now, nor did he trust an enraged Light to treat him gently. Underneath the fear, however, was a hint of arousal at the thought of Light pinning him down and fucking him dry.
L certainly was learning some new things about himself today.
In any case, this fear was assuaged as Light merely settled his erection in the cleft of L’s buttocks and began to thrust, straddling his hips. The heavy weight of Light’s body laying almost flat on top of him was uncomfortable, pushing his bony hips and softened cock against the cold, hard tile floor, but at least Light didn’t seem to plan on fucking him, only humping against him. L could work with this. That was, until Light suddenly reached around, wrapped both hands around his neck from behind, and squeezed.
L’s eyes opened in shock, jerking underneath him, but Light didn’t stop, just continued strangling him as he continued roughly humping L’s prone body, groaning in his ear, “You’re fucking disgusting, you’re nothing. Who the fuck are you to tell me who I am?”
In that moment, L made a decision. If he wanted to, he was confident that he could break Light’s hold on him and throw him off. Instead, he weakened his struggles, allowing Light to believe that he was overpowering him. Allowing it to look like Light was overpowering him. He pulled ineffectively at Light’s wrists, feigning a desperate, panicked fight.
It wasn’t difficult, because he was genuinely afraid. He had known for months that Light was Kira, that he had taken lives, but this was the first time that he could really picture Light killing someone. Not like Kira did, not with a heart attack from miles away, not detachedly, but with fury and rage and his own bare hands around someone’s neck. L had said it himself: if he made Light feel powerless enough, he would eventually respond with violence in an attempt to regain a sense of power over him. And what would make Light feel more powerful than strangling him to death?
L would just have to hope that if Light seemed to actually plan on killing him, that he would still have enough strength left to fight him off. Right now, though, he was taking a gamble that Light’s self-preservation instincts would stop him before he went too far. And so L continued to halfheartedly struggle, blood pounding in his ears, thoughts growing fuzzy, all while he stared directly into the camera in the corner of the ceiling. He could only imagine how it would look on video—his pale face growing red, already wide eyes bugging out. He hoped that the rage on Light’s face would be just as clear.
Luckily for him, the camera would not pick up the fact that he was growing hard again, his erection crushed uncomfortably against cold tile with every thrust of Light’s hips. He really was afraid, and in pain—but his body didn’t seem to get the memo. And there was something sickeningly arousing about Light’s cock sliding against his ass and his grunts of pleasure in L’s ear. About the power that Light held over him in this moment. Maybe L really was as depraved as they said.
He was just beginning to worry that he should actually be fighting for his life here when Light finally came with a strangled noise more of rage than pleasure, jerking on top of him, his semen splashing onto L’s lower back where his shirt had ridden up. Light’s hands tightened around his neck in his spasm of pleasure, so tight that L saw stars, the entire world narrowing and quieting, reduced to the blood throbbing in his ears and his cock.
L wondered for a second, very distantly, if this was how he would die: strangled to death by Kira in his throes of ecstasy. Part of him, disturbingly enough, almost yearned for that oblivion. He spent so much of his life dancing on the edge of death, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to just… fall. Without even feeling it build up, L found himself coming a second time, his cock throbbing and spilling suddenly in the space between his stomach and the floor, the orgasm combining with oxygen deprivation to make his vision go completely white.
A moment later, though, Light’s hands abruptly released, and the world rushed back in with a burst, air flooding L’s lungs as he gasped painfully underneath Light’s heavy body.
It was quiet in the room now, and L could almost feel the weight of Light’s thoughts as he realized what he had done. Slowly, Light moved his weight off of him, and L managed to discreetly cover his penis, still revealingly half-hard, with his clothing as he pushed himself off his stomach and back into his usual crouch, his body still weak and shaky.
“Ryuuzaki,” Light began, but he stopped as L pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed.
“Watari,” L said the moment that his handler answered the phone. “Light Yagami has attacked me. I will be placing him back into solitary confinement while I continue the Kira investigation.”
When the phone call ended, L turned to Light, who luckily did not seem to be contemplating physical resistance. If he did, L might need to wait for Aiber to return to help wrestle Light back to his room. “You will continue your phone calls with your father, but you will not speak to him of your return to confinement or the fact that we had sexual relations. If you disobey this request, he will immediately receive a copy of the footage.” He left it unstated that Yagami would only get the second half of the footage—not the blowjob and face-fucking, but instead just Light violently strangling L as he rutted against him to completion.
L was curious how Light would respond—if he would try to justify it, or actually express remorse—but Light only nodded and allowed himself to be led to his floor without a fuss. Since L was not concerned about Light acting as Kira right now, he would not be put into a cell, but instead be allowed free reign of the floor.
Even in the last moment before L closed the door to the floor landing and locked it from the outside, Light would not meet his eyes.
L sighed as he considered his reflection in the mirror. Having learned his lesson from last time, he had checked himself for marks, onto to see a band of dark purple bruising around his throat. There would be no hiding that. Not to mention the sudden absence of Light.
To Aiber, who returned to headquarters first that day, L told the entire truth. First, because it helped to have someone on his side who knew the full story, and second, because he needed advice on what to do about Misa.
Objectively, L knew that he had cheated on Misa. Though Light’s come-on had been a bit aggressive, L had consented to sex with him, if not to being strangled. And knowing Misa, she would not take the news well. If, that was, he decided to tell her.
Despite this, L didn’t feel especially guilty. If he had bothered to imagine himself in a relationship in the past, he would not have expected himself to be prone to infidelity. However, his situation was hardly usual. His relationship with Misa was some unstable mixture of real and fake; at least some of his affection for her was real, but the commitment was fake.
Given the fact that he had lied and manipulated his way into a relationship with her, and that he intended to convict her of murder and send her to her death, this betrayal did not stand out among the many other ways he had and would betray her. Infidelity soured the basis of trust in a relationship, but that required the relationship to be based on trust in the first place. In addition, he had no intention of being with her long-term, given her looming conviction as Kira, and so was not worried about the future of their relationship.
Still, he wondered if it said something about his character that he felt no remorse for this act. Mostly, he felt triumph at having exposed the facet of Light that he knew was lurking beneath the surface, and at having video evidence of this side of his character. With this video, it would perhaps be easier for others to believe that Light could be Kira. In addition, though L fully intended to find evidence that Light was Kira, if he somehow failed, he would have the back-up option of convicting Light of assault.
In addition, what he had done with Light did not feel like infidelity to him, though of course Misa would not see it that way. The two suspects were too different to be compared. Not because they were different genders, that did not matter to him, but because his relationships with them were completely different. He felt genuine affection and protectiveness towards Misa, and their relations were intimate, but not honest, due to his need to play a role with her.
With Light, on the other hand, he had no need to pretend to be better than he was, and thus their relationship was more honest, but there was no trust, and so he could not be vulnerable. Having sex with Light had felt like just another extension of their physical fights in the past, and so it did not seem to L that it should have any bearing on his relationship with Misa.
Perhaps he was simply not a very monogamous person. Or perhaps L was just so used to keeping secrets and keeping everything about himself private, so that his immediate emotional response was to think that what he did when Misa wasn’t around was none of her business. It would only become real if she found out, because then it would affect her, at least emotionally.
L did not explain this to Aiber. There was no need—Aiber knew that his relationship with Misa was a necessary tool in this investigation, so he would not judge him by the standards of real relationships. In any case, even if L had cheated on an actual partner, he doubted Aiber was the type of person to care.
His concerns were merely practical: “Do you think that you can keep this a secret from Misa until the Kira case is over?”
L considered this, nibbling on his thumb as Aiber watched him. He was not entirely aware that he was hugging his knees closer to his chest than usual, and drawing his shoulders up towards his ears, protecting his core and neck as he thought. “Light is confined to his floor now, so there will not be any communication between them for the foreseeable future. However, I cannot be certain the situation will not change in the future.”
“As long as Misa doesn’t know, this is a weapon that Light can use against you. If it comes down to a confrontation, he will absolutely tell Misa, and everyone else he can, in an attempt to drive them away from you.”
L considered this. Given that Light seemed fairly deeply closeted, he thought Light might have some resistance to telling others, if only because that would mean outing himself. While Light was resourceful, he was also proud, and seemed resistant to using tactics that would injure his pride, even if they would gain him an advantage. The video evidence meant that he could not falsely claim that L had forced him. However, if Light truly thought himself cornered, he would likely resort to any tools available to him. And if Misa found out the truth at the wrong moment, it could be catastrophic.
“I will consider this further,” L said. He needed time to work out the probability that Light would have both opportunity and motivation to tell Misa what had happened between them. “If I did decide to defuse this weapon by confessing to Misa myself, how might I do that? Is there some approach that would make her more likely to forgive me?”
Aiber looked almost proud of L’s pragmatism. “Based on what you’ve told me about her, and what I’ve seen myself, she seems like the type of woman that would want to blame the other man or woman, rather than her partner. If you could make the situation out to be Light’s fault—he seduced you, or something like that—then she might choose to turn her anger on him rather than face the end of her relationship. It’s very common for people, women in particular, to behave this way when cheated on.”
“And if she blames Light for trying to ‘seduce’ me, then that would only further decrease the odds that she would ever shift her loyalty back to him,” L mused. “Tell me as much as you can about this tactic.”
As L waited for Misa to return, he mused to himself about the events of the day. The headquarters felt very quiet and empty without Light there to bounce ideas off of and trade barbs with. He wondered to himself how he had missed Light’s attraction to himself, or his own attraction to Light, for that matter. Though he had noticed Light’s jealousy, at most, he had thought that the younger man simply wanted his esteem and his attention. Not his body.
L supposed that he had been too caught up in Misa to give it much thought. After all, he was not used to being the subject of amorous attentions. If a person was struck by lightning once, they would likely spend their time thinking about the first lightning strike, rather than anticipating a second one. And just as his attraction to Misa had been irrelevant until it became useful, he had not seen any reason to dwell on Light’s attractiveness or charisma, given that he would not have expected Light to show any sexual interest in him.
However, looking back over their interactions, it seemed rather obvious. Had it not been for L’s disbelief that others might find him attractive, he would have noticed it. It bothered him to have such a large blind spot in his deductive reasoning. He would have to be more alert in the future to possible signs of interest from the people around him.
In any case, though he did not regret what he had done with Light, given the video he now possessed, he had no intention of doing anything else with him in the future, and so his attraction to Light should fade back into irrelevance. He had decided not to confess anything to Misa, at least for now. He could always change his mind and tell her later, but once the secret was out, it could not be rescinded. It was best not to act rashly in this situation. He would re-focus on his relationship with Misa and put Light out of his mind.
The first time that L found himself feeling anything like guilt over his actions was the moment when Misa returned to headquarters. Of course, she noticed the bruising around his neck originally and ran to him, tears already filling her eyes. She tried to throw her arms around him, but he stepped backward, suddenly uncomfortable.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“Light and I got into an argument,” L said flatly, trying to keep as many of the facts as possible, despite leaving many out. “Something I said angered him and he attempted to strangle me. He stopped before causing any real damage. He’s now confined to his floor and won’t be let out until the Kira case is over.”
“My poor sweetie!” Misa cried. Normally, L would have been amused by what seemed to him like an overreaction to a minor injury on his part. Right now, however, he found himself feeling almost angry at how unquestioningly she believed him, at how she was crying over him without knowing that he had betrayed her, that the damage was, in some way, his own fault.
Still, he allowed Misa to take him by the elbow and drag him upstairs, shuffling after her with his hands in his pockets as she firmly told him that he would be resting for the rest of the day. She seemed to feel the need to take care of him, and he allowed it, despite feeling a million miles away.
He could only play his role up to a point, however. When Misa pushed him to lay down in his bed and leaned in, attempting to kiss him, he flinched, knocking her hands away in a violent and involuntary reaction. He didn’t even think—the motion of her hands toward his face sent him into a panic, and he found himself scrambling away from her.
As soon as there was distance between them again, however, L’s senses returned, and he found himself feeling blank again, puzzled at his body’s strong reaction. He didn’t feel upset about being strangled, not consciously. He didn’t feel much of anything at all right now. It was irritating that his body should disobey him on this.
“Hey,” Misa said, putting both of her hands up in the air. “Hey, it’s okay. Poor Ryuuzaki.”
“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I don’t know why I did that.”
“It’s normal to be freaked out. If someone choked me like that, I’d be really scared!”
L grit his teeth, feeling irrationally irritated by Misa. “I’m not ‘freaked out.’ I’m fine.”
Misa looked at him too long, and her eyes were soft, but they still hurt. It hurt to look her in the eyes, to see her pitying him, so he looked away. He wanted to tell her that there was no need to pity him, because he had chosen this. He could have fought back, but he didn’t because he wanted video evidence of Light’s violent tendencies. So it was ridiculous to be upset about it now. He felt ridiculous for reacting at all.
“I have an idea,” Misa said. She climbed under the rumpled covers, turning her back to him. “Here! Now you can cuddle me if you want. I won’t move or touch you or anything, and you’ll be in control, so it won’t be a problem!”
The way that Misa was treating him, like he was fragile or emotional or something, did not help with his irritation. “Sorry, Misa, but I’m not in the mood for ‘cuddling.’” Normally L wouldn’t turn her down, but today, his patience for playing the role that she wanted was thinner than usual.
But to his surprise, Misa didn’t get upset. “That’s fine,” she said. “I’ll just be here. Maybe I’ll take a nap.” And then she just lay there, more quiet and still than L could remember seeing her when she was awake.
L scowled slightly to himself and continued to sit there, crouched on top of the covers, hugging his knees to his chest. But as time went on and Misa continued lying on her side in silence, his anger slowly seeped out of him. After ten or fifteen minutes, he climbed under the covers and put one arm around her waist. He braced himself for Misa to comment, to gloat maybe, but she didn’t. Though he could tell that she was still awake, she kept her word and didn’t even move.
L nestled his face into Misa’s hair. Something about her scent was calming to him now. With his arm around her, holding her tightly, he suddenly felt protective of her. She was so small compared to him, so he seemed to feel a physical urge to take care of her.
Which was strange, given the fact that he was the one who had been attacked. Even stranger was the fact that it made him feel a little better.
Then again, maybe it made sense, from a psychological standpoint. Even if it had been his decision not to stop Light, his body hadn’t understood that. For his body, pain and oxygen deprivation were the same whether he accepted them or not. And physically, in that moment, he had felt powerless and weak, not even fighting back.
If Misa had fussed over him and tried to take care of him, it would have only reinforced the feeling of weakness. Instead, she was allowing him to hold her, to enfold her in his arms, in a way that made him feel strong again. In a way, it returned a sense of agency that he had lost when Light held him down with his hands around his neck. He could have defended himself, but he didn’t, because his own well-being was unimportant compared to the Kira case. But to his body, there was not much different between ‘could not’ and ‘would not.’
And though he would not bother to take care of himself, he still wanted to take care of Misa. She brought out a strength in him that made him feel more secure, even internally. Here was something he could do, something that made him feel capable again. He didn’t understand how Misa had understood that he needed this; in some ways, she was not that intelligent, but her instinct in social relationships was unparalleled.
So he curled himself around Misa, holding her tightly to his chest, shielding her as if it made any difference at all. Intellectually, he knew that Misa didn’t need his protection, and that being physically larger than her meant nothing in a world in which she had Kira’s powers, and that even if he could protect her in any meaningful way, that still shouldn’t have any bearing on his own situation. And yet, on a deeper level than intellect, something inside of him slowly began to uncurl. He kissed the silky back of her head and murmured, to himself as much as anything, “My Misa.”
Notes:
CW for dubcon, verbal degradation/slut shaming, face-fucking, and nonconsensual strangulation/choking. The sex starts off dubcon-y but becomes mutual pretty quickly (though very rough on both sides), but then one party strangles the other without consent. The person being choked has the opportunity to fight back/stop the attack, but chooses not to because it serves their longer-term plan.
Tbh I wasn't even intending there to be an L/Light aspect to this fic until I got to this point, they just kinda took over and did this and I was like "Okay you messy bitches I guess this is happening." One reason it took me so long to post is that I was worried people would hate this plot twist or be bothered by how dark the fic is getting, but I felt like changing it wouldn't be right for the story.
Chapter 15: your best defense lay wasted and in vain
Notes:
Ophelia was a tempest, cyclone
A goddamn hurricane
Your common sense, your best defense
Lay wasted and in vain
For Ophelia'd know your every woe
And every pain you'd ever had
She'd sympathize, dry your eyes
Help you to forget
And help you to forget- Natalie Merchant, "Ophelia"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“You’re awake?”
L started slightly at the quiet sound of Misa’s voice. She had been asleep for hours, and he wasn’t sure what had woken her now. Maybe it was because she had fallen asleep so early. In any case, she seemed to have noticed he wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t slept a bit, actually; had only laid there in the dark of his room, holding Misa while she slept and thinking.
He didn’t explain this to Misa, though. She already seemed to think something was wrong with him, and she would only worry more if she knew he’d just been lying there, stewing in his own thoughts. So instead, he simply said, “Yes.”
“If there’s something on Ryuuzaki’s mind, he should tell me about it,” Misa said. “After all, Ryuuzaki always listens when I have nightmares.”
L felt like laughing at that, picturing himself going to Misa for advice about the fact that he’d had sex with her ex-boyfriend. What would he say to her? Sorry, Misa, I’m just a little confused right now, because I let Light strangle me in order to get blackmail material, and now I’m having annoying and irrational responses to the memory of that event.
Or maybe, I’ve sold every part of myself to become L. I sold my heart out by pretending to love you, and I sold my body out by allowing myself to be victimized for the sake of the case.
Or maybe, I was afraid and in pain, but underneath that, I was cold. Part of myself is always like that, separate and untouched, no matter what situation I’m in. And that part of me chose this.
Or maybe, I was assaulted and part of me feels nothing. I betrayed your trust and I don’t feel guilty. Matsuda died, maybe because of me, and I barely reacted.
Or maybe, I think Light might be right about me.
Everything that he could possibly say, and couldn’t possibly say, caught in his throat all at once and choked him. He could still feel a pressure around his neck. For once in her life, Misa was quiet, not pressuring him to talk.
L surprised himself when he finally did open his mouth. “I don’t know if I’m a good person,” he said. “I don’t know if I’m a person at all.”
“What?”
L sighed, feeling a flash of unreasonable irritation at her question. Part of him wondered if Light would have understood what he meant without him having to explain himself. But Light was Light, and Misa was Misa. Light might have understood, but L also might not have felt comfortable enough to tell him this. He didn’t even understand why he was telling Misa. It wasn’t like this would help his plan, and he didn’t want to have to explain it in words. But he continued anyway.
“I don’t know if I feel anything real. Even when I feel things, it’s like ripples on the surface of a deep, still pond. And maybe not even that. I could just be lying to myself, trying to convince myself I’m a human. It’s like there’s a layer of glass between myself and everything else. Nothing touches me.”
L felt that this was his fault in some way. Maybe he had made the barrier himself, had separated himself from the world at some point in the past. It was convenient, and it had never bothered him before. But now, he suddenly felt panicked that it might be irreversible. Once you play a role long enough, isn’t that just who you are?
“I… think I understand what you mean,” Misa said slowly, surprising him. He had half expected her to say something like, ‘But what about our love? That’s real, right?’ “But doesn’t that mean the opposite?”
Now it was L’s turn not to understand what she meant. When he didn’t speak, she went on.
“If there’s a barrier, it’s there because you need it, right? If you really didn’t have feelings, you wouldn’t need it. Maybe the feelings are there, but you just can’t reach them.”
L considered this for a moment, surprised by Misa’s insightfulness. Had he always been like this? He remembered, as a child, feeling like the world was too sharp and painful to live in. He hadn’t understood how anyone else could stand it. It was like they had some natural protection that he was born without. Everything had hurt—noises, lights, chaos. Being touched by others, or even just looked in the eyes.
He had thought that he’d grown out of that, that it had been some response to the death of his parents, or maybe just the price of being a child prodigy. Maybe, instead, he had made himself some sort of armor? If nothing could touch him, then it couldn’t hurt him either.
Did it matter where it came from? The outcome was the same either way: L was a different sort of creature, set apart from the rest of humanity.
“I don’t know,” L said, to himself as much as to Misa. “I don’t know anything at all.” Why had he ever done this? Why had he thought that he could just crack himself open for this case, use his heart like it was just another tool, and then stuff everything back inside when he was done? How had he thought he could pull that off without coming apart completely? He was breathing shallowly now, shaking slightly as he clutched Misa tighter.
With a bit of effort, having to fight his grip with every motion, Misa managed to squirm around in his arms until she was facing him. She wrapped her arms around his back, her face pressed to his chest, and he didn’t flinch away this time. No matter how tightly he squeezed her to himself, she didn’t complain.
The two of them, Light and Misa, occupied his mind most of the time. Each was deadly in a completely different way. Light was like a harsh, blinding light, puns aside. He illuminated L without mercy or softness, infiltrating every place L could hide. He was as sharp and painful and real as the world had been to L, back before he learned to shield himself.
Misa was more deceptive, like the lotus of Greek mythology, clouding his senses and making him forget himself. She felt like a safe harbor, drawing him in, soft but unyielding in her grasp. Her weapons were hidden, tempting him with her own vulnerability to bare himself likewise, knowing that sooner or later, he would feel her claws in his flesh.
And yet, when her mouth found his in the dark, gentle and sweet, he couldn’t stop himself from taking solace in her. After everything that had happened, he needed her softness. He let himself, for just a moment, forget that she was anything but what she appeared to be: a woman who loved him, who listened to his fears in the middle of the night and didn’t turn away. He kissed her back and he let himself be tranquilized.
Without Light’s help, L was mostly on his own for strategizing as their plans moved forward. Though Aiber and Wedy were useful, they were mere tools in the investigation, not investigators in their own rights. Before L made any moves, such as sending Misa or Aiber in, he wanted to give the Yotsuba group a chance to hold another meeting that they could then observe over Wedy’s cameras and microphones—assuming, of course, that they didn’t change the location too drastically. It was not actually possible to bug every single room in the building in the span of a week, especially given that Wedy was also busy infiltrating the homes of the men.
In the meantime, Aiber had given Kida a preliminary report on L with enough information to keep them happy, but not so much that they would actually get anywhere. They would not put up with such limited information for long, but he did not intend to wait much longer before making a move. And, if necessary, he would come up with a fake L to give them in order to get more money and keep them happy.
On Thursday, the day before the group would meet—assuming, of course, that they did not change up their usual habits—something interesting happened: L discovered that one of the eight men, Hatori, had died. Just as Matsuda, it had been a traffic accident, but it was interesting in that his death did not occur over the weekend. However, there was little doubt in L’s mind that this was the work of Kira.
When the meeting actually occurred, L was ready, seated all alone in the large main hall of headquarters. The lights were dim, as he preferred them that way, and now that the others were gone, he had no one else’s preferences to take into account. He was not especially given to nostalgia, but it was strange to think that only a few weeks prior, he would have been surrounded by colleagues—Yagami, Aizawa, Mogi. Matsuda. Light. It was difficult to imagine now. He had created this building envisioning an enormous Kira task force making use of it, and yet, here he was working basically alone, just as he always had.
The months of working surrounded by others had turned out to be not a shift in L’s lifestyle, but rather, a mere blip, a short period of reprieve from a life of solitude. In the end, it had been L’s own methods and character that drove them away. It seemed he was simply not built to collaborate with others.
Of course, his life was different in other ways. He had a girlfriend, for one. But that would likewise turn out to be a momentary aberration before his life returned to normal. The only difference would be the memories he kept, the ability to distract himself from his solitude with recollections of—well, not love, but companionship. Affection. Intimacy, of a sort. Something to warm him on the many cold nights that doubtless lay ahead.
But this was all pointless. In fact, L was slightly disturbed by the direction his thoughts had taken. He was not usually prone to this sort of sentiment, especially when he was meant to be focused on a case. The silence and lack of stimulation must have gotten to him as he sat crouched alone on his chair, waiting impatiently for the Yotsuba meeting to start.
L swallowed, noting half-consciously and distantly that his throat was still sore. Best to be on his own, then. Less danger, for one, and fewer distractions. This case had been exciting, but he had probably had enough of the sort of excitement that involved being strangled by a suspect while his dick was still out.
As L sat, he had been switching back and forth between other camera feeds, making sure he was not missing the meeting in some other room. However, the main monitor remained fixed on the meeting room from the previous week, the one in which Matsuda had probably discovered them. And finally, in the feed of that room, there was motion: the doors opening, the men trickling in. Quickly, L pulled up the other cameras in that room on the other monitors, making sure to get every angle he could.
It was showtime.
The beginning was as good as he could have hoped for, as seven of the eight men on his suspect list entered the room, all dressed in black. Mourning clothes. There were eight chairs around the table, one left conspicuously empty—there was no doubt that Hatori had been one of them. This interpretation was confirmed as, after mentioning that they would be discussing ‘who to kill,’ the men immediately began speaking of Hatori’s death.
The first man to speak up was Namikawa, a sophisticated-looking man with long black hair who claimed to have been relieved to hear of Hatori’s death. “I had suspected that this would happen when Hatori objected to the death of the cop,” he said. “He didn’t have the guts to accept what had to be done in that situation. And now we all know what Kira will do if the rest of us fail him.”
‘The cop’! That could only be Matsuda. This was confirmed when another man, with long hair and a thick mustache, spoke up. Takahashi, L confirmed with a glance at the employee profiles.
“Hatori was only worried that killing the cop would attract even more attention to us,” he argued. “That’s pragmatism, not cowardice.”
“It was obviously the best of two bad options,” Namikawa responded, looking unperturbed. “Once the cop overheard us, our choices were limited. Would it have been better to allow him to go running back to the police—or even to L—with news of what he heard?”
“We’re not even totally sure what he did hear,” Takahashi replied. “He wouldn’t say a word.”
L felt a momentary appreciation for Matsuda, along with an uncomfortable pang. Cornered and alone with Kira, knowing that he was going to die, it would not have been unexpected for Matsuda to tell them everything in the hopes of saving himself—what he and Light had discovered, and the fact that L was closing in on them. L’s appearance and location, even. But Matsuda had stayed loyal until the very end.
“Regardless, it would have been too big of a risk to let him go. If Hatori wasn’t smart enough to realize that, then we’re better of without him. Doing things halfway will only get us caught.”
Namikawa seemed like the brains, or at least the one confident enough to speak out. Could he be Kira? Or a Kira, if more than one of the seven had the power. In any case, he felt that he could assume that Takahashi was not Kira, unless he was keeping up a very convincing act.
L tabled that thought as the focus shifted to Ooi, a large bald man with a severe face who seemed to be leading the meeting. He changed the subject of conversation to the report which Aiber had sent to them as Coil, which Kida read out to them. Another man, Higuchi, seemed skeptical of Coil’s information. Well, it couldn’t be helped; L and Aiber were feeding the men information as slowly as they could get away with, and it was only to be expected that some would be frustrated with this.
Still, others, like Takahashi, seemed more pleased with the report. Though L was not yet sure how the group operated, they seemed to make decisions as a team, which meant that they would not put pressure on Coil until a majority of them felt dissatisfied with his work.
“There’s something else,” Ooi continued. “At the end of his report, Coil warned us not to underestimate L. He said that the death of L’s former associate would not escape his attention.”
“So it’s true,” Namikawa broke in. “The cop worked for L.”
Higuchi pulled an irritated face. “There’s still nothing to connect the cops death to us,” he pointed out. “We erased the footage. There’s no proof he was ever in this building. And L doesn’t know that Kira can kill in ways other than heart attacks.”
One of the men, Shimura, looked nervous. “What if the cop contacted L before his death? A whole day passed before he died.”
“Whichever one of us is Kira would obviously have controlled his actions so that he could not tell anyone,” Namikawa pointed out, looking slightly exasperated at having to explain this. But L was distracted by something else: ‘whichever one of us is Kira.’ He had suspected this, but it had not been confirmed until now: the men did not know which one of them actually had the power to kill.
And the killings obviously took place after their meetings, as with Matsuda. So they were making decisions, which Kira then carried out? It was intriguing; he could not picture Light ever operating in this way. He would not put up with having to follow the decisions of others.
Shimura still looked nervous as he suggested that Kira reveal his identity to the others. However, the others disagreed, pointing out that hiding Kira’s identity allowed them to speak as equals. L suspected that Shimura was not Kira either. The Yotsuba Kira had chosen to set things up this way for a reason; he clearly saw something of value in hiding his identity and getting feedback from his peers. Not to mention the added benefit of making sure his identity could not be betrayed if one of the other men decided to go to the police.
However, in response to Coil’s report, as well as the threat of L tracing Matsuda’s death back to them, the men eventually agreed to reduce the frequency of their meetings and killings. L felt lucky that he had managed to place the bugs before this happened. Another thing he owed to Matsuda.
And then, of course, the moment he had been waiting for: the men began discussing who to kill. They seemed to do so as a collaborative process, with individuals suggesting targets and explaining their reasoning, and then agreeing to request the deaths from Kira as a group. To be honest, they seemed to collaborate better than the vast majority of work colleagues. It seemed ironic to L, the way they had made the process of committing murder casual and civil.
Of course, some part of him had been hoping that they would actually kill someone right then and there, but he had already known better than to expect that. The delay in the deaths, along with the fact that Kira’s identity was hidden, had led him to believe that Kira would wait until later to act on the decisions made by the group, and that seemed to be what was happening.
However, he would not have long to wait, as they had decided for the first of the deaths to take place over the weekend. If Wedy could bug the right member’s house before then, they might be able to pinpoint Kira’s identity and method of killing. As the meeting ended, leaving L staring alone at video footage of an empty room, he felt some unease about the fact that he knew that an innocent man would soon die.
If he wanted to, he supposed that he could step in and do something to prevent the death. But he could not see any way of doing so that would not ruin his chances of catching Kira.
Without a death to go with the words, the video footage might not be enough. And even after the first victim specified died, L would need to know Kira’s identity and method of killing. If he didn’t find proof of Kira’s identity, Kira would simply blend into the crowd, claiming to be just as clueless as the rest of them. Given what had happened to Hatori, they all had the potential to claim that they had been forced by threat of death into collaborating with Kira.
And that was without considering the possibility that none of them were Kira, and that the Yotsuba Kira was actually someone else who held some connection to those seven—unlikely, in L’s eyes, but it had to be considered.
In any case, if he found the Yotsuba Kira’s identity, and the first victim died, he could arrest him—but arresting Light and Misa had not stopped the deaths. No, if he took the Yotsuba Kira into custody, the power would pass on. L could feel it in his bones. This would all be for nothing if he did not at least determine how Kira killed.
There was no choice but to sit back and wait for the first death. If L tried, he might be able to come up with some convoluted plan to prevent the killing, but he would be taking the risk of letting Kira slip through his grasp once more. And this one death was insubstantial compared to the thousands who would die if he failed to stop Kira permanently.
Counter to his earlier wistfulness, L now felt grateful that he was working alone yet again. He could already imagine the arguments that would have ensued had he been forced to explain this reasoning to Yagami or Aizawa. While he could understand the discomfort they would feel, the fact was that, as L, he did not have the luxury of putting moral qualms above the greater good.
The most respectful thing to do would be to make the victim’s death count. Wedy could only infiltrate and bug so many houses before the next death. In fact, it might already be too late, given that Kira could control the time of death. He might have already scheduled the first victim, or even all of them. In that case, trying to save them would be especially futile.
Still, it was necessary to try. L needed to use his deductive skills to maximize the chances of bugging Kira’s house first.
Unless Kira was a brilliant actor, he felt that he could probably rule out Takahashi and Shimura. Neither one of them seemed to have the stomach for what they were doing.
Of the rest, Kida was not especially involved in their deliberation process. Was that a point in his favor or against him? L suspected that Kira would not be able to resist trying to sway the others in some way; after all, he knew that he was the most powerful in the room, even if the others didn’t realize that. It would influence his behavior. In addition, as Kida had been their first lead, Wedy had already bugged his place thoroughly. If Kida was Kira, then he was doing a fantastic job at keeping it hidden, even in his own private residence, and there was no clear way to force him to show his hand.
Of the rest, the two who had the most influence over the others and took charge of the meeting were Namikawa and Ooi. Namikawa in particular seemed extremely intelligent, and yet, something about him did not seem like L’s image of the Yotsuba Kira. He was competent and independent, not seeming to care much about the opinions of others. If he had been Kira, he probably would have acted alone.
Then there were the other two, Higuchi and Midou. Higuchi seemed to be the contrarian of the group, not to mention overconfident about their ability to evade L. He fit the Kira profile quite well. Midou had not spoken up much, but he had suggested that they change the timing of the deaths, suggesting that they be more cautious—the opposite of Higuchi’s approach. This did not fit what L would expect, but Midou could not be ruled out as a potential Kira, given the level of his involvement and the way he had convinced the others to act as he suggested.
L pulled a phone from his pocket and dialed Wedy. The faster she could move, the better, so he would go with his instincts. “I want you to focus on the houses of Ooi and Higuchi,” he told her. “Bug them as thoroughly and quickly as possible. Once you have finished with those, I want you to move on to Midou and Namikawa. Shimura and Takahashi are the lowest priority; do not move on to them until you are completely finished with the others.”
With that, all L could do was wait to see if they found any evidence of Kira’s identity or if the first death occurred. Luckily, it would only take a day or two, but still, L was not the most patient person in the world. It made him antsy, just sitting around and waiting for something to happen.
In the meantime, he would focus on planning his next steps, under the assumption that he would fail to find Kira’s identity in the next few days. It might be time to consider playing his next card: Misa.
Later that night, when the girl in question was asleep in his bed, L took his laptop out to the couch and pulled up the video surveillance of Light’s floor. He did so quite often these days, though never when Misa could see him. After all, he had to keep up surveillance of his prime suspect. Catching the Yotsuba Kira was his most important short-term goal, but in the long run, the key to the Kira case lay with Light. L was sure of it.
Mostly, Light had seemed pretty subdued over the past several days, since the incident that had led to his return to solitary confinement. He read books, spoke on the phone with his father (monitored, of course), and went over files on the Kira case. L allowed him a laptop, though it was not connected to the internet. It was still possible, even while completely cut off from the world, that Light might manage to find something they had missed and to make progress on the case.
Besides that, it was good to occupy Light’s mind. L was not trying to punish him, or to keep him isolated as he had during the initial confinement period. He was only protecting himself from further physical violence, not to mention from Light’s continued meddling in his relationship with Misa. It was much easier to handle the two of them when he could keep them apart, triangulating their communication.
L would have said that another benefit of Light’s confinement was that Light could no longer antagonize and confuse him, baiting him into doing things that he shouldn’t, testing his self-control. After all, had he considered the idea in advance, L would not have predicted that he would give into Light’s advances so easily, and yet, he had. In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising: when it came to the things that gave him pleasure, L had never had the most self-control.
L would have said all that, but as it turned out, he had underestimated Light Yagami’s ability to antagonize and confuse him, because when he opened the video feed, it was to the sight of Light sprawled naked on his bed, lazily stroking his cock.
Immediately, L felt a jolt of adrenaline, his heart rate accelerating. He was not sure it could be termed as either arousal or fear—shock was the closest descriptor he could think of. He had not expected to be so immediately confronted by this sight, though perhaps he should have seen it coming. L cast a furtive glance at the closed door to his bedroom, vividly imagining how Misa would react if she walked out and saw this.
Then Light’s voice rang out through the headphones over L’s ears, and he jumped. “Are you watching me, L?” Light asked, sounding as if he were right next to him. L felt uncomfortably exposed, as if Light could sense his presence, could see him somehow. He leaned in to look more closely at the screen, acting on autopilot, as Light’s hand picked up speed and his legs moved slightly, rubbing against the sheets underneath him. “If you were here right now, I’d pin you down and fuck you until you screamed. Can you picture that?”
All too well, L thought ruefully, swallowing hard. He had not gotten a good look at Light’s body before, given their relative positions. Of course, he had seen Light undress and shower in front of the cameras before, but that was different than seeing him put himself on display like this, aroused and flushed, talking to L like he knew he was listening. Light’s body was lithe, lightly muscled but still fluid in a way that was almost androgynous, with soft, mostly hairless skin and a flat stomach that tensed and flexed as he moved.
“God,” Light panted, and L held his breath, listening as closely as he could, as though Light’s words held some vital information. “I fucking hate you. Come down here and fuck me already.”
L was certainly not going to do that, but neither was he going to turn the video off. He did not have the strength to deny himself this, even though he knew it was unwise for him to wallow in his attraction to Light. What he had done with Light had been useful for the case, but there was no point in repeating the encounter. Particularly given the threat to his own safety.
“You’re not still mad about the choking, are you?” Light asked, sounding amused, and L jerked slightly. God, that was just uncanny. Then again, if he thought about it rationally, of course Light would be able to predict that would be on his mind. “I know you got off on it too. I wouldn’t have really hurt you.” L wondered if Light was only lying to him, or to himself as well. “Just come down here and I’ll show you.”
But L only sat, still and silent as a statue, watching as Light’s movements grew frantic and his words became even more vicious. By the end, he had grown incoherent enough that he was simply hissing, “L, you bastard, come on, you want me, fuck me, fuck me,” before coming into his own hands with a frustrated-sounding moan.
As Light finished, panting there on his back, L closed the laptop. The spell was broken, leaving him alone with the inconvenient fact of his erection, which he had successfully ignored for as long as he was focused on Light.
Though he hated to admit Light was right about anything, he couldn’t deny Light’s words. L did want him. He wanted him even though he feared him—hated him, even. But as long as Light was far away, just a small figure on his computer screen, he would not be swayed.
Still, L’s body was not so cooperative. He palmed himself through his jeans, stifling a moan, before shooting another guilty look at his bedroom door. Misa didn’t want him to masturbate. And even though he had already broken her rules in a much worse way, by coming in Light’s mouth, he felt that he should avoid breaking them again.
Standing up, L walked over to the door and opened it, continuing to rub himself absently as he did so. “Misa,” he half-whispered into the dark room. “Are you awake?”
In the sliver of light from the door, Misa shifted under the covers, pushing herself up onto her side to peer at him. He must look like nothing but a dark silhouette to her, looking in at her from the doorway. “Mmm, yeah, kinda. Why?”
“I need you.” L shut the door behind himself and disrobed in the dark, then climbed into his bed, joining her under the covers. He curled up behind her, slipping his arms around her front, pressing his hips to her insistently, so that his erection ground against the soft backs of her thighs. She was already naked for him, like always when she was in his bed. Kissing the curve of her neck and inhaling deeply, he let his hands roam over her front, pulling her back against him as he palmed her breasts before slipping a hand down her soft stomach and further down.
Misa moaned, then gasped, “God, you’re really worked up tonight.” Instead of answering, he only withdrew his hand long enough to lick his fingers before sliding them past her soft thatch of hair and into the heat between her legs. He moved his fingers slickly up and down her slit as she squeezed his hand between her thighs, twitching slightly against his touch.
“I need to come,” L whispered back, too aroused to be embarrassed about saying it like that. “Can I—” He knew this was rude, but Misa was the one who had forbidden him from orgasming without her involvement, so he felt it was somewhat justified. She couldn’t complain when she was the one who had told him to use her body every time he wanted to come.
“Mmmm.” Misa made a thoughtful noise, then said, in a teasing voice, “Misa is really sleepy right now.”
“Please,” L said, begging without shame as he felt her up with both hands, curling his body completely around hers, continuing to nuzzle hungrily against the crook of her neck. He wished that he could touch every part of her body at once.
“Alright, but Ryuuzaki has to do all the work,” Misa said, sounding amused. “Misa is just gonna lie back and look pretty.”
L barely even noted her teasing, mostly focused on the fact that she had said yes. She let him lift her thigh slightly, and when he sank into her from behind, she answered his groan of relief with a sleepy, satisfied little whimper that went straight to his already throbbing cock. He felt dirty and guilty, using Misa’s body to sate the erection that Light had given him, but his only other options were to jerk off alone, worrying about her reaction the whole time, or to ignore his arousal, which didn’t feel possible right now.
And so, despite his guilt, he used Misa, wrapping his arms around her from behind and sucking on her neck as he thrust into her, driving into that obliterating heat. Misa kept her word, letting out soft moans as she gave in to his consuming desire, soft and pliant and still half-asleep, not bothering to do anything but allow him to fuck her. There in the pitch dark, he gave her all of the hunger that had built up as he watched Light, and she accepted it all into herself. It wasn’t until he finally spilled into her, arms tightening around her as his hips jerked erratically, letting out a shuddering moan against the nape of her neck, that he finally felt at peace.
Notes:
As always, thanks for putting up with my sporadic updates!
Chapter 16: protect me from what i want
Notes:
Slowly but surely I am continuing this fic. Don't give up on me!
Wedding bells ain't gonna chime
With both of us guilty of crime
And both of us sentenced to time
And now we're all aloneProtect me from what I want
Protect me from what I want
Protect me from what I want
Protect me, protect me- Placebo, "Protect Me"
Chapter Text
Exhausted, L must have dozed off without pulling out of Misa, because when he woke up, he was still inside of her. Their positions hadn’t changed; they were still lying on their sides with L wrapped around Misa’s back.
Misa wasn’t the one to wake L. She hadn’t stirred. What had awoken him was the feeling of someone climbing into the bed behind him, and he immediately knew who it was.
“How did you get here?” he whispered to Light, who should have still been locked on his floor.
“You called me here, remember?” Light’s mouth was right by his ear, and the air ghosting over his skin made L shudder. “You wanted me, so I came.”
This made sense to L. He had felt guilty, certain that he would be caught watching Light, that Light could somehow feel his eyes on him. It made a sort of magical sense that he should have accidentally called Light to himself, just by thinking about him too much.
“What are you doing?” he asked, though in truth, he thought he knew. He just didn’t want to admit it.
Perhaps knowing this, Light didn’t bother answering, as if to tell L that he couldn’t fool him. Instead, he only whispered, “Shh. You wouldn’t want to wake her.”
L looked at Misa’s sleeping figure. Somehow, he didn’t think she would wake up, as though she were in an enchanted sleep. He felt like he should pull out of her—it would make certain things easier—but the problem was that he didn’t want to. He was hard again, and it felt undeniably good to be inside her, held by her.
Misa had once told him that he could have sex with her even if she was asleep, but it still felt wrong. Besides that, he didn’t think that offer extended to unexpected threesomes with her ex-boyfriend. Particularly ones where she wasn’t even the center of attention.
But Light didn’t give L much room to withdraw, nor did he seem worried about it. He only lined himself up and began to press into him. L didn’t know when Light could have prepared him, but he must have, because it didn’t hurt at all. It felt more like the idea of pressure, of intrusion, than the thing itself. Still, the idea was enough, and he had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from making a startled noise.
“You hurt me,” L whispered when he had adjusted enough to speak. Not now, it didn’t hurt now, but before. He could remember hurting. He could remember being afraid. “I shouldn’t let you do this.”
“When has ‘should’ ever stopped you from doing what you want?” Light responded, his voice smooth and seductive.
L could not argue with this reasoning, and so he gave in to it. He closed his eyes and focused solely on the sensations—the drag of Light inside of him, the way Light’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once. And Misa, still and undisturbed, the grip of her around him providing just enough to sate his need, even though he could not move for fear of waking her.
L wondered why Light was okay with sharing him with Misa. His mental model of Light would not have wanted any of L’s attention elsewhere. Light responded to him as though he had spoken aloud, whispering in his ear, “She’s not really part of this. This is just between you and me. She’s nothing to people like us; you know that. She’s just a toy to keep your cock occupied while I have you, like an onahole. I don’t mind letting you have your toy.”
It was wrong to talk about Misa, to think about Misa, this way. They shouldn’t do it. It shouldn’t have made L even harder, listening to Light degrade his sleeping girlfriend in his ear while Light fucked him and L fucked her.
Misa would be mad if she knew what was happening. He couldn’t imagine what she would do. But Light would be mad if he asked him to stop. He would just remind L that it was too late to deny what they both knew he wanted.
L felt trapped, caught between the two most dangerous people he had ever met. It added a sharp edge to his pleasure, only driving him higher, consuming him more. He didn’t want to give either of them up, not when they made him feel like this. He thought he might let them kill him before he gave this up.
“That’s it,” Light groaned in his ear, speeding up. His hands were on L’s hips, his chest, his neck. Just holding, at first, and then bearing down. His beautiful, beautiful hands constricted around L’s neck, and it wasn’t like before, because L knew he wouldn’t stop this time. He knew, as deeply as he knew anything, that Light was going to kill him.
This knowledge, the feeling of his heart thudding in his chest, the clutch of Light’s hands all over his body, pushed him over the edge. L thought he must be dying, but he was coming too, like they were one in the same thing, pleasure exploding inside of him and out of him, vision going dark, and just like every other dream he had, it was the moment of his death that ripped him awake.
The hands, the heat pressed against his back, the intrusion inside of him, all of these things were gone. But the warm pressure around his penis was still there, and L’s climax continued, shuddering and curling tighter around Misa as he spilled inside of her body and she slept on.
On Sunday, the first victim died.
Wedy had made some progress on bugging the houses of the Yotsuba members, but it wasn’t enough: they had not seen anything suspicious that could link any of the men to the death. Kida’s house had already been thoroughly bugged, which meant that either he wasn’t Kira, or he was able to perfectly hide it. And since Wedy had bugged Ooi’s house over the weekend, if he was Kira, either he had acted before she planted the bugs, or, like Kida, he was not going to be so easy to catch.
The other three targets—Higuchi, Namikawa, and Midou—had much more stringent security systems than either Kida or Ooi. At L’s instruction, she had focused the majority of her efforts on Higuchi, but had not yet managed to even enter his house.
The first victim’s death, in combination with the video footage from Friday night, strongly implicated the Yotsuba group members, but it wasn’t enough. L needed a way of determining which of the men was acting as Kira if he wanted to trap him and discover how he killed.
And so, on Sunday evening, L called Misa and Aiber in to talk with him. With Light in confinement again, and Wedy preferring to stick to the shadows, they were all that remained of his team. In addition, he thought it best to have Aiber present for important conversations with Misa, in case he had any insights on how best to handle her.
Still, L did not go to Aiber for every little thing anymore. He had a pretty good idea of how to deal with Misa by now. For example, she was headstrong and prone to going off on her own, and so it was best to make her believe that whatever action he wanted her to take was actually her idea.
And so he sat her and Aiber down and spoke to them as he would have to his task force, as if all he wanted was their input. He explained the situation thus far: that Kira had killed over the weekend, and that he had narrowed it down to a few candidates, but was struggling to find solid evidence that any one of them was Kira.
As he had expected, neither Misa nor Aiber seemed especially distraught at the revelation that Kira had killed again, nor did it seem to occur to either of them to judge him for standing by and allowing someone to be killed in order to get evidence against the Yotsuba group. Aiber was not the type to bother himself with something as juvenile as morality, and as for Misa, L had gotten the impression that her concern only extended as far as people she knew personally. Matsuda’s death had shocked her, but when it came to the murder of a businessman whose name she hadn’t even known, she couldn’t seem to find any emotional connection to the news.
Instead, she focused on more practical matters. “So you know it’s one of them, right?”
“Pretty sure.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Then why can’t you just arrest all of them? Then the deaths will stop, right?”
L didn’t think he needed to tread too carefully around the topic of her and Light being Kira, given their earlier conversations about it, but just in case, he kept his words somewhat vague. “If I’m right, then it’s possible for Kira’s power to be passed from one person to another. If I arrest all of them, then a new Kira will pop up somewhere else, and I will be left with a bunch of useless, confused businessmen who can’t tell me anything at all.
“The reason I want to identify which individual is acting as Kira is not merely so that I can stop them, but rather, so that I can catch them in the act and discover how the Kira power works. With that information, I will be better positioned to deal with the next Kira.” Or with Light Yagami’s return to the role, he did not add.
“Hmm,” Misa hummed, looking like she was thinking hard.
Aiber had been pretty quiet. L expected that he had picked up on L’s ulterior motives, and was sitting back in order to give him more room to act.
L forced a sigh. He would probably need to oversell the act in order to get Misa to pick up on his meaning, and so he did his best to look stumped. “Wedy is working on bugging their places, but it’s starting to seem like the bugs may not tell us anything useful. If only there was a way to get closer to them, close enough to see them slip up and reveal something… But I can’t show my face now.”
“What about me?” Aiber asked. “They already know my voice as Coil; I could go to them in person.”
“That could work,” L agreed, injecting a note of skepticism into his voice. “But they’ll certainly be on their guard around you, knowing that you have already discovered so many of their secrets. No, what I am looking for is someone who they will lower their guard around. Someone who is capable of seeming harmless.”
He frowned and continued, “If only we still had a larger team. Perhaps I should call in one of my other contacts. There is a Russian woman who owes me a favor. She is quite beautiful, just the sort of person who would put men at ease. It serves her quite well in her work as an assassin.”
If Misa hadn’t already realized that she was the perfect candidate for the job, hopefully the prospect of yet another woman around to serve as a potential rival for L would shock her into action. Indeed, when he mentioned the woman’s beauty, she narrowed her eyes, looking perturbed.
“There’s no need for that!” Misa cut in. “Misa is beautiful too, and great at acting. Their guard will be so low they’ll be tripping over it.”
There we go. But it wouldn’t do to seem too eager, so L said, “Misa could do it? I hadn’t thought of that…” He frowned, pretending to think it over. “I don’t know. It’s a very dangerous job, and I wouldn’t want Misa to get hurt. After all, Misa is very precious to me. No, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
L waited for Misa to argue with him, but instead, she was just staring at him with an inscrutable expression on her face, and he grew slightly nervous. As he watched, Misa’s smile faded and her face grew cloudy. Slowly, she crossed her arms over her chest, seeming to retreat from him in some way he couldn’t quite grasp. L broke off mid-sentence.
“Is something wrong, Misa?” he asked, blinking at her.
“Misa’s not stupid!” she blurted out, sticking out her lower lip slightly.
Where was this coming from? “I didn’t say you were stupid, Misa,” he said. “Nobody here thinks that.”
“You do!” Misa insisted, prodding at his chest with her index finger. “You talk to Misa like she’s a kid, but she’s not. You know, if you’d just ask, Misa would do anything you wanted. But you have to make everything into a game or a trick. Well, Misa’s tired of it!”
And before L could answer, Misa had turned on her heel and stormed out of the room. He was left alone with Aiber, who he turned towards in absolute confusion. To his irritation, the man was smirking, like he was amused by the sudden explosion from Misa.
“You know what you did wrong there, right?” Aiber asked. L shook his head, looking away in annoyance. There was almost nothing that he hated as much as admitting that he didn’t know something. Aiber let his smile drop, adopting a look of patience that L could not help but find condescending.
“Misa is clearly very socially attuned. Now, we both know that she is a means to an end for you, but you need to find a way of ignoring that reality when you are with her, because otherwise, she will pick up on it. She can feel, on some level, that you are not being genuine or open with her. The best approach would be if you can trick yourself into believing that you are genuine when you are with her, rather than trying to fool her outright. If your actions come from a place of calculation, she will feel it.
“She’s upset because you were manipulating her towards getting in contact with Yotsuba, and this more obvious manipulation made it more difficult for her to continue ignoring the other signs that you have been manipulating her in your relationship as a whole. You have her wrapped around your finger, but now, you need to trust that.
“Make her feel close to you, that the two of you are working as a team, and she’ll follow your directions. Make her feel like a pawn, and at some point, she’ll stop being able to ignore that nagging voice in her head that tells her not to trust you.”
L frowned, thinking this over. From that perspective, Misa’s outburst made sense. She had been offended by being treated as another person he had to manage, rather than as a true collaborator. However, as he nibbled his thumb, he realized that he felt resistant toward taking Aiber’s advice, and told him as much.
“I understand the utility of acting that way towards Misa, but I am unsure if I can do so,” he admitted. “The amount of distance from her that I am preserving feels necessary to my ability to remain pragmatic about this case.”
Understanding lit in Aiber’s eyes. “You’re purposefully holding back from acting genuinely with Misa in order to protect yourself,” he said. “You’re afraid that if you commit to the act too completely, it won’t be an act anymore.”
“Something like that,” L agreed uneasily. After all, hadn’t he done things with Misa that ran counter to his goals? Arguing with her, talking down to her, even this ill-advised interest in Light… On some level, was he sabotaging himself? Was he more afraid that his feelings for Misa could be real than he was even of losing the Kira case, and his life along with it?
Aiber sighed, looking thoughtful. “Only you know your limits,” he said. “If you did want my advice on how to overcome this, I would tell you: split yourself in two. Take the part of yourself that genuinely cares for her, the vulnerable part, and bury it as deep as it will go. Then fashion yourself a mask in its shape. Wear it when you must, but make it only an echo of the true self.”
L was not usually the type to speak so openly with another person, but Aiber seemed to pull it out of him, something in his presence making L feel understood, as though his walls could come down, just a little. That, he supposed, was what made him dangerous. “And after?” he asked. “How does one put themselves back together?”
Aiber only shrugged. “That’s a question to take up with a therapist once you’re old and retired, assuming this life doesn’t kill you first.”
“Is that your plan?” L asked. “You’ve been doing this for so long, the part of you that cares must be buried quite deep.” He didn’t know why he was lashing out at Aiber, except for his discomfort with how much he had revealed already.
“We’re not talking about me,” Aiber said. “Look, Ryuuzaki: do you want to win, or not? Not everyone is cut out for this kind of sacrifice, but when you approached me, I thought you were one of them.”
“You know I am,” L snapped. “You can’t imagine the parts of myself I have cut away in order to get where I am.”
“No, I suppose not,” Aiber agreed with a smile. “In that case, why don’t we talk about how you’re going to make up with Misa?”
Later that evening, when Aiber left the room at last, he turned back over his shoulder in the doorway and locked eyes with L. “I have no plan to put myself back together again,” he admitted. “I don’t believe I was ever whole in the first place.”
Before going to Misa, L took some time alone in his room, sitting cross-legged on his bed. If he didn’t deal with the parts of himself that he would rather ignore, the parts that had been covered in a thick layer of ice before Misa’s touch began to thaw them out, they would only influence him more, driving him to act in irrational and counterproductive ways in order to protect himself.
Yes, he was not unaffected by her, emotionally as well as physically. Yes, maybe he wished that what they had could be something real, something he could keep for himself. Was that really so scary? It wasn’t going to ruin his life if some of the feelings he was feigning came from a genuine place. He could feel them, accept them, and still do what he had to do.
He sat with it for awhile, the elation and terror of this strange new period of his life that existed somewhere, though it was as muted as everything else he felt. And then, as Aiber had advised him to do, he buried it down deep at the bottom of his mind, and he went to Misa.
From the cameras, L could see that she was crying in her rooms, playing music as loudly as possible. He was unsure whether it was meant to comfort herself or to annoy him. If the latter, she was out of luck: every floor of the building was thoroughly soundproofed.
Because of the music, he did not bother knocking, only let himself in and walked right past Misa to turn off the stereo. She didn’t try to stop him, only glared up at him from her position on the couch. Still, she shifted slightly, making room for him as he came to sit down next to her, and when he set a hand on her knee, she didn’t push it off.
“I’m sorry,” L said, looking into her eyes as steadily as he could, though he felt a twinge of discomfort at doing so. Looking into someone’s eyes and speaking earnestly did not come easily to him, but if Aiber was to be believed, nothing would appease Misa other than genuine, open communication. Aiber would tell him to use the truth, to make it work for him, and so he did. “I am used to having to persuade others into taking the action that I want. I know that I shouldn’t use such tactics on Misa, but I truly don’t even notice that I am doing it.”
Misa looked at him through teary eyes, some of the anger seeming to leave her. “Misa’s your girlfriend,” she reminded him. “I only want to make Ryuuzaki happy and be helpful to him. But Ryuuzaki doesn’t trust me!”
L sighed, letting his hair fall into his face slightly, granting him slightly more distance from her. He couldn’t tell her that he could hardly trust her, given that she was a serial killer who he was actively working to convict. But he could tell her something else true: “I don’t trust anyone.”
Misa pouted and shifted forward until she was practically in his lap, looking pleadingly into his face, even as he averted his gaze. “Well, you better learn to trust Misa,” she told him firmly, “because you’re not getting rid of her.”
Some part of him wished that was true. L buried it with the rest and focused on the matter at hand, drawing Misa close and kissing her. He knew just how she liked it now—he’d always been a fast learner—and she melted, leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his neck. When he pulled back, her eyes were slightly glazed over.
“Let’s try this again,” he said, their faces still only a few inches apart. “Misa, would you please infiltrate Yotsuba and help me catch Kira?” Then, hating himself as he said it, he added, “...for the sake of our love?”
Though he thought it was a stupid thing to say, Misa clearly didn’t think so, which was what he had been banking on. Looking at him with shining eyes, she said, “Of course!”
L leaned in slightly, telling Misa more of the plan in a hushed voice. A few moments later, a shout came from the girl: “What do you mean, I ‘use my sex appeal’?!”
Good thing her floor was soundproof.
With Misa’s consent, they set the trap, having “Coil” inform Yotsuba that Misa Amane had been held and questioned by L. With any luck, they would talk amongst themselves and decide to make contact with Misa. Watari was keeping a close eye on the camera feed from their meeting room, in case they decided to call a meeting earlier than Friday to discuss the new information, but so far, they had no such luck.
In the meantime, L went through the surveillance footage from the houses Wedy had managed to break into so far. She had so far been unsuccessful at getting through Namikawa’s security, and though she had made it into Higuchi’s house, the electromagnetic shielding in his basement meant that no signals could be transported out. She would have to sneak back in later in order to access the recordings.
There were bugs in every other house, however, even Midou’s, which had been nearly as difficult to infiltrate as Namikawa’s. L cycled through the feeds—Kida, Ooi, Midou, Shimura, and Takahashi—looking for anything out of the ordinary, but as of yet, there had been nothing.
At night, after Misa had fallen asleep, he still watched Light. Sometimes Light touched himself; other times, L simply watched him pacing around his room or sleeping. L never spoke over the intercom, or visited, or gave Light any indication that he was watching, but somehow, he always seemed to know.
When he slept—fitfully, a few hours at a time—he dreamed of hands around his neck and woke terrified and hard. In these moments, he gently roused Misa from sleep, exorcised both feelings in her soft embrace.
Or tried to, anyway. For all his effort not to let it get to him, L found himself increasingly irritable during the day, tense with suppressed desire and self-loathing for wanting the same person who was taking a starring role in almost every nightmare he had. He felt stupid and weak for still being affected so much by the incident, as well as for his self-destructive impulse to put himself back in the same danger. He didn’t understand why he was reacting like this.
Especially after burying his feelings, L felt more distant from Misa by the day, knowing that she could never know what was going on in his head, would never understand even if she did know. L was accustomed to being alone, but not to the feeling of being so close to another person while still hiding so much of himself. It was a curious feeling, suffocating while simultaneously cold and isolating.
On one particularly bad night of insomnia, at the silent and dreamlike hour of 3 am, L went as far as to take the stairs to Light’s floor—the elevator being too loud—and stand in front of the locked doors behind which his rival slept, confined like a tiger in a cage. L stood there in silence, simply looking at the locked door, for what felt like an eternity. Finally, with a sigh, he turned back to the stairwell and left without looking back.
Chapter 17: make me everything you want, never tell me no
Notes:
I am sorry this took so long, everyone. I was so stuck on this chapter. I knew I wanted it to be perverse, but my fucked up mind kept coming up with new ideas, and I'd write them, and then be like, "Oh god, I can't share this with the world." I must've rewritten this chapter like 5 times. Anyway, I am tipsy and finally decided to post one version of it, but I will warn you that it's very long (like, twice as long as my normal chapters) and very filthy. If you're someone who might need a content warning, skip to the notes at the bottom, but a summary would be "kink done about as badly as humanly possible, with some noncon fantasies thrown in for spice." This chapter could also be skipped without missing much plot if needed.
Make me everything you want
Never tell me no
Whisper you're the one to fix it, too
Even if you won'tMmm, papi, pacify
Pacify our love
Mm, won't you clarify?
Clarify, it hurts- FKA Twigs, "Papi Pacify" (seriously, watch the music video before or after reading this chapter)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Though L felt farther away by the day, he made sure to keep up appearances, throwing himself into the act. He split himself into two: Misa’s devoted boyfriend, and the ball of suppressed longing that watched Light on the monitors while she slept.
On a semi-regular basis, the frequency calculated by a simple algorithm to seem spontaneous and keep her investment high, he gave Misa presents. It was no strain on his wallet to buy her whatever he thought she might like—diamond bracelets and earrings, dresses just off the runway, and, of course, dozens and dozens of flowers.
At the same time, he was careful not to seem too calculated, like he was buying her affection. He had learned that lesson. He let Misa see his tension, his vulnerability, or at least a replica thereof. It wasn’t hard, when he felt like nothing so much as an exposed nerve these days. He let her soothe him, taking real solace in her touch, and he gave in return, holding her when she woke in the middle of the night, crying out for her parents.
It was easy, at least, because Misa was easy. Despite her job as an idol, and all the attention she must have received from fans, she reacted to the smallest of gestures as if he had brought her the moon and stars. A good person might have worried about her self-worth, might have told her that she didn’t have to throw herself at his feet whenever he gave her so much as a moment’s consideration.
L was not that good of a person, and what Misa gave, he took.
“Is this Chanel?”
Misa had been on the film set all day, and while she was out, he had acquired a new bottle of perfume for her. L didn’t even have to spare the thought: his programs automatically determined what to purchase for Misa and Watari followed through with it, receiving the orders and reminding L of their existence just as he reminded him to eat and change clothes.
Since his programs had selected it and Watari had made the purchase, L actually had no idea what brand of perfume it was, but he nodded confidently anyway.
“How much did this cost?” she asked, but she looked pleased.
“Doesn’t matter. Do you like it?” Misa immediately nodded, and he shook his head, trying to hide his amusement. She was so easily impressed by displays of wealth that meant nothing to him. It took no effort or genuine thought to throw his money around; it wasn’t like he was going to run out of it. “You haven’t tried it yet,” he pointed out.
“It’s Chanel,” Misa repeated, but she dutifully uncorked the bottle and spritzed her wrists, rubbing them lightly together. Then, with a slightly wicked grin, she gave a light spritz to the valley between her breasts as well, where her v-neck top exposed her skin. “I like it,” she emphasized. “Now you smell.”
L knew what she expected of him, so he drew close, ducking his head into her cleavage and inhaling. In truth, he didn’t really like artificial scents, and he suppressed the urge to sneeze only by focusing on the closeness of Misa’s skin, on the knowledge that she would be even more passionate than usual in her gratitude. Sometimes, when he was with Misa like this, he felt like he was temporarily living someone else’s life.
“Well?” Misa asked, but instead of responding, L kissed the swell of her breast, holding his breath to keep from being overwhelmed by the scent. She giggled. “Ryuuzaki!” she said, half a complaint, but she didn’t stop him from nuzzling against her, or from lifting her shirt over her head as he pulled back, leaving her in just a bra.
“You know,” Misa said, still giggling even as she blushed, “I never know if men actually like perfume or if it’s just a thing women do for other women. Does Ryuuzaki like it?” He paused, unsure how to respond. He knew the answer she wanted, but if he said yes, she might start putting it on for him all the time. Luckily, she continued, “Does it make you want me?” and he knew how to answer that.
One hand on the small of her back, her bare skin warm and soft under his hand, he pulled her close to him, letting her feel his arousal. “You don’t need anything to make me want you,” he said. “Just existing is enough.”
Misa blushed prettily, pleased with his response. “Aww, Ryuuzaki,” she cooed, and he wasn’t a fan of the baby-talk she slipped into when he said something romantic, but he could overlook it when she was palming him through his jeans at the same time. “If this is because of Misa, then I ought to help with it, right?” Her fingers played at the button, trying to undo it. “Tell Misa, what does Ryuuzaki want her to do?”
Once, L might have been overwhelmed by the mere possibility of intimacy with Misa, gratefully accepting whatever she thought to give. As time had gone on, though, and he had learned how willing she was to please, he had gained confidence and begun to develop his own ideas of what to do with her. “If Misa is okay with it, I’d like to try something new,” he began tentatively.
Misa looked surprised for a moment, then interested. “Of course!” she said, a bit of a squeal in her voice. “How about this?” She paused, seeming to consider for a moment, touching a finger to her mouth in a gesture that reminded him of himself. “For being such a good boyfriend, Misa will give Ryuuzaki a present. Today, he can do anything he wants to Misa. Any fantasy he has, no matter how perverted. Just think of Misa as Ryuuzaki’s personal sex doll.”
Her words went straight through him, and his pulse sped up, thinking of the preparations he had made. While he had outsourced the present-purchasing duties of being her boyfriend, he had taken the time to buy some other items on his own, just in case Misa showed an interest. The opportunity was too good to pass up.
“If Misa is okay with it, I would like to restrain her.”
Misa lay spread-eagle and naked in the center of L’s bed. Around each of her wrists and ankles was a thick black cuff, each attached to a strap running up to the nearest corner of the bed and underneath the mattress, where they connected. She looked so small there, stretched out on the mattress with nothing but a single pillow for company.
L wasn’t done yet, though. He had been thinking about this for a long time, after all, and Misa’s invitation to do anything he wanted had been quite thrilling. He crouched on the mattress near Misa’s head, gathering his supplies in his hands.
“What’s that?” Misa asked, craning her neck to look up at him.
“I’m planning to deprive Misa of sensory input,” he told her, “using earplugs and a blindfold.” He paused then, taking in her expression. If he was reading her right, she seemed nervous. Maybe when she had said ‘anything,’ she hadn’t really meant this. “Is that alright?”
“Umm…” Misa hesitated. “Misa’s not so sure about that. Misa feels very exposed like this. She doesn’t like the idea of Ryuuzaki being able to look at her and see the weird faces she might make without knowing.”
L fought back the urge to sigh. While he knew he should be concerned, some worse part of him felt frustrated, disappointed that Misa’s “I’ll do anything!” attitude didn’t actually extend to his fantasies, and for a reason as mundane as her desire to control her image.
Ever since Light, his fantasies and desires had been darker, harder to explain, and he had hoped that Misa might actually embrace them, but with the way she already called him a pervert for even the most basic displays of lust, he should have known better.
To his surprise, though, she continued, “Would Ryuuzaki be able to cover Misa’s whole face? Not just with a blindfold? Misa would feel much less exposed if her face was hidden.”
It took L a moment to process her request, but in a way, it made sense. One thing he liked about the idea of covering Misa’s eyes and ears was the opportunity to engage in sex without being observed, without feeling self-conscious or worrying that he was too strange or off-putting. He could understand why Misa might find a similar freedom in covering her face, so that she could experience it without having to monitor her image. For someone as performative as Misa, not having to think about her facial expressions or body language might permit a more authentic experience.
“Sure, I don’t see a reason why not.” It wasn’t how he had pictured things going, but if this was necessary to make Misa feel comfortable enough to continue, there was no reason not to. He looked around for something that could serve, and his eyes lit on the pillow under Misa’s head. “Would a pillowcase work?”
Misa still looked nervous, but she said, “I think so.”
L motioned for Misa to lift her head, allowing him to remove the pillow and pull the pillowcase from it. But Misa wasn’t finished. “My mouth, too? Misa is worried that if she can’t hear herself, she’ll make a lot of weird noises.”
Given everything else, he should have expected this. It fit with everything else she had asked. He started to agree, but paused. “If Misa’s face and mouth are covered and her hands restrained, how will she communicate if she needs to stop?”
Misa quickly shook her head. “No, it’s okay! Misa won’t want to stop.”
“What if something is actually wrong, or I accidentally hurt you?”
“It’s not a problem!” Misa immediately replied. “Misa will do anything Ryuuzaki wants. Even if it hurts, Misa can bear it.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” L said, hoping that he was telling the truth. But Misa was stubborn.
“Ryuuzaki should just do what he wants. Misa will be good and won’t show it if it hurts. Since Misa’s face will be covered, it will be easy. That way, Ryuuzaki can enjoy himself and not worry about Misa.”
The whole situation was starting to concern L, though his arousal had not gone away. “But something could go wrong,” he said, feeling his resolve starting to weaken against Misa’s determination to argue him out of his concern for her. “It’s dangerous.”
Misa fixed her gaze on him determinedly. “Misa would do anything for Ryuuzaki. Even die. So even if it hurts a lot, Misa doesn’t mind. Misa wants to give Ryuuzaki everything he wants. Misa is just a doll, remember?” She seemed to be ramping up the third-person in this scenario, as though the situation was causing her to really see herself as a thing rather than a person. Something about it unsettled him, seeing how easily she disassociated from herself.
“Misa…” he murmured, unsure how to respond, his cock hardening at her words even as his rational mind was horrified. He had the feeling something wasn’t quite right with this situation, with Misa’s insistence that he cover her face and mouth and remove her ability to communicate with him, with the way that she seemed more nervous than excited, but he wanted it too badly to question it. “Okay,” he finally said. “Okay. But if you really need to stop, I want you to snap your fingers, okay?”
Misa’s eyes widened slightly, and he wasn’t sure what her expression meant, but it was gone the next second, as though he had imagined it. “Sure,” she said, unconvincingly. “I’ll do that.”
L pushed aside the feeling that told him he should try harder, argue more, make her promise to use the signal. He told himself that Misa was determined, that arguing with her would only make her more stubborn. Anything other than the truth: that he was doing this because he wanted to badly enough to ignore his trepidation, and hers.
There was one obstacle left, though: L hadn’t purchased a gag ahead of time, and he highly doubted Misa would want one of the ones he kept for prisoners. Glancing around the room for something that might work, his eyes lit on Misa’s panties, laying discarded on the ground next to the bed. He walked over to them, crouched down, and lifted them gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.
“I’m going to gag Misa with her own panties,” he told her, approaching the bed once more. “I won’t tape them in, so if anything goes wrong, you can easily spit them out and speak.” That, he thought, should solve the issue of Misa being unable to communicate.
Misa didn’t respond, only opened her mouth and waited patiently for him to stuff them in. If there were two things that L loved, it was Misa’s mouth and Misa’s underwear, particularly when either one was in contact with his penis. Putting one into the other, despite not involving his penis at all, was oddly exciting.
He took his time with it, teasing and playing with her mouth, rubbing his thumb across her plump lower lip, sliding his long fingers into her mouth and down the surface of her tongue until she gagged. Only then, throbbing with excitement in his jeans, did he withdraw his fingers, ball up her small red panties, and insert them into her mouth. Misa gagged slightly again, then closed her eyes and seemed to concentrate, visibly forcing past her own reflex until her body relaxed once more.
“Okay, I’m covering your face now. If you want to change your mind, now would be a good time to stop.” But Misa didn’t react at all, laying there with her eyes closed, as though she was truly trying to become a doll. And so, taking the expensive silk pillowcase he had bought for her when she first began sleeping in his room—it was better for her skin and hair, apparently—he slipped it over her head and stepped back to regard his work.
Misa had never looked so physically vulnerable, not even when he first confined her, lying there with her thin body bound and naked and exposed on his bed, face completely hidden. Like this, she looked almost like a kidnapping victim, an anonymous body offered up to his use.
There was something incredibly indulgent about this, as though Misa had given him her body and left him alone with it to do as he pleased. In general, when they were having sex, he was always focused on her experience, trying to tie her to him emotionally, trying not to weird her out. But now, with her unable to see, hear, or respond in any way, his self-consciousness left him entirely. It was as if she truly had become a sex doll, just as she had said.
L wanted to savor it, to draw out the experience. He was still fully clothed, despite his arousal, and he began simply by touching Misa in whichever way caught his fancy. He ran his hands over her breasts, her waist and hips, her legs, as though taking the measure of every part of her body. Though he couldn’t see or hear her reactions, her body still squirmed around in response to his touch. Having this power over her, touching her however he liked, making her respond, while still clothed and detached, gave him a heady feeling. It felt good, having total control over the situation, especially after… well, after everything.
He took Misa’s nipples in his hands, tugging them upwards, pulling so that she was forced to arch her back. Automatically, he looked up at her face to check if she minded the rough treatment, but was met with blank fabric. Right. It was difficult to break the habit, but she had been so insistent that he follow his desires, had told him that it was okay if it hurt. And if she really wanted to, she could snap, or spit the panties out and stop him. So he would continue.
Moving down Misa’s body, he took her thighs and pushed them farther apart, baring her to his eyes. He wasn’t used to being able to examine her like this; normally, she either hid herself, or else he was right up close with the lights down low, unable to see much detail. Now, he could look as much as he wanted, though from the way she squirmed, he could tell she felt exposed. He blew on her, just to see her body jerk, and when he touched her, she was already slick and wet.
He pressed two fingers into her, stretching her, probing inside of her, exploring for his own interest rather than trying to bring her pleasure. The inside of her body felt interesting, different than his own. Particularly the movements of it, the muscles that fluttered around his fingers, squeezing slightly and releasing, as if nervous.
Wanting to feel more movement, L reached for another of the items he had purchased, a vibrator left resting on the nightstand. He had never used a toy on Misa, but it felt natural to do so now, to press it insistently to her clit, not working her up to it, and to watch as her back snapped into an arch and her wrists pulled at the cuffs, to feel her muscles clamping tight around his fingers in rhythmic pulses. He didn’t abate, didn’t remove it, and he could hear muffled noises through the gag as her body thrashed in her restraints.
He was erect, had been since he put the restraints on her, but he felt unusually detached from his arousal. The pleasure was mental rather than physical, the way that he enjoyed giving Misa a quick break only to hold the vibrator on her again, playing and experimenting with her body and pleasure like she was a specimen pinned to a table in a laboratory. Her fists were clenched now, unable to cope with or escape from the pleasure he was forcing upon her. Her legs lifted and kicked uselessly, as much as the restraints would allow—which wasn’t much.
The sight of Misa like this reminded him all too well of when she had first been his prisoner, shackled to a board with her eyes and mouth covered, unable to even beg for him to stop, though she had at least been clothed then. The reminder should have been a turn-off, but it wasn’t. In fact, it was only in this moment that he could admit to himself that it hadn’t been one back then, either.
He used to stay up late watching her over the monitor, telling himself that he was making sure he didn’t miss a single piece of evidence. And if he had grown aroused on some of those nights, well, he had just told himself that his mind was wandering from boredom. Watching someone be chained up motionless for hours was not exactly stimulating, and L’s interest in sex tended to increase in times when he had nothing else to occupy his mind.
Only now, though, could he admit that it had been more than that. It had been the sight of Misa Amane, restrained and helpless, completely in his possession, that had driven him to jerk himself off those nights with his eyes an inch from the monitors.
L withdrew the vibrator, watching as Misa’s small body continued to tremble with aftershocks, yanked his clothing off, and threw it carelessly off the bed. He took his hard cock in hand and dragged it over her body, rubbing himself against her breasts, her navel, just to prove to himself that he could. He could rub himself over every inch of Misa Amane’s perfect body while she was pinned down and helpless.
Moving down her body, he straddled her thigh and lay himself down on top of her, his face at her chest. The perfume had thankfully dissipated a bit, what with all the sweating and thrashing around. He took her breast into his mouth and groaned, biting down and beginning to hump against her thigh, her entire body open to his touch and use, some part of him thinking, I could have done this then, if I’d wanted to. I could have gone into that room with her and thrust my penis against her body, rubbed it on her bare thighs and come all over them, on her crotch. She couldn’t have stopped me.
Not that he ever would have, not without her permission, but just the knowledge that he’d had that power was intensely arousing. Just allowing himself to acknowledge it for the first time, to not have it be something unthinkable that he buried in the back of his mind.
He could see it so clearly, the straps that had gone from her hips to between her legs, so that the white rag of a dress that she wore was bunched up to her crotch, leaving the skin of her inner thighs exposed. Some part of him had known, back then, that it wasn’t really necessary to truss her up like that, in such a humiliating and vulnerable position, but he had rationalized it to himself. Now that he had admitted it to himself, her naked thighs were all that he could think about.
He would have only had to undo one buckle to release those two straps, push her underwear aside, and she would have been completely open to him. Like she was now. His breathing sped up as he lifted his leg over hers, moving it so that he was kneeling between her spread legs, his mouth open against her chest as he slid the glans of his cock through the slick coating the inside of her thighs. In his mind, he was back there in that room with her, both of them rotated to a standing position.
The position of her hips made it difficult to enter her, but that made it better, because that was how it would have been back then. L grit his teeth and shut his eyes, slowly working his way into Misa’s tight cunt. He knew he was close already, had worked himself up just from playing with Misa’s body, and he would have to start slowly if he didn’t want this to be over very quickly.
It just felt so good, time-traveling back to that moment, taking what he had been too ashamed to admit to himself that he wanted. He couldn’t relate to the person he was then, the shame that had held him so strongly in its grasp. For all the power that he held as L, he had never allowed himself to think of abusing it. But once he had begun, once he had allowed himself to mix business and pleasure when it came to Misa, it seemed that he had lost all desire to restrain himself. When he allowed himself to take even a little bit of what he wanted, it only made him want more.
She’s my prisoner, he told himself, biting his lip. I can do anything to her. Oh, yes.
But the moment he was fully inside of her, something unexpected happened: her cunt suddenly tightened, gripping him in a vice-like grasp, rippling and clenching rhythmically. It was as if she was having an orgasm, but the rest of her body showed no signs of it, and it went on far too long.
L froze, breath catching in his throat, and he tensed his body, putting all of his concentration into staving off the sensation. But it was too late. Her body was relentless, forcing pleasure upon him, and the orgasm ripped from his body with devastating force. He moaned helplessly, repeating, “No, no, no, not yet, not yet, fuck,” as he throbbed and released inside of her.
L cursed himself inwardly as he lay atop Misa, recovering from his sudden climax. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed the orgasm, of course. It was just that he hadn’t wanted to be done so soon. He had wanted to draw it out as long as possible, to wring every last bit of pleasure out of her total submission to his desires. He couldn’t bear the idea of withdrawing from the accepting warmth of her body, because it was only in moments like these that he ever felt accepted by anyone—as a human being, as a man.
Well, maybe he didn’t have to? Misa had said he could do anything he wanted to her today, not simply until he came. There was no reason he had to stop, especially when Misa hadn’t snapped or removed the gag yet. If she didn’t complain, why not stay like this awhile? Besides, he was still a little afraid that she would be upset when he released her, would call him a weirdo or a pervert. It was better like this, having her body all to himself with no worry about what she would say.
L let himself settle atop Misa, careful to keep some of his weight on his elbows so he didn’t crush her, keeping his slowly softening cock inside of her. In some ways, this felt better than sex, to be cradled and accepted within another person’s body without the feverish, mind-altering aggression that came with his arousal. He wished that he could stay this way forever, but maybe the rest of the day would suffice. After all, Misa hadn’t given him a time limit.
That wasn’t enough, though, because he knew that eventually he would have to give this up. Misa was the second Kira, and when she faced justice, he would lose her.
Unless he didn’t have to?
Whatever had changed in Misa, she didn’t seem like a threat anymore. She wasn’t killing. If it was possible for her to be neutralized in this way, then the world didn’t need her death in order to be saved from Kira.
Even if she was harmless, Misa couldn’t be allowed to roam free in the world after what she had done. But what difference did it make if she was executed or simply imprisoned for life, as long as she didn’t escape? And if she was imprisoned, was there any difference between Misa being sent to a real prison versus simply remaining in his personal custody?
She had told him once that he could keep her if he wanted. To be specific, she had told him to ‘lock her up, keep her like a pet, and use her every day,’ and that she knew he had the power to do so, like he had done before. She had told him that she wouldn’t be able to stop him.
Yes, he had replayed that conversation in his head frequently enough to memorize it. That wasn’t the sort of thing a man would forget.
The part about it that had cut the deepest, at the time, was the knowledge that she was right. The name L came with a lot of privileges. If L went to Interpol, presented them with the identities of all three Kiras as well as their method of killing, and asked, as payment, to be allowed to keep the female Kira for himself, they would happily oblige. After all, the world had a habit of allowing powerful men to get away with the most perverse of things. Most of the time, it made him feel disgusted, but now…
He could make Misa disappear, fake her death, take her away from the world. She would lose her career, her friends, her home, her identity—everything except for her life. Her life, and him. She would exist only for him, nameless and isolated, completely at his mercy. She had told him that she would welcome it, that she wanted to be his pet, his slave.
Of course, it was impossible to tell how much Misa truly wanted that and how much she simply wanted to survive. Despite her erratic behavior, she did have some self-protective instincts. And if she thought that giving herself over into L’s possession was her best chance at escaping execution, well, she’d probably take it. He didn’t think that was why she had said those things, but with her, he could never be sure.
But if he wanted to, he could choose not to care about that. He could cast aside morality, just as Light and Misa had done when they became Kiras, and take what he wanted. And what he wanted was her, for her to be his, forever, and the only thing stopping him was his own rapidly crumbling self-control. Now that he had allowed himself to admit what he wanted, how was he ever going to stop himself?
Today, he had gotten a taste of it, the two of them playacting at Misa being his possession. But if he kept her from execution, then it wouldn’t be a fantasy anymore. It would literally be true that she was only alive for him, so that he could keep her and hold her and fuck her. Her life, her entire being, would belong to him, to him and to the demanding organ between his legs. She would live in service of his cock.
While he worked from the privacy of his hotel room, communicating with the world over his laptop, Misa could kneel at his feet with his cock in her mouth, keeping it there the entire day, soft or hard. (He was ignoring several things for the sake of this fantasy, including but not limited to food, water, bathroom breaks, physical comfort, and the hit that his thinking power would take from such constant stimulation.) At night, he could chain her to his bed like this and pound out his frustrations into her cunt, then fall asleep still inside of her. Once the idol of Japan, Misa Amane would exist only for him, for the satiation of his libido.
Oh, yeah, he was hard again, L realized abruptly as he recognized the sharp left turn his thoughts had taken. He had swelled up again, growing into her body, and without even being conscious of it, had begun slowly rocking his hips, shifting in and out an inch at a time, stroking himself to full hardness inside of Misa. He moaned and sucked at her nipple again as he began to consciously move again. Now that he had come once, he should be able to enjoy this for longer.
His mind was swimming already, desire building up without limit, as if knowing that Misa couldn’t respond or react had completely unleashed every dark thing hiding inside of him. All he could think about was that he could do it, could just take her and keep her if he wanted her. In his mind, it was done—he had made the decision already, transporting himself to the future just as he had transported himself to the past. Misa was already his, completely and irreversibly, only she didn’t know it yet. She still thought it was a game.
Even if she knew, though, wouldn’t she welcome it? Hadn’t she been the one to ask for it? Unless it hadn’t been real, just something she said in the heat of the moment, in her desperation to prove Light wrong when he said L didn’t care about her. He had no way of knowing, no way of knowing whether his plans for Misa would please or terrify her. Could she really want to belong to something like him?
L felt an inexplicable fury rising up in his body. After a moment, he realized it was directed at Misa. If she hadn’t said those things, he would have continued repressing his desires. If she had been a different person, not the kind of person who would find any appeal in being kept prisoner by a creepy simulacrum of a human being, taking her against her will would have been unthinkable to him. He wasn’t that kind of person. But by inviting it, she left him as the only thing standing between himself and a path that was deeply wrong.
He hated knowing that he could do anything to her, no matter how fucked-up and cruel, and she wouldn’t stop him. He hated the weakness in her that made her willing to expose herself to his worst impulses like this, because he hated the same weakness in himself, the mirrored defenselessness and lack of self-protection. The thing inside himself that had felt Light’s hand around his neck and liked it.
But Misa was a safe receptacle for the self-hatred and everything else that came with it—the helplessness, the anger, the wanting. She was like a bottomless pit, accepting his fucked up feelings into herself and absorbing them, never complaining or fighting back.
Even as part of him hated her, it felt gratifying not to be the only weak one, the only one who let themselves be hurt. And at least he’d had a good reason. Misa took it because she thought that was how to be loved, because she didn’t believe she deserved anything better. Because she wanted to give pleasure to him, to such a pathetic person, to his ugly, worthless body.
It felt like an unbreakable chain in that moment: the abuse that L had received from Light, he passed on to Misa, reversing his position of powerlessness again and again with every way he made her degrade herself for him. But it was never enough, somehow—because she was so soft, because she accepted it, because there was no satisfaction in defeating an opponent that simply laid down and exposed her neck to his knife.
Because she wasn’t Light.
But L couldn’t go to Light, couldn’t let out the chaotic energy swirling around inside of him anywhere else but into Misa’s open arms. And he wanted to punish her for this, for making him want this, for being so easy to hurt.
So he fucked her in rapid, brutal thrusts until the headboard banged against the wall over and over again, digging his fingernails into the soft flesh of her hips, sinking his teeth into her breasts and making her cry out into the gag, thinking, Stop me, stop me, come on, please stop me, internally begging her to show him that she had some semblance of self-preservation, but she stayed motionless and pliant, accepting everything he gave her, every ounce of abuse.
Her passivity only increased his fury, the feeling of pushing against someone that always gave, never pushed back, driving his frustration. He tore at her body with his teeth and nails and cock, genuinely wanting to tear her apart, and still she didn’t protest. He wanted to consume her completely, to ruin her for anything else but this, being used whenever and however he wanted. He wanted to indelibly mark her body, change it, so that it would be his—something that, once broken, he could own.
L was so close, but he needed something more, something to complete his possession of Misa Amane. At the last moment, he realized what he wanted and pulled out, scrambling hurriedly up her body to crouch on the balls of his feet, straddling her chest. He lifted the bottom of the pillowcase, not all the way up, but just enough to make a gap above her chin that he could slide his cock into before releasing the fabric again.
His cock was already soaking wet, covered in both his first load and Misa’s juices, and at first, he only sat back and watched as the fluids soaked into the fabric, forming a dark wet stain as it curved around the top of his shaft. He was surprisingly aroused by the knowledge that he had bought this pillowcase especially for Misa, that it was expensive, that she laid her head on it every night. He liked knowing all of that, because it made it feel better to ruin it, to instantly turn it into his cum rag.
Besides that, his experiments with Misa’s underwear in the past had taught him that silk was by far the best fabric to jerk off into.
Placing the palm of his hand atop the long, wet cylindrical bulge in the fabric, he put his weight into it, pressing his shaft down forcefully against Misa’s face. He wondered how overpowering the smell must be in the enclosed space. He was turned on immensely by the thought of Misa lying there, immobilized, unable to see or hear, surrounded by the smell of his cum and the feeling of his cock pressing into her face. As if he, or his cock, was the entirety of her experience of the world.
He drew his hips back and snapped forward, fucking the space between his hand and Misa’s hidden face, relishing the slide of silk on one side of his cock and Misa’s skin, slick with their combined fluids, on the other.
L worked himself up into a frenzy, pushing down harder and harder to create a tighter space for himself to fuck. It felt so, so good to treat Misa like this, like an inanimate object to roughly hump against to bring himself to orgasm. His thrusts were quick and harsh, almost violent, and he knew it must be hurting her, but that didn’t make him want to stop. It made him want to hurt her more.
He needed it, on some level. Whether his encounter with Light had caused it or had only brought to the surface feelings that had always existed in him, he wasn’t sure; he only knew that he felt different now. Like he was wrong inside. His body, in particular his sex organ, felt ugly and misshapen and wrong. And his sexual desires, his libido, seemed twisted into something monstrous.
When he thought of sex, he thought of believing that Kira was going to kill him and somehow reaching orgasm from that thought. He thought of Light’s voice telling him that he was disgusting as Light’s hand squeezed his cock just a little too hard. He felt disgusting, dirty, tainted. Every bit of desire and arousal that he felt seemed dangerous and shameful, inextricably tied to violence and desecration.
And since he was dirty and wrong inside, it felt only natural that he should hurt Misa, particularly when she invited it so well. She had looked at him with fear in her eyes, had probably thought he was perverted and frightening for wanting this, and yet she had given him permission to do this to her, despite how repulsive and dirty he was. That thought made his cock throb hard against her face, knowing that she was degrading herself for such a shameful excuse for a person.
The fact that she wanted this, wanted him, made contempt rise in him. In wanting him, she made herself the only thing lower than him, a thing that deserved endless degradation and abuse.
When he was like this, feverish with lust and shame, his desires worked on a more symbolic, almost surrealist, level. Right now, somewhere deep in his heart, he believed that if he were to ejaculate, it would be different than before, reflective of the ugliness inside of him. Like his tainted body would only produce something thick and black and filthy.
If he released something like that onto Misa, he felt, there was no way that she wouldn’t be ruined by it. He knew that, but it only made him want it more. It would be a monstrously selfish act, to defile Misa with that filth just to appease his own desire, just to get it out of himself and into her. Just because if she accepted it, took it for him, maybe the burden of his dirtiness would be lessened slightly.
If he covered her in his filth, then she would be ruined for anything and anyone else, and she would have to stay with him. No one else would want her, so no one would take her from him.
It would be monstrously selfish, but he felt monstrously selfish. It wasn’t him, it was whatever Light had done to him, making him cruel and twisted and wrong inside. The animal inside his heart could only picture his filthy semen covering Misa’s entire face, hiding her beautiful features, overwhelming her in the dark and enclosed space, suffocating her with the pinnacle of his pleasure.
(He knew, he knew where this obsession with cutting off breath had come from, but he didn’t want to think about that now.)
It was okay, wasn’t it? To use Misa this way, to treat her like, think of her as, just an object. She had said it first, had told him to, so it was okay. Light’s voice was in his head again, laughing at his rationalizations, so clear as if he were whispering in L’s ear: “It doesn’t matter. You don’t care at all. As long as you have somewhere to stick your cock, as long as you get off, the rest of it doesn’t matter, right? Misa doesn’t matter.” L whined, high pitched, thighs beginning to shake. “You’re disgusting.”
Yes, L thought as he reached his peak. Yes, yes, I’m disgusting. I don’t care about Misa at all. I just want to cum, even if it hurts her. Especially if it hurts her. She’ll let me, she’ll take it, take it just like I did. He threw his head back to the ceiling and practically howled, forcing his hips forward in quick jerks, humping her face like an animal as he spilled. She made him feel like an animal, low and dirty, wanting to destroy every bit of her beauty and mark her so thoroughly that she could never leave him.
L was single-mindedly focused, even in his pleasure, on covering her entire face, drawing back and thrusting into the mess, fucking it into her skin. He didn’t want to stop, wanted to keep coming until she was suffocating in it. He sobbed and pushed his hand down harder on top of his cock, feeling the forceful throbs against his palm, knowing that she must be feeling it against her face as well.
Despite his desire to somehow extend his release, to prolong the one moment he was without thought or conscience or shame, it was over too soon. L sat back, panting, letting his penis slip out of the pillowcase and rest on Misa’s collarbone, looking red and somehow satisfied. Through the pillowcase, he could see a large wet stain, and acting on another perverse urge, he grasped the fabric in his hand and began to smear it around, rubbing the semen onto Misa until the stain was a round oval the size of her face, outlining the bumps of her features. Only then did he stop.
He pictured Misa underneath it, still in the dark, her expensive silk pillowcase glued to her face by two loads of his semen. Though he knew he wouldn’t be able to get hard again, not after two orgasms in relatively close succession, he cupped himself idly, slowly rubbing his penis as he stared at the mess he had made of Misa, at the anonymous bumps of her brow and nose and chin under cum-soaked fabric.
He was thankful, now, that he had left the gag unsecured, because it meant he didn’t have to worry about whether it was making it hard for her to breathe from her nose: she could always spit the gag out if she needed more air. And so he was free to leave her lying there like a discarded sex toy as he went to the bathroom to clean himself up.
Though he certainly couldn’t get hard again, mentally, he still felt very aroused as he went about his business, his thoughts dominated by the mental image of what he had done to Misa. It felt dizzying knowing that she was lying there, unable to move, unable to clean his cum from her face, forced to wait until he decided what to do with her. Surrounded by the smell of him.
After he finished and flushed the toilet, before re-entering the room, he stopped and watched her silently from the doorway, one hand on his soft cock. She couldn’t know that he was coming back, he knew. She might believe that he was simply going to abandon her there, leave her bound and gagged with a semen-covered rag crusting to her skin, discard her now that he was done with her.
Part of him wanted to, to leave her like that for awhile, until he could get erect again and come back for a third round. After all, if it bothered her, she could always spit out the gag and shout for him.
But common sense, at last, prevailed. L approached the bed, still playing with himself mindlessly as he knelt beside Misa and began to peel the pillowcase back, sickeningly aroused at the wet noise and the way it clung to her skin. Even if his body couldn’t respond, his mind was still hazy, almost as if he were in a trance.
As her face was exposed, on some level, though, L did see Misa, and he registered that her expression was not what he had expected. She didn’t look aroused or ravaged or playful. Her face was red and streaked with tears, as if she had been crying for a long time. And her eyes, when she opened them—bits of cum sticking her eyelashes together—were wide with complete terror. But he was so lost in his own lust that it took him a few seconds to actually process the sight.
His heart sank, however, as his mind cleared enough for him to process the fact that Misa was sobbing.
Moving quickly, L yanked the gag from Misa’s mouth, throwing it aside, and released the cuffs holding her wrists. He started to move down her body to free her ankles, but as soon as her wrists and mouth were free, Misa let out a shuddering sob and twisted her entire upper body away from him, curling in on herself. When he undid the cuffs around her ankles, she yanked those away as well, and curled herself into the fetal position, sobbing loudly.
She hadn’t even given him a chance to clean his cum off her face.
L watched her, feeling very disoriented and almost outside his body, uncertain of what to do. He tried to touch her shoulder, but she jerked it away roughly, breaking the contact. He could only see her back shaking, her fragile little spine and shoulder blades standing out from the skin. Her blonde hair was a rats nest hiding her face, hopelessly tangled from being fucked with her head in a bag for the better part of an hour, some of it stuck together with dried semen.
“Is Misa okay?” he asked, but she didn’t respond. “I’m sorry,” he tried.
At that, Misa rolled over to face him, though she was still crying and trembling. “No!” she said. “Misa’s sorry. Misa’s sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” he asked.
“Crying,” she said, and then the words came out in a rush. “Misa wanted to be good for Ryuuzaki, but then it reminded Misa too much of… before. When Misa was in that room. And Misa got scared, even though she told herself it wasn’t the same at all.”
L’s heart sank, realizing that he hadn’t been the only one to see the parallels to Misa’s earlier imprisonment—only what had heightened his arousal had only terrified her. And here, at first, he had believed he had only been too rough with her near the end, too callous in leaving her while he used the bathroom.
“Why didn’t Misa tell me?” he asked, immediately regretting it at the look of self-recrimination that passed over Misa’s face, at the way she began to cry even harder.
“Ryuuzaki got Misa a present, and Misa wanted to give Ryuuzaki a present, too!” she sobbed. “Misa didn’t want her stupid feelings to bother Ryuuzaki, so she tried really hard to hide them so that Ryuuzaki could enjoy himself.”
The pillowcase. “Misa asked me to cover her face so she could hide the fact that she was crying?” L asked slowly, and she nodded. “Misa knew from the start this would happen.” Another nod. God, how had he not seen? Or had he seen, but chosen not to acknowledge it?
“Misa tried to make Ryuuzaki feel good so that he’d be done sooner and we’d both be happy. She didn’t expect him to keep going after the first time, and when it didn’t stop…” She had panicked, he understood. That explained the way she had clenched when he entered her, forcing him to come too soon. And even after the second time, he had left her tied up, made her think he was going to keep going indefinitely.
L wasn’t sure how what to say. He wanted to say that he hadn’t wanted her to do that for him, to put herself through that, but hadn’t he? He had been annoyed with her when he thought she wanted to stop. Knowing Misa, it was very likely she had picked up on those feelings and had, in her desperation to please him, come up with a plan to hide her discomfort so that he could finish playing out his fantasy on her.
“I’m sorry. I failed to notice the parallels to Misa’s imprisonment,” he lied, because it was better for her to believe he was thoughtless than to know that he had noticed and had been unbelievably aroused by it. That he had grown hard as a rock and come incredibly hard while imagining fucking her in a straitjacket and chains.
All those nights he had seen her wake up sobbing from nightmares about what he had done to her, and still he hadn’t even thought about how Misa would feel, about how being restrained and gagged and blindfolded for the first time since he released her would affect her. He had only thought of himself, getting off on the reminder of what he had done to her. And she had asked for the gag and face-covering, knowing that they would make it even worse, so that her suffering wouldn’t interfere with his pleasure.
He felt like a monster, but then, he always felt like a monster. And she made herself so easy to use, defenseless and eager to please, offering herself up to him, just because he’d thoughtlessly bought her some expensive bit of nothing. That was why the two of them were so awful together, he realized, so likely to spiral down into an unfixable mess. He was a selfish monster, stealing every bit of pleasure he could get from the world before it was snatched away, and she was a creature so desperate for approval and attention as to be completely without boundaries.
After all, that was why he had done all of this: because he knew he was monstrous enough to do what Light never would. He was the only one who knew exactly what she was, the only one who saw how completely vulnerable she was. The only one willing to take advantage of it.
The worst part was that now, knowing what he did, he wasn’t certain he wouldn’t do it again. If he were transported back to the start of the encounter, as aroused as he had been then, would he stop and let Misa free? Or would he pretend not to know how she was suffering so that he could get what he wanted? He couldn’t be sure.
Now, back in his right mind, it was easy for him to say that he shouldn’t have put her through that just so he could act out a fantasy. He didn’t feel connected to the person who had done those things to her. But what made him lay there in paralysis was the knowledge that he would be that person again.
He had wanted to hurt Misa, and the next time he was aroused, he would again. No amount of despising himself now would have any impact on him when he was like that. It was like something monstrous lived inside him, something twisted that Light had given birth to, or at least set free. The only way to stop it would be to end things with Misa entirely, to protect her from himself, and he was too pragmatic to do so. He still needed her. And so he was paralyzed.
They stayed there in silence for a long moment, L crouched naked on his heels, Misa curled onto her side, her tears fading into sniffles. He felt like he should be doing something to cheer her up, to take care of her, but he couldn’t think of what, so he just rocked slightly on the balls of his feet, chewing anxiously on his thumbnail. Finally, as the sniffling noises stopped, he heard her quietly ask, “Did Ryuuzaki enjoy it?”
L didn’t know what to say. Either answer seemed wrong. If he lied and said no, then Misa would feel insulted and think that he put her through that for no benefit. But if he said yes, he felt like he was admitting to every shameful thing that had passed through his mind: that he had tied Misa down and covered her face so that he could take his pleasure from her, oblivious to her pain. That it had reminded him of holding her prisoner, of the experience that still gave her nightmares, and that that had turned him on even more. That he knew now how it had affected her, but still wanted to do it again.
Finally, he settled on, “I enjoyed how it felt, in the moment, but I don’t enjoy knowing that I hurt you. We shouldn’t do something like this again. I don’t want to make Misa cry.” Not exactly a lie—they shouldn’t do it again, and he didn’t want to make her cry, at least not in this exact second.
Misa shook her head against the bed. “Misa can do it again,” she said, setting her jaw. “If Ryuuzaki wants this sort of thing, then Misa will be a good girlfriend and do it. Misa doesn’t want Ryuuzaki to get bored and look for someone else.”
“I don’t need this kind of thing to be happy with Misa,” he said carefully. “And I’m not going to have sex with anyone else.” Not again, anyway, he amended internally. “Misa doesn’t have to do things that hurt her just to make me happy. I’m not going anywhere.”
Misa looked up at him, her cheek smushed against the mattress, her eyes red and bloodshot. Streaks of black mascara ran down her flushed cheeks, tears and semen smeared around her face, and strands of her tangled blonde hair were glued to her skin by the mixture of fluids. She looked completely destroyed, but her expression in that moment was what he would have imagined on the face of a monk who had undergone days of fasting and self-flagellation: blissfully at peace, exalting in her suffering, as if she was transformed by it.
“Misa doesn’t mind if Ryuuzaki likes to hurt her,” she said. “Misa is a strong and good girl. She can endure anything for love.”
Notes:
CW for unsafe bondage and kink, non-con fantasies, and dubcon of complicated varieties.
Summary for people who might not want to read the chapter, or might be on the fence about reading it: Basically, Misa offers to do anything L wants, L asks to tie her up, and she obliges even though she doesn't actually want to, because she feels that she has to fulfill his desires to make sure he won't get bored and leave her. It reminds her of her imprisonment and retraumatizes her, but she hides this from L the whole time by insisting that he gag her and cover her face. She refuses to set any limits, use a safeword, or leave herself any ability to communicate, sorta using the encounter with L as a form of self-harm.
Meanwhile, L also notices the parallels to Misa's imprisonment and is deeply horny about it, and he realizes that he was always aroused by keeping Misa prisoner (because come on, you're gonna tell me that fetishy setup was an accident??). He fantasizes during sex about taking advantage of her when she was first his prisoner, and convicting her as Kira to make her his prisoner permanently. He does a bunch of kinky stuff to her and only realizes afterward that she's been basically having a panic attack the entire time. He also has no idea what aftercare is or how to provide it, so he just... doesn't.
These people are a mess, y'all. I love them though.
Chapter 18: all the shit you tell me that you do
Notes:
Um. If you didn't like the previous chapter, you won't like this one. Similar warnings apply. Sorry, everyone, but this is the direction this train is headed. Hop off now if you're not along for the ride.
For the most part, italicized text in this chapter is French, other than a few words italicized for emphasis.
Lucky, lucky girl
She got married to a boy like you
She'd kick you out if she ever, ever knew
'Bout all the shit you tell me that you doDirty, dirty boy
You know everyone is talking on the scene
I hear them whispering 'bout the places that you've been
And how you don't know how to keep your business clean- Sam Smith (ft. Kim Petras), "Unholy"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After that day, L became rougher with Misa, more selfish, his libido increasing from its already-high state, his interest in reciprocating decreasing. It was just that all he could seem to do was chase some sort of relief, some escape from the feelings inside of him, but nothing was ever enough.
In the mornings, he took her into the shower with him and pushed her down to her knees. At night, fighting the urge to open the video feed from Light’s room, he would go to her instead, spreading her legs and pushing inside of her whether she was asleep or awake—not that she minded either way. The more he sought relief, and the more it eluded him, the more desperate and vicious his desires became. But Misa never said no, never complained, let herself be used with a smile of ecstasy that only grew the more it hurt.
The second victim died on Thursday, but as before, L’s surveillance showed nothing. However, Wedy had not yet managed to enter Namikawa’s house, and she had not had a chance to return to Higuchi’s house and download the data from the recording devices. The two of them were beginning to seem quite suspicious, at least in L’s eyes.
On Friday, the Yotsuba group met at the usual time, and this time, L watched with Aiber and Misa at his side. The main topic of this meeting was to discuss the information that ‘Coil’ had given them about Misa Amane’s potential connection to L—and to Kira.
As L had hoped, the Yotsuba men immediately made the extrapolation from the information that Aiber had given them to the idea that Misa might be connected to the original Kira in some way, or even that she might have been the second Kira.
Namikawa and Ooi, however, were suspicious, as L had expected they might be. They pointed out that Coil seemed to be either making them do his job for him, or else leading them in a certain direction. Interestingly, Higuchi was of the opposite mindset, arguing that they were being overly suspicious and denigrating the two of them for wanting to pass up such an interesting lead.
In L’s eyes, Higuchi was seeming to fit the profile of the Yotsuba Kira more and more: arrogant, a bit reckless, and dumb enough to require the rest of the group to temper him. He was clearly confident in his status as one of the leaders of the group, taking his position for granted and bullying the others into submission. L made a note to ask Wedy to bug Higuchi’s cars, since his home was so difficult to keep under surveillance. And, he decided, he might as well have her do Namikawa’s as well.
At the moment, though, he had other things to worry about: Midou had instructed Kida to call Coil and insist that he join them in person. L moved quickly, muting the speakers and plugging in a pair of earbuds so that he could hear the Yotsuba group without any echoing, simultaneously gesturing for Aiber to answer his ringing phone. He kept an earbud in one ear only, so that he could hear Aiber with his other.
Finally, in the moment before Aiber picked up, he lowered his legs, took Misa by the arm, and pulled her gently onto his lap, covering her mouth with one hand, making sure that she wouldn’t make any noises that could be overheard. Overkill, maybe, but he got a small thrill out of holding her like this, and she seemed to as well, shivering slightly at his breath on the back of her neck. As a courtesy, he handed her the other earbud, allowing her to share it with him so that they could both hear both sides of the conversation.
The two of them listened, stock still and breathing quietly, as Kida and Aiber spoke. When Kida demanded that ‘Coil’ join them in person, Aiber shot a quick glance at L, and he nodded minutely. Aiber took it from there, speaking arrogantly and with irritation in his voice, managing to draw another large payment out from them in exchange for the increased vulnerability. L hadn’t told him to do that, but then, Aiber had never needed much direction. He was a natural.
Finally, they hung up, and L unplugged the earbuds and turned the speakers back on, allowing the room to once again fill with the sound of the Yotsuba group’s discussion. He glanced at Misa, who was still blushing slightly from the close contact, and nuzzled his nose slightly into her hair, lightly kissing her neck. She squeaked slightly, and he grinned to himself at the amused look from Aiber. Teasing her in front of others never really got old. He squeezed her shoulder gently before returning his attention to the video on the monitors.
Once again, the Yotsuba group was deciding who to kill next. There didn’t seem to be much debate; if one of them decided on a victim enough to suggest them at the meeting, the others generally seemed to agree. In substance, there was not much difference from the discussion the previous week, except that Misa and Aiber were here to witness it now too.
Since L had already observed the way the group selected their victims, and all of this was being recorded, he focused his attention on the two of them, curious to see how they reacted. Misa didn’t show any signs of recognition or knowledge about Kira’s methods, at least that he could see. She looked curious and taken aback at the casual way in which the men discussed murder of their business rivals—not disturbed, exactly, but certainly surprised. Aiber, on the other hand, did not seem as shocked, but merely leaned in with a look of intense interest on his face.
L let his arm snake around Misa’s waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as they watched. He found it comforting, in some ways, to hold her like this, almost like the comfort objects that he carried around as a child. And, of course, it gave him a slight flashback to earlier in the investigation, when he had felt her up in front of Aiber. Back then, some part of him had wanted to take it further, but he had been too restrained, not believing that Misa would accept something like that.
In the time since, of course, she had proven that she would accept pretty much anything, even to her detriment.
As the meeting ended, L looked at Aiber from over Misa’s shoulder. “You understand that meeting them in person is putting yourself at risk.” A bit late for him to say that, given that he had encouraged Aiber to say yes, but he felt he had a responsibility to make sure the man knew what he was getting into.
“If I was afraid to put myself in danger, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place,” Aiber replied with a shrug. “In fact, I would be in a completely different line of work.”
L couldn’t argue with that; all he could do was make sure Aiber was as prepared as he possibly could be, to increase his chances of making it out intact. Allowing Aiber to meet them in person was constraining in certain ways—once pinned down to one identity, the con man could not be deployed in other roles. But it seemed necessary to win the Yotsuba group’s trust.
“When you are with them in person, the situation will be much less controlled than these brief phone conversations. We will need to develop Coil’s character more thoroughly, so that you can maintain it even in unexpected circumstances.”
With that, they began a discussion of Coil, developing his mannerisms and characteristics. It was a collaborative process: L might have been the one to invent Coil, but as the person who would embody him, Aiber needed to create a person that he could project himself onto seamlessly.
As they spoke, L held Misa tightly in his arms. She seemed content to let the two of them talk, sitting quietly in his lap, her knees together and legs swinging slightly under the chair, too short to reach the floor.
At first, it was a mindless action to touch her, something akin to touching his thumb to his lips or tugging at his hair. He rubbed his thumb in circles over her stomach through the fabric of her shirt, and now and then, he let the tip of his nose rub against her bare neck and the soft, downy hair there. But as time went on, though he continued speaking normally about their plans for Coil, L could see Aiber’s eyes running down Misa’s body, focusing on L’s hands on her.
The thought came first as curiosity: would Aiber leave again, like before, if he—? Would Misa allow him to—? He knew he should be focusing on their plans, but then again, they had a day before Aiber had to meet the Yotsuba men, and neither of them slept much. They could always continue later if they missed anything. His mind only half on what he was saying, L let his hand slip lower, along the top of Misa’s thigh, until he reached the hem of her skirt. Slowly, with two fingertips brushing lightly against her skin, he began to draw it upward.
Misa squirmed slightly on top of him, the movement only worsening his growing arousal, which he knew she must be able to feel. “R-Ryuuzaki,” she whispered. “What are you—?”
He turned his head into her neck until his lips were against her ear, his forehead pressed to her temple. “I want to show Misa off,” he murmured quietly. “I want Aiber to see what a beautiful girlfriend I have.” She whimpered softly at the compliment. “Is this okay with Misa?” And he let his fingers stop, pausing in their mission, though he knew what the answer would be.
“Ryuuzaki can do whatever he likes with me.” At least this time, though, the guilt was abated by the breathless sound of Misa’s voice, because he could hear that she wasn’t only agreeing to please him. Misa liked this. He knew she liked to be treasured, to be admired. And when he looked up and saw the electricity in Aiber’s eyes, the way he leaned back slightly in his chair to take the sight of them in, he couldn’t blame her.
“Aiber, do you mind?” L asked, trying to sound casual. This was the game, after all—to continue as if there was nothing unusual going on, despite L toying with Misa right in front of him.
And Aiber seemed to get it. Looking amused, he responded, “By all means, go ahead. Now, when I meet with the Yotsuba group…”
They continued their conversation, though their statements gradually lost meaning and structure. Both of them were simply talking to talk, not to make any serious plans, with more than half of their attention on the girl panting on L’s lap. Even as they spoke, L was drawing her skirt up to the top of her thighs, pulling her legs apart. He had been gradually turning their chair to face Aiber, so that by the time he had pulled her skirt all the way up, the con man had a clear view between Misa’s legs.
Misa was clearly embarrassed, turning red in his lap, but she was breathing heavily, and he could tell her arousal was winning over her anxiety. Knowing what to say to keep her in that frame of mind, L paused in his conversation as he hooked his fingers over the crotch of her panties, ready to pull them aside. “Can I show him?” he asked, speaking directly into her ear. “Can I show Aiber how pretty Misa is here?” He let his finger brush against her clit as he spoke, already wet from her slick.
“Mhm,” Misa whined, catching her lip in her teeth, her eyes closed in embarrassment, even as she slid down his lap and spread her legs even wider, hooking her ankles around the outside of his calves. She gasped when he finally pulled the fabric out of the way, baring all of her to Aiber’s sight, at least from the waist down. His other hand was already working on the buttons of her shirt.
“Doesn’t she look good?” L asked, dipping his head slightly to kiss Misa’s exposed shoulder as her shirt slipped free of it.
“She does,” Aiber admitted evenly. Despite the bulge in his pants, he was neither touching himself nor acting especially different. L wasn’t surprised, knowing just how much Aiber had himself under control.
“Are you jealous?” he asked, for his own sake as well as Misa’s. “I get to have sex with her, you know.”
Aiber’s lips twitched. “Yes, I suppose I am.”
At that, they returned to their conversation, but L was primarily focused on removing the remnants of Misa’s shirt and bra, leaving her in only her skirt, which was rucked up out of the way. He reached down between her legs and slid two fingers inside of her, almost using that grip to hold her in his lap and keep her from slipping further down. She whimpered and turned her head to the side, pressing her face into his shoulder like she was trying to hide from sight, but her body was still exposed, and Aiber’s eyes greedily drank in the sight of her naked breasts, shaking whenever she trembled under L’s hand.
Aiber was doing most of the talking now, with L’s energy being divided between the motion of his hands, thrusting inside Misa and squeezing her breasts from behind, and his straining erection, pressing against the small of Misa’s back as she moved. Her naked shoulder was so tempting in front of his mouth, so he bit down on it, making her wriggle and cry out. But his eyes were on Aiber now, never looking away, watching the other man’s eyes strip Misa bare.
It felt so good to have something worth wanting, something that a handsome and charismatic man like Aiber envied him for. It was even better because Aiber knew how much he had changed, knew that he had gone from a virgin terrified to even interact with Misa to whatever he was now. He widened his own legs to pull Misa’s farther apart, thinking, Look at her, look what I can do to her, look what she allows me to do.
“Can you show Aiber?” L found himself whispering to Misa, not even pretending to follow the conversation anymore. “Show him how you look when I make you come.” Misa was nothing if not obedient, and she cried out now, hips jerking and muscles clenching around his fingers as she did what he asked.
“Merde.” The word was quiet, and it took L a second to realize that it came from Aiber, though the French really should have given it away.
Misa giggled as she let her head fall back onto L’s shoulder, looking up at him adoringly. She was always so happy after her release, and he realized he wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had last made her come. Maybe not since the day he tied her up. He had been so focused on his own desires recently, and even now was no exception—his goal had not been to bring Misa pleasure, but rather, to show off his own prowess to Aiber.
Still, Misa didn’t seem to mind. “Ryuuzaki’s so hard,” she purred, giggling again. “Misa knows what he wants.” And before he could respond, she had slid off his lap and onto the floor, kneeling in front of him with her back to Aiber.
By this point, L’s mind was blank of almost everything but the thought that he needed to get his clothes off. Standing up, he quickly shoved both his jeans and boxers down to his ankles and kicked them away, letting his cock spring free with not even an ounce of shame.
Aiber had stopped talking now, aware that L was no longer listening, but the amused, tolerant expression on his face had not changed. Though when L stepped backwards onto the seat of his computer chair and dropped into his usual crouch, only now naked from the waist down, he seemed to be struggling to stifle a laugh. Normally, L might have felt insulted by this, but right now, everything only seemed to turn him on even more.
Misa reached for him, but L stopped her, saying, “I only want Misa to use her mouth today.” Obedient as ever, she clasped her hands behind her back and looked up at him, her breasts pushed forward as her shoulders were pulled back. She opened her mouth and ducked her head, moving to catch his cock in her mouth, in a motion that was somehow simultaneously cute and arousing.
“She listens very well,” Aiber told him, and L’s mind was so distracted by Misa’s soft tongue against his glans that he processed the meaning of the words before he noticed that Aiber was speaking French. “I’m impressed; you’ve done well with her.”
The praise sent a thrill through L that was equal parts egotistic and sexual. With a glance down at Misa, wondering if she would object to them discussing her in a language she couldn’t understand, he replied, “She is very agreeable. She frequently tells me to do anything I want to her, regardless of her own comfort level.”
Aiber hummed thoughtfully. “If I had known she was like that, I would have given you different advice. But you seem to have worked it out well enough on your own.”
“It feels wrong sometimes,” L admitted, even as he shuddered under the sensation of Misa’s tongue and mouth. He was unsure what about Aiber made him so confessional, except that he had grown used to him as a voice on the phone, listening as L shared his experience with sex (or lack thereof) and trepidation about the subject. “She’s not well, I know that, and she’s proven that she won’t set any limits with me, even if I hurt her. In fact, she seems to purposefully invite me to do things that will hurt her. It feels wrong to take advantage of this.”
Aiber considered him, a knowing look in his eye, a glance down at Misa’s head where it bobbed between L’s legs, as if to point out that it clearly couldn’t bother him that much.
“I’ve worked on targets like her before,” Aiber said. “My understanding is that some part of her needs to suffer in order to feel she is truly in love. By providing her that opportunity, you only increase your value to her. It becomes justified in her head: if she is willing to go so far for you, she thinks, then her feelings must be real. And so her feelings grow stronger, the more cruel and extreme your treatment of her.
“These targets have been some of my most successful jobs, because once you push them past a certain point, they will never want to let you go. Especially if you comfort them afterwards. Make her earn your affection, make her work for it, and you will completely tie her to yourself.”
Make her earn my affection… L glanced down at Misa to find that her eyes were already on him, watching to see if he was pleased with her. “Misa, that feels so good,” he told her, watching curiously as her eyes closed as if she experienced real, physical pleasure from his words. “Aiber is telling me how impressed he is with you, seeing how good you can be for me. Can you go deeper?”
Misa’s response was immediate and enthusiastic, sliding her lips down his length and sucking with renewed fervor. L wasn’t surprised that Aiber was right; after all, he had never been wrong before, not when it came to this sort of thing.
“You see?” Aiber told him. “You are both getting something you need.”
L didn’t relent so easily, however. “Or,” he argued, “I am using her weakness to satisfy my own selfish desires.”
To his surprise, Aiber chuckled. “So what if you are? Can you tell me there is a man who, in your shoes, would not take advantage? I certainly would. Besides, it is not as if she deserves any better.” L blinked at him in surprise. “If you’re right about her, and I believe you are, then she’s killed hundreds of people without any sign of remorse. If the worst that happens in return is that she’s used for sex for a while—something that, from where I’m sitting, she seems to enjoy—then I would say she’s getting off pretty easy.”
“But what does it say about me, that I want to treat her like this?”
“Fuck if I know. I’m a con man, not a philosopher.” Aiber tipped his head back for a second, looking at the ceiling. “Look, if it feels good, why not? Not a one of us are good people. If we were, we wouldn’t be here in this situation. At least she’s doing something positive for the world now, unlike before. Releasing your tension, freeing your attention for your cases.” But that was wrong, wasn’t it? If L had to describe the impact that Misa had on his detective work, he would not exactly describe her as motivating.
“From my perspective, you are focusing on this guilt because you feel like you should feel guilty, simply in order to be the kind of person who feels guilty. But you’d be a fool not to appreciate what you have. She and the other boy are your enemies, and now she is on her knees, practically begging to suck your cock. Why don’t you allow yourself to enjoy this victory? I am sure, if they had been the ones to win, she would not be feeling guilt over your death.”
“Victory...” L mumbled to himself, nibbling on his thumb. Aiber’s philosophy was dangerously seductive, and he wondered why it was that he surrounded himself with such ruthless people—Aiber, Light, Misa. What did it say about him, that he wanted to live like they did—without remorse, as Aiber had put it? In some ways, he supposed it was the result of his own character; after all, the more morally upright members of his task force had quit in direct response to his methods. The only people who stayed with him were as compromised as himself, reflecting his degraded state back to him.
“I can show you, if you let me. May I help?” L considered this, uncertain exactly what Aiber meant by ‘help.’ While he was aroused enough that he would welcome basically anything, he was pretty sure that Misa’s blanket consent only applied to one-on-one sex with himself, not impromptu threesomes. She had seemed fine with Aiber watching them, but anything else…
“Can you do so without touching me?” he asked. “She gets jealous.”
“Yes, of course.”
“...Without touching her either. She’s not the only one who gets jealous,” he admitted, glancing away, uncomfortable to admit that his emotions could be so affected by something so trivial. However, Aiber only nodded once in response.
“Misa,” L asked, and Misa paused, looking up at him curiously with his dick still halfway in her mouth, a sight he found both silly and oddly endearing. “Aiber wants to know if he can help show you how to pleasure me. He won’t touch you anywhere inappropriate.” Pausing, he tried to think of any possible explanation that Misa might buy. “He’s French, so he knows a lot about sex.” An absolutely ridiculous statement, but Misa was the type of person who might accept it.
For a moment, L thought there was absolutely no way. Any minute now, Misa was going to jump up and start yelling at them both. But then, to his utter shock, she nodded her head slightly and hummed around him.
“I told you,” Aiber said. “You could do anything to this woman. You don’t realize the power you hold over her.” L thought he was starting to, but in any case, he only quietly watched as Aiber stood and sauntered across the room. He was like Misa in one way—every motion was calculated to impress. “I’ll show you. Misa, Ryuuzaki, could you join me on the couch?”
Misa released L, climbing back to her knees, seemingly heedless of her own nudity. L stepped down from the chair, following Misa to where Aiber sat, feeling much more ridiculous in his own state of half-undress. L sat on the couch beside Aiber, making an active effort to settle into a more normal position, while Misa knelt again on the ground before them both. She rested her hands on her knees, an oddly demure pose, looking back and forth between the two men as she awaited instructions.
Aiber leaned forward, bracing his palm against the edge of the couch, looking down at Misa with an almost conspiratorial air. “The first thing to learn, chéri, is that the most important part of a blowjob is enthusiasm. It’s not enough to simply suck his dick. You must make him believe that nothing in the world gives you greater pleasure than to suck his dick.”
“How does Misa do that?” she asked, scrunching her nose in confusion.
“Well, first, don’t just take him into your mouth immediately. Play with him first. Worship his cock with your tongue and your lips. By the time you finally begin, he should already be halfway there.”
Misa turned to L’s dick with an expression of such concentration that he almost wanted to laugh. Carefully wrapping one hand around the base, she licked him once from root to tip. After glancing up at him, as if checking that everything was okay, she seemed to gain confidence and began laving her tongue over every inch of his hard cock, peppering in loud, open-mouthed kisses.
“Don’t be afraid to use a lot of saliva,” Aiber said. “For most men, the wetter, the better. You don’t have to worry about bothering him with that, unless he indicates otherwise.” He glanced briefly at L, who shook his head in response—Misa’s fluids, saliva or otherwise, had never been a turn-off for him, despite a vague feeling that they should be.
Misa took these instructions into account, and soon, L’s cock was glistening with a layer of spit. As she went about her task, she began to moan, occasionally looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Ryuuzaki’s so big and hard,” she moaned, like she was imitating a porn star. “Misa loves Ryuuzaki’s cock.” And though he knew it was an act, given that Aiber had just told her to feign pleasure, it didn’t stop him from growing harder, twitching heavily in her hands.
Aiber leaned in then, whispering something in Misa’s ear, and L felt a small flash of jealousy that was quickly replaced by shock when Misa grasped his cock and began to slap it repeatedly against her cheek. “Yeah, Misa’s a dirty girl. She’s Ryuuzaki’s dirty little cockslut. Doesn’t Ryuuzaki want to punish Misa for being so dirty? Punish her with his big, hard cock?” It was so over the top that he felt something akin to embarrassment and pity for her, but at the same time, it somehow made him even harder. Not so much the words as the knowledge of her total willingness to degrade herself to get him hard.
Misa moaned like she was getting into it, alternating between slapping and rubbing his cock on herself until her face was smeared with her own drool, her open mouth kissing and licking whatever part of his shaft she could reach, continuing to talk in between licks. “Yeah, Misa wants Ryuuzaki’s big cock in her mouth. Misa wants to suck it, please, Ryuuzaki.”
She opened her mouth wide to demonstrate, so wide that he could see her tongue and uvula and the entrance to her throat, her eyes never looking away from his cock as she rubbed the glans around the circle of her lips and the tip of her tongue. Now and then, her eyes darted over to Aiber, as though asking, ‘Am I doing this right?’
Over her shoulder, he saw Aiber’s mouth twitch in amusement. “Give her what she wants,” he told L, continuing their own private conversation in French. At some point, his hand had moved from the couch cushion to L’s knee. L felt a flash of fear, worrying about how Misa would react, but she didn’t seem to notice. In some way, the fear of consequences only sharpened his arousal.
“O-okay,” L said, immediately regretting it when he realized how stupid he sounded. He didn’t know what else to say, so he added, “Misa is allowed to suck my cock.” The words felt stilted and awkward in his mouth. He ached for it, but at the same time, the more gratuitous her acting became, the more tawdry and pointless the entire situation felt. The presence of Aiber at his side, the large, public nature of the space they were in, only made him feel further outside himself.
She gave one last flick of her tongue against his slit, a move that left him gasping, before taking him in with another loud moan. “Hands behind your back, like he said earlier,” Aiber told her, and she immediately clasped her hands as he instructed. “Let me see how much of him you can take with just your mouth.”
Misa bobbed her head down further, moaning and drooling and gagging slightly, and L found himself staring at the place where his penis entered her mouth. He was in a strange mood today, and at the moment, it hardly seemed like a part of him. It seemed like its own entity entirely, and one that recently seemed to have an inexplicable pull over everyone in his vicinity. It seemed disproportionate, for such a small, useless organ to have such influence.
Misa was there between his legs, making a spectacle of herself, stretching her mouth too wide to accommodate him, drooling like a dog, acting like some cheap pornographic actress, so far beneath her actual status as an idol, and she was doing this for the sake of his penis, it seemed. It wasn’t like L’s rational mind wanted such a thing, but his dick certainly seemed to. And then there was Light, throwing himself into some stupid competition with Misa just to get his hands on it. Proud, brilliant Light, begging on the video feed for L to put his dick inside him. And now, for some reason, Aiber was here beside him, giving Misa instructions on how to worship L’s dick as if that were something worth doing.
All three of them were leagues more physically attractive, more charismatic, than L himself, having their pick of men and women. And yet, for some reason, they subordinated themselves to his basest desires.
But most affected of all was L himself. In the past few months, he had made one stupid, out-of-character decision after another, and in this moment, he blamed this organ between his legs. It was like it had its own agency, its own logic and desires, that took over his rational mind whenever it became engorged with blood.
When L was younger, he had often thought that the human race would be much better off—saner, calmer, more rational—if everyone was simply smooth and sexless down there, like a doll. He had hated that he had something like this, a vestigial remnant of his animal ancestry that kept him from being what he wanted to be: a brain piloting an unremarkable body, doing the bare minimum to keep it alive while he focused on the things he really cared about.
In this moment, looking at the thick shaft that seemed too large for Misa’s little mouth, the untrimmed bush of wiry pubic hair that betrayed his partially European ancestry, wet and matted with Misa’s saliva, he silently agreed with his younger self. They were all pathetic, all of them. Animals. Himself most of all.
L closed his eyes, trying to focus on the physical sensations rather than his growing sense of disgust, but Aiber stopped him. “No,” he said, sharply enough that L flinched in surprise. “Look at her. No matter what she says, about wanting to serve you and all that nonsense, this isn’t actually about you, so don’t be selfish. No one gives you anything without wanting something in return. She wants your appreciation, your love, and she is going to great lengths to get it. So give it to her. This is an exchange, not a gift.”
L forced himself to open his eyes again and make eye contact with the wide-eyed girl between his legs. Aiber was right; Misa wasn’t the only one who had to play her role. He cupped her face in one hand and she paused in her motions, eyelashes fluttering shut as his thumb stroked her wet cheekbone. “Misa is so good,” he told her. “Misa always makes me feel so good.”
Misa’s forehead wrinkled, as if in pain or ecstasy, and she moaned deeply, the sound vibrating his cock. He knew, somehow, that that moan was real, and so he continued, babbling whatever came to mind without thinking about it much. “Good, always so good for me, Misa, such a good mouth, pretty lips, feels so perfect around my cock.” Misa whined again, drool leaking out of the corners of her mouth and running down his shaft.
“Good, now ask her for something more,” Aiber instructed. “Let her give you something, so that she can feel that she’s earning your approval.”
L didn’t have to think to know what he wanted. “I want Misa to take it deeper in her mouth,” he admitted, eyes darting between Misa and Aiber, as though asking them both for it.
“Mm,” Misa agreed, immediately thrusting her head forward, pushing herself down his shaft. She made it almost to the bottom when she choked harshly. He gasped, legs twitching at the sensation, before she jerked herself backwards and began coughing. “Sorry!” Misa said, giggling a little at herself as she caught her breath. “Ryuuzaki’s sooo big, it’s hard not to choke.” He knew she was flattering him—his penis was not abnormally large—but he let it slide. “Does it feel weird?”
“N-no,” he answered, looking at Aiber again, uncertain what to say. It felt good, to be honest, the way that the muscles of her throat had convulsed around him, but he didn’t feel like he could just say that.
“Most men don’t dislike the sensation of someone choking on them,” Aiber told her, coming to his rescue. “In fact, it can be very stimulating. But it’s unpleasant for their partner, so most men never ask for it. It would be quite an extreme thing to ask for.”
L had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what Aiber was up to. The manipulation was always so much smoother, almost imperceptible, when it came from Aiber, as compared to his own clumsy attempts.
“Mm…” Misa said, glancing up at Aiber thoughtfully. “It would feel good for Ryuuzaki if Misa keeps going when she chokes?”
“Well, yes,” Aiber said, like he was reluctant to admit it. “But it’s above and beyond what is required, even for an excellent blowjob. Misa has been doing more than enough already. I’m sure Ryuuzaki is more than happy with her.”
“But he could be happier?” Misa asked, and Aiber didn’t reply. “Misa wants to do it!” she announced. “Misa wants to whatever will feel best for Ryuuzaki, no matter what!”
“It will be uncomfortable,” Aiber pointed out, but her jaw was set. “Misa may not even be able to do it. Most inexperienced women can’t, because they instinctively pull back after a point.”
At this, Misa looked defeated, but then she looked up again, eyes glittering. “Can Aiber help Misa?” she asked. “He can help Misa stay down.”
Aiber made a face as though he were considering her suggestion. “I suppose I could,” he admitted. “Gag reflex is a problem long before lack of air comes into play. I would know how long it is safe to stay down, and when to make sure Misa can come up for air. But really, chéri, it won’t be pleasant for you.”
“Misa wants to do it!”
“There is some risk that you might vomit if we take this too far.”
“Misa doesn’t mind!”
“I mind,” L cut in, finally interrupting the strange conversation as his two collaborators plotted out the rest of his blowjob. “For Misa’s sake as well as my own. That sounds extremely unpleasant.”
“Misa won’t throw up, I promise!” she said, glancing back and forth between the two men. “Misa hasn’t eaten yet today anyway, so there’s nothing to throw up.” L made a mental note of that—it was almost 9 pm. He really should keep a closer eye on Misa’s diet, but he somehow doubted it would be easy to change her habits.
“Okay, okay.” Aiber held his hands out, as if caving to her stubbornness. “Here, then, let me fix this for you.”
L watched curiously as Aiber removed the small pigtails on either side of Misa’s head. Using the band from one, he gathered all of Misa’s blonde hair up into one thick ponytail and secured it behind her head. The practiced ease with which he wrapped her ponytail around his own large hand and grasped the hair at the base of her skull made it clear he had done this before.
“Okay, here we go,” he told her. “I’ll help you please Ryuuzaki—but remember, you can always choose to stop.”
“No!” Misa argued. “Misa doesn’t want to stop, but sometimes Misa gets scared and forgets. So you can’t let Misa stop, no matter what. Promise?”
With an affected sigh, Aiber said, “I promise.”
Slowly, inexorably, Aiber pushed Misa’s head down on him one agonizingly pleasurable inch at a time. At first, she seemed okay, but as his glans reached the back of her throat, she gagged slightly, lips lurching forwards around his shaft. Aiber paused for just a second, allowing her to adjust without pulling back, before continuing. L could feel the entrance to her throat parting as the head of his cock was forced in.
Finally, when he came to a stop, Misa’s lips were sealed around the base of his cock, not a single bit of his shaft visible. It was almost like a magic trick, to see something of that size disappear into Misa’s small throat. Her expression was constantly shifting, twitching into a wince each time she tried and failed to fight her gag reflex.
“Relax your muscles,” Aiber instructed calmly, even as Misa continued to choke. “Your body is instinctively panicking, but there is no danger to you. I will release you before you need air. This is simply an automatic, unnecessary reaction. It can be overcome. Some people find it helpful to squeeze their thumbs inside of their fists.”
Misa’s face was growing red, tears black with mascara beginning to well up and run down her cheeks, but she closed her eyes, seeming to concentrate quite hard, and slowly, her convulsions seemed to fade to a manageable level. Still, she never completely mastered them, and L could still feel the muscles of her throat fluttering around him, squeezing in ways that drove all rational thought from his mind. All he could remember was Aiber’s admonition—this is an exchange, not a gift—and so he let himself moan, telling Misa, “That feels, oh god, so good, I’ve never—”
It seemed that Aiber had even more tricks up his sleeve. “Now, if you try hard, you should find that you can squeeze your tongue out of your mouth. Once you do this, you can flick it against his balls for further stimulation, while also pressing the flat of your tongue to the underside of his shaft. Make sure to continue the suction while you do so.”
Once again, L was convinced that Misa was about to jump up and slap them both. Here she was, choking on his cock, and to add insult to injury, rather than releasing her or at least showing concern, Aiber was calmly instructing her on how to subject herself to further discomfort in order to lick L’s testicles. As though any amount of discomfort on her part was irrelevant in the face of his pleasure.
Thinking of Misa’s proud, temperamental streak, L prepared himself for a backlash, but to his shock, Misa did nothing of the sort. Instead, she followed Aiber’s instructions to the letter, and L was taken aback by the feeling of Misa’s tongue—the same tongue he had watched so avidly as it swept over her lips in a television commercial—clumsily probing at his sack. It was too much—not the feeling itself so much as the evidence of what she would subject herself to for him—and he moaned loudly, his head falling back against the couch cushion, his legs spreading wider until his feet left the floor.
“You see?” he heard Aiber saying. “Notice Ryuuzaki’s reaction. You must have made him feel pretty good right there.” Without warning, he jerked Misa backwards, far enough back that she could open her mouth and gasp for air around the top half of L’s shaft. He was silent for a moment, allowing her to catch her breath, before he said, “You did very well. Now, again.”
Aiber pushed Misa down on him in a steady rhythm, each time holding her down for what seemed like a calculated duration of time before withdrawing. For L, it was both overwhelming and somehow relieving. There was no need to ask for what he wanted, because Aiber simply seemed to know. There was no need to take it himself, to wrestle with the guilt, to worry that he might get carried away and hurt her. Aiber had full control over the situation, taking from Misa only as much as she could safely give and passing it on to L, and all that he had to do was feel. He could relinquish responsibility for Misa and for himself.
L’s mouth was hanging slack, his eyes starting to glaze over. Aiber’s eyes were on him, his free hand gripping L’s thigh, having imperceptibly slid up above the knee, and it occurred to L, all at once, that they were having sex. He and Aiber were having sex, with Misa serving as the conduit, and she didn’t even seem to notice. It made him feel ashamed and aroused all at once, to carry it out so blatantly in front of her face. Literally, as it turned out.
“How is it?” Aiber asked him, almost casually. “Does it feel good?”
L nodded vacantly, but he was shifting into that wild, almost feral, mental state, and he found himself saying, “More. I want more, Aiber, I want to come.” Begging Aiber to wring more pleasure out of Misa for his benefit.
Aiber nodded, like L had given him the right answer. He’s the one who said Misa wants to be pushed to extremes, L told himself. It was easier this way, to have someone else do it. He could have what he wanted, without the guilt of taking it himself.
“Misa,” Aiber said in Japanese, “Ryuuzaki isn’t satisfied yet. Can you take more?” She hummed, blinking up at the two of them acceptingly, and Aiber tightened his grip on her hair. His other hand released L’s thigh and moved to Misa’s back, stroking her shoulders soothingly. He felt another small flash of jealousy, absurdly, but he wanted this too badly to care.
“Stick your tongue out, relax your throat, and try to breathe through your nose,” Aiber instructed, his hand still rubbing circles on her back. “This will probably hurt for you, but for Ryuuzaki, it will feel really, really good. And that’s what you want, right?” Misa blinked again. “I know, Misa, because you’re the type of woman who can do anything if it’s for love. It’s always impressed me about you. So do your best, and I’m sure you’ll make Ryuuzaki really happy.”
Was the manipulation this obvious and disgusting when L did it? He had thought Aiber subtle, but there was nothing subtle about this.
“Here we go, chéri,” Aiber told Misa, and began to move again. Counter to his gentle words and touches a second ago, he was detached and pitiless in his treatment of her. After only a second or two of building up to it, allowing her to adjust, he began to pump her head up and down L’s shaft with rapid speed, pushing her all the way to the base with every stroke. It made a wet slapping noise of the sort L associated more with masturbation or vaginal sex than oral, punctuated by harsh gagging noises.
And despite his comforting words thus far, Aiber now began to speak to Misa in a low, filthy voice—in French, however, so that Misa was only affected by his tone, while L alone got the full benefit of his words. He was not at all surprised to find that Aiber was incredible at dirty talk, the one thing L had never quite gotten the hang of.
“You dirty slut,” Aiber murmured to Misa, the French making his words sound unbelievably sensual and smooth. “You like that, don’t you? You like choking on Ryuuzaki’s cock? I guess we’ve finally found your true usefulness. You were practically made for this.” His eyes flickered to L, and he seemed to perfectly understand the mixture of guilt and arousal that his words engendered in him, because he added, “Don’t pretend you aren’t thinking the same thing. I know exactly what you want. I can see how good you feel when she chokes. No matter how brilliant you are, you’re nothing but an animal when it comes to this.”
L’s legs began to raise into the air on either side of Misa’s head as he curled his spine forward, sliding down until he was mostly laying, his shoulders braced against the back of the couch. He kept his eyes open, though, still bound by Aiber’s command, but he had shifted at some point from watching Misa to watching Aiber. Staring up at the man with enormous eyes, chin resting against his chest, L let out a completely involuntary whine, wordlessly pleading with him.
“You want to come?” Aiber asked, laughing softly at him, a sound that went straight to his cock. L whined again, nodding quickly. “Where do you want to finish? Face, tits, mouth, or throat?” He spoke with the detachment of a waiter offering up a menu, not even slowing in the pace he set for Misa.
It took L a second to understand the question. To be honest, he had completely forgotten, for a moment, that the sensations were attached to a person, his girlfriend, named Misa Amane. There was only his throbbing cock straining upwards and the wet, squeezing heat that engulfed it again and again, Aiber’s icy blue eyes on him as he masturbated him. Aiber had made a thing of her, and now she might as well be an onahole, just as Light had called her in his dream. In fact, the whole thing reminded him so much of that dream that another wave of pleasure surged through him, and he knew he couldn’t hold off any longer.
“Throat!” he exclaimed, unable to think of anything but his selfish desires. It wasn’t that he didn’t care if Misa couldn’t breathe, it was that he wanted that. He wanted to cut off her air so that he could come, as if he couldn’t finish without it, without knowing that his pleasure came at the expense of her breath. “Please, make her take it, make her…”
Mercifully, Aiber gave him what he asked for, saying something reassuring to Misa at the same time that he pushed her all the way down on L’s cock and held her there. L cried out, legs jerking in the air, one hand gripping his own hair and twisting painfully as the pleasure tore through his body. He strained his hips forward, crushing his pelvis to Misa’s face, and his mouth opened and contorted silently in pleasure. His eyes were locked on Aiber’s, and he could hear the French man distantly talking him through it—“Let go, Ryuuzaki, take it from her, let yourself feel it. This is what she’s here for. For your use. This is what we’ve done to her.”
L’s cock throbbed and released up into the clenching heat. He could feel his cock swelling against the confines of her throat, plugging it up completely so he could fill it, replacing her air with thick, warm spurts of cum. Caught off guard, Misa choked explosively, semen spraying out the edges of her mouth around the base of his cock. Some, sucked up into her sinuses by a poorly timed attempt to breathe, shot out of her nose. He groaned at the sight, unexpectedly aroused by it, by the thought that his semen was filling all of her airways, invading her somewhere as intimate and personal as her face, not allowing her to breathe or smell or taste anything but him—his filth.
Misa choked and struggled, rising up onto her knees and arching her back in an instinctive attempt to pull free, pushing against the couch, but Aiber kept his promise. He talked to her soothingly, a complete contrast from his degrading words in French, and held her in place, cradling her head in one large hand and gripping the back of her neck with the other. “Just a little longer, Misa, you’re doing so well. Ryuuzaki isn’t finished yet. It will be okay, you can breathe in just a second. Just a second, hold it, hold it for him. Stay there, just like that, good girl.”
Without intending to, L thrust his arm forward and covered Aiber’s hand with his own, gripping Misa’s skull and adding his strength to the other man’s as they held Misa down on him, gyrating his hips forward forcefully against her face at the same time. His entire body seized up, and he moaned, in neither Japanese nor French but his original English, “Oh god, oh god, choke.”
When L finally rode out the last aftershocks, his legs falling weak and shaky to rest on the couch once more and his hand falling limp against his thigh, he thought Aiber would release her, but instead, he asked, his voice kind and soft, “Can you swallow for Ryuuzaki? A good girl wouldn’t waste any.” Misa visibly struggled to force herself to, but she closed her eyes in concentration and swallowed, the muscles of her throat working and squeezing around his cock, struggling to suck his semen down. His legs twitched and he gasped out loud at the sensation.
Only when she had completely finished swallowing did Aiber finally release her, his large hands on her shoulders drawing her gently backwards. Misa coughed harshly and hung her head, shoulders shaking, both hands braced on the floor, and L had the impression that she was struggling to keep herself from vomiting. But after a moment, she seemed to collect herself. She leaned forward and rested her cheek against L’s thigh, gazing up at him, all red, wet mouth and adoring eyes.
L darted his eyes to Aiber just in time to catch the words he mouthed in French: “Now you comfort her. She’s earned her reward. No pleasure comes without its price.”
L reached out with a trembling hand to cup Misa’s flushed cheek, and she closed her eyes blissfully, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, Misa,” he told her. “You’re amazing. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. My perfect girl.” Her brow wrinkled slightly, and a tear ran down her cheek as she continued to smile, as though pained by the intensity of her happiness. He kept his eyes on her even as Aiber quietly slipped out of the room—by now, he knew what to do.
“Misa’s been so good for me. She deserves to come. Misa, please touch yourself for me,” he told her, and she instantly thrust both hands between her legs, squeezing her thighs around them. She must have already been quite aroused, because she immediately seemed to lose control of herself, squirming and whimpering at her own touch.
Misa turned her head back and forth, pressing sloppy, worshipful kisses to his palm, his wrist, the inside of his thigh. Nestling further into his crotch, she nuzzled her face like a cat against his wet, limp penis and whined almost pitifully. “Ryuuzaki!” she pleaded, rocking back and forth on the floor in front of him, rubbing her face slowly between his legs, smearing their combined fluids across her own face. “Tell me that you love me, please, Ryuuzaki, I’ll lose my mind if you don’t.”
L gently stroked her hair, uncertain how to feel at the sight of her. A mixture of possessiveness, pity, lust, and horror, he thought, but he swallowed it down and told her seriously, “I love you.” To himself, he thought, What have we done to this girl?
Misa collapsed face-first into his lap, shaking with release and sobbing, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Notes:
Aiber's tricks might've been too much for her...
Sorry it's been so long, I convinced myself that everyone hated the last chapter and became paralyzed with fear of making it worse. I was like "I should maybe have a chapter that's not just filthy, morally dubious sex, give people a breather," but then I ended up just writing more filthy, morally dubious sex. Just girly things! I guess I need to accept that this fic won't be for everyone, or even for most people, because this is the story that I want to tell.
Last night I watched a Korean vampire movie called Thirst, from the director of Oldboy, and it's pretty much the spiritual sibling of Oleander. The atmosphere, the weird sex, the descent into depravity, the dynamic between the lead characters...
I promise more plot will happen soon. Some pretty big changes are coming, but let's wallow in this filth just a little bit longer.
Chapter 19: i know how you work (i am just like you)
Notes:
Hate has brought me up the stairs into your house
I'll not let hate be the one to make me naked for you
My self esteem is heating up the room
You're intimidating as all hell, but I ain't scared of youI know how you work
I am just like you
No matter what you say
Our hearts are wrong
Our hearts are wrong- Jessica Lea Mayfield, "Our Hearts Are Wrong"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Recently, L had been trying something new: not watching Light over the cameras. After all, so far, he had not gained any useful information by doing so. The only effect watching Light seemed to have on his life was increasing his frustration with himself. And he knew that Watari would tell him if something important happened.
And so he had simply stopped, for several days now. While he still got the urge to open up his laptop and take a look, spurred on by habit and unease, he resisted the urge and followed Misa to bed instead, took out his frustration on her body. So far, it seemed to be helping—at least he spent less of his time feeling like crawling out of his own skin.
Of course, Light would never let him get away so easily.
L didn’t know how, but he really felt like Light must know he had stopped watching. What else could explain why he had chosen that night to change things up? (If L was serious, he could admit that it could be a coincidence, and yet, he struggled to bring himself to believe that.)
It was late, almost the time L would be retiring to his bedroom to stare at the ceiling beside Misa and attempt to shut down his racing mind, when he got the message from Watari: Light was trying to contact him.
With a sigh, L opened up his laptop and pulled up the camera feed. After the days away, it still felt easy, natural, a relief to finally enter in the familiar commands on his keyboard instead of holding himself back. When the video opened, he jolted slightly in surprise to see Light’s face staring directly into the camera.
“L, are you there?” he asked. Not even bothering to call him Ryuuzaki anymore, L noticed. He got the feeling Light had just been repeating these words over and over, waiting for something to happen. “I want to talk to you about the Kira case.”
After a moment of hesitation, L pressed the button for the speaker, ending his weeks of silence in once moment. “I am listening,” he said.
The effect was unmistakable, a sly but genuinely pleased smirk on Light’s face, making L feel irritated and off-balance. “I think I remembered something. It might be important.”
How like Light to draw this out, holding L’s attention for as long as possible. L didn’t indulge him, only sat there silently, waiting for Light to get impatient and continue.
“I know you want to know,” Light said.
“Are you planning to tell me, or are you trying to get something in exchange?” L finally asked. “I’m not letting you out of confinement, at least not before I even hear what the information is.”
“I’m not asking you to let me out,” Light said, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’ll tell you everything… but I want to see your face. Come talk to me in person. That’s all I’m asking.”
“So you can strangle me again?” L asked.
Light sighed heavily, as though L were being ridiculous. “Look, you can cuff me again if you want. I don’t care. I’m just going crazy down here. I haven’t seen another person’s face in weeks.” When L hesitated, he continued, “Come on. What can I do to hurt you if you restrain me? It’s just a conversation. You’re the one with the power here.”
L bit down slightly on the pad of his thumb. He knew it was not as simple as that, just as Light knew. He was not afraid of what Light might do to him, not entirely. He was afraid of what he might do if he were alone with Light.
Besides, this whole thing stank of a trap. Light looked entirely too pleased with himself not to be up to something. He was obviously trying to put L in a position in which he either had to face Light or admit, at least implicitly, that he was afraid to be in his presence. It was a manipulation so transparent that L didn’t even need Aiber to point it out to him.
And yet, if there were any chance that Light were telling the truth… True, if Light didn’t have any information to share, he might say that he did in order to lure L to him. But if Light did have something of value to say, he might still act in this exact way, smug about being able to leverage the information into forcing his way past L’s barriers once again. The fact that Light seemed to be up to something did not inherently negate the possibility that he might be telling the truth.
It felt like a trap, but so had most of their interactions in the past. L had showed himself to Light, dangled himself as bait, taking satisfaction in always moving out of the way just before the trap closed. It was what he was good at. Light knew this, knew how L worked. This was why he looked so smug: because he knew that even though L would see right through him, he would still come to him. And as much as L hated to admit it, he knew that, too.
After a moment longer, both to steel himself and to hopefully shake Light’s conviction just a bit, L pressed the speaker button again. “Lie down on the floor with your hands behind your back. When I enter the room, I will cuff your hands together. Watari will be watching the entire time, ready to send in backup at any sudden movements. Once restrained, you will have fifteen minutes to tell me what you think I need to know.”
Light smirked again, and just to hit back, a little bit, in retaliation for the way he had been backed into this corner, L added, “And if I decide you are wasting my time, I will be taking away your computer.”
Everything went smoothly when L entered Light’s room, too smoothly for him to feel comfortable. Light had been waiting obediently on the floor, hands behind his back, and allowed himself to be cuffed without complaint.
The only thing L could complain about was a small act of malicious compliance on Light’s part: he had apparently followed L’s instructions to lie down and wait to be cuffed the second that L ended their conversation, and so he had remained in the state he had been in when he had first gotten L’s attention: shirtless in his bedroom, wearing only a loose pair of pajama bottoms. L did his best to get the cuffs on Light without touching the smooth, warm skin of his lower back, choosing to crouch somewhat awkwardly beside him rather than straddling him, but did not quite manage it.
Still, he kept his expression impartial as he helped Light up from the floor and watched him sit on the edge of his bed. For himself, L dragged in a chair from the living room. He might be stupid enough to walk straight to the lion’s den, but he would not make it easy for Light by sitting down on his bed with him.
With a dramatic flourish, L pulled out his phone from his pocket and held it up, displaying the screen to Light as he set the timer. “Your fifteen minutes begins now.”
Light sneered at him slightly, as if in mockery for his businesslike behavior. But he did not speak. They sat across from each other, looking into each other’s eyes, and L knew this was another power play—an attempt to force him to speak first, to take the subordinate position of asking Light to talk.
Instead, L looked down at his fingers, examining the ragged cuticles, the torn edges of the nails where he had bitten them.
A minute or two later, Light finally spoke. “I dreamed you were watching me.”
L did not look up. “That is not surprising, given that you are under 24/7 surveillance in this room, even if not by me personally. However, I fail to see the relevance to the Kira case.”
“It was before I came here,” Light said. “I was in my bedroom at home.”
L shrugged. “Again, I fail to see the relevance. It seems normal that your brain would combine your current sense of being watched with a more familiar setting.”
“This wasn’t a dream, it was a memory,” Light replied. “I remembered when I woke up. You bugged my room, didn’t you?”
What was his play here? He had to know that telling L this would only make himself seem more suspicious. Was he simply so desperate to speak to him, or did he think he would somehow gain an advantage? Was this conversation the point, or merely an excuse?
Finally, L nodded minutely. “Yes, along with the homes of several other suspects.”
“But you watched me the most,” Light said, and L couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement. Maybe he simply guessed, based on the fact that L had introduced himself to him in person. If Light had been his prime suspect—which, of course, he was—then it would make sense for L to pay the closest attention to him. But Light followed up with, “I could feel you.”
L shuddered slightly despite himself, from the way that Light spoke, the intensity of his eyes on him. But he only responded, keeping his voice bored, “If this is a real memory, Light sounds like he was very paranoid. Thinking himself watched, even before we met.”
“I didn’t say it was before we met,” Light replied, and L cringed inwardly at his misstep. “But you’re right. I knew you were watching me, even before I met you. When I only knew you as the letter L. I could feel your eyes on me.”
L finally looked up at that, as though fulfilling Light’s words, and he saw Light shift slightly in response, as if physically touched by his regard.
“The ability to know, without external evidence, that one is being watched by a specific person sounds rather supernatural. Perhaps equally supernatural to the ability to cause a heart attack from thousands of miles away.”
Light looked almost angry at that. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though I knew you would take it that way. I wouldn’t have known if it was anyone else. It was because it was you.”
“Oh, so I am the one with supernatural powers now?” L asked, allowing a hint of mockery into his voice.
Somehow, his mockery failed to touch Light’s strange, intense sincerity. “It wasn’t me, and it wasn’t you, it was both of us. It was because it was the first time for me.”
“Your first time being watched over hidden cameras by a detective you had never met before? Yes, I can believe that.” It was easier to be sarcastic, to distance himself, than to allow himself to understand Light’s meaning.
“My first time being seen by a person capable of understanding me,” Light said, ignoring his sarcasm completely, leaning forward even with his arms bound behind his back. “Of course I would know. And you can pretend that you didn’t feel it too, but I know you better than that.”
“Of course I knew. I was the one who ordered the cameras to be placed, remember?”
“Stop playing dumb!”
“Light is embarrassing himself.” L made a show of stopping the timer on his phone and got to his feet. “Light’s romantic fantasies about me are irrelevant to the Kira case. I’ll be leaving now, and I will be taking Light’s computer with me.”
But Light had stood as well, moving to get between L and the door. Even knowing that Light was physically restrained, L’s pulse accelerated. “I know why you’re uncomfortable around me.”
“Because you got off on strangling me within an inch of my life?”
“Because you’re afraid to be seen.” The strange intensity still hadn’t left Light’s eyes. “You spend your whole life hiding—behind a computer, behind cameras. You’re always the one watching. But when you started watching me, something happened. Some sort of connection, something that went both ways. You couldn’t hide from me, not any more than I could hide from you.”
“Delusions of grandeur,” L responded blandly. “Light’s way of coping with his feelings of powerlessness at being surveilled and imprisoned. Now, get out of my way, or I will make you.”
“Ever since you realized that I see you for what you are, you’ve been trying to hide—by being rude, or locking me up, or threatening me. But you can’t hide. As long as I exist in this world, you’ll know that someone out there sees through all of this.” Unable to point, Light nodded his head at L’s body.
He tried to step closer, and L stopped him, grasping him by the shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. His skin was hot, almost feverish, under L’s hands, and he wanted to pull away, but he didn’t want to allow Light any closer.
“Light’s obsession with me is becoming quite sad,” L said. “Whatever connection Light thinks there is between us, whatever he thinks he knows about me, exists only in Light’s head.”
“Then why did you come here tonight?” Light asked, and L started to respond, to say something about the Kira case, when he continued: “And why are you hard right now?”
L didn’t have anything sarcastic to say to that. He was so startled, in fact, having not even noticed his own physical state, that his hands went slack. Light immediately took advantage, slipping between his arms and pressing himself to L’s front. With his hands restricted, he couldn’t grab L, couldn’t prevent him from pulling away. But pulling away didn’t even occur to L, at least not quickly enough to act on it.
“Light—” L said warningly.
“Come on. I’m sure you expected this the second I asked you to come here,” Light said, tilting his body so that his hip pressed into L’s erection. “I already told you, you can’t hide from me. I know what you want. I’ll even let you fuck me, as a token of my trust, if you’re still mad about last time.”
If L was still mad about being strangled without consent. The way that Light talked about it, as though L was a child holding a grudge and Light was patiently indulging him, was infuriating. It was designed to be infuriating. And because of that, L tamped the feeling down, too stubborn to allow his feelings to be dictated by Light. After all, L had the power here. Light was still restrained, still his prisoner. Light could sneer and needle and condescend to him, but that was just his way of seeking to flip the balance of power between them using the only weapon left to him—his words.
L was in control of this situation. He was safe. So why didn’t he feel like it?
L looked into Light’s eyes for a moment, and before he could stop himself, his gaze was drawn downwards—down to Light’s bare, muscular chest, pressed to his, down to the curve of his bare neck and shoulder. He couldn’t see further down, with the way they were pressed together, but he could feel Light’s cock through his flimsy pajama pants.
L wanted… he wasn’t sure what. More than anything, he just wanted to get back at him. For hurting him, for making him afraid, for making him wake up every night with fear sweat on his skin and a straining erection in his pants. For giving him the ugliness that he passed on to Misa every time he touched her. Some part of him felt like maybe, if he just turned things around, reversed their roles, the spell that Light had cast over him would be broken. He could take back the power that he had lost when Light’s hands had closed around his neck, could stop feeling the way he had felt ever since then.
It was this, more than any simple lust, that made him do it. On some level, he knew, he was reenacting the events of that day, now that he was in charge, as if that could somehow erase it. He took Light by the upper arms, watched as he closed his eyes, lips parting slightly, but he didn’t kiss him. With a quick, rough motion, he turned the both of them to face the bed, flipped the younger man to face away from him, and threw him down onto the mattress, crawling to straddle his hips from behind.
Light didn’t protest, only laughed quietly at being thrown around in this way. L might have expected Light to find the submissive role humiliating, but it was clear that he still felt he was somehow getting one over on L. Unreasonably frustrated by this, he grasped the hem of Light’s pajama pants and yanked them down. He was surprised to see a slick, shiny substance between Light’s annoyingly sculpted cheeks.
“I prepared myself already,” Light said, canting his hips up at him, only a hint of breathlessness in his otherwise controlled voice. “With the lights out, so Watari couldn’t see.”
Watari. Fuck. L considered telling Watari to stop watching, then reconsidered—what if this was part of Light’s plan to get him to lower his guard before attacking him again? On the other hand, the cuffs were solid, and if Light did pull something, L was pretty confident he could take him. Even if Light managed to overpower him, he’d never make it out of the building.
Finally, burning with embarrassment at knowing that Watari would know exactly what he was doing, L pushed Light’s face down into the pillow so he wouldn’t see and turned to look directly into the camera, mouthing—in English—“Stop watching, but keep recording.” Worst came to worst, he would simply have to reach his phone, which was still in the pocket of his pants, and hit the emergency signal.
Shaking his head slightly to stop ruminating over the fact that his handler had been watching him with Light, L returned to the matter at hand. He had gone slightly soft, but Light pushed his hips back against him eagerly, and when L ground himself against them, he found himself quickly rebounding.
He grasped Light’s hips and pulled them up, through without his hands to support himself, Light was forced to arch his back, his cheek still against the pillow. And if he wasn’t imagining things, he could finally see a hint of blush on Light’s face, as though he was beginning to realize that he wasn’t in charge this time.
Unlike Light, L did not see anything inherently degrading about being the submissive or penetrated partner. He would be more than willing to take that role with someone else. His position here was one of practicality, as he knew that he could not trust Light to have that power without hurting him. But knowing that Light would see this position as humiliating, and yet willingly take it anyway, even fingering himself open in advance, in order to entice L into giving in… Well, it was a heady thought.
Though he was tempted to thrust right in, as if to punish Light, L was not that kind of person. He did not think that Light was even as experienced with anal stimulation as he himself was, and L was not going to hurt him. Anyway, it was not necessary to hurt Light. L only needed to be in control, in some convoluted attempt to convince his body that it was finally safe.
Still, that didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy the way Light’s face crumpled as he breached him, the way he breathed hard with the effort of taking him, clearly suppressing noises to not allow L to see how it affected him. But L saw. He kept one hand on Light’s hip, the other on his shoulder-blade, pushing him facedown into the bed and forcing his back to arch further.
It felt good, tight, but that wasn’t the point. It felt like setting things right again, allowing something in himself to uncoil at the sight of Light arched underneath him, his hands flexing against the cuffs, unable to reach him even if he wanted to. L didn’t give himself up to the sensation the way that he did with Misa. He pushed it down, focusing on thrusting, on grasping Light by the hips and driving muffled grunts from his lips with each motion. He felt more like he was competing against Light in some sort of physical contest than like he was actually having sex.
L reached under Light and found that he was still hard, even with the discomfort of being penetrated for the first time, and Light hissed when L’s hand made contact with his cock, but the angle wasn’t quite right. With a small noise of effort, L grasped Light by the shoulder and pulled him up onto his knees, wrapping one arm around his chest from behind.
Like this, with both of them kneeling on the bed, Light’s entire body was open to L’s touch, and when he thrust, he was able to find an angle that finally forced a real moan from Light’s lips. L wrapped his free hand around Light’s cock and stroked in time with his thrusts, biting down on Light’s shoulder both to take out some of his aimless aggression and to draw his focus away from his own pleasure. L had never been able to last that long, but it was important to him to draw this out, at least long enough to make Light fall apart. It might be the only time he would ever see him truly vulnerable, and in some confusing way, he needed that. The experience wouldn’t be complete without it.
“Is this what Light wanted?” L asked, panting slightly as he spoke, giving in to the childish urge to taunt him.
“Fuck you,” Light responded, rather predictably. He was clearly too caught up to think of anything more clever, as he was thrusting clumsily back against him, then forward into L’s hand. “Harder.” L obliged.
The two of them were not especially vocal, too competitive and guarded to show that kind of vulnerability, but L did his best to drive as many telling noises as he could from Light with each motion of his hips and twist of his wrist. Light did his best to hold back, but finally, in the moment he came, he let out a surprisingly high-pitched whimper that L knew he would be humiliated by if he had the presence of mind, arching his back, cum shooting in a high arc onto the bed in front of them.
Relieved that he could finally give in to his own building pleasure, and wanting to drive home the humiliation just a bit more, L suddenly released Light, giving him a little shove on the back. Without his arms to catch him, Light fell straight on top of the line of his own fluid, which had reached even as high as the pillow, so that he was forced to lay with his cheek in it.
Light, still reeling from his orgasm, made a satisfying noise of surprise and shock, as much from L slipping out of him as from the offense of being thrown face-first into his own cum stain.
L had always loved the moments when he caught Light off guard. He followed him down, laying atop Light’s prone body, unconsciously mirroring and reversing their position from that day—except that he pushed back inside of Light, rather than merely grinding against him, and that he would not be strangling him. He let his weight pin Light to the bed, thrusting with sharp, rough motions of his hips, gritting his teeth. Light’s hands were awkwardly pinned between their bodies, the metal of the cuffs cold against L’s stomach where his shirt had ridden up.
Unfortunately, now that he had come, Light had recovered enough of his senses to be a little shit again. L could see his mouth curving up on the exposed side of his face, showing his maddeningly white and perfect teeth, as he gloated, “God, I knew you wanted this. I knew she could never satisfy you. Not after what we shared.”
What we shared? Unbidden, L flashed back to Light’s hands around his neck, his angry, animal grunts behind him, and adrenaline flooded his body. He reached one hand around and covered Light’s mouth, pulling his head back slightly. “Shut the fuck up,” he muttered—Light really did seem to bring out his least eloquent side, but hell, he was angry and so close to coming and still, somehow, still afraid of him.
Because he wasn’t wrong. Since that day, nothing had satisfied him. He had always wanted more: more pleasure, more danger, more depravity.
L closed his eyes, tightened his grip on Light’s mouth, and snapped his hips forward hard, trying to drive all of the fear right out of himself and into Light, back where it belonged. “Shut the fuck up,” he said again, quietly, even though Light hadn’t said anything at all, and then, with a wrenching gasp and a stuttering thrust of his hips, he squeezed his eyes shut and finally came. He pulsed deep inside of Light’s body, and it wasn’t enough, didn’t make up for what Light had done to him, but still, it felt like something.
L left Light where he was as he washed himself up and got dressed. It settled something in him to see Light like this, spent and facedown, arms still restrained, L’s cum trickling out of him. He looked… L wasn’t sure how he looked. The first word to come to mind was ‘disarmed.’
L walked closer and reached down, running one finger curiously over Light’s reddened hole to feel where his cum flowed out, feeling cruel. “When you remember that you’re Kira,” he mused, thinking aloud but also taunting Light, “I wonder how pissed off you’re going to be when you remember letting me fuck you like this. I’d like to be there to see it.”
He could feel Light’s mood shift immediately, growing icy, just as he wanted. “The real question is, how angry will Misa be when she finds out you’re gay? Planning on telling her anytime soon?”
“You do know that bisexuality exists, don’t you, Light?”
Light laughed dismissively. “You’re not bisexual,” he told L. “You’re just so desperate you’ll take anything you can get.”
L sighed. It was clear that Light was not going to believe anything that he said. For whatever reason, it was important for Light to believe that he was fully gay. Probably because Light wanted to feel that what had happened between them was somehow more real than L and Misa’s relationship. “I knew she could never satisfy you,” he had said. Or maybe, still coming to terms with his own sexuality as Light was, he saw it as some sort of cop-out, a way of avoiding the social stigma that Light himself was afraid to face.
What Light didn’t realize was that L did not share his concern for others’ opinions. L was perfectly fine with anyone knowing about his sexuality; the only reason most people didn’t know was that he did not share personal information unless it was relevant.
That said, in this particular circumstance, it could cause L a lot of trouble with Misa if this encounter was made public. “What I said last time still stands,” L said. “Tell anyone what happened today, and I’ll show them the footage from before. I’m sure your father would be most interested.”
Light made a strange, muffled noise into the pillow. For a second, L was worried he had gone too far. After all, Light was even younger than Misa, and his prisoner as well. Not to mention how deep in the closet he had seemed to be. L had been harsh with him, feeling that Light could take it—deserved it, even, for what he had done—but maybe he had misestimated.
Then, with a sinking and somewhat dizzying feeling, L realized that he had it all wrong. Light was laughing at him. A manic, ugly sort of laughter that he had never heard from him before.
Feeling ill at ease and eager to get out of there, L pulled the handcuff key from his pocket and tossed it on the bed beside him. “I assume you can work out how to get yourself free,” he told him. “Leave the cuffs in front of the door to the elevators and Watari will collect them later.” He should be a little more concerned about leaving Light with a potential weapon, but all that L wanted was to get away from the whole scene. He left the floor without looking back.
In the elevator, L slumped, pressing both hands to his eyes. He couldn’t exactly say that he regretted fucking Light. In some way, it had felt inevitable. And yet, it certainly did complicate things with Misa.
When he had given in to Light, he hadn’t been thinking about her at all. To him, it had felt like something that had nothing to do with Misa or their relationship. It had been about fixing something that had been wrong since Light had put his hands around his neck and L had made the choice not to fight back.
But Misa wouldn’t see it that way. Especially not after the past week, the way that she had submitted to his most extreme desires, stating that she didn’t want him to look for anyone else. And yet, it had not been enough to keep him from straying—or at least, that would be her perspective.
And with the way Light had laughed, leaving this potential weapon in his hands no longer seemed like a workable plan. Sure, Light was isolated from Misa right now. But if things changed, and this secret came out in the middle of a confrontation, it might be enough to turn the tables.
After all, L hadn’t forgotten the way Light had used his knowledge of L’s true identity to shake Misa’s trust in him. Talking Misa down after that had been difficult, and had resulted in her exposing their relationship to the entire task force, starting a chain reaction which resulted in L working almost alone once again. And which may have, in a way, led to Matsuda’s death. He had learned his lesson: any secrets that he kept from Misa would be weaponized against him the moment Light found the chance.
L showered under scalding water and lay down on the couch rather than join Misa in his bed. The entire night, he didn’t sleep, only stared up at the ceiling and watched the shadows move. But when morning came, he still saw only two options.
He could not get rid of Light, not without proof that he was Kira. And so L would either have to wait, crossing his fingers that his infidelity would not come out and blow everything up… Or he could tell Misa now, and defuse the bomb before Light had a chance to get to her.
It was clear what he had to do.
Notes:
He felt more like he was competing against Light in some sort of physical contest than like he was actually having sex.
Wait a second, this isn't tennis! This is anal sex!
Chapter 20: "grab a cop gun" kind of crazy (she's poison, but tasty)
Notes:
Misa goes on a little tour of the headquarters.
"Grab a cop gun" kind of crazy
She's poison, but tasty
Yeah, people say, "Run, don’t walk away"
'Cause she's sweet but a psycho
A little bit psycho- Ava Max, "Sweet but Psycho"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When Misa woke up, L was ready. He had asked Watari to have breakfast delivered and arranged on a tray which he could serve to her in bed, along with a vase containing two dozen red and pink roses. The request was only slightly uncomfortable, knowing as he did that Watari must know exactly what was going on. Luckily for him, his handler was an extremely nonjudgmental person. (That, or he was secretly judging L all the time and merely had an exceptional poker face.)
Misa woke with a sleepy stretch, blinking and giggling as she took in the sight in front of her. She looked so happy and comfortable, burrowed in his bed covers with messy hair and sleep in her eyes. L had been so lost in the haze of his situation with Light that he had barely noticed her lately, his guilt and isolation making her presence seem irritating and overwhelming. Now, suddenly freed, he found himself thinking of how beautiful she looked in this moment. He wanted to freeze her in time and keep her exactly this way, blissfully ignorant of the bomb he was about to drop on her head.
“What’s this about?” she asked, beaming up at him, and for the first time, he was able to feel a stab of guilt rather than simply dreading the consequences for himself.
L swallowed heavily. “Do I need a reason to do something nice for my girlfriend?” he asked. He would tell Misa, but not this very second. Let her eat her breakfast first, build up at least a few last bits of goodwill.
“Awww, Ryuuzaki,” Misa cooed, drawing his name out, sickly sweet, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. L hated himself for blushing, for being affected by her childish act. Still, she looked pleased with his response, and that was what mattered.
He crouched silently on the bed beside her, steepling his fingers together and staring at them as she ate. Luckily, Misa was used to this kind of tense and unsettling body language from him, so she paid him barely any mind as she focused on her food. Finally, she leaned back with a stretch.
“Misa is sooo full!” Misa announced. “I couldn’t eat another bite.”
L glanced at the tray doubtfully, which was still half full. No matter the quantity of food that he presented her with, even if it was barely anything, she never finished it. He wondered if she was following some unwritten rule of modeling, always leaving food on the plate at the end of a meal. She worried him sometimes.
Still, he knew from experience that she would only play dumb if he brought it up, and anyway, there were more pressing concerns. Before he could work up the courage to raise them, however, Misa had crawled over the bed to reach him and slung one leg over his hips, positioning herself on his lap. “Ryuuzaki is the sweetest boyfriend ever,” she told him, leaning in to kiss him firmly on the mouth with a soft noise of pleasure.
L knew that he needed to stop Misa and talk to her, but she was naked and on top of him and kissing him until he couldn’t even breathe. His hands twitched in the air, tense and trying to work up the nerve to push her away, before betraying him, sliding down her back to grip her bare ass and pull her against him. His cock twitched in his jeans, rapidly hardening as she rocked down against him.
Finally, though, his body caught up with his brain, and he moved his hands to her shoulders, pushing her back enough to break the kiss. “Misa, hang on,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” she asked, giggling, apparently thinking they were playing a game. “Has Ryuuzaki been a naughty boy?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?”
L had spent hours online that night, researching famous apology statements from politicians, particularly those who got away with their misbehavior. Bill Clinton had been a particular inspiration. He had thought very carefully about how to break the news to Misa, gently and with all the delicacy the subject deserved.
What came out of his mouth instead was, “I cheated on you.”
Misa’s blinked at him, sitting back slightly, holding him by the shoulders as she searched his face. She didn’t look angry or hurt, not yet. Just startled and confused. “What?” she said, laughing a little, like it was a joke. “What do you mean?”
L paused and decided that, since he’d already gotten himself into this, he would start with the most crucial piece of information. “With Light,” he added helpfully.
A much longer pause now.
Misa’s mouth hung open, but after a moment, she seemed to collect herself, crossing her arms over her chest with a determined glare in her eyes. “That’s not funny, Ryuuzaki.” But the tremble in her voice, and the way her hands clutched anxiously at her elbows, betrayed her: she didn’t want to believe him, but some part of him did.
“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to be honest with Misa.”
“Th-that’s the most ridiculous thing Misa’s ever heard,” she retorted. “I mean, you’re, you’re both… men. And it’s you. And it’s Light. There’s no way,” she finished firmly, shaking her head.
“I’m very sorry, but unfortunately, it’s true,” he told her. “I went to his room last night, while Misa was sleeping.”
An even longer silence, and then a screech that made him instinctively flinch and cover his ears: “WHAT?!”
There was screaming, at first. Small, frail fists pounding his chest before she threw herself from his lap and scrambled to put on a shirt. Then sobbing, great wracking sobs that shook Misa’s whole body, only when he tried to touch her shoulder to comfort her, she shoved him violently away and curled up on her side, facing the wall.
During the screaming and sobbing, he barely got a word in edgewise. He was only able to communicate the bare facts: that it had happened twice, that Light had initiated it both times, that it was over now. That Light had hurt him, the first time. He didn’t feel comfortable talking about that, but he knew it was his best shot at getting Misa to turn her anger against the other man involved.
“Did he force you?” she demanded, though, through her sobs, and he was forced to admit that, no, he hadn’t. He did attempt to impress upon her the fact that Light had always initiated, and that L had suspected for awhile that Light was a closeted homosexual. He felt slightly queasy as he made that last point; given his own sexual orientation, it seemed wrong to slander Light for his.
His suggestion that only a gay man would have turned Misa down, aimed specifically to flatter her, got a small smile, followed swiftly by a scowl that suggested she was angry with him for making her forget to be angry, even for a second.
“If you thought he was gay, you shouldn’t have been alone with him!” she shouted, and L briefly wondered if Misa was really that homophobic, but she quickly went on to add, “Just like you wouldn’t be alone with another woman… right?!”
Not homophobic, then, as much as jealous. He did not point out that he had never promised her that he would never be alone with anyone who liked men, as that would not be productive. Instead, he said, “It was for the Kira case. I had to.”
“Oh, the KIRA case!” Misa barked out a laugh. “Did you fuck him for the Kira case, too?” Taking the pillow in one hand, she flung it at him, and he didn’t move, just let it hit the side of his face and flop down onto the bed. “Did you fuck me for the Kira case? Like he said?” This was said with less anger and more hurt, and he knew she really wanted to know.
This was the one thing that could break her, so he lied. He suspected that on some level she knew the truth, but he still lied. “No, Misa, I didn’t,” he told her, looking into her eyes as firmly as he could. “I really do love you.”
Misa’s face wavered for a moment, but then she laughed again. “I can’t believe you,” she told him. “If you love me so much, why did you fuck my ex?”
This was the sticking point. L had thought about it all night and still been unable to think of a satisfactory explanation for his behavior that he could give to Misa. He barely understood it himself, and even if he did, the truth wasn’t necessarily the best thing for her to hear. Finally, he dropped his eyes to his hands.
“Because I’m weak,” he said. “Because I’m not a good person. I’m not used to this—relationships, sex, everything. I didn’t expect him to come on to me. When he did, I just got… swept up in it. I didn’t think about it, not until after. I just let myself be pulled along. You know how I get sometimes.” In the moment, he meant it, so it came out as genuine. I’m weak, he told himself. I’m bad. I just went along with it. Even when he hurt me, I went along with that. I let him hurt me. I wasn’t strong enough to protect myself.
Never mind that he had gotten the footage of Light strangling him. That didn’t make him feel any less weak. What type of person let themselves be attacked just so they could get blackmail material? Someone weak, someone who didn’t respect himself.
Misa looked up at the ceiling and laughed to herself. “And here Misa thought…” She trailed off for a moment before seeming to collect herself, a cruel glint coming to her eyes. “Light was beautiful, and he was so horrible to me. Misa thought if she chose an ugly boy this time, he’d be so grateful to have a girl like Misa that he’d do anything she wanted. Misa thought Ryuuzaki was a safe boyfriend, cause no one else would want him. Ryuuzaki was supposed to be grateful.”
Uncertain how to respond to that, L just stared at her for a moment. He didn’t feel especially offended. He knew he wasn’t a handsome man, and besides that, Misa just wanted to hurt him. Finally, he said, “I think that ugly people can be just as weak, and make just as many mistakes, as beautiful people. But Misa is right. I was lucky to have the attention of someone like Misa, and I should not have taken her for granted.” This would go faster, he hoped, if he told her what she wanted to hear.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” Misa said, “but you did. Everyone does.” Now, worse than the screaming or the sobbing, came a sort of terrible quietness, a total blankness that he had never seen before on Misa’s face.
“Misa is going to her room now,” she told him, quiet and as monotone as his own voice, almost robotic. “Misa needs to be alone.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. He wouldn’t take it back, but he was sorry to hurt her. “Misa, I’m sorry.”
But she only pushed past him, walking calmly out the door, leaving him alone once more.
L lay on his couch, staring at the ceiling. How had he so quickly become accustomed to Misa’s presence, bustling around his quarters and demanding his attention, that now it felt strange to be alone?
On some level, he wondered if he should be feeling remorse, but that felt so far removed from his situation. He was not a wayward husband. He had done much, much worse to Misa than a tryst with Light. To worry about infidelity in a sham of a relationship, one initiated solely to gain Misa’s trust and convince her to let her guard down, seemed like crying over a paper-cut while one’s arm was being amputated.
Mostly, what he felt was a feeling of things spiraling out of control. After all, if he had wanted to gain Misa’s trust, this had not been the way to do so. And Misa herself was so volatile. She might never speak to him again, or decide that this was all Light’s fault and cling to him even tighter, or she could even reveal that she had never truly lost her powers and kill both of them. All of these outcomes somehow felt equally likely—with Misa, anything was possible.
And yet he could not bring himself to regret it. To regret implied that there was something else that he could have done, and it did not feel like there was—unless, of course, he had managed to stop himself the first time, before Light complicated things. For reasons that he did not fully understand, Light’s act of violence towards him had knocked something loose inside of himself, and since that day, he had not felt right in his own skin. It had been necessary, in some amorphous, intuitive way, for L to rectify the situation in this way: with another act of physicality, one in which he was safe and in control.
Light, having sensed L’s need, was now smug, assuming that L had been unable to resist him. He didn’t understand that it went deeper than that. What they had done together had not been about Light at all, not for L. It was simply a way back to a world in which L could exist in his own body again. And while Light had always, and probably would always, have the ability to get under L’s skin like no one else had, L suspected that the strange, almost hypnotic pull that Light had had over him since that day had finally been broken.
And so L had done what he must, and with Misa, he had taken a calculated risk: to tell her now, and to hope that he had tied her to himself so tightly that she would not pull away, rather than to continue to allow Light to hold the secret over his head. It had been another step in extricating himself from Light’s power over him. There was nothing to do but wait for the chips to fall however they would.
Still, the lack of control, the waiting, made him uneasy. He had watched Misa over the cameras for awhile, but all that she did was sit on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall. And so, when he finally got a call from Watari that afternoon, it was almost a relief, just not having to wait anymore.
“Miss Amane is destroying her room,” Watari told him. “She has drank two full bottles of wine so far, and appears to be extremely intoxicated. Would you like me to stop her?”
“Just a moment.” L sat up and crossed over to his computer, pulling up the camera feed once more. It was somehow better, he thought, to see Misa like this, as opposed to the total blankness he had seen on her face earlier. She was flushed from the alcohol, flinging things this way and that. The floor was covered in shards of broken plates and glasses.
“Let’s leave her be for now, unless she manages to cut herself deeply enough to need medical attention.” Maybe destroying some dishes would exorcise Misa’s rage, leaving her more susceptible to being talked back down. “You can clean it up when she is finished.”
“Understood. Would you like at least like to lock her quarters?”
L considered it, but if he locked Misa up, she might get even angrier. Right now, she needed to feel that he was on her side, not someone trying to manage her and prevent her from expressing her anger. The only way she might forgive him would be if she had the chance to fully vent her frustration.
“Not yet. Call me again if she seems to be damaging anything important.”
While L watched her for some time, he eventually switched the feed off. Misa hadn’t done anything unexpected, and she seemed to be running out of steam. With all luck, she would wear herself out and pass out from all the alcohol.
The second call came an hour or so later. Watari sounded slightly more alarmed this time. “Miss Amane is not in her quarters,” he informed L the moment he answered the call. “Once she seemed finished, I went to clean the debris, as instructed, but she had left by the time I arrived. It will take me a moment to get back to my computer and find out where she is.”
“Don’t bother.” L was curious where she went, but not worried yet. “I’ll find her. You go ahead and clean up.” It was probably better this way, anyway: Watari would be wearing a helmet to prevent Misa from seeing his face, as he always did when interacting with the suspects, but even still, she might have lashed out physically if he had entered her room. L should have thought of that and warned him to wait longer. While Misa was not very strong, and Watari was surprisingly capable for his age, she would be dangerous enough with a weapon, and the shards of broken glass and ceramic resulting from her tantrum would do well enough.
Pulling up the camera feeds once more, L began to scroll through. He began with the path between Misa’s quarters and his own, then expanded it to include the main room and the kitchen. Unable to find her, he was forced to branch out. It took some time to find her, because she turned out to be in one of the last places he expected: Aiber’s living room.
Shock silenced L’s mind for a moment as he looked at the display on his camera feed: Aiber sprawled lazily in an armchair, a glass of whiskey in one hand. Which wouldn’t have been unusual if his pants hadn’t been around his ankles, and if Misa Amane hadn’t been kneeling at his feet, sucking him off.
L made a small noise of surprise under his breath, leaning in automatically to examine the image closer, chewing absently on his thumb nail.
They had clearly been at it for awhile, and Aiber was just as relentless as he had been that day with the three of them. L felt slightly sick at the knowledge that Aiber had simply been giving L a taste of his own personal preferences. Though the image on the laptop was blurry, the rapid movement of Aiber’s hand, the way he held Misa’s hair clenched in his fist, were clear.
There was no sound on the camera, but as far as L could tell, Aiber didn’t make much noise when he came. There was no intense pleasure on his face, nothing but mild enjoyment and a clenching of the jaw as he shoved Misa’s head down and held her there. Somehow, that made L hate him even more.
L blinked, realizing he had been watching, frozen, for who knows how long. His thumb was bleeding. He swore under his breath, wiping it on his jeans, and got to his feet. He wasn’t thinking at all, only acting automatically, his steps carrying him towards his girlfriend and the con man.
But the path through the building was long, their floors far apart, when L stormed through the doors into Aiber’s quarters, he was denied the satisfaction of confronting them. Misa was already gone, and Aiber was sitting calmly in the same chair, his pants back on, the glass of whiskey still in his hand, looking as though nothing had happened.
“Ah, there you are,” Aiber said calmly, even as L strode angrily towards him. He seemed to guess that L already knew. “You have to understand, Ryuuzaki, I only did it for you. You wounded her pride as a woman. Allowing her to feel as though she was getting one up on you was the fastest way to make her forgive you.” He paused, his lips twitching slightly, as though he wanted to smirk but thought better of it. “Besides, she approached me. I talked her down from actual sex.”
L punched him in the face.
When L was done with Aiber, his knuckles bruised and painful, he had to go all the way back to his quarters to find Misa’s new location, since Watari was still preoccupied with cleaning. And so, by the time he found out that she was on Light’s floor, she had already been there for far too long. Of course, he kept the door locked to anyone but himself and Watari, but from what he could tell, Misa and Light seemed to be shouting at each other back and forth through the locked door. She looked absolutely wasted.
L sighed. He had hoped to avoid her wrath, not to mention having to face her with the mental image of her sucking Aiber’s dick in his recent memory, but he felt he should go down and collect her.
On the other hand, could it hurt to let Light antagonize her further? Like before, perhaps her anger would be focused onto Light, taking the brunt of it off himself. Acting on intuition, L pressed the button to unlock the doors. He could see the moment that Light realized what had happened, hearing the buzzing noise, and tried the handle. Of course, he also entered in the code to lock the elevators to anyone but himself and Watari. That would keep Light from escaping, and keep him from losing track of Misa for a third time today.
L didn’t stick around to see what would happen; he immediately locked his computer and headed for the elevators. He would intervene, but he hoped that, in the time it took him to arrive, they would rile each other up. After all, Light didn’t have anything to hold over his head now, and given Light’s antagonistic mood, he was likely to anger Misa even more, creating a rift that could never be mended, even if the two of them regained their memories.
Or, well, that was L’s hope.
This time, L entered the room right away, rather than waiting around the corner to eavesdrop as he had done in the hallway. He walked in on quite a sight: Light sitting at his desk, fully dressed and composed, as Misa, visibly drunk and disheveled, flung various objects at him from around the room, her shirt hanging off one shoulder and threatening to expose her.
“Bastard!” she was shouting. “Boyfriend-stealer!”
Light turned to meet L’s eyes, looking amused. “Come to collect your beard?” he asked. “You should keep her on a shorter leash. She’s only making a fool of herself.”
L didn’t respond: getting angry would only please Light, and bantering with Light would only infuriate Misa more, making her feel excluded. Instead, he walked over to Misa, catching her by both wrists to stop her from throwing things before she actually hurt someone. “Misa,” he said, softly, trying to soothe her, as she struggled in his grip.
“Fuck you!” she shouted. “Let me go! Or are you too worried about your boyfriend?”
Looking down into her eyes, L did his best to play the role of the good boyfriend, even as he knew he had fucked up all chances of that. He also had to force the memory of what she had done with Aiber out of his mind. It wasn’t like she was his real girlfriend; she was something valuable to the case, and that didn’t change just because she’d decided to fuck one of his allies for revenge.
“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Misa,” he told her. “He’s not worth it.”
“You sure thought I was worth it last night,” Light piped up, earning another scream of rage from Misa as her struggles against L’s grip picked up fervor.
“Shut up!” she shouted. “Bastard!”
“It must hurt, finding out that the two men you’ve been chasing after so desperately want each other more than they ever wanted you.”
Misa let out a sob, drunk enough to have no defenses to Light’s cruel words. She turned her eyes on L, suddenly welling up with tears, apparently forgetting her anger for a second. “That’s not true,” she begged. “That’s not true, Ryuuzaki, is it? That you want him more than you want Misa?”
This, L knew how to handle. When Misa was needy and insecure, his acting was always at its best. He released one wrist to slide his arm around her waist, looking down at her. “It’s not true,” he told her, trying to sound as genuine as possible. “I never wanted anyone more than I want you.” He didn’t even know if this was a lie. He didn’t know what had drawn him to Light, but it wasn’t anything as simple as want.
From behind him, Light made a gagging noise. L fought the urge to roll his eyes at the immaturity.
“He’s lying,” Light called out. “He’s lying to you, Misa, just like he always has. He doesn’t care about you, doesn’t want you. Nobody does.”
“Lots of people want Misa!” she argued. “Ryuuzaki’s not the only one who gets to do whatever he wants! Guess where Misa was before this?” Before Light could respond, she continued, “Aiber’s room! And he seemed to want Misa. Misa bets Light doesn’t even know how they do blowjobs in France! But Misa does!”
Light only laughed. “Is that somehow supposed to make you less pathetic?” he asked. “Congratulations, you’ve now thrown yourself at every man in the building but Watari—unless you were planning on screwing him next. Just because a man is willing to use you doesn’t mean he respects you. Case in point,” and as he spoke, he gestured between himself and L. “Too bad the rest of the task force left, or you could get on your knees for them and do something useful for this investigation for a change.”
Misa didn’t even respond in words, just let out a sound halfway between a snarl and a shriek, lunging for Light again as L held her back. She threw herself forward with such force that her feet actually left the ground for a moment, kicking in the air while L held her tightly around the waist.
Light, on the other hand, kept right on talking. “Come on, Misa. You’re out of your league here. L and I are far beyond you, and well, even Aiber’s practically a genius compared to you. Did you really think that we would see you as anything more than a superficial, self-obsessed slut? You’ve never been anything but an annoyance or a cheap fuck to any of us.”
Misa’s rage seemed to be leaking out of her, and she let out a small whimper, as though she might be about to cry. L wasn’t religious, but he said a silent word of thanks to whoever was listening, because Light was playing right into his hands. This was why he had let Misa go to him: because he’d hoped that Light would put her into the state of mind he wanted her in, where her need for L’s attention and validation would overwhelm her anger.
He pulled Misa back against his chest and leaned down to whisper in her ear, even as Light watched him from over her shoulder. “Don’t listen to him, Misa. He’s always been jealous of us. That’s why he… seduced me.” The words felt awkward, but he needed to frame this in terms that would make sense to her. “To try to break us apart. Because he can’t stand the thought that what we have is real. He has to put you down to feel better about himself.” He wasn’t even sure how much he was lying anymore.
The whispering was immediately useless, because Misa seemed to perk right up, glaring at Light, her spunk restored. “Yeah, you’re jealous!” she crowed, sticking out her tongue. “You’re just jealous that we’re in love and you’re all alone, so you tried to steal him from me!”
“And succeeded,” Light pointed out, and L had to tighten his arms around Misa as she attempted to charge at him again.
“He didn’t succeed,” L murmured in Misa’s ear, running one hand down her arm from behind, trying to calm her down. “I’m holding you right now, not him, aren’t I? I made a mistake. I fucked up. We both did. But I know what I want now, and that’s Misa. I belong to Misa, and Light will never touch me again.”
He was good at this part, at telling her what she wanted to hear. He wasn’t always so good with the follow-through. Luckily, his words seemed to soothe Misa. “I don’t see Ryuuzaki hugging you right now,” she pointed out, sticking out her tongue again. “Looks like he chose me, not you. Deal with it.”
Light’s jaw actually tightened at that. L was surprised—Misa couldn’t usually get to him so easily.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see how long that lasts,” he muttered.
It seemed the gamble had paid off, at least for now: Misa’s desire to win L back from Light had won out over her anger towards him. She turned around again, wound her arms around L’s neck, and pressed herself to his front, though he had the feeling that she was doing this for Light’s benefit. Putting on a show. She leaned up on her tiptoes and tugged on the back of his neck, trying to pull him down into a kiss.
L knew that it was unlikely Misa had brushed her teeth in between Aiber and Light’s rooms. He didn’t exactly mind the taste of semen, but what it represented in this case—L being fooled, seeing the woman he had believed was thoroughly wrapped around his finger giving head to another man—was enough to make the thought disgusting.
Unfortunately, there was no way to reject Misa now without undoing all of his progress in this delicate moment. L steeled himself, closing his eyes, and allowed Misa to kiss him. He tried to keep his mouth shut, but she was passionate as only a sloppy drunk could be, immediately shoving her tongue into his mouth, running her hand through the hair at the back of his head and yanking on it until he kissed her more deeply.
L fought back his nausea, and his annoyance at the sound of Light chortling, calling, “Enjoying the sloppy seconds?”
Luckily, any remaining taste was mostly masked by the wine, and it faded quickly, allowing L to overcome his repulsion and focus on the part he had to play. He wrapped both arms around Misa’s waist and ran his hands over her back before moving them down to cup her ass, both because he thought she wanted it and because he knew it would piss Light off. He knew he was childish, but after Light telling him that he was deluding himself about his attraction to Misa, he couldn’t help but enjoy flaunting it.
And on some level, he felt like he was standing outside of himself, laughing at the absurdity of the entire situation. Twenty-four years he had gone with a minimum of affection and interest from others, existing only as a problem-solving machine, not a person enmeshed in any social fabric. And now, within the span of a few months, he had somehow gotten himself into a situation in which two of the most beautiful, charismatic, and dangerous people he had ever met were fighting over him like he was some sort of prize, rather than a too-large brain piloting a gangly collection of limbs.
Of course, it wasn’t really about him. That was to say, it was not that he was especially attractive as a romantic prospect. He had simply used his big brain to manipulate himself into this position, molding Misa and Light’s insecurities until they felt that his sexual interest conveyed something of value upon them, cut off from other sources of validation and put into competition with each other. And besides that, Misa’s tryst with Aiber had punctured some of the ego he had been developing from their relationship.
In any case, there was only so far he needed to go to make his point, and Misa seemed to be blundering right past it, as she was now nuzzling him and even sucking on his earlobe, one hand slipping down towards the waistband of his pants, pressing into him with the kind of desperation she only showed when she was insecure about where she stood with him. And with what she had done with Aiber on his mind, and Light’s eyes burning into him from behind her, there was little chance his body would give her the reaction she was looking for.
“Misa,” L said, trying and failing to pull her off of himself as Light watched with a clenched jaw. “Not here.”
“Come on,” she whined, speaking quietly and not especially coherently. “Come on, you want me, right? Show me. Show him.”
“This is just pathetic,” Light said, laughing to himself in a way that didn’t seem quite convincing. “It’s almost painful to watch. Don’t you have any pride, Misa? Throwing yourself all over him like this when he doesn’t even want you?”
On the one hand, it was good that Light was pushing it, as it only made Misa hate him more. On the other hand, it certainly did not make her any easier for L to handle. “He does!” she shouted over her shoulder, clinging to L even more tightly. “He does want me!”
“Then why did he fuck me?” Light retorted. “If he was satisfied with you, why come to me?”
Misa finally released L then, but it was to turn on Light, ready to actually hit him this time, and L quickly caught her around the waist, pulling her back to himself as she swung ineffectually at the air. It was about time that he ended this, he felt. There wasn’t anything more to be gained here.
And so he simply picked Misa up and slung her over his shoulder as she shrieked in surprise. It was more difficult than he expected: she was light, almost worryingly so, but she was squirming and fighting him, her constantly shifting mass difficult to maneuver and hold onto.
“Put me down!” she shouted. “Fuck you!”
L looked at Light for a moment, but he wasn’t really sure what to say. His main objective for coming here—to allow Light to piss Misa off, but stop them before they did any real damage to each other—had been achieved. And so he simply turned, with Misa still swearing and beating her fists against his back, and walked away.
Light, of course, always needed to have the last word, and so he called after them, “Wait and see, Misa. How many nights do you think he’ll put up with you before he comes crawling back to me?”
Misa’s impotent shout of rage echoed in the foyer as L shut the door behind them, discreetly pressing a button on his phone and hearing the buzz of the lock engaging once more.
Notes:
Sorry it's been awhile, my life is falling apart lmao. Chapters will be sporadic for the foreseeable future but they are coming. This one was fun af to write though.
Chapter 21: the devil wakes up in my head
Notes:
Uhh lots of consent badness in this chapter that could best be described as "mutual dubcon, more on one side than the other," see the bottom notes for a more detailed content warning if you need it
We fought until the sun rose, and I still ain't been to bed
And while you got your eyes closed
The devil wakes up in my head
He told me that you hate me, and you blame me
And you say that you wish that you were dead
So I write a little note out
Suicidal love roulette:You make me wanna jump off the roof
Boy, I love you to death, just like a fool
We'll need a coffin handmade for two
Cause I love you to death, just like a fool- Jessie Reyez, "COFFIN"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Despite her struggles, L did not set Misa down until they were in the elevator with the doors firmly shut, preventing her from trying to run right back and antagonize Light some more.
He tried to set her on her feet, but her legs were wobbly from the booze and from struggling as he carried her, and she immediately stumbled and fell onto her knees on the elevator floor. For a moment, the only sound was her breathing heavily and sniffling through tears—of hurt, or anger, he wasn’t really sure which.
The first thing Misa said was, “You’re not gay.” Which was true, but she said it like an order, like it was something she simply would not allow. And somehow L suspected that in Misa’s mind, this statement was equivalent to saying that he was straight—the possibility of something in between did not even seem to occur to her.
He was not going to argue over the details of his sexuality now. Trying to convince Misa that he was truly bisexual while she was drunk and sobbing at his feet seemed like a waste of time compared to simply telling her what she wanted to hear. And besides, it wasn’t a lie. “No, I’m not gay,” he agreed with a sigh, shifting his weight uncomfortably onto one foot, bare toes rubbing against the floor.
“Why did you do it, then?” Misa asked, but she didn’t give him time to answer. “Did you want something different? Cause Misa can give you something different, you know. Anything… anything Light can do for you, so can Misa,” she slurred. “Is this about, you know, butt stuff? You can put it in Misa’s butt if you want. Or, or, if you want it the other way around, Misa can wear a strap-on…”
L shook his head slightly to clear it of that rather distracting mental image. “It wasn’t about body parts,” he told her. “It’s nothing to do with you being a woman and Light being a man.” He didn’t want to talk about his reasons for doing what he had done, as it would only upset Misa more, but she didn’t seem willing to drop the topic. “It’s about who you are as people, I guess, and my relationships with you. My feelings were… complicated, that’s all. I made a mistake.” This last bit was a lie, but a necessary one. He couldn’t exactly tell Misa that he didn’t regret it, not if he wanted her to forgive him.
He needn’t have bothered: Misa wasn’t even listening, still drunkenly stuck on her own train of thought. Before he could react, she had yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, mumbling, “Misa can do whatever Light can do. But Light doesn’t have these, does he?” She looked up at him imploringly, pressing her arms together to display her cleavage.
L sighed again. “No, Misa, Light does not have breasts. You are correct about that.” Not that that mattered in the slightest, but his goal was not to be right or honest. Rather, his goal was to bring Misa back to himself, and as drunk as she was, the best way to do so was to let her believe that her ridiculous argument was somehow winning him over.
Misa beamed up at him, her eyes still teary. The elevator dinged as they arrived at his floor, but Misa made no move to stand, and before he could try to help her up, she grabbed his belt, beginning to undo it.
“Misa, what are you doing?” L asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice.
“Reminding you,” Misa mumbled, focusing all of her attention on undoing his pants. It seemed to take a great deal of mental concentration given her current state. “L just has to remember that he likes girls, and then he won’t do stuff with Light anymore. Misa is gonna show him.”
L frowned, torn between knowing that he needed to let Misa win and feeling uncomfortable with the fact that she was trying to get his dick out in a semi-public space while drunk and crying. “Misa must be tired,” he tried. “Why don’t you show me in the morning, after we get some rest? Come to bed with me, Misa.” He reached down, taking one of her hands, but she shook him off.
“No!” Misa shouted. “Ryuuzaki needs to remember now. Misa’s going to help him remember.”
Tilting his head down at her, L wondered what to do. She was sober enough to know what she was doing and to initiate it herself, clearly, and yet the entire situation felt wrong. But it also felt delicate, like if he stopped her, her tentative forgiveness might collapse again. Part of him had hoped that she would get discouraged and give up when she realized he wasn’t even hard, but instead, she stubbornly took his soft cock into her mouth, sloppily licking at him, wrapping both arms around his thighs and holding him as she did.
It was sad and unsettling to watch Misa like this, desperately trying to get him hard because her drunk mind believed that she could somehow cure him of his attraction to men. It was easy to see her train of thought: to her, it was a black-and-white sort of thing. Either he liked men or he liked women, so all that she had to do was make him like her enough that the female side of the equation won out.
It was sad and unsettling and uncomfortable, and L hated the fact that it worked. He was getting hard rapidly, his body responding to Misa as faithfully as ever. He braced himself with one arm against the railing of the elevator and let his eyes close, trying to imagine himself in some less confusing situation, but it didn’t help, because he could still hear Misa sniffling and slurping and occasionally moaning, her noises just as messy and unrestrained as the rest of her.
Then her mouth pulled off of him, and L opened his eyes at an unfamiliar sensation to see Misa shifting up onto her knees, sliding up his body, rubbing both of her breasts against his erection and squeezing it between them. When their eyes met, she gave him a strange, triumphant smile. “Light can’t do this, can he?”
“No, Misa,” he agreed, giving in with a sigh. “He cannot.” Misa nodded to herself firmly before returning her focus to the blowjob, licking messily at the tip as she continued rubbing her breasts up and down his shaft.
“That’s right,” she muttered to herself in between licks. “Only Misa. Misa will do it French style, like Aiber taught her. Misa will choke on it for Ryuuzaki.”
“Misa… don’t,” he began. It had been bad enough before he cheated on her, seeing her subject herself to that, but now?
Misa didn’t listen to him, though. Releasing her breasts, she wrapped both arms around his hips and tightened like a boa constrictor, forcing him all the way down her throat in one movement. Despite himself, L let out a shocked shout of pleasure, hand shooting out to grab the railing of the elevator so he wouldn’t fall over.
Misa didn’t pull back this time, even though she choked. She tightened her arms in a vice grip, fingernails digging into the skin of his hips, and squeezed herself to his pelvis as tightly as she could. He felt her flatten her tongue against the underside and slip it out to probe at his testicles, as Aiber had taught her.
He couldn’t help but wonder if she had done the same for Aiber earlier tonight. A feeling of cold disgust slid down his spine, but it didn’t quite reach his cock, which felt feverishly warm in Misa’s spasming throat. She was staring up at him, tears running down her cheeks—from the blowjob or from her anger, he wasn’t quite sure—her eyes red and accusing and still pleading. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to break eye contact or look away; it was like watching a plane crash.
Misa held him down her throat, still crying, swallowing and choking around him. It didn’t feel as good as bobbing her head would have, not when he wasn’t close to coming yet, but he understood that his pleasure wasn’t the point here. This was Misa showing him what she would endure for him, as if screaming in his face, Wasn’t this enough? Didn’t I do enough for you? She held herself down longer than Aiber had, until her eyes started to roll back into her head, and L felt a shock of fear at witnessing what she was doing to herself.
“Misa, stop. You’re going to pass out!” He grabbed her head, trying to pull her off of him, but her arms tightened even further, and he moaned involuntarily at the clench of her throat. He managed to continue, “Misa, please, stop!” but the impact of the words was probably lessened by the tremble of pleasure in his voice.
Misa refused to let him go, stubbornly holding herself down, until the moment that the oxygen deprivation became too much and, despite herself, the strength went out of her arms. He immediately ripped her off of him, throwing her to the floor of the elevator, and she collapsed there on the ground with a shuddering sob. He looked down at her, trembling there on the floor, weak and gasping for air.
“Misa,” he said, surprised by the level of distress in his own voice. He wasn’t used to showing any sort of emotion when he spoke, especially not without having control over it. “Don’t… don’t do that.” He wasn’t really sure what else to say.
“Why not?” she asked, still coughing as she looked up at him through watery eyes. “Ryuuzaki liked it enough before. Enough to make Misa do it.”
“Make you?” he repeated, though he knew he shouldn’t be getting into this with her. He was supposed to be placating Misa, not antagonizing her. But he was so shaken that he couldn’t seem to help himself. “When have I made you do anything?”
“The first time,” she told him. “With Aiber, when you were on the couch.”
“You said you were okay with everything we did that day,” L pointed out, chewing at his lower lip anxiously. “And anyway, it was Aiber who told you to do those things. And you didn’t have to listen.”
Misa absolutely glared up at him, and the words burst out of her: “You held me down!”
L started to open his mouth, to say, ‘No, that was Aiber,’ then stopped. She was right. He had almost forgotten, had wanted to forget, the moment when he had placed his hand over Aiber’s on Misa’s head and pushed her down while she fought to get free. He hadn’t wanted it to be his responsibility. He closed his mouth again. She was still talking, the words pouring out now that she had gotten started.
“Misa was afraid!” She wasn’t looking at him anymore; was staring down at the floor of the elevator with her hair hanging in her face. “Misa couldn’t breathe. Misa thought… Misa thought she was going to die. Misa was so scared, and she fought as hard as she could, but Aiber and Ryuuzaki wouldn’t let her go. Because Ryuuzaki wanted to come. He didn’t care what happened to Misa. No one cares about Misa, only about taking as much from her as they can.” She looked up at him again finally, and he flinched away from her gaze. “So don’t pretend like you care. Not now.”
“You asked Aiber to hold you down,” he murmured, the words feeling useless and small even as he spoke them.
“It was okay,” she told him quietly. “It was okay with Misa if Ryuuzaki wanted to hurt her. If he liked it when she was scared. Because he loved her, or she thought he did. If it’s love, real love, then it’s okay if it hurts. But this...”
“Misa, I do—” L began, the words feeling disgusting even as he said them. They were interrupted by the ding of the elevator being summoned somewhere else in the building. Watari, obviously—L had not reinstated access for anyone else in the building. L moved quickly, darting a hand out to hit the ‘open doors’ button and prevent the elevator from leaving his floor, taking them with it.
“Come on,” he said, reaching down and pulling Misa to her feet. Not giving her time to fight him this time, he swept her up into his arms—princess style this time, which she would hopefully be more okay with than being carried over his shoulder—and stepped out of his pants and underwear, leaving them on the floor of the elevator along with Misa’s shirt. He didn’t especially care. Watari would clean up after him, as always.
Naked from the waist down, cock bobbing awkwardly and wetly in the air, still disgustingly hard despite everything Misa had said, he carried her through his quarters and finally deposited her on the bed. He had hoped she might have settled down and gotten sleepy by this point, but no such luck. Alternatively, he might have expected more accusing words, but he didn’t get that either. Instead, as soon as he released her, she was pushing her skirt and panties down her hips, squirming back and forth on top of the covers.
“Let’s do anal,” Misa blurted out, and L blinked at her, startled. “Then Ryuuzaki won’t have to go to Light for that.” When he didn’t say anything, she simply rolled over onto her stomach, presenting her bare ass to him expectantly. “Come on, put it in.”
“Uh,” L said stupidly—a lot of ridiculous things had happened tonight, and this might just be the straw that broke him. “What?”
“Put it in my butt!” Misa exclaimed, sounding exasperated, like he was the ridiculous one. “That’s what Ryuuzaki wanted, right? He should have just asked Misa in the first place.”
“That’s not what any of this was about…” L muttered, mostly to himself, as he knew that arguing with Misa about Light was a lost cause right now. “Misa, I don’t want to have anal sex with you.” He paused. “Well, not right now.”
“Why not?” Misa demanded. “You’re hard, right? Misa needs to please you! Otherwise you’ll… Ryuuzaki might go somewhere else. If he’s not satisfied. Misa will satisfy him!”
L sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. “Ryuuzaki will take a cold shower and then sleep here, where you can see that he’s—that I’m not going anywhere. Not to Light or to anyone else. Misa doesn’t need to do anything tonight.”
“What if I want it?” Misa demanded.
“You’re drunk,” L said as patiently as he could muster. Not to mention terrifying. “Let’s just go to bed, and then if you still want this tomorrow, we’ll talk about it then. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“So you’ll do this with Light, but not with me?” Misa demanded. He felt that she was purposefully misunderstanding him, looking for a reason to argue.
“I won’t do this with Light again,” he reminded her. “But back when I did, I wouldn’t have done it if Light was drunk, either.” Then, trying to appeal to what he knew Misa wanted, he added, “Also, I care about you much more than I care about Light. I don’t want to hurt you.”
Misa laughed. “A bit late for that,” she said, and L had to admit that she had a point. “You said you would do anything to make it up to me. Well, this is what I want. Fuck my ass right now, or I’ll never forgive you for what you did with Light.”
L noted to himself that, as she became more determined to get what she wanted, Misa had dropped the third-person speak and switched from her vague, clearly embarrassed mentions of ‘butt stuff’ to these vulgar demands. He frowned, thumbing at his lower lip absently.
He didn’t especially want to do this, but it would not be that difficult, either. Misa was drunk, but she was also lucidly demanding this, so it could hardly be said that he was taking advantage. And besides, if his goal was to get her to forgive him, well, she had told him how. True, she was blatantly manipulating him, but it was clear what he should do here, regardless of his personal distaste for how this entire thing was happening.
Finally, he sighed. If this was what it took to win Misa’s forgiveness, he would just have to do it. “Fine,” he said. “But I’ll have to prepare you first.”
“Prepare me?” Misa asked, sounding curious. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she didn’t know anything about the mechanics of anal sex. Or maybe she was just drunk and easily confused. In any case, he opted to demonstrate, retrieving a tube of lubricant from his nightstand and slicking up his fingers before pressing them to her hole. “Oh!” Misa gasped, in surprise as much as acknowledgment that her question had been answered.
L hadn’t had to do this to Light, and he had been experimenting on himself for so many years that he had almost forgotten how tight a person could be when fully inexperienced in this realm. It was a struggle to even get one finger into her, let alone two, and Misa’s small noises of discomfort and surprise weren’t making him feel any better about this whole endeavor. Still, she wasn’t backing out—if anything, she only became more aggressive, occasionally snapping at him to just ‘do it already.’
L simply ignored her, not wanting an argument. This was going to hurt her, at least at first, but he would spare her as much pain as he could. He felt around inside of her, frowning when he didn’t find anything, before it finally occurred to him that, as a woman, Misa would not have a prostate. He was so used to his own body that he had automatically been looking for one.
It was a shame, really—unlike a man, her body didn’t provide a way for her to get pleasure from this. L was willing to do basically anything Misa wanted in bed, but he felt uncomfortable knowing that she had asked for this not because she wanted it, but rather because she thought it would keep him with her. It felt perverse and self-indulgent to be doing this, stretching open this impossibly tight part of her body just to make a space for his cock, taking her as he had taken Light, their twisted competition and desire to one-up each other only leading to further pleasure for himself.
And, as always with Misa, the worst part was the way that this perversity made his cock even harder, throbbing in anticipation. Even seeing Misa’s face wrinkled in discomfort, teeth biting down on her lower lip, the signs that she was only enduring this rather than truly desiring it, did not temper his want. His mind might feel unsettled and concerned, but his body only strained towards her, towards the moment he would sink into that tightness.
Sometimes, L felt that the male libido was rather messed up. Or maybe it was only him.
But there was no more delaying to be done—Misa was taking three of his fingers now, and her noises had grown quieter as she adjusted, though she clearly wasn’t enjoying it any more than she had been when they started. This was the best he could do for her, especially since she seemed ready to snap at him again, and so he lined himself up. But L hesitated again, even with the head of his cock positioned at her opening. She looked so small under him, her eyes red and watery as she looked back over her shoulder.
Noticing his hesitation, Misa went in for the kill. “If you’re not man enough to do it, I’ll go find someone else who will. Aiber, maybe? I bet he’d do it if I asked him, don’t you think?”
She was clearly trying to make him jealous, but the shameful thing was, it worked. With a small grunt of frustration, L began to push inside.
Misa was almost unbearably tight here, having not had even the preparation that Light had given himself, and as soon as he felt it, L couldn’t help but wonder about himself. He had known that this was wrong, and had tried to stop her, yes, but had he really given it his all? Couldn’t the great L have found another way out of this if he’d tried? Because, looking at this situation from the outside, he could see that Misa was obviously only doing this because she was hurt and insecure and desperate. He had made her that way, and now, he was the one reaping the benefits.
And he could see Misa’s face crumple, could hear the pained whimper she made.
“Misa, please. This is hurting you. Let me stop.” He had to try one more time, seeing the pain on her face, or he couldn’t forgive himself. Even though his body was screaming for him to continue, for once, his conscience overruled his libido.
“No!” Before he could realize what she was doing, Misa thrust her own hips backwards as hard as she could, impaling herself completely on his cock. Immediately, she cried out in pain, almost a wail, but L could barely notice as he was hit with a wave of blinding, intense pleasure, and his eyes slammed shut as he moaned in ecstasy, only barely holding back from coming by the knowledge that Misa wouldn’t want that.
Then, as the intensity of the pleasure decreased a little, L was able to return to his senses and look at Misa. Her eyes were watering now, brimming with tears, her hands clenched in the sheets. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his sadness at the sight of her warring with the overwhelming sensation of her clenching around him. “It’s like you’re using me to hurt yourself.”
“You already hurt me,” Misa told him, her voice shaky. “This way, you have to face it.”
Finally, L understood. Misa wanted to externalize the pain she felt when he admitted to cheating with Light, and she wanted to make him do it, so that he would be forced to see the results of his actions. It made a twisted kind of sense. She was demanding that he hurt her, not to punish herself, but to punish him.
Knowing this, L would still let her. Because if he didn’t give her this, he wasn’t sure what she would do instead. And because she clearly wanted to be in charge of the situation, after feeling powerless at the revelation that he had betrayed her. And, well, because it felt too damn good, his senses betraying the last shreds of his morals. So he would play whatever twisted game she came up with.
Still, he couldn’t help but say, “You know, this really makes me hate myself.”
“Good,” Misa responded immediately. “That’s the idea.”
Unable to stall anymore, L placed both hands on Misa’s hips, withdrew, and thrust all the way forward, driving another cry from her. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes!” Misa said. “Fuck me!” For a moment, L thought she might get some enjoyment from it as well, but when he reached around and tried to find her clit, she flinched back and said, “No, don’t! Just fuck me.”
Neither option open to him felt right: pleasuring Misa when she clearly told him not to, or taking his own pleasure from her while she felt nothing but pain. Both options made him feel like a piece of shit. That was clearly the point. But he obeyed her, returning his hand to her hip and squeezing a bit in frustration.
Even now, L held back, trying to be as gentle as he could, but Misa wouldn’t allow any gentleness tonight. She forced herself back on him even harder, snapping, “Goddamn you, Ryuuzaki, be a fucking man for once. You were man enough to cheat on me, so be man enough to fuck me like I tell you to.”
“I’m hurting you. You’re crying.” L knew it wouldn’t help, but he couldn’t help but say this anyway.
“Like you care,” Misa snarled, jamming her hips back against his. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve fucked me while I was crying, now come on.”
Finally, with a feeling of things falling apart, L gave in. He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into Misa’s soft hips and began fucking her in hard, brutal thrusts, pulling her little body back forcefully each time, chasing his own orgasm even as Misa sobbed and twisted her hands in the sheets. “Fuck,” he muttered in English. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
He rarely sweated, but he was sweating now, his face and chest damp as he grunted with every thrust, driving deeper into Misa, ignoring her noises of pain because he knew she wouldn’t allow anything else. He was sick of this, sick of her, sick of fighting his own building pleasure and pretending he didn’t want it.
If Misa wanted L’s cruelty, he would give it to her. He would be exactly as depraved as she wanted him to be. He hated her for making him do this, and he gave her that hatred, fucking it into her body with every snap of his hips, taking her loose blonde hair in his fist and yanking her head back so that she was forced to arch her back, taking him deeper. He took her even more roughly than he had Light, trying to tune out her whimpers and cries, focusing only on the tight grip of her along his swollen length.
“Does it feel good?” Misa demanded, her words broken by each thrust, taunting him even through her tears.
L wasn’t sure how to answer that. It felt incredible, physically, and also like the worst thing he had ever done.
Apparently noticing his ambivalence, Misa tried another tack. “Does my asshole make your cock feel good?” He wondered if her willingness to use vulgar language for a change was a product of the alcohol or her emotional state.
Either way, he closed his eyes and said, “Yes, Misa.”
“I’m better than Light, right?” she continued. “He didn’t make you feel this way.”
L had to pause for a second in order to regain the mental coherence to answer her. “He didn’t. No one can make me hate myself quite the way Misa can.”
That was apparently the wrong answer, because Misa made an irritated noise before pushing her hips back against him, purposefully clenching herself even tighter to drive him incoherent. Punishing him with pleasure.
The shock of it drove him over the edge, and with a growl of effort, L slammed all the way forward, falling onto Misa as his orgasm swept over him, so that their bodies were flat on the bed, Misa’s little form hidden under his own—the same position he had put Light into at the end. Unaware of his weight on her, L could only furrow his brow and groan as his hips jerked, lost in the clenching heat surrounding his cock as it throbbed and pulsed.
Tears of frustration and relief came to the corners of his eyes. “Oh god,” he moaned. “Oh, oh god.” His hips gave a few last, weak thrusts into the small, tight body pinned beneath his own, grinding down into her, dragging it out.
Finally, the lust and strength abandoned him, leaving his body trembling and his mind troubled. The whole situation was just deeply sad in an existential sort of way that left him feeling hollowed out and numb. He pressed himself up onto his elbows, relieving Misa of his weight, and looked down at her profile, blonde hair mussed, tear tracks on her cheeks, lower lip bitten raw. What are we doing to each other?
Misa must have read his mind, because she said, her voice muffled by the pillow, “Just look what you did to me, you animal.”
L sighed heavily and pulled out. When he moved to lay by Misa’s side, breathing hard, she turned to look at him, still laying face down on the bed. “You understand now?” she said. “You hurt me because it felt good. You liked it.” And he knew that she wasn’t talking about tonight, or at least, not just tonight. “You pretend to be different, but you’re just like any other man, chasing whatever feels good.”
And, of course, L’s reply was the same as always: “Yes, Misa.”
L had hoped that would be the end of Misa’s punishment, but as he was drifting off to sleep, he had a bad feeling that there was more to come.
Once L fell asleep, he tended to stay unconscious for a long time if he was not interrupted, and so when L woke in the middle of the night, it was with a feeling of confusion and dread. Something was wrong. A presence, somewhere nearby. A coppery smell in the air.
L slowly turned his head to the side and his blood ran cold. A darkened figure was looming over him, standing just beside the bed.
Thankfully, L was no stranger to hypnogogic hallucinations. Every now and then, when he was under a lot of stress, he would wake to dark figures standing over him, watching him sleep. Sometimes he would be paralyzed; other times, like now, he was still able to move. So, despite the terror pounding in his veins, he knew on some level that this must be another hallucination, brought on by the stress of the confrontation with Misa and Light.
L put one hand on the bedside table, blindly fumbling for the switch on the lamp that sat there. He knew from experience that all he had to do was turn the light on and the figure would go away.
But when the light switched on, so sudden in the dark room that he had to blink in surprise, the figure did not disappear, and L yelped, scrambling backwards in terror. The light had resolved the figure into Misa, but a Misa straight out of his nightmares. She was naked, blood on her thighs and hands, staring down at him through untidy hair.
But she didn’t make a move to attack him, and when he looked at her face, he saw that she wasn’t sneering or looking otherwise aggressive. She looked dazed, tear-stains on her face, eyes bloodshot. Though L’s heart pounded and his breathing came hard, and his brain was still not all the way online, he forced himself to look and to try to make sense of what he saw.
At first, because of the blood on Misa’s thighs, he thought she might have gotten her period and smeared the blood around with her hands for some reason. His next thought, remembering his shameful actions the night before, was that he might have torn her and caused internal bleeding.
But the blood was on the front of her thighs, not in between. As his gaze sharpened, he realized that the source seemed to be a deep cut, or several, made in the skin of Misa’s right thigh. Then, with a sickening jolt, he was able to make out the structure behind the mess: it was the letter L.
“Misa,” he whispered, as if still too afraid to speak aloud. “What did you do?”
Misa looked down at her bloody hands, as if confused. “I…” she began, her words slow and stilted. “I wanted to show you. How much I care. So you would love me the most. So you wouldn’t want anyone else. No one else would do this for you. Only Misa would.”
L could picture the scene now in his head: Misa waiting until he fell asleep before slipping out of bed. Misa taking one of the knives from the kitchen. Misa carving his symbol, his name, into her own flesh as some sort of offering to him. As a way of placing herself ahead of Light in his affections.
And hadn’t she said it, just a few hours ago? “You already hurt me,” she had said. “This way, you have to face it.”
L took Misa into the shower and gently washed the blood from her legs. She went with him easily, as if in a stupor, barely seeming to notice the pain even when he cleaned the wounds with hydrogen peroxide. He knelt on the floor of the bathroom in order to bandage her, the tile floor hard and uncomfortable against his bare knees—he still wore only his boxers, not wanting to take the time to change or to risk dirtying his clothes with blood.
L risked a peek up Misa’s body to see her looking down at him with sunken, empty eyes, for once unembarrassed by her own nakedness. He had dried her off as best she could before trying to bandage her wound, but her hair was still wet and limp, sending rivulets of water trickling down her bare breasts and stomach. It was the first time he had seen her naked and not been even the least bit aroused. All he felt was horror and shame.
L opened his mouth, then closed it again. He didn’t know what to say. In some way, he had never expected Misa to take this game between them so seriously. Even though she said she loved him, it had all been sort of contained, just part of his duty as L. For her to do this, because of him, was something bigger, and it scared him.
Then it hit him. “Your job,” L said, looking up at Misa, dismayed all over again. “If this leaves a scar, how are you going to keep modeling? Will your outfits for the film even hide it?”
Misa blinked at him. “They can probably edit it out,” she said. “I don’t really care.”
“It’s not worth it,” he told her. “Whatever you feel for me, it’s not worth it. Isn’t the career that you’ve worked so hard for more important than some man who cheated on you?” Because that was what he had done, even if it didn’t feel that way to him.
That seemed to be the wrong thing to say: with a suddenness that made him flinch, Misa slammed her hand against the side of the sink, sending the cup containing L’s toothbrush clattering to the floor. “God damn, don’t you understand?” Misa shouted, coming out of her stupor at last. She shoved his hands out of the way, grasped the bandages he had carefully wrapped around her thigh, and ripped them open with one violent movement.
L felt kind of like a jackass for the fact that his first thought was, It’s going to be such a pain to redo all that work. It was so easy, always so easy, for him to distance himself.
“I don’t care about my career!” Misa shouted. “I don’t care about my life, or any of it! Goddamn, I’m not stupid. I know that this isn’t real to you. But it’s real to me! That’s what I’m trying to show you!”
Looking at her hurt his eyes, the sheer intensity of her, so L moved his gaze down her body, back to the wound on her thigh. Without the bandage exerting pressure, blood was welling up in the letter again. He watched it gather and begin to run in numb silence until Misa grabbed his hair in her fist and yanked his head back, forcing him to look her in the eyes.
“It’s real,” she repeated, more quietly now, her voice breaking with a kind of quiet desperation. “Okay?”
“Okay,” L finally said, letting out a trembling sigh.
“You don’t love me,” she told him. It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t fishing for him to reassure her. She stated it like a fact and quickly moved on. “But you’re good at pretending, sometimes. You’re nicer to me than anyone has been since they died, when you care enough to try to be. So I’m not going to let you go. I don’t care if it’s just like playing house with one of my dolls. I still can’t lose it. I can’t,” she repeated, grip tightening in his hair. “I don’t have anyone else. I was already mostly alone, before, and you took care of the rest.”
L didn’t know what to say to that. He believed her, he really did. He understood now that Misa wasn’t going to let him leave her, not until he put her in prison or sent her to the executioner’s block. In a way, maybe that was why he had been willing to sleep with Light: as awful as it was, he had felt confident that Misa would take him back.
But now he understood: just because she didn’t leave him didn’t mean that he would get away with it. Misa always had her own way of getting even.
There weren’t any words he could think of that would placate her. If he lied and told her that no, he really did see this as a real relationship that could lead to a lifelong commitment, she would call him out on his bullshit. She was in that kind of a mood. But somehow he didn’t think that admitting he was using her for the sake of the Kira case would please her, even if she already knew it.
Besides, in some way, he felt like he owed it to her. He had broken her down, brought her into his snare, for use in his battle against Light. No matter what she had done, she deserved something in return for that, even if all he had to give her was this twisted parody of love. If she wanted a doll to play house with, he could be that doll, at least for a time. So in lieu of speaking, he brought his lips to his symbol on her thigh and kissed it gently, coming away with blood on his mouth.
Notes:
More detailed CW: Misa kinda forcing L, through a combination of emotional manipulation, coercion, and a bit of physical force, into performing sex acts on her while she's drunk and crying, all of which are painful, dangerous, and/or degrading to Misa while giving L pleasure, for the purpose of making him feel ashamed of himself. Aggressive, unsafe, unsolicited acts of submission as a punishment, basically.
Chapter 22: driver roll up the partition please
Notes:
Told you bitches I'd be back. And with a long and extra unhinged chapter to make up for the long wait.
Driver, roll up the partition, please
I don't need you seeing Yoncé on her knees
Took 45 minutes to get all dressed up
And we ain't even gonna make it to this club
Now my mascara runnin', red lipstick smudged
Oh, he so horny, yeah he want to fuck
He popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse
He Monica Lewinsky-ed all on my gownTake all of me
I just wanna be the girl you like- Beyoncé, "Partition"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Between his betrayal of her, the cuts on her leg, and possible internal tearing from their ill-advised experiment with anal sex, L had not expected Misa to want to touch him again for quite some time. Not while sober, at least.
He certainly had not expected to wake up the very next morning mid-orgasm from Misa fellating him as he slept.
Half-asleep and confused, the only thing he could manage to say, once he was finished moaning incoherently, was, “What?”
Misa pulled back and sat up on her heels, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as she looked at him. She appear look playful or aroused, just sort of grimly satisfied. “Misa won’t go to work today.”
L pushed himself up into a crouch, trying to wrap his head around this apparent non sequitur. “Is Misa not feeling well?” It wouldn’t be surprising if she had a hangover…
She stared at him like he was an idiot before saying, “Misa won’t leave Ryuuzaki alone with Light.”
Oh. “Being in the same building doesn’t mean I’m with him. Besides, I already told you, I won’t do anything like that again.”
“Misa doesn’t believe you.”
Well, he couldn’t fault her there. Still, what to do about this? On the one hand, it was relieving that she was acting relatively normal, other than her clinginess (and the unexpected fellatio). He hadn’t been sure what to expect from her after the events of the previous night, but she thankfully seemed to have fully made up her mind not to break up with him.
On the other hand, she was meant to meet with the Yotsuba group for an ‘audition’ tomorrow, and this might be their best chance of infiltrating them. If she refused to leave his side at all, that would obviously interfere with this plan. In addition, it would be best if she did not deviate from her normal routine at all, even by calling in sick to work. They could not afford to arouse the Yotsuba group’s suspicions.
However, Misa was in a volatile state and would be sensitive to any suggestion that he didn’t want her around. How could he spin this?
L remembered, suddenly, what had happened when he’d tried to manipulate Misa into deciding to infiltrate Yotsuba, and the lesson he had learned. If she thought he was manipulating her now, he had no idea how she would react.
“Misa,” he said carefully. “You are meeting with the Yotsuba group tomorrow. You know it’s important to the case.” Her eyes darkened. “If you don’t go to work today, they might get suspicious, and it will be more dangerous for you.”
Misa folded her arms over her chest, staring at him sullenly. “Misa doesn’t care. Ryuuzaki is just trying to get rid of Misa so he can do what he wants.”
I brought this on myself, L reminded himself. “That is very much not what I am doing. Look, there are cameras all over this building.” At the last moment, he remembered that Misa didn’t know that this included his rooms—and, thus, that he had been recording every sexual encounter they had—and added, “At least outside of my rooms. I can promise Misa that I will stay in public areas all day, in full view of the cameras, and you can see the footage when you return from work. That way, you’ll know that I haven’t done anything with Light.”
Misa eyed him suspiciously, and he wondered if she was going to bring up the possibility of him doctoring the footage, like he had while hiding his relationship with her. But he’d never explicitly told her that he’d done that, and it seemed she didn’t remember that it was an option, because she only said, “Misa doesn’t like being away from Ryuuzaki. Why does Ryuuzaki want Misa to go away?”
Trying not to show his impatience at her stubbornness, L said, “I don’t want Misa to go away. Look, you meet with them tomorrow. We just have to pretend everything is normal until then—until you get what we need from them,” he clarified, realizing he wasn’t sure if tomorrow would be enough, or if there would be additional meetings. “Once that’s done, we can be together twenty-four hours a day if Misa wants.”
To his surprise, L felt a sudden twinge of discomfort, or claustrophobia, at the thought, but he pushed it down. He had fucked up, and now he needed to fix it, to say whatever was necessary to keep their plans moving forward. He could deal with the repercussions later.
“What about Ryuuzaki? What does Ryuuzaki want?”
To be honest, L had no fucking idea anymore. Mostly, he wanted to sleep the rest of the day and avoid facing the consequences of his actions. But he tried to make himself believe it when he said, “To catch Kira so that Misa and I can be together.”
She pouted, folding her arms over her chest. It was stupid that he could still be distracted by what this did to her naked breasts, and yet. “Who cares about Kira? Who cares about this stupid case? Misa’s sick of it! Can’t we just leave now? We can leave Light behind, and all these stupid people, and we can be happy.”
L leaned forward, taking Misa’s face in both hands, and he half-expected her to push him away, but she didn’t. “Please, Misa,” he said. “I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything after what I did. But this is very important to me, and I am asking you to bear with me just a little while longer. Give me… a week. A week to get this case sorted out, and then we can do whatever Misa wants. I swear, I won’t go near Light.”
Misa was wavering. He could see it, the way her eyes flickered, the way she sucked her lower lip into her mouth. “One week?” she repeated.
L… was pretty sure he could find a way to wrap things up in that amount of time. If not, he would have at least bought himself time to figure out how to deal with her. “Yes,” he repeated. “And then I’m all yours.”
“…Okay,” she said slowly, and he tried not to let out too obvious a sigh of relief. She leaned in closer, until her face was all he could see—her pupils were so dilated, suddenly, that he felt almost like he was falling into them, dizzied by the close proximity. “But… Ryuuzaki?”
She’d lowered her voice to a hush, and he found himself mimicking her almost unconsciously, half-whispering, “Yes?”
“If you ever cheat on me again, I’ll kill us both. We’ll die together. Okay?”
L sucked in a slow breath. He had no question, after the events of the previous night, that she meant it, or that she would follow through if he put her in a position to. She’d probably dose both their drinks with cyanide and make him lie down with her in a bed of rose petals.
“Okay?” she prompted again, and her hands tightened on his face.
“Okay,” he answered quietly, and she gave him a beatific smile, releasing him.
“Alright!” she said, slipping back into Misa-Misa mode with a sudden, disorienting quickness. She jumped down from the bed, naked but for the bandages around her thigh. “Misa better get ready for work!”
Misa saw him down to the main hall of headquarters before she left, repeating the warning not to leave the sight of the cameras. In addition, before departing, she grabbed his penis through his jeans and rubbed for a moment as he stared at her in confusion. When he failed to respond physically, seeing as he’d ejaculated first thing upon waking, and the night before as well, she nodded to herself and walked away without saying a word.
Which was when he finally realized why she’d been fellating him in his sleep—she seemed to have come to the conclusion that she could prevent him from cheating on her again simply by bringing him to orgasm frequently enough that he physically couldn’t achieve an erection with which to penetrate another person, even if he wanted to.
Either that, or she had simply decided that he was incapable of rational thought when aroused, and was simply trying to assure that he never had a chance to reach this state outside of her presence. Which was insulting, but also, given everything he’d done over the past couple of months, not necessarily inaccurate.
Of course, if he’d truly been determined to cheat, he could still do so without being erect himself—he could be penetrated, for example, or perform oral or manual sex on his partner—but he was hardly going to point out this loophole to Misa, or she might never let him out of her sight again.
Not that he could not understand her reaction, as inconvenient as it was for him, given that he had cheated on her despite knowing exactly how badly she would react. He could even empathize with her, given what he’d seen her doing with Aiber, even if his own reaction had been much more subdued.
By which he meant that he’d texted him telling him to check into a hotel near the Yotsuba headquarters using the money they’d transferred over. He would be spending all of his energy now on being Coil for them, whether he was at their headquarters or alone—which would, of course, keep him firmly away from Misa. And from L, who was unsure he could keep from losing it again if he saw the man’s smug face one more time.
Aiber had accepted this with little fuss. He was, after all, a professional.
Wedy, meanwhile, called his phone late that morning—probably because she’d only just woken up. “I was able to re-enter Higuchi’s house last night,” she informed him. “I have a USB drive containing all of the recordings made since my last visit. Would you like me to bring it to you?”
L nearly said yes, then thought better of it. The previous night, Misa had mentioned a belief that he ought not to be alone with any woman or homosexual man. This was certainly no time to be pushing the boundaries she had set for him, regardless of how ridiculous they were.
“I will send Watari to your room to collect it,” he informed her instead.
When Watari appeared in the main hall—his face masked, of course, given that Misa would be seeing the footage later—the absurd thought occurred to L that he was actually unsure what his handler’s sexual orientation was. In all the time he’d known him, it had never occurred to L to ask him that. Or much at all about his personal life, to tell the truth.
Well, whatever. Misa was hardly going to be jealous of a seventy-year-old man who had practically raised him… he hoped.
L had only just plugged the USB drive into his computer and sent Watari away, intending to begin searching through the footage, when his phone rang. Lifting it out of his pocket, he discovered that it was—who else?—Misa.
“Hello?” he answered, trying to fight off the paranoid suspicion that Misa somehow knew exactly when he was about to make progress on the case and was purposefully interrupting him. Her timing was just uncanny.
“Ryuuzaki!” she cheered. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” he said slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. Misa had never called him from the film set before. Maybe she was just making sure he wasn’t fucking Light at this particular moment? Still, he asked, “Is everything alright?”
“Misa is on her break,” she said. “Misa misses Ryuuzaki.”
“I miss Misa too,” he said automatically. Then he went quiet, uncertain what more she wanted from him.
“It’s not that long of a drive, from the headquarters to the film set.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Ryuuzaki could come visit.”
He opened his mouth, intending to say, ‘Your break can’t be that long.’ Or, ‘I really shouldn’t leave the headquarters.’ Or, ‘I was just about to review some evidence.’ He’d promised her a week, after all, so he needed to use his time as efficiently as possible.
Then he reconsidered. As frustrating as it was, her interrupting him when he might be just about to catch Kira, he knew that she had barely agreed to leave the building that morning. He was still on thin ice with her, so he ought to be doing whatever he could to keep her happy. That was the deal they had made the night before, after all: she wanted her perfect relationship, whether it was real or fake, and he had promised to play along.
There was, of course, always a risk involved with venturing outside, a risk that Misa could be luring him out for more nefarious purposes, but he didn’t actually believe that. He knew her too well by now—was certain he would have known if this was a Kira-related plot. No, this was all Misa—testing his loyalty, testing his feelings for her, by demanding he inconvenience himself to visit her. That and, of course, keeping him away from Light.
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.”
L was not actually sure, as he approached the film set in the backseat of Watari’s Rolls Royce, separated from his handler by an opaque partition, looking out over the city through the tinted windows, what Misa wanted to do. It didn’t really matter, of course—he’d go along with it to keep her happy, to keep himself on her good side after what he had done. It had been less than a day, after all, since she’d been drunkenly throwing things around and rampaging through the building.
Still, when she hopped inside the car, still in her outfit from the movie—a short, feminine sundress which barely covered her bandage, her hair loose over her shoulders—and immediately put a hand on his crotch, he was not exactly surprised.
“I missed you,” she said, but he was pretty sure it was performative, like when—fuck—like when Aiber had told her to say those things to him during that blowjob. That memory was poisoned now, for more than one reason. When he leaned in, automatically, to try to kiss her, thinking that was what she wanted, she flinched back and said, “No, you can’t—you’ll mess up Misa’s makeup!”
L sighed, uncertain how to respond to any of this. “I was within view of the cameras,” he pointed out, unable to stop himself from voicing his annoyance. “It’s not like I’m going to trip and fall dick-first into someone’s orifice if left alone for a few hours.”
Misa looked at him for a moment with a total lack of expression, then seemed to decide to pretend like he hadn’t said anything. “Why isn’t Ryuuzaki getting hard?” she asked instead. “Is Misa doing something wrong?”
There was a hint of warning in her tone, and he understood that what she meant was, ‘Prove you want me right now, or you won’t like how I react.’
“I’m still satisfied from this morning,” he said, rather than, ‘This entire situation is more awkward and annoying than it is arousing.’
Frowning, she said, “Want to see Misa’s tits?” Before he could answer, she slipped first one strap of her dress off her shoulder, then the other, pulling it down to her sternum. She wasn’t wearing a bra. “Here,” she said, not even giving him a chance to react, just grabbing one of his hands and shoving it onto her breast.
Usually, even the minor stimulation of Misa touching him through his jeans while putting his hand on her breast would have been sufficient to arouse him. However, the entire situation was simply too… hollow. It was obvious that the only thing Misa cared about was extracting an orgasm from him as part of her apparent plan to keep him in line. His enjoyment, his consent, her enjoyment, had nothing to do with it.
There was just something so pointless about the whole thing. It wasn’t sex, or anything close. He and Misa were both entirely superfluous to the act. She was just… milking him like a fucking animal.
At the same time, he knew she would not react well to him failing to achieve an erection for her, so as she began to undo the fly of his pants, he closed his eyes and squeezed her breast, trying his best to pretend that either of them actually wanted to be doing this right now.
“You don’t need anything to make me want you,” he’d told her once. “Just existing is enough.” How had things turned out like this?
Misa huffed to herself as her hand made contact with his still flaccid penis. “Ryuuzaki isn’t very grateful,” she complained. “Misa skipped lunch for this, you know.”
Misa would skip lunch for a single yen, he did not say. He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just… this is not a very romantic environment. With all the people just outside.” They might not be able to see into the car, but he could see out, to all of Misa’s co-workers milling around the film set. Not that he actually minded this—it might actually be arousing, under the right circumstances—but it made a good excuse. “I feel too exposed.”
To his surprise, Misa started laughing. He just stared at her. “Exposed. Like you exposed Misa with your cum all over her face to Light?”
Okay, he deserved that. He couldn’t think of a good response at all.
Rolling her eyes, Misa said, “Poor Ryuuzaki. Does he need something to get him going?” She released him and slid down onto the floor of the car. Taking his penis in her hands, she leaned in and gingerly kissed the head. “Misa won’t suck it,” she said. “It’ll cause problems for everyone if Misa needs her makeup redone—it took ages.”
That being said, she started stroking him with both hands, staring up at him through her lashes with her breasts hanging out of her dress. Putting on a show for him, of course. “Doesn’t Ryuuzaki want to feel good?” she cooed. “Let Misa make you feel good.”
Mostly, L wanted to get this over with so he could go back to the headquarters and watch the footage from Higuchi’s house. He’d given it back to Wedy before he left, instructing her to comb through it and flag anything that might be of interest to him, but he’d really rather go through it himself.
“This isn’t real,” he mused, pressing his thumb to his lips.
Misa paused in the middle of her act, glaring up at him. “Poor Ryuuzaki,” she said again, unsympathetically. “Can’t get hard unless you really believe Misa is desperate for this stupid little thing? Is Ryuuzaki’s ego hurt?”
L frowned. “Little?”
Her laughter was sharp and cruel and beautiful. “Well, I wouldn’t call it big.” At his disgruntled expression, she smiled, gripping him tighter, and said, “And it looks weird and ugly, too, and the stuff that comes out of it tastes really bad. Ryuuzaki acts like it’s so important, but it’s just a gross little thing that no one would ever want to look at, let alone touch.”
L stared at her, taken aback by the sudden shift in personality. Then he dropped his eyes to his penis, still held in her hand. Her eyes did the same, and they both realized simultaneously that he was growing erect.
Misa laughed again. “So that’s what it takes.”
“It’s not—” L swallowed. It wasn’t the degradation. It was… “This is real,” he said—the best explanation he could offer. Even if she didn’t actually think his penis was small—he had measured it, and knew he was at least above average—her anger, her desire to hurt him, was real.
Misa shook her head, looking cruelly amused, and began stroking him, her grip toeing the line of too tight. “Ryuuzaki ruined Misa’s whole life, just for this,” she told him. He shifted slightly, trying to thrust his growing erection into her hands, but she maintained a steady, agonizingly slow rhythm. “You’re disgusting—you know that? Ryuuzaki likes to act so smart, but he does all his thinking with this. He’s like some stupid animal crawling around on all fours, trying to find anywhere to stick it.”
Light’s voice in his ear: “You’re disgusting.” He wasn’t sure if it was for Misa or for Light that he felt the rush of arousal inside of himself. He could picture it in his mind’s eye, just like Misa said: himself crawling around naked with a mindless animal expression on his face, eyes bulging and tongue hanging out, penis bobbing heavily between his legs.
“Please,” he said.
“Isn’t this what Ryuuzaki wanted?” she purred. “For Misa to pay attention to this? For Misa to touch him here? Ryuuzaki ought to be grateful that anyone would ever touch him, let alone someone like Misa.” Her voice grew sharper, her grip on him tighter, not pumping anymore, just holding. Squeezing like she wanted to hurt him. “Ryuuzaki had to break Misa, didn’t he? He had to take everything away from her, just to get his hands on her. He doesn’t think about anything but his own dick.”
L’s head was growing hazy now, finally able to access the arousal that had eluded him all day. What did this say about him? What was wrong with him—with both of them?
Outside the window of the car, the film crew bustled about, unaware that their star actress was on her knees in front of him. Like he’d stolen her away from them, from the world, just to have her do this. Like his penis was more important than the multi-million dollar production. All of them waiting on his orgasm.
“Put it in your mouth,” he begged her, ignoring her earlier warning. “Please, Misa, I need it.”
Misa laughed out loud at that, and he throbbed. “Why would I do that?” she asked him. “No one would ever want to suck this gross, ugly thing. Are you stupid?”
“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding quickly. “I’m stupid, Misa, I’m so stupid, just put it in your mouth.” He felt like he might die if she didn’t.
“No,” she said, her voice sugary sweet, and he let out a frustrated moan. He reached for her head, unthinking, wanting to pull her closer, but she knocked his hand away, then reached up and grabbed him by the chin, long fingernails digging painfully into his flesh. He squirmed. “Bad dog.”
He was a dog now? L probably should be more offended by that than he was, but he felt like a dog, like an animal, just like she said. His mouth was hanging open now, and he knew he must really look as stupid as she said he was. He didn’t care. He was ready to crawl around on his hands and knees like a dog if she asked, if it meant she’d put her mouth on him, or even just move her fucking hands. He tried to push his hips forward again, but her hand only moved with him, denying him the stimulation.
“Ryuuzaki didn’t want Misa to stay home from work,” she reminded him. “Ryuuzaki said it would be suspicious. Won’t it be suspicious if Misa comes out of this car all messed up? Everyone spent so long on Misa’s hair and makeup and outfit. It would cause a lot of problems for everyone if Ryuuzaki ruins that.”
Distantly, he registered that she was right. But he needed something. “Just a little bit,” he said. “Just suck it a little bit. I won’t make a mess.”
“You don’t care at all, do you?” she asked, slowly beginning to stroke him again, but not enough, and he let out another pleading noise. “You don’t care about anything but getting off.” When he didn’t respond, she squeezed him harshly again, making him wince. “Say it.”
“I don’t care,” he babbled, finally losing his last semblance of control. He pushed his hips forward impatiently, straining to get closer, to push his penis against her face, but she moved back. “I don’t care about any of it, Misa, I don’t, just make me come—please.”
Misa laughed at him again. “You dirty animal,” she said. “Why should I? You never make Misa come anymore.” She wasn’t moving her hand at all anymore.
Well, she wasn’t wrong, but he still really wanted to come. What would it take to make her suck him? What did he have to say or do?
Forcing himself to regain his composure, knowing that it was the only way to get the upper hand again, he let out a sigh and said, “I’m tired of this.”
“Of what?”
“All of this. Misa’s been getting on my nerves all day, and now she won’t even do this for me. What’s the point? You interrupted my work, made me come all the way out here—the least Misa can do is give me something to make up for it. As my reward for being a good boyfriend. If not… I might just get tired of her.”
Misa released his penis altogether, her face going slack with shock. “You wouldn’t.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He kept his tone casual, disinterested. It was easier without her touching him. “I can feel myself losing interest in Misa already. This is all too much work, just to get a mediocre handjob that I didn’t even want in the first place. I don’t see the point of putting up with Misa if she won’t even let me put my penis in her mouth.”
There, that should do it. Misa stared up at him in dismay, her eyes growing glassy, like she was about to cry. Her lower lip trembled. “You fucking asshole,” she said quietly, sounding hurt, but he couldn’t tell anymore if it was real, or if she was just trying to manipulate him. “Fine, do what you want, then. If that’s all you care about.” Then she opened her mouth in a perfect, pink O, sticking her tongue out and simply waiting for it, even as tears threatened to spill over her lashes.
L decided, in the back of his mind, to assume that she was trying to manipulate him. It meant that, rather than guilt, he could feel nothing but a sense of vicious satisfaction at his own refusal to fall for it as he grabbed her by the hair and stuffed his cock into her mouth, dragging her close to his body and commanding, “Suck.”
Distantly, he thought of Watari in the front seat—the soundproofing on the partition was good, but not that good. L wondered what he thought of all this. Of course, even if Watari disapproved, he would never say so. He knew his place in L’s life—questioning what he did with his prisoners wasn’t part of the job description.
For all her protests, Misa did suck him, and when he pushed her head down far enough for his penis to reach the entrance to her esophagus, she didn’t fight it. It was always best when she was like this. Desperate, he meant. He could feel it in how she sucked him, how she licked and moaned and drooled, throat fluttering around him, eyes shut in a strange look of ecstasy as she impaled herself on his cock like a martyr on a stake, offering up her suffering for his pleasure. Her mouth, tongue, and throat all working together to beg him not to leave her in the only way she could. She even licked his testicles, the way Aiber had taught her to.
At the thought of the con man, L saw Aiber and Misa in his mind, the two of them in this exact position—less than one day ago, it had been. Aiber sprawled lazily in his armchair, legs spread apart; Misa kneeling between them. Her hair wrapped around his fist, the muscles in his forearm tensing, his cock going in and out of her mouth. The same mouth that now enveloped him. Aiber had ejaculated into this mouth, at the end, and Misa had swallowed it. She had looked up at him and smiled and pretended to love it.
Aiber hadn’t even made a sound when he came. His face had barely changed at all—like Misa was nothing to him.
L was disgusted by it—he was disgusted by her. And that made it better, because it meant that he didn’t need to have any consideration for her. She was the one who’d chosen to degrade herself, to lower herself down to this—an object for public use, a hole to be passed around from one man to the next. So it wasn’t his fault if he treated her that way, using her to his heart’s content. She’d brought it on herself.
“Slut,” he said, and she opened her eyes, like she was surprised. He was, too—he didn’t usually use language like that. But it felt applicable, in her case, so he repeated himself. “Slut.” Misa closed her eyes again and whimpered around him, like she loved it, or like she wanted to cry, he wasn’t sure which. Maybe both. “This is what you do now, isn’t it?” he demanded. “Get on your knees and open your mouth for whoever asks. You should be glad I even want you, now that you’re…” What was it people said? “Used goods.”
She whimpered again and wrapped her arms around his thighs, pulling herself down his cock, like she was saying, “Use me if you like, just please, don’t stop wanting me.” She gagged loudly, and tears overflowed her eyes, though that might have just been from the irritation to her throat. She pushed herself further down.
Her anger earlier might have been real, but it had been a bluff all the same. Even if she called his penis ‘little,’ even if she said she didn’t want to touch him, that he was disgusting, she would never tell him no. He owned her, and they both knew it. The detective L could have whatever he wanted, up to and including Misa Amane gagging herself on his cock while the crew of her film, dozens of people, waited obliviously for him to be finished with their star.
After all, he’d nearly stripped everything away from her. This was all that was left to her, and her acting as though she could change her mind and walk away was just that—an act.
“Isn’t this what Misa wanted?” he taunted, tightening his grip on her hair and beginning to move her, dragging her up and down his length. “Called me all the way out here just to give you this—so take it. Does that feel little to you?”
Misa didn’t respond, other than some wet, pathetic sputtering noises. L groaned and moved her head even faster, pushing his hips forward to meet each stroke. She was fully crying now, mascara running down her cheeks, drool escaping her lips around him and sliding down her chin.
He remembered belatedly that he shouldn’t be doing this. He pictured Misa that morning, sitting for the hair and makeup artists, letting them use their expertise to turn her into the perfect, untouchable idol she’d been when she slipped into the car. She certainly wasn’t untouchable now. He groaned again, legs trembling with anticipation.
It was all ruined anyway, he thought—might as well put the finishing touches on her destruction. So he dragged her from him by the hair, taking himself in his free hand, stroking furiously, nearly there.
“Ryuuzaki,” Misa said, her voice coming out raspy and thick with the drool that had built up in her throat, like lubrication for his convenience. Fuck. “Don’t you dare. Don’t—”
But it didn’t seem to occur to her to turn her face away, or to try to shield herself with her hands. She only stared straight at his cock, wide-eyed, waiting.
He ignored her, feeling like he was, at least for a second, reasserting his control, his agency. He might come when she called, but he’d at least choose where he came, thank you very much. And where he chose to come was all over her face, her breasts, her hair, ruining in ten seconds all the work that had gone into making her Misa-Misa. It felt better that way—knowing that he was destroying it all, just to cap off his pleasure.
When he was finished, he sprawled there panting, half-sitting, half-laying with his legs spread wide, pants around his ankles. Misa looked at him dispassionately, face covered in semen, mascara, drool, and tears, and pulled one strap of her dress back up, then the other, without bothering to wipe off her chest.
“You know,” she said, “I think you’re the worst person I’ve ever met.” Her lips quirked in a sad, resigned sort of smile. “Sometimes I think that God sent you to punish me.” She paused, eyes growing distant. “Other times, I think you must be God, because… who else could hurt me this much?”
Before L could react to that, Misa opened the door of the car. His first instinct was to shield himself, thinking that she was trying to expose him, that it was a trap. He covered his face with one hand and his exposed penis with the other, flinching away from the sunlight.
But she only slipped quickly out the door and shut it behind her, stepping back onto the film set with L’s mess displayed on her face like the spoils of war.
Unsurprisingly, Misa was fired from the film. Her screaming at the director and everyone else who tried to calm her down certainly didn’t help.
It took a lot of negotiation, and some bribes, for Watari to convince the director to threaten to fire anyone who shared the story of what had happened that day—or the pictures they’d taken of her on their cell phones. L had no doubt that it would still come out eventually, but he thought they’d at least bought themselves a few days for Misa to meet with Yotsuba without it being all over the news.
As she climbed back into the backseat of the car, L thought about their argument that morning, and how naive he’d been to truly believe that he’d get his way. This was how Misa operated—she said what he wanted to hear, and then she found another way to get what she wanted.
Once the door shut behind them, Misa peeled off the sundress—the wardrobe department hadn’t wanted it back, funnily enough—and her panties, then sat stark naked on the floor of the car in front of him, rather than in a seat.
“What is Misa doing?” he asked, exasperation almost certainly audible in his voice.
She looked up at him. At some point in all the chaos, she’d wiped her face off, but he could still see little remnants of his semen on her. Some of her hair was stuck together. Her makeup had come off in the process as well, making her look younger, more vulnerable, although he was starting to suspect she was anything but.
“This is what Ryuuzaki wanted, isn’t it?” she asked. “To keep Misa as his pet. Well, he’s got it. Misa’s not a person anymore—Misa’s no one at all. Ryuuzaki’s taken everything from her, and now, he has to take responsibility.”
Unable to stop himself, he pointed out, “Misa is the one who went back out there without cleaning her face.”
“Look Misa in the eyes,” she said, “and tell her that you didn’t want everyone to see your dirty stuff all over her face.” He didn’t respond, and she continued, “That’s what I thought. This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To ruin me.”
L couldn’t say anything, because, well. She wasn’t wrong. It was something he’d thought about before, when aroused—the idea of showing everyone what he’d done to Misa, making her so dirty that no one but him would want her anymore. To break her down into something he could keep for himself.
Some argument could be made that he didn’t actually want that, since he didn’t now, when he wasn’t aroused. That it was nothing but a fantasy. But did it matter? He’d acted on it. She’d told him why he couldn’t make a mess of her, and it had only made him more desperate to do so. It wasn’t that he hadn’t cared about the consequences—the consequences had been exactly what made it feel so good in the first place. To burn everything down in pursuit of a moment of pleasure. Hell, that was practically the philosophy behind their entire relationship at this point.
And now, he just had to hope that word wouldn’t get back to Yotsuba before she met with them. He wasn’t entirely sure what they would make of a story of Misa Amane getting into a strange vehicle on her film set and emerging with semen on her face, promptly getting herself fired, but it would surely get their attention more than her just calling in sick would have.
Misa seemed inevitable sometimes: if he didn’t do what she wanted, she’d only find a way to make it ten times worse for him when it happened anyway.
“Why do you even want to be with me?” he asked her. “If I’m so horrible.”
“Everyone is horrible,” she said simply, a small smile on her face. “They all want to hurt Misa, deep down. At least Ryuuzaki doesn’t hide it anymore. Misa doesn’t have to wonder if, when Ryuuzaki is nice to her, he’s secretly thinking about doing awful things to her. Because Misa knows he is.
“And that’s why Ryuuzaki needs Misa—because Misa is the only person who will let him do these things to her. Once Ryuuzaki has put all his dirtiness inside of Misa, he won’t be able to let her go, because Misa will carry all Ryuuzaki’s shame. And if anyone else looks at her too long, they’ll see it and know what Ryuuzaki did to her—and what he is.”
“What am I?”
“A monster.” She didn’t say it like she was afraid, or disgusted, or angry. The words, as they came out of her mouth, were almost loving.
L didn’t have anything to say in response to that. He set one hand on her head, stroking her hair, and she leaned against his calf.
“Besides,” she added. “It’s not like I have anything else. Misa barely exists anymore. If Ryuuzaki stops wanting me, I think I’ll disappear completely.”
Misa refused to put her clothing back on as they entered headquarters, but L didn’t bother arguing. Who was going to see her? Watari? Wedy? They wouldn’t do anything about it. He paid them both too much to concern themselves with naked, emotionally unstable women following him around.
He tried to convince Misa to give him some time alone to look at the footage—not sure why he didn’t want her there, except that she was more volatile than ever, and he didn’t want any unknown variables if he discovered something important. In any case, she immediately burst into tears and accused him of planning to cheat on her, so he was forced to wait.
He spent the rest of the afternoon playing the role of Misa’s doting boyfriend, even declining the call when Wedy tried to contact him—and when her text came a moment later to say she’d found something, he waited until he was in the bathroom to respond and tell her that he’d take a look later that night. If he texted in front of Misa, at this point, she’d probably either demand to go through his phone or try to break it.
L hadn’t regretted fucking Light, not the second time. It had been necessary in order to break himself out of whatever spell he’d been under. But he was actually starting to regret it now, wondering if dealing with a violent psychosexual obsession with Light would have been worth avoiding the short leash Misa seemed determined to keep him. As he’d thought the night before—just because she wasn’t leaving him didn’t mean he wouldn’t be punished.
With this in mind, L didn’t feel too guilty about instructing Watari to crush up a couple of Valium and slip them into Misa’s dinner. He had less than a week to catch Kira, and he could hardly do so with her breathing down his neck. This was more important than morality. (And besides—it would drive him crazy to leave the case unsolved.)
Once Misa was firmly unconscious in his bed, he took his laptop out to the couch and asked Watari to bring him the USB again. Since the last time he’d seen it, Wedy had made a special folder with the relevant footage. It was labeled Higuchi residence, basement cameras 1-4, Friday, October 22, 2004, 20:15. Three nights ago, after the meeting he had watched with Aiber and Misa. His heart rate increased as he double-clicked to open the folder, then again to play the video.
It began on an empty room—Higuchi’s basement, obviously. The four views were arranged in a grid, each showing a different perspective, covering what seemed to be all of the available space.
The basement was mostly empty, but there was a large, curved desk set against the wall, in front of which hung several monitors. Not too long after the video began to play, the door visible in the upper-left video opened and Higuchi stepped through, looking annoyed. He took a seat in the computer chair. With one hand, he reached underneath the desk, not bothering to look, as though he had made the same motion countless times before, ingraining it in his muscle memory.
A moment later, he withdrew his hand, holding a black notebook which he set on the desk before him. He started up the computer, and on the lower-left video, L could see that Higuchi was searching the internet for the very men whose names had been mentioned in the meeting Friday evening—L remembered the Yotsuba group’s negotiations well enough that he didn’t need a refresher.
L wrapped an arm around his knees, chewing on his thumbnail and leaning closer, peering at his laptop screen, as Higuchi opened the notebook and began to write. Something was happening, something important.
Unfortunately, Higuchi’s shoulders blocked L from seeing what he was writing, but he was able to make a few deductions from the man’s movements, the way he glanced up at each picture on the screen before making a few marks in his notebook, occasionally with longer stretches of writing. It could be assumed that what Higuchi was writing was the names of the men to be killed, possibly with details of their planned deaths as well.
Names and faces… Was Higuchi the group’s contact to Kira, delivering the names of the victims and desired methods of killing to him? But in that case, why would he need to see the faces himself? It was not as though he were sending them to anyone: he only seemed to copy the names down, while doing nothing but glancing at the faces.
Could the longer moments of writing be Higuchi marking down descriptions, rather than methods of killing? But if a description was enough for Kira to kill, L would already be dead.
L’s mind swam with possibilities as he watched Higuchi write in silence, but in the end, he needn’t have bothered. When Higuchi finally set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, he began to speak aloud, and what he said was so incredible that L felt a powerful wave of unreality.
“Even after the meeting, I still have to punish criminals at home. Being Kira means a busy life.”
What?! Not that L hadn’t been almost certain by this point that Higuchi was either Kira or Kira’s liaison, but what on earth would possess him to suddenly state his identity aloud to himself in an empty room, presenting L with a neatly wrapped confession?
If L had seen this happen in a detective movie, he would have thrown his snacks at the screen. Murder suspects did not generally have the good manners to verbally incriminate themselves in unprompted villainous monologues.
But indeed, that seemed to be exactly what Higuchi was doing. L leaned even closer, his eyes inches from the screen, as if he could somehow use the extra bit of proximity to the image to peer into Higuchi’s brain.
Higuchi, meanwhile, continued his monologue, presenting L with almost everything he wanted to know in a matter of seconds. “Amane Misa was definitely the second Kira,” Higuchi said to himself, sending a slight wave of shock through L at having his theory so openly confirmed, “and she was captured by L. The only way for her to come out of it was to forfeit the ownership of the note, and she lost her memories. I can tell that just by reading Coil’s report.”
The note. The note!
L had suspected, back when he asked Misa about the Blue Note Cafe, that the reference to a note had been more than a coincidence. L’s brain worked at a mile a minute, even as Higuchi continued speaking. The note was an object—an object lost by Misa when she came into L’s custody—an object directly connected to the loss of Misa’s memories and the sudden change in her demeanor. And Higuchi had access to information that allowed him to glean all of this from merely the information passed to him so far.
If the key to this case was a ‘note,’ then the black notebook on the table…
Before L could finish the thought, Higuchi spoke it aloud, stealing the words right out of his mouth: “Was it this note she forfeited? Or does that very note still exist somewhere?”
The notebook had to be the key to Kira’s powers. Higuchi was not writing the names down to pass on to Kira, so that Kira could use his powers to kill. Higuchi was Kira, and the notebook was somehow the mechanism with which he killed. And his speculation told L even more: Higuchi had acquired the notebook sometime after Misa’s imprisonment, making it possible in his eyes that it had belonged to her, and Higuchi didn’t know for sure where it had come from.
L utilized all of his brainpower to think and listen at the same time, knowing that he would no doubt watch this recording again and again, until he was certain he had missed nothing. “At any rate, Amane contacted L, possibly with Kira… I must use her. If I don’t, she might turn out to be a risk for us.”
Higuchi had said that Misa wasn’t the first Kira, but the second, and that she might have come into contact with L at Kira’s side. In other words, the chances that the first Kira was anyone but Light Yagami were rapidly shrinking to nothing.
There were two real possibilities: Higuchi’s notebook had once belonged either to Misa Amane or to Light Yagami. It had come to him after Misa’s imprisonment, which suggested that it was Light who somehow delivered it to him—but how? How had Light chosen Higuchi? How had he passed on the notebook, and instructed him in how to use it, without revealing himself? L doubted that he had simply stuck it in the mailbox and sent it to him.
Something else was bothering him: Higuchi said that Misa had forfeited the note in response to being captured by L. In other words, after she had been blinded and straitjacketed with cameras watching her every move. How had her notebook left her possession?
No, that was the wrong question. Every inch of Misa, her belongings, and her apartment had been searched. The notebook must have already left her possession before the moment of her arrest. Probably, it had been passed off to Light Yagami.
There were two possibilities, each one troubling in its own way. Either Misa had, in the few seconds between meeting L and being arrested, somehow foreseen her upcoming imprisonment and passed the notebook off to a collaborator (one who was not Light Yagami, given that he had been in L’s presence at the time) without being caught, despite her every move being watched… Or there was some meaningful way in which Misa could ‘forfeit’ a notebook that was no longer in her physical possession, causing some sort of change in her.
A flash of memory came back to L: Misa twisting in her restraints, screaming, “Just kill me!” Shouting out fragments of sentences, either talking to herself, or else to… something else. And then: “Okay, do it!” Finally, after she was gagged, there had been a moment… A smile passed over her face, a slight motion of her head, as if nodding. And then she had passed out.
Most damning of all, there was the memory of Light in his jail cell, and what he had said the moment before his eyes had changed. L had watched the video of this over and over, looking for some clue as to what had transpired, and so he knew the words by heart: “My ridiculous pride… I’ll forfeit it.”
Forfeit. The exact word Higuchi had used.
Finally, it seemed, Higuchi was moving on to more mundane topics: his plan to marry Misa, then eventually kill her for the insurance money. This information was less useful to L, except insofar as it gave him information on Higuchi’s values and motivations, which could potentially be used against him, and the interesting fact that Higuchi did not say anything about using Misa’s Kira power, or ‘the eyes.’ Was he leaving that unsaid, or was Misa truly of no use to him other than a trophy wife to use up and discard? If the latter, that suggested that it might not be possible for Misa to recover her powers.
In the next moment, though, Higuchi stood up and, as he left the room, said, “Rem, hide the note in the usual place.”
L’s thoughts faltered. Higuchi hadn’t been talking to himself after all, but to some accomplice? There was no one else visible in the room, not in any of the four cameras. And because the basement was electromagnetically shielded, there was no way Higuchi had been on the phone.
Perhaps he had been speaking to someone through the computer, which, through its Ethernet cable, was the only route for information to pass in and out of the basement?
But if he was speaking to someone far away, why would he tell them to hide the—
The notebook.
The notebook was moving.
The cover lifting up, bowed slightly, as if by the pressure of unseen fingers. The corner of one page ripping free, levitating into midair as if by magic before disappearing all at once. And finally, with this task finished, the entire notebook was levitated in the same manner, floating underneath the desk and returning to whatever hiding spot it had been removed from.
For a minute afterward, L merely stared at the screen in frozen silence, eyes darting back and forth, trying to catch even the slightest of movements. But there was nothing at all. The room was still and undisturbed, seemingly empty. And then the video ended.
He knew that if there had been anything else, Wedy would have included it in the recording, but just in case, he found the original recordings from each of the cameras, skipped through to the moment the notebook moved by itself. He turned the brightness all the way up, peering at the screen, but there was nothing, nothing at all.
L closed the lid of his laptop, stood up, and went to the bathroom. His body was trembling. He placed both hands on the sink and stared at himself in the mirror—his messy hair, which he hadn’t bothered to comb in days, and the bags under his eyes.
He whispered to himself, “Who is Rem?”
And then, a moment later, “Where is the second notebook?”
Notes:
Sorry I disappeared for a year and a half... I started writing this fic during the lowest point of my life, which is probably why it's so fucking dark and nihilistic. Oleander is to me as Antichrist is to Lars Von Trier. Eventually, I got to the point where I couldn't write at all, and just had to deal with my life being on fire.
Anyway, since my last chapter, I lost my marriage, my dad, and my cat, finished my PhD, and wrote over a million words of fanfiction of someone else's niche, abandoned, genderswapped Harry Potter AU. But Oleander was always in the back of my mind, and now it's time to finish it. The rest of the fic is drafted; I should be updating a chapter every week or two until it's finished.
It's gonna be a wild ride. Thanks for being patient and sticking it out with me.
Chapter 23: crawl on me, sink into me, die for me
Notes:
CW for dubcon, details in end notes.
Crawl on me
Sink into me
Die for me
Living dead girlBlood on her skin
Dripping with sin
Do it again
Living dead girl- Rob Zombie, "Living Dead Girl"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L spent the next few hours crouched on the couch, chin resting on his knees, lost in thought.
He was glad he had followed his instincts and watched the recording alone. Despite the confirmation that Misa’s memory loss was most likely real, he did not want to take the risk of anything triggering her to remember. After all, there were a lot of unknowns about the mechanism of the notebook and the loss of memories. Besides that, he did not know how she would react to the confirmation that she had been a Kira. No, best to keep it to himself for now.
One thing was for certain: L needed a new plan. Sending Misa might not be necessary anymore—or wise, for that matter, considering her recent instability. He already knew who Kira was, so he did not need Misa to root him out, and he knew that this Kira was fully aware of Misa’s identity and did not consider her a threat. If he even suspected that she was working for L, he would certainly kill her. After all, he didn’t seem to need her for anything more important than showing off to his colleagues.
With this evidence, L could put together a team to raid Higuchi’s place. However, there were risks involved in that. If they acted while Higuchi was in the house, without active surveillance, there would be no way of knowing that he wasn’t in the basement, ready to write their names in his notebook the second they entered. Of course, the team would wear helmets and remove their badges, but it still seemed unwise to corner a Kira with his weapon in his hands.
On the other hand, they could make a move while Higuchi was out of the house, simultaneously arresting him while also sending a team to raid his place and confiscate the notebook. This was safer, but there was a major unknown factor that made L nervous: the existence of some invisible ally known as ‘Rem.’ Rem was able to physically manipulate objects, opening the notebook and removing a piece, and seemed to follow Higuchi’s orders.
There were too many possibilities. Maybe Rem functioned as a sort of guard dog, protecting the notebook in Higuchi’s absence. Maybe it could communicate with Higuchi across great distances. Maybe Rem, upon seeing L’s team, would use the piece of paper it had taken to kill them—or else the second notebook, the absence of which was weighing heavily on L’s mind. It was even possible that this Rem had ‘the eyes,’ though if that were the case, L wasn’t sure why it wasn’t using them in service of Higuchi’s mission.
Meanwhile, there was the matter of L’s remaining associates: Aiber, Wedy, and Misa. Aiber was in the midst of the Yotsuba group now, in direct contact with Higuchi. He was probably safe enough, but if he wasn’t, L had no way to tell, because his surveillance of Higuchi was limited by needing Wedy to re-enter the basement to collect more footage. There was no way to get real-time information on Higuchi’s actions as Kira—not unless he said something incriminating in his car, which he had yet to do so far.
Should L warn Aiber? Probably not. He had done fine so far, and if he knew Kira’s identity, there was a risk he might slip up and reveal it. Better to keep him in the dark. Of course, if Higuchi realized that ‘Coil’ was L’s, he might try to use him as a hostage, but that had always been the case. If worst came to worst, L would just let Higuchi kill him.
Wedy, on the other hand, could safely be informed. She needn’t bother wasting her time on the other Yotsuba members now, and with the knowledge of Kira’s identity, she could focus her efforts on him—although L was not certain if there was a way to surveil Higuchi any more closely than he already was. (While it was not impossible that another Yotsuba member possessed the second notebook, it would have been difficult to coordinate killing between them and Higuchi, given that he had not seemed aware of any such thing, and all of the planned deaths for that week seemed to have been carried out solely by him.)
Most importantly: what of Misa?
L’s instincts told him that allowing Misa and Higuchi to come into contact would not be a smart move, particularly in her current state. And now that he knew Kira’s identity, he didn’t need to use Misa. However, they had already agreed that she would meet with the Yotsuba executives tomorrow. What if canceling at the last minute aroused Higuchi’s suspicions? If Higuchi realized he would not be able to use Misa, he might even try to kill her outright, just to tie up the loose end that she represented.
Which was worse: to send Misa into the lion’s den unnecessarily, or else to take the risk of tipping off Higuchi that L was on to him? Alternatively, L could try to act quickly, before Misa’s scheduled meeting, but then he ran the risk of rushing his planning process and fumbling the entire thing.
If only he had seen the footage of Higuchi sooner, he would not have made plans for Misa to meet with the board so soon. He had backed himself into a corner, and he had only a limited amount of time to decide what he was going to do.
One thing was certain: he would feel much more comfortable acting if he knew more about this Rem figure. It, and the missing second notebook, were the major variables in this situation.
What was Rem? It was apparently invisible, but able to interact physically with objects. Did it speak? Had it been silent for all of Higuchi’s monologue, or had it responded in a way that only he could hear? L had re-watched the footage over and over, looking for more signs of Rem’s presence, but had seen nothing. Higuchi had not seemed like he was responding to another person.
‘Rem’ might not even be a name. What if it was some sort of code word instead? Maybe there was nothing supernatural involved, and Higuchi had somehow set up a system to move the notebook that looked on camera like it was moving by itself, activated by the word ‘Rem’? But the way it had torn a piece of paper from the notebook, and the unsteady way the notebook had moved, suggested a conscious entity was handling it. Besides, L couldn’t see any reason why Higuchi couldn’t have put the notebook away himself. It would be strange to develop such a complex system just to move an object he could move by hand, and had at the beginning of the video.
Besides, it seemed like Higuchi might have been talking to another being, not just thinking aloud. After all, Higuchi had asked about the possibility of a second notebook. He had not reacted in a way that indicated he had received a useful answer; however, neither had he pressed ‘Rem’ for information. In other words, Higuchi did not seem to expect answers from Rem.
What did Rem do for Higuchi? Other than moving the notebook back to its hiding place, which Higuchi easily could have done himself, it did not seem to have taken any actions. L considered the possibility that Rem was needed to carry out the deaths once Higuchi had written them down, but Higuchi had not told Rem to kill. He had only told it to hide the notebook.
And then there was the moment that Rem had stolen a piece of the notebook. Why? If it wanted to use the notebook, why not just take the entire thing back from Higuchi? Why take only a piece?
L didn’t want to think it, but there was a word from earlier in the case that came to mind when he wondered what Rem was: ‘shinigami.’ He didn’t want to think that, not only because he would have to accept the existence of such a thing, but also because of the second Kira’s words: “We can confirm each other’s identity with our shinigami.” In other words, if Rem really was a shinigami, that implied the existence of a second one.
Two Kiras. Two notebooks. Two shinigami.
In that case, were the shinigami tied to the notebooks? When Misa and Light ‘forfeited’ their notes, had they been speaking to their shinigami? And those shinigami had then taken the notebooks to new Kiras? With invisibility and the ability to move objects, it would be easy for Rem to pass a notebook from Light or Misa to Higuchi without revealing the identity of the original owner.
L was not comfortable with the assumptions necessary for this to make sense: the existence of invisible beings known as shinigami stretched all imagination. But was it really so much stranger than a killer who could cause a heart attack or a traffic accident hundreds of miles away, simply by writing down a names?
Unfortunately, L was pretty sure he would need to act without having all of the answers. At least he knew significantly more now than he had before—far more than he had even hoped he would learn before he’d seen the video. But he had less than a week to solve this case, and if Higuchi realized that L was on to him, he was liable to do something stupid—something which might include killing Misa, or Aiber, or both.
Despite his trepidation, all of L’s instincts were telling him that tomorrow was the time to act. He was unlikely to get this lucky a second time, and every day that passed increased the chances that Higuchi would grow suspicious. The notebook seemed to stay in the basement while not in use, and if Rem had ‘the eyes’ and was willing to use them for Higuchi, L would think that it would have done so already.
At least, he had decided not to cancel Misa’s meeting with the Yotsuba executives. It would get Higuchi out of his house, distract him, give L a chance to act.
Besides, Higuchi already knew her name and face. She wouldn’t be in much more danger either way. No, the main danger in sending Misa in was that she would do something else stupid—perhaps they could move quickly enough to arrest Higuchi before he even entered the Yotsuba building?
L stood from the couch, making his way into his bedroom, where he looked down at Misa’s sleeping form in the dim moonlight coming through the shades. She was still totally unconscious, thankfully—the drugs doing their job.
He had the distant thought that she was so much more manageable like this—unconscious, that was. She seemed so small, sweet and soft, defenseless, like he had once believed she really was. There was still a part of him, seeing her like this, that wanted to protect her. And yet, once he caught Kira, he would have to hand her over to Interpol.
He knew it was for the best. Once she was imprisoned or executed, he would be free of the mess he’d gotten himself into. Free of her and of Light, and of the things that they made him do. His life would be empty again, yes, and lonely. He’d probably go the rest of his life without feeling another person’s affectionate touch, masturbating to covertly taken videos of his own sexual encounters with two dead killers. But it would be far safer.
At least until one of his other cases killed him, but then, he’d always known that would be the case.
L climbed onto the bed, gathering up Misa’s slack body and holding her close. She was so easy like this—like a little doll. Like something he’d like to keep. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and breathed in her scent.
She was probably right about him—that he was a monster. Because some part of him couldn’t help but feel it would be best for her to go away, whether to prison or her execution, simply because he thought he truly might have broken her beyond repair. He was not sure how else he could live with the knowledge of what he had done to her.
She had told him, earlier that day, that he’d never be able to let her go, because she held all of his shame, every dirty part of himself he’d put into her. But that, he thought, was exactly why it was a relief to think of her being gone from the world. As though with her, his shame would also be taken away, and no one would ever have to know the full truth of what he’d done—what he was capable of.
Her and Light both. They were like his shadow sides, the two people who brought out the darkness at his core. But L could still stop this—he could get rid of them both, then live the rest of his life in solitude, keeping himself away from any other people that might be able to expose the truth of him. He was not, he realized now, someone who was built to live in the world of people. Better to keep to the shadows, to spend the rest of his life solving his cases, offering up his loneliness as penance for what he had let himself become—and to ensure he would never be this person again.
Before he did that, though… Well, he would be the same selfish monster he’d always been, and take what small bits of pleasure he could from the world. So he rolled Misa’s body over onto her back and pushed her legs apart, settled himself between them, silenced his shame with the reminder that she had told him he could take whatever he wanted from her, asleep or awake.
After all, he thought, as he pushed himself inside of her—after all, this might be the last time, the last moment in his life that someone else’s body would allow him in. This might be his last chance to feel soft skin against his, to hold another warm body close—even if that warm body was unconscious. Maybe especially so—she was so soft like this, so forgiving. So much easier to deal with.
Besides, after all he’d done to her, what was a little more? He’d defiled her so much already. In the end, the filth that he pounded into her unconscious body was just one more thing Misa would take to her grave.
When Misa woke up, the first thing she said—after a long time spent drowsily clawing her way back to consciousness—was, “Did you drug me last night?”
L blinked at her, trying to look innocent. “Why would I do that?”
She didn’t answer, just stared.
“Let’s say I did,” he began. “Let’s say, hypothetically, that I hid a sedative in Misa’s food in order to perform sexual acts on her while she was unconscious. Would that be a problem?”
More staring. Then, with a little huff, she said, “Yes, Ryuuzaki!” Folding her arms over her naked chest—littered with hickeys and bite marks, and a little bit of semen—she added, “You could have asked, you know.”
“I could have asked,” he repeated skeptically. “Would Misa have liked me to offer her a pill and asked her to please swallow it so that I could have sex with her unconscious body?”
“Yes.”
“Oh… Okay then, I’ll ask next time.” He actually meant it—was tired enough that it took him a second to remember there wasn’t very likely to be a next time. But at least if Misa thought he’d drugged her for sex, she wouldn’t realize he’d just been trying to get her out of the way so he could work, or that the sex had been an afterthought.
“Did Ryuuzaki enjoy himself?” Misa asked, then looked down at her own body, seeming to fully register the state she was in for the first time. She laughed, but there was a hint of sadness in the sound. “I guess that’s a yes.”
It made L a little suspicious, how easily Misa agreed to go to the meeting with the Yotsuba executives. He wasn’t sure whether she was planning something or just feeling magnanimous after her victory the day before. He hoped it was the latter—or, at least, that if she was planning something, it wouldn’t affect his plans.
While she was asleep, he had contacted not only Wedy, but Soichiro Yagami and his associates. With the NPA having given in to Kira, it would be best for this operation to happen off the books, and he preferred to use people he’d already worked with rather than catching new allies up to speed—although the team that arrested Higuchi would be solely comprised of mercenaries in his hire. Of course, Yagami and the others did not like him very much, but he expected that their desire to catch Kira would supersede their personal conflicts.
Once he had sent Misa off with Hasegawa—who had received a bonus in exchange for her silence on what had happened on the film set the day before—L immediately left with Watari for Higuchi’s house. Wedy was already staking out the premises, waiting for Higuchi to leave so that she could begin breaking through his security.
Meanwhile, L kept his laptop open in the back of Watari’s van, watching the camera feed of Higuchi’s cars. He hadn’t let anything slip in them before, but it seemed wise to track his movements nonetheless, to make sure he was not turning around—and to pay careful attention to any clues that might indicate whether Rem was leaving the house with Higuchi, or if it still in the basement.
L still did not know who or what Rem was—if it was a ‘shinigami’, then what did that mean? There were a lot of open questions, for instance, about how such a creature would travel. Was it small enough to fit inside of a car? Would it perhaps fly alongside the car instead?
Part of his brain felt ridiculous to be thinking of the possibility of an invisible, flying creature called a shinigami, but the evidence was too great to be believed. Between Kira’s bizarre method of killing, the memory loss in the previous Kiras, and, of course, the footage of the notebook moving by itself, L could no longer deny that there were forces at work beyond those explicable by current scientific knowledge. Forces that could only be deemed supernatural.
For once, luck was on his side: the moment that Higuchi pulled out of his carport, he spoke. “I’m trying to decide the best move here,” he said. “I need to speak to Misa Amane alone, to try to figure out what she knows about L and Kira. But would it be better to try to get her alone after the interview today, or to get her contact info and lure her somewhere more private, away from the others? Rem, what do you think?”
Higuchi paused, as though listening, and as he did, L pressed the button on his phone to send Wedy the signal. The house was empty, of Higuchi and Rem, and it was time for them to act.
“Thank you for coming. I know we did not part on the best of terms.” L stood in the woods behind Higuchi’s extravagant house, his head covered by a full helmet and face visor—even though the notebook should be unguarded, he would not take any chances. In front of him stood three men, all wearing police uniforms and matching helmets: Yagami, Mogi, and Aizawa.
The empty space where Matsuda should have been briefly caught his attention, but L dismissed the thought. This was no time to get sentimental. “I especially appreciate your bringing backup,” he added, gesturing to the dozens of helmeted officers in the trees surrounding them, ready to barricade the house. No one would get in or out without his permission. Leading them was Ide, a former member of the task force who had left before they met L.
“We’ve been busy since we parted ways,” Yagami answered. “Despite the NPA’s orders, there were many within the police force who did not give up on catching Kira. All we had to do was put the call out and they came.”
L nodded, not seeing the point in saying more. They were never going to be on good terms again, but they could work together for this. It seemed only right that the men who had been with him in the beginning should be there to see it end.
Not long after, a movement at the house attracted his attention: the back door swung inwards, opening a few inches. Wedy’s cue. It had taken longer than he’d hoped—Higuchi should be nearly at Yotsuba headquarters by now. L turned to approach the house, gesturing silently for the three men to follow him.
Other than the delay, the infiltration went as well as L could have hoped. Wedy had deactivated the alarm system and the house was completely empty—Higuchi was too concerned about his privacy to hire human guards. She had already broken through the additional security around the basement, and the five of them entered the room easily, L leading the way.
The basement room was large and eerie, a panel of dead computer monitors facing them as they stepped through the doors. L took a second to survey the room, looking for any details that might jump out at him, before turning back to the others.
“On the footage we recorded, Higuchi placed Kira’s weapon in a hidden compartment under the computer desk. There may be traps protecting it.” The police had attempted to extract from him the truth of what the weapon was, but he had refused, knowing that they wouldn’t believe him without seeing it for their own eyes. Also, the secret served as one more lure to make sure they would come—they were all too curious to stay away.
“My infiltration expert,” and with this, he motioned to Wedy, faceless and anonymous beyond her own helmet, “will attempt to open the compartment without setting off any traps or alarms. As she does, the rest of you will search the room for anything else that may be of importance.”
As the group spread out to their respective tasks, L discreetly checked his phone. A coded text from Watari told him that Misa’s interview had begun. He had hoped to prevent her and Higuchi from coming into contact at all, but there was no helping it. The entire conversation was being transmitted via a microphone hidden on Misa’s person to Watari—if anything went wrong, L’s people would move in and take Higuchi into custody immediately.
He could only hope that wouldn’t be necessary.
It only took a few minutes of Wedy fiddling with the desk while L oversaw the search efforts before she announced, “I’ve got it.” L immediately went to look, and predictably, the officers followed him, their curiosity making them forget all about the task he’d given them.
In Wedy’s gloved hands was the notebook he had seen on the recording: a plain bound notebook with a black cover on which the words “DEATH NOTE” were written in a strange font. Why English? L wondered to himself, even as he reached out to take it from Wedy’s hands.
Carefully, with only two gloved fingers, L grasped the notebook and held it in the air in front of himself. Part of him expected something dramatic to happen, but the actual event was an anticlimax. It felt like nothing but ordinary paper. Turning a page, he found himself looking at a bulleted list in the same crooked writing.
“It’s just a notebook,” Aizawa said, disappointment audible in his voice. “I thought you said Kira’s murder weapon was here.”
Clearing his throat, L began to read aloud to the others, speaking slowly to translate between English and Japanese in his head, pausing every now and then as he processed the information.
“The human whose name is written in this note shall die.
“This note will not take effect unless the writer has the subject's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.
“If the cause of death is written within 40 seconds of writing the subject's name, it will happen.
“If the cause of death is not specified, the subject will simply die of a heart attack.
“After writing the cause of death, the details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds (400 seconds).”
After he finished speaking, there was a long silence.
“Wh-what is this nonsense?” Aizawa asked, but his voice was shaking. Meanwhile, L began paging through the book.
“There are hundreds of names written here,” he said. “I recognize some of these as belonging to Kira’s victims. We will take this notebook back to headquarters and check the rest of the names.” He didn’t doubt that they would match other victims as well.
A notebook that could kill… Well, he had been preparing himself for something like this. And the rules aligned with what he already knew of Kira’s powers.
But how had this notebook even found its way into Light Yagami’s hands? Had he been the first, or had there been other Kiras who had escaped notice? How had Light first felt, when he had been the one reading this list of rules?
L could almost see it.
“May I take a look?” Yagami asked, reaching out his hand. L hesitated, but he had no reason to deny his request. After all, they were working together, at least for this one mission. Of course, Yagami was not wearing gloves, but he could serve as the test subject, confirming for L that it was safe to touch.
L handed the notebook over, and Yagami flipped through it silently, letting out a noise of surprise. “I found two more rules on the back cover.” Then, in halting words, his translation skills less fluid than L’s, he read, “If the person using the Death Note does not write a name in it for 13 days, consecutively, he or she will die. If the Death Note is burned or destroyed, all who have touched it will die.” There was a pause as this information sank in. “Ryuuzaki, if this is real, this proves Light’s innocence!”
How convenient for you, Light, L thought. I wonder how you set this one up. Out loud, he only said, “Yes, it would seem so.”
“Chief, don’t tell me you actually believe this nonsense?” Aizawa asked, sounding equal parts irritated and afraid. But at that moment, several things happened, one after the other.
The first was L’s phone starting to ring, playing the tone which signified a call from Watari. If something odd but non-urgent had happened at Yotsuba, he would have simply texted. If he was calling… L answered the phone immediately.
“Higuchi collapsed during Misa’s interview,” Watari’s voice informed him, efficient and controlled. “No pulse. Suspected heart attack. Our people are on the scene.”
The second thing that happened was that Yagami began to scream.
Chaos erupted in the enclosed basement. Shouting something about a monster, Yagami drew his gun and opened fire, shots ringing out and shattering the row of computer monitors. A second later, L kicked his hand, sending the gun flying before Yagami could accidentally shoot one of them. It skittered harmlessly across the floor as the police chief collapsed.
Aizawa and Mogi dropped to kneel on the ground beside him. “Are you alright, Chief?” Mogi asked.
“Mogi, can’t you see it?” Yagami stammered, pointing in the direction in which he had fired.
“What are you talking about?” Mogi asked. At the same time, he reached down to collect the notebook that Yagami had dropped. The second his hand made contact with it, he, too, began to scream. And what was more, he was staring in the exact same direction as Yagami.
The shinigami. Rem. It’s here.
“Give me that,” L snapped, peeling off his gloves, stepping forward, and impatiently ripping the notebook from Mogi’s hands.
Though he had been mentally preparing himself for this moment, he couldn’t hold back his sharp intake of breath at the sight before him: a gray, skeletal figure standing about eight feet tall, with spikes of bone jutting from its shoulders and joints. The creature’s hair was thick and nearly chin-length, transitioning from bone gray at the roots to purple at the tips, and its lips were purple as well, with matching lines tracing along its cheekbones.
It was only his mental preparation, and his desire to save face in front of the other men, that kept him standing. “A shinigami…” he muttered. “So they really do exist. Hello, Shinigami Rem.”
“...Hello,” the shinigami rasped. Yagami and Mogi boggled at it.
Aizawa, meanwhile, was working himself up into a frenzy. “What the absolute fuck is going on?!” he demanded. Not taking his eyes off the shinigami, L kept a firm grip on the notebook and swatted his exposed hand with it. Aizawa made a strangled noise and fell silent.
Wedy, thankfully, was a professional, and only looked at the four of them seemingly impassively from behind her helmet, waiting for orders.
“Wedy, if you would like to see the shinigami, step forward and touch the notebook,” L said. “Do not attempt to remove it from my hands.” The burglar followed his instructions, smoothly stepping forward to touch it before moving back into the shadows.
L knew that it was necessary to question the shinigami, but he had so many questions, he did not know where to start. It could not be a coincidence that Rem had appeared mere seconds after Higuchi died. He would phrase his questions carefully, to probe how much the shinigami knew before he revealed any information.
“What caused you to appear here?” L asked.
Rem seemed to take a long moment before responding. When it did, however, it did not address him; instead, its eyes fixed on someone behind him.
“Soichiro Yagami,” Rem said. “You now possess the power of the death note.”
Notes:
Last chapter had L nonconsensually drugging Misa. This chapter features a brief scene of him having sex with her while she's unconscious, which she had technically given consent to in previous conversations. Once Misa wakes up and realizes what happens, her only complaint is that he should have just asked if he could drug her.
Chapter 24: you're singing in your electric chair
Notes:
If you read this chapter in the first 13 hours after it was published, a few paragraphs have been added to the ride back to headquarters.
I'll be laughing in your head until I want to stop
And if you think it's your turn to explain yourself
It's notThe tables have turned
You're still there
Now you're singing in your electric chair
You'll burn if you're made of paper
You're gonna see- July Talk, "Paper Girl" (a perfect song for L and Misa in this fic)
Chapter Text
Yagami was reduced to incoherent stammering—the least composed L had ever seen him. It took quite a while for him to finally get out the word, “What?!”
“The previous owner of this note is dead.” Around L, the police let out noises of surprise. “At the moment of his death, you held the notebook. Thus, possession is passed to you.”
“I—I don’t want it!” Yagami exclaimed.
Rem looked at him impassively. “Would you like to forfeit the notebook?”
“Ye—” Yagami began, but L cut him off.
“No.” He placed a hand on Yagami’s arm. “If you forfeit the notebook, you’ll lose your memories of the shinigami. Right?”
This last question was directed at Rem, who didn’t respond.
“Besides,” he continued, “we need to question the shinigami. It is tied to the notebook somehow.” That was clear enough—Rem had been with Higuchi before, but following his death, had near instantaneously returned to the basement. The notebook was clearly a sort of anchor. “If you forfeit the note, it may leave.”
Of course, it might be possible for Yagami to transfer ownership to L, but that was not an acceptable option. If Light and Misa had lost their memories by giving up ownership, then L must avoid taking ownership of the note at all costs. He could not afford to put himself into the position where he might be forced to lose his memory of the largest breakthrough of the Kira investigation.
In addition, he did not know how ownership of the death note affected a person, whether it damaged or compelled them in some way. At least for the moment, it seemed safest to leave it with Yagami, who was levelheaded—most of the time, anyway—and could be subdued if necessary.
Yagami didn’t look convinced, so L added, “If the rules in the back of the notebook are true, you have thirteen days before you must write a name—if, indeed, the note’s owner is considered a ‘user’ even if they have not yet written any names, which isn’t certain. I will make sure it is out of your possession before that point.”
“Fine,” Yagami finally said, looking grave. Inwardly, L was a little impressed by how quickly he’d gotten past the It’s a notebook that kills people?! reaction. After all, he’d had much less time than L to process the idea.
Turning back to the shinigami, L asked, “Did you kill Higuchi?”
“I did not kill Higuchi, nor do I know why he died.” L noted distantly that Rem used the pronoun ‘watashi,’ like he did. Its—their?—Japanese seemed perfectly fluent, despite the note being written in English. Were shinigami automatically fluent in all human languages?
Not that that was important at the moment. The really important question was, could shinigami lie? He had to consider the possibility that they could. Flipping through the notebook, he found the page with a missing corner and held it up. “The corner has been ripped from this page. Do you know why that is?”
Rem stared at the page for a long moment. “No.”
Lie.
“Would a person die if someone were to write a name on that missing piece?”
“I’ve never used it like that, so I wouldn’t know.”
Rem was lying to him. That meant that anything they might tell him was likely useless. He would not ask if the extra rules in the back were real—he was almost certain they were not, but if Rem claimed they were, the police would only become more convinced.
Of course, it was possible that Rem would answer questions honestly if asked by Yagami, the owner of the notebook. But this was not the time or place to begin experimenting. There were more important matters to deal with. For instance, the presence of the police at Higuchi’s house was entirely unauthorized and thus off-the-record. Once the higher-ups in the NPA got word of Higuchi’s death, they might send officers to his home as well—it was best the police, at least, clear out.
“Wedy, search the rest of this basement for anything that might be useful,” L told her. “I will have Watari send a team to assist you. When you are finished, you will search the houses of the other Yotsuba members.” It was at least slightly possible, after all, that one of them had the second notebook.
Turning back to the shinigami, he wondered how best to make the request. “I will be taking this notebook,” he said, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger, “back to my Kira investigation headquarters. Will you come with me so that we can talk more?”
Rem’s eyes flickered to Yagami, just for a second, and L fought back the urge to smile—one more piece of information. The shinigami had to follow the owner of the notebook, which must have been the reason why Rem had remained with Higuchi until his death.
It was unsettling to think that for the beginning of Light and Misa’s imprisonment, and all the time he had spent around Light before he’d turned himself in, there had been one or more shinigami hovering nearby, invisible to all but the Kiras.
“Yagami can come with us,” he said, before belatedly turning to Yagami and asking, “Do you mind? Your presence may make it easier to get answers from the shinigami.”
Yagami hesitated, but after a moment, he nodded.
“What about the rest of us?” Aizawa asked.
L would prefer not to have to deal with all of them. Luckily, he had a reason not to allow them to join. “I need you to deal with the rest of the police force,” he said. “You may tell the men who came with you today, as well as your superiors, that Kyosuke Higuchi was Kira, that he died of a heart attack, and that the Kira investigation is looking into the circumstances of his death. Please do not reveal the existence of the shinigami, or the nature of the murder weapon. I will repay your help and inform you when we are able to get answers.”
The men looked to Yagami, who nodded. “If anyone asks, I am dealing with a family emergency.” Then, to L, “Someone should inform the police of Higuchi’s death.”
“My people are handling that.” Actually… L took his phone out of his pocket, where he’d shoved it after unceremoniously hanging up on Watari, and dialed his number again. “You may hand the body over to the police when they arrive,” he said the moment the old man picked up. L could get the report from their coroners later. “I assume the other six men have been taken into our custody?”
That had been the plan if anything went wrong—for L’s hired mercenaries to simply arrest the entire group and bring them back to headquarters.
“Yes,” Watari confirmed. “The Yotsuba group, Aiber, and Miss Amane are on their way to headquarters now. Would you like Miss Amane to be imprisoned and guarded as well?”
That was a good question. On the one hand, having her locked away while he dealt with the investigation would be simpler. On the other hand, it would also make her angry, and he needed to find out if she’d had anything to do with Higuchi’s death. Imprisoning her would make her less likely to cooperate when he questioned her, and would increase the odds that she would act out in some way.
Based on the information he had, he was near certain that those who forfeited their memories of being Kira could no longer see shinigami—they would need to touch a death note, just as any person who’d never been Kira would, in order to see them. So he could bring Rem into Misa’s presence unnoticed, if he wished to. However, was it smart to allow Rem to see Misa?
Rem had, of course, seen Misa during her interview. However, they might react differently to seeing Misa in L’s custody, particularly if they had been there for her initial imprisonment—he still did not know which Kira this shinigami had been associated with.
L glanced at Rem, who was watching him with what seemed like a little too much interest, and realized it was quite likely that they had overheard Watari’s words. In addition, unless he hung up and texted, they would hear his answer.
If Rem’s goals were aligned with the original Kiras’, and the shinigami had not killed him already, then they would not want to do anything to give away that Misa and Light had been Kira. Thus, it seemed safe to allow Rem to lay eyes on Misa in his presence—in addition, he could watch her and the shinigami closely for reactions to each other, as this might tell him more.
“No. Have her and Aiber remain in the main investigation room. Four of my men should stay with them, but say it is for their protection. We will question them about what they witnessed of Higuchi’s death when we arrive, before speaking to the prisoners.
“Of course, make sure that everyone who was at the scene of Higuchi’s death is thoroughly searched—if any of them has any sort of notebook or paper on their person, it must be taken away and held for my inspection.” Misa would be unhappy about that, but there was no helping it.
With that settled, they—L, Yagami, Aizawa, Mogi, and Rem—made their way out of the building. In the woods outside, they split into two groups, Aizawa and Mogi rejoining their backup, instructing them to allow L and Yagami out, while the rest went on.
Watari waited in the street outside with a large van—large enough for Rem to fit inside, thankfully. As L climbed into the back with Yagami and Rem, he pulled his helmet off, ignoring the other man’s reaction. There was no possibility that Rem did not already know his name and face. If the shinigami wanted him dead, he already would be. Yagami stubbornly kept his on, and L thoughtfully refrained from pointing out that he’d spent months living with a shinigami in his own house.
After a moment, L decided he did not see the danger in Rem knowing that he had the Yotsuba men in custody, even if they had not already gathered that information from his phone call. If Rem had meant to kill the men—for instance, to stop them from talking—they would have done so while killing Higuchi.
Assuming, of course, that they had killed Higuchi.
He addressed Yagami, though his eyes were on Rem, watching for any reaction to his words. “Higuchi’s six accomplices, along with Misa Amane and an associate of mine, were at Yotsuba when Higuchi died. They have been taken back to the Kira investigation headquarters. If you wish to help, you can join me in questioning them.”
Rem stared back at L, but their alien face gave little away.
Taking out the small portable safe from under the seat, he placed the notebook inside and sealed it. No one else would be allowed to touch it without his permission, to limit the people who came into contact with the shinigami as much as possible.
Above all, he knew that he could not allow Misa or Light to see Rem.
During the ride back to headquarters, L attempted to use Yagami to get clear answers out of Rem. However, even when questioned by the note’s owner, the shinigami would not admit to any knowledge of what had happened to Higuchi, the scrap of paper from the notebook, the meaning of ‘the eyes,’ whether shinigami enjoyed eating apples, the existence of a second notebook, or anything else. He even tried having Yagami outright command Rem to tell them everything, but this had no effect at all.
This was troubling. Not simply because it meant that L could not control Rem, but also because it meant that the shinigami had their own desires and motivations, ones which were inscrutable to him. They had followed Higuchi’s instructions to hide the death note, and he wasn’t sure why. Why obey Higuchi but not Yagami? What was Rem’s goal?
If passing the death note to Higuchi had been Light’s plan, then perhaps Light, or Misa, had told Rem to follow Higuchi’s orders. But why would Rem obey them? And for that matter, if it was not because they had owned the death note, this meant that whatever had motivated Rem to follow Light or Misa’s orders might still be in effect. In order words, if either of them got the opportunity to speak to Rem, to give them instructions, there was no telling what might happen.
Each person held a different influence over the situation. L had the physical possession of the death note—he could use it, or destroy it, at his leisure. Yagami was the owner of the death note, though that didn’t seem to count for much other than the ability to relinquish that ownership and the fact that Rem had to be near him, unless L was missing something. The key to controlling Rem, on the other hand, might lie not in the shinigami rules, but in Rem’s history and relationship with the original Kiras.
In any case, since getting answers out of Rem didn’t seem possible at the moment, L ended up taking the notebook from the safe and looking through all of the names written as they drove. They seemed to account for all of the known victims since June, and some unknown ones as well, meaning that, at least, it was likely that the second notebook was not in the possession of any of the remaining Yotsuba men.
To his disappointment, the names seemed to begin with the ones in June, and all were in the same handwriting. Either this notebook had not been used before Higuchi, or pages had been torn out. That did not appear to be the case, but with it being supernatural, there was the possibility that the pages simply replenished themselves.
Yagami, of course, asked if he could see Light when they returned, as neither L nor Light had ever informed him that his son had returned to solitary confinement. After thinking for a second, L told him that, after helping him determine that Higuchi was the Yotsuba Kira, Light had voluntarily agreed to return himself to confinement while L retrieved the notebook, so that there could not be any question that he had influenced the outcome of the investigation when and if his innocence was proven.
L would need to inform Light of this before he next spoke to Yagami—assuming that Light did speak to Yagami before L proved his guilt—but he had no doubt that Light would agree, given the video footage L had in his possession.
Unsurprisingly, Yagami was not happy with this, particularly as it had already been established that Misa was not in confinement. However, he quickly realized that, if Light had agreed, he had no power to force L to free him. The promise that he could see Light in his rooms over the cameras to verify that he was safe and healthy finally served to convince him not to make a fuss over the situation.
Of course, it helped that he was under the impression that, as soon as the chaos died down, L would be forced to accept that the rules in the back of the notebook proved Light’s innocence and set him free. He was already making comments about how pleased his wife and daughter would be when he brought Light home.
L would hold off on informing him that he intended to allow no such thing until he’d set into motion a plan to prove the rules false.
In addition, L texted Watari as they drove, trusting the man’s ability to respond without getting into an accident, at least with a simple “Y” or “N.” For instance, the answer to, “Have the prisoners, Misa, and Aiber been dealt with as I asked?” was “Y.” The answer to, “Was any paper found on their person?” was “N.”
L considered instructing Watari to remand the safe to the observation room when they returned, but decided to keep it on his person for the moment. Even if someone managed to take it away from him without being stopped by his mercenaries, they would not be able to open the safe to use it, and he might wish to test out more theories.
Of course, at some point, Watari would need to touch the notebook in order to watch Rem over the cameras—if such a thing were possible—but that could wait until Yagami had retired for the evening, taking Rem with him to his guest room. L did not wish to bring Rem’s attention to Watari’s existence any more than it might already be.
So Watari waited in the van once they arrived—he would enter the headquarters through a side door once the coast was clear. L, Yagami, and Rem, meanwhile, walked straight through the main doors into the hall of the headquarters, where Misa and Aiber awaited them.
L kept his eyes on Rem as they entered—unlike Misa, he was not certain he would be able to view the shinigami’s reaction in the video recordings later—and was satisfied to see Rem’s eyes widen slightly at the sight of Misa. The shinigami knows her.
The sound of a sharp intake of breath from Misa’s direction made him whip his head around, but she was staring at L himself, not the shinigami, and a second later, she had run forward and thrown her arms around his neck, bursting into tears.
Somehow, he had not expected this.
“Ryuuzaki’s okay!” she cried. “Misa was so worried!”
He had expected anger, not fear, but he could work with this. Sliding his arms around Misa and ignoring Yagami’s glare, he held her close, hands rubbing soothingly over her back. When he pulled away, she was looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.
“It was horrible! He just… collapsed! Right in front of us. And he made this noise.”
Was she acting? He usually could tell, but at the moment, he could not. Her tears seemed genuine, for all his suspicion that she might have had something to do with the death—or, more accurately, the murder.
“Can you tell Yagami and I what happened?” he asked, leading her gently over to the couch to take a seat.
Misa tried, but she was distraught enough that most of the useful information came from Aiber, who described Higuchi’s death with a dispassionate, almost amused, tone. There wasn’t much to tell—the interview had proceeded seemingly as normal until he’d died, and there seemed to be nothing remarkable about his death save for the suddenness of it.
Meanwhile, Misa mostly cried and clung on to L for support, and he stroked her hair gently, ignoring Yagami’s looks of disapproval and Rem’s stare. When they asked her questions, her answers were almost incoherent, and she wouldn’t look them in the eyes. He genuinely could not tell if she was faking—it was clear that she was upset over something, at least. As he did not think she had witnessed anyone’s death in person since her parents, it would not be out of the question for her to react so strongly to Higuchi’s, despite not having known him.
Finally, deciding that they were unlikely to get anything useful out of her, L said softly, “Thank you, Misa, you’ve been very helpful. Would you like to go upstairs and lay down? Yagami and I need to interrogate our prisoners, but I can join you when I’m finished.” Not only would she appreciate the comfort, he thought, but she might be more open without Yagami present.
He worried she might object to him leaving her alone for even that long, but Misa only nodded meekly, still staring down at the ground with her hair hanging in her face. “Yes, please,” she said. “May I… go to Ryuuzaki’s room?”
Yagami made a noise in his throat, which L did not react to. “Of course.”
Once Misa had disappeared upstairs, Aiber smirked. “Aren’t you going to thank me, too?”
“Go to your old floor,” L said, “and remain there.”
Aiber didn’t seem bothered by L’s clear distaste for him; he only nodded and left the room. L would have Watari lock his floor. Not that he thought Aiber would be stupid enough to go near Misa again, but it was best to be certain.
“Who was that man?” Yagami asked, looking as though he liked Aiber even less than L did.
“An associate of mine,” L said, which, of course, gave him absolutely no information that he did not already have. Before Yagami could point this out, he added, “Now we will begin our interrogation of the prisoners.”
L decided to begin with Namikawa. Mostly because he seemed like the most intelligent of the accomplices, and L wasn’t in the mood to deal with stupid people at the moment. His thoughts were moving too quickly; he was too keyed up.
Even playing the role of Misa’s doting boyfriend had worn on his nerves, when all he’d wanted to do was demand answers from her. But, of course, being kind to her would make her more likely to open up to him. Once they were alone, with no Yagami or Rem watching, he could put more pressure on her to answer his questions.
Rem, of course, followed L and Yagami to the cells. He was uneasy about having the shinigami perceive his interactions with Namikawa and the others, but he had already promised Yagami could join him, and he would rather keep Rem close, where he could keep an eye on them.
Although L had taken his helmet off in front of Rem, he pulled on a ski mask like Watari’s before entering Namikawa’s cell. There was no sense in allowing more people to learn what L looked like. Even showing himself to them physically, masked or not, was a risk, but it allowed him to observe their reactions more closely as well—besides, the prisoners were all restrained.
For his part, Yagami kept his helmet on at all times, giving him a more menacing aura than he usually possessed. L wondered what he would do when it came time to sleep. How long was the tether between the shinigami and the notebook owner? Higuchi had left the basement while Rem was still there, so they didn’t have to stay in the same room.
There were so many tests L needed to run; having to focus on just one at a time left him antsy and irritated, worried that, by postponing the others, he was missing some key piece of information that would lead to disaster.
L and Yagami entered Namikawa’s cell together, Rem trailing behind. The businessman was sitting behind an interrogation table, wrists cuffed together, usually neat hair slightly disheveled. He looked tired, but if he was worried, it did not show on his face. L watched him carefully for any reaction to Rem’s presence, but there was none at all—most likely, he could not see the shinigami.
“Hello,” L said. “Do you know why you are here?”
Namikawa looked steadily at him. “I want to call a lawyer.”
L was glad he’d taken the time to inform Yagami as to what was to happen, and to extract his very reluctant agreement to keep his mouth shut. Only the belief that they were working to clear his son’s name for good, L thought, had done it.
“I am not associated with the police,” L said, climbing up onto the chair across the table, crouching on the balls of his feet while Yagami stood and Rem floated behind him. “I am L. No one but myself and my associates know that you are in my custody. Now—do you know why you are here?”
After a moment of silence, Namikawa said, “No idea.” He seemed to be trying to sound unconcerned, but didn’t quite pull it off.
L had prepared for this, however. “This might help remind you,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket.
With one press of a button, Namikawa’s own voice rang out. “Then we request Zenzai’s death for this weekend, and Elf for three weeks after, how is that? But spreading them out alone doesn’t solve the problem…”
It was interesting, watching the progression Namikawa’s face went through as he realized he’d been recorded. “We have all of your meetings since June recorded as videos,” he lied. “More than enough evidence to prove that you willingly cooperated with Kira, even before your colleague’s death.”
The bluff worked; Namikawa caved. “What do you want?”
“For you to tell us everything you know.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t turn out to be much at all. Namikawa could not tell L anything he wasn’t already aware of—in fact, he didn’t even seem to know for sure that Higuchi had been Kira, speculating that he, like Hatori, might have fallen victim to him. Of course, he might have been lying. That was the difficulty with intelligent people: they were less irritating to talk to, but generally more difficult to read.
After Namikawa, they moved on to the other men, but none of them knew any more than he had—or if they did, they were hiding it just as well. And there were limits to the methods L could employ, or tell his people to employ, with Yagami watching him.
So, when it was late enough, L made a show of giving up. “We’re not getting anywhere useful,” he said. “Yagami, I have prepared rooms for you on the eighth floor. Will you stay here for the night? We can continue our work in the morning.”
Yagami seemed to have expected this, because he only nodded, turning towards the elevators without another word—clearly his willingness to work with L did not extend as far as pleasantries.
But as he walked away, Rem remained.
This was unexpected. L didn’t say anything—it wouldn’t do to let the shinigami know that he wanted them to leave—but he watched carefully, and even as the elevator carried Yagami up and away, Rem showed no signs of following.
Hm. So whatever sort of leash held the shinigami to the notebook’s owner, it clearly had some range to it. Assuming that it was even true that Rem must stay near the owner in the first place—they had never actually said so. L had only inferred as much.
Unfortunately, this threw a wrench into L’s plans. He’d had several tasks he’d wished to take care of once Yagami and Rem had left, and most of them were not possible if Rem remained. Bringing the notebook to Watari so that he could touch it, for example. Checking that Rem was visible on the cameras—he wasn’t sure how the shinigami would react to being surveilled. Watching the video from earlier to see if Misa had looked at Rem when they’d entered the room. Going up to his rooms and trying to get answers out of her.
Only a few tasks remained possible. He would carry them out first, using the time to determine what he would do if the shinigami continued tailing him.
First, he pulled out his phone, calling Watari again. “Any updates from Wedy?”
“Nothing of further note was found in Higuchi’s home, or that of the other Yotsuba members. In addition, the preliminary autopsy report on Higuchi suggests a simple heart attack.”
Damn. Well, there was still something left to try. Once more, he returned to Namikawa’s cell—this time with no Yagami, no one to object to his methods.
Namikawa had been hunched over, his head against the desk, long black hair covering his face, but when the door opened, he looked up. “I’ve already told you everything.” He sounded exhausted.
“That’s not why I’m here,” L replied. “I am here to offer you a deal.” He took a seat across the table, Rem hovering behind him, though to Namikawa, he knew it looked as if they were entirely alone.
Namikawa only raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak. A classic move, putting the other person in the submissive position for negotiations. L paid him no mind—his position was strong enough already.
“As you know, I have video recordings of your group’s meetings. All the discussions you had, the people you chose to kill. Proof that you were collaborating with Kira.”
“I was coerced into it,” Namikawa insisted. “He killed Hatori when he tried to leave—and even before that, I suspected something like that could happen if I went against him. I won’t be convicted.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” L said. “But wouldn’t it be better not to go to trial at all? If you do as I request, you will have to stay in my custody for a while longer, but at the end of it, you will be free to go. There will be no charges brought against you.”
“If you have such strong evidence, you wouldn’t need to offer me a deal,” Namikawa told him. “Unless you need me for something.”
“I do,” L admitted, “but you are replaceable. I am extending the offer to you first because I believe you are the most sensible of the six. If you refuse, I will go to the next. If all of you refuse, I will find someone else.”
“A prisoner’s dilemma,” Namikawa said. “And I suppose it will go badly for me if someone else takes the deal?”
“It might,” L replied. “Your odds of dying would be one in five. Worse odds than Russian roulette.”
“I’m not someone who likes to play the odds. What’s your deal, then?”
“I have Kira’s weapon,” L said, and Namikawa’s mouth opened slightly. “I need to test it, but I will not use it myself. You will do so for me. You may choose any one of your five living co-conspirators. You will use Kira’s weapon to kill him in the manner I dictate to you.”
Namikawa raised his eyebrows. “What are you not telling me?” he asked. “Why not use it yourself? Forgive me, but you don’t strike me as someone who is hesitant to get his hands dirty.”
After taking a moment to consider, L decided to just tell him. “There was a rule found along with Kira’s weapon which claimed that anyone who uses it to kill must continue to do so at least once every thirteen days, lest they die.” Before Namikawa could protest, he continued, “I am all but certain that this rule is a fake, one added by the original Kira to attempt to provide themselves an alibi. I need to test it in order to prove their guilt.
“Should you take my deal, you will remain in my custody for thirteen days. On the fourteenth—assuming you still live—you will be free to go. Your four living colleagues will be turned over to Interpol, to do with as they please.”
L could use a death row inmate—they would jump at the chance of survival, even if it wasn’t certain—but that would take time and effort, not to mention permission from various governments. It was better to do things under the table, and how better than with Kira’s accomplices? They were entirely under L’s power, and they had been willing enough to sentence others to the same fate. He felt no particular guilt about turning the tables.
Namikawa considered him for a long moment. “You’re all but certain the rule is fake,” he said slowly. “But not certain enough to risk your own life. Otherwise, you wouldn’t need me.”
That was the problem with starting with the smartest one. “Yes,” L admitted, “there is a chance that, if you take my deal, you will die… but I would expect the odds are better than one in five.”
After a moment of consideration, Namikawa began to laugh. “You’re cold,” he said. “Just as I expected of the great L.”
There was a great deal more talking, negotiating, but finally, the details of their agreement were confirmed. They would do it immediately—no sense in waiting and giving Yagami time to interfere. L turned, reaching for the messenger bag in which he kept the safe containing the notebook, when, for no apparent reason, his heart leapt into his throat. He spun abruptly in his chair without even knowing why, facing the cell behind him.
It took his brain a moment to catch up to his instincts, to realize what he had seen: nothing.
There was nothing—no one—in the cell with him and Namikawa. At some point while they had been negotiating, L focused entirely on the plans for this crucial test, the shinigami had vanished.
“Change of plans,” he said to Namikawa, then jumped down from the chair and exited the room without another word, bag in hand, already dialing Watari on the way out. Closing the door behind him, he leaned his back against it. He was cursing himself for not finding a chance to allow Watari to touch the death note sooner—he wouldn’t be able to track Rem on the monitors, not without getting to a computer himself.
“Watari,” he said sharply. “The shinigami left at some point within the past thirty minutes. Do you see anything unusual on the cameras? Any strange actions by our prisoners or allies? Objects moving by themselves?” He paused, realizing he needed to narrow the options down, to start with the most worrying possibilities. “Scratch that. First, where are Light and Misa? What are they doing?”
“Light is in his room still,” Watari informed him. “He went to bed around forty minutes ago and appears to be asleep. Misa is in your bedroom, but awake, sitting on the bed. I can’t see her face—she is looking down, and her hair is blocking the view of the cameras.”
That was relieving—wasn’t it? Misa and Light were right where they were supposed to be, and acting more or less normally. Neither should even know that shinigami existed, much less that one was in the building at that moment. There should be anything to worry about.
So why was he still afraid?
Misa shouldn’t know there were cameras in his bedroom, much less where they were. But her face being fully hidden from Watari seemed too convenient to be a coincidence, given the amount of surveillance.
Even if she did know about the cameras, what would be the point of obscuring her face? What could she be hiding—her lips, maybe? If she mouthed words, or spoke quietly enough, she could speak without being overheard by Watari. But to whom? Even if Rem was with her, for some reason, how would Misa know?
A notebook floating in the air, and an invisible hand tearing off the corner of one of the pages—immediately after Higuchi had said, in Rem’s presence, that he was going to find a way to meet Misa Amane, to marry and then kill her.
If a torn-out scrap of paper from a death note contained the same properties as the full notebook, then all Rem would have needed to do was brush Misa with the scrap while they were both at Yotsuba, particularly as she did not need to remain in the same room as the notebook owner.
Misa’s sharp intake of breath as they’d entered the headquarters, one he’d taken for relief at the sight of him—only, it hadn’t been. Not relief, but something else entirely.
The phone fell from L’s hand, clattering to the floor.
Misa has been able to see the shinigami this entire time. Rem heard my plan to disprove Misa’s alibi. And now they’re alone together.
Chapter 25: the queen on the chessboard and the red upon the rose
Notes:
Posting a few days early, since Tuesday's a holiday (happy early birthday, Misa!). Next chapter will probably be early too, haven't decided what day yet.
You like me the most
You follow me the most
The queen on the chessboard
And the red upon the rose
And you like me the most
You follow me the most
I'm the queen on every chessboard
I'm the setting that you export
And you can't say noAnd everything is fine
Got my shinigami eyes on
Are you ready to die?
Got my shinigami eyes on you- Grimes, "Shinigami Eyes"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
L had entered his quarters quietly, so that he was able to approach the bedroom door without his presence being registered. It was just as he had feared: he could hear voices through the door, Misa’s higher-pitched voice and the shinigami’s low, raspy one. Misa sounded distressed, and after concentrating, he could make out some of the words. “… won’t! He promised!” and “You can’t!” Rem was quieter, and he could distinguish nothing from them but the low rumble of speech.
Though L considered waiting to overhear more, particularly as Misa’s volume seemed to be rising as she grew emotional, his priority was stopping the conversation before they could make some sort of plan or agreement, and so he rapped his knuckles against the wood. They immediately fell silent, and after a pause, Misa called, “Y-yes?”
Opening the door, L found her sprawled on his bed, trying to look casual. Rem was nowhere to be found, which meant she was either capable of making herself invisible or passing through solid objects, and he made a mental note to find out which.
“I heard you talking to the shinigami.”
Misa laughed nervously. “The, the what? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Misa was just rehearsing her scenes.”
L didn’t have time for her attempts at acting. “Tell me what you and Rem talked about,” he told her. “If Misa wants me to trust her, she must be honest.”
For a moment, he thought Misa was going to fess up, but then her face shuttered and she asked, “Who’s Rem? Ryuuzaki is acting crazy.”
L sighed. For the moment, his priority was to limit further damage: Misa could not be allowed to have any more contact with the shinigami. He would give her some time to reconsider her choice to lie to him, then ask her again. While he knew she would be upset, this was more important than keeping her happy with him.
“I’m very sorry, Misa,” he said, and her eyes widened.
“What is Ryuuzaki doing?”
“It is necessary to gag and restrain Misa, to prevent this from happening again,” he told her. “I will be gentle, but it is of the utmost importance to control who speaks with the shinigami.”
“No,” Misa said, immediately beginning to cry. “No, please, not again.”
Burying the twinge of guilt he felt, L stepped forward, and Misa shrank into the bed. Suddenly, she tried to move, aiming to dart past him for the door, but he caught her wrists in his hands and pinned her down. Luckily, he carried cable ties in his pockets, just in case of a situation like this. He had ever since, well, Light.
“No!” Misa cried, twisting and fighting against his grip. “Ryuuzaki, you can’t, don’t do this!”
L transferred his grip so that both wrists were held in one hand, reaching into his pocket with the other, when strong hands gripped him from behind. He shouted in shock, his grip on Misa’s wrists slackening, and in an instant, he was yanked off of her and up into the air.
“Rem, no!” Misa shouted, crying more. “I told you not to touch him!”
At first, L struggled in the shinigami’s grip, but he soon discovered it to be futile. Finally, he relaxed, his body going slack, dangling in the air in front of his bed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to look over his shoulder at the shinigami that was holding him up in the air like a disobedient cat.
“Preventing you from making a very foolish mistake,” Rem informed him calmly. “If you harm Misa, or prevent her from speaking, there will be no one left to convince me not to kill you.”
“So you were the second Kira.”
Misa sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded anxiously on her lap, while L crouched next to her. Rem floated in front of them, staring down at the two humans. The shinigami did not seem to feel the urge to rest, he had noticed.
“Yes. And she—Rem—was my shinigami.”
L cast a glance at Rem’s impassive face. The shinigami was female? More importantly, however, based on her actions, he suspected that she was still Misa’s shinigami in every way that mattered. He had never seen the shinigami express any emotion or motivation until he had attempted to restrain Misa against her will.
“Tell me everything.”
“Misa, you don’t have to—”
“It’s alright, Rem,” Misa said. “I… I don’t remember. Misa’s memories are still gone. But Rem says… Rem says that Misa and Light were Kira.”
It was hard to tell, but L thought that Rem seemed to disapprove of Misa sharing this information so easily. “When did she tell you this?” he prompted. Then, seeing her hesitation, he added, “Don’t worry, Misa—you won’t be in trouble.”
“This human will not harm you,” Rem said, her voice stern and cold, and L felt a small shudder go down his spine. This… changed things. How much, he was still uncertain.
“Rem found me in the ladies’ room during my interview,” Misa said, “and touched my arm with a piece of the death note so I could see her. She told me everything—even that the new Kira was plotting to marry me, and that he’d talked about killing me.”
Everything seemed to fall into place. “You killed Higuchi,” L said, watching her closely, noting with satisfaction the way her eyes widened. “Rem gave you the piece of the notebook, and you used it to kill him.”
“Yeah…” she admitted, seeming to have completely given up on keeping anything from him. “Except that Rem wasn’t allowed to tell me who he was, not exactly. She could only tell me that she would be standing behind him. When we went back into the room, I saw who it was, and I remembered his name and face from the files you made me read. I wrote his name on the paper inside of my purse while I talked to them.”
L realized immediately that that must have been how Light had pulled off those seemingly impossible killings: a scrap of paper hidden inside his potato chip bag, probably along with a small video player showing the news.
Looking up at L with anxious eyes, Misa asked, “Is Ryuuzaki mad at Misa for killing Higuchi? Misa thought that if he was dead, then the Kira murders would stop and we could finally be happy together.”
“Of course I’m not angry with you, Misa,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into his side.
Whether or not he was angry was immaterial. It was inconvenient that Misa had killed Higuchi before L got a chance to interrogate him, but there was no point in berating her, especially since she was finally telling him the truth about the Kira case.
Her choice to kill Higuchi immediately, rather than waiting until after the interview, had been impulsive and risky, and possibly born of a desire to lash out at him again and ruin his plans, no matter what she said, but he expected as much from Misa by now. Besides, it had been his own choice to take the risk of sending her to meet with the man he knew to be Kira. It had been in the back of his mind the whole time that something like this could happen.
Besides that, with the way the shinigami was looking at him, the way she seemed to obey no one but Misa, it would be foolish for him to do anything but reassure her. He could not afford to anger Rem by upsetting the human she favored—but if, on the other hand, he could convince Misa to control the shinigami on his behalf, the case was all but won.
Of course, that was getting ahead of himself. Never mind controlling the shinigami; first, he had to make sure he was not about to be killed.
“When I entered, the two of you were debating whether to kill me, weren’t you?” he asked calmly. Misa immediately flinched, then turned suddenly to face him, grabbing his shoulders and looking into his eyes.
“Misa wouldn’t let her!” she assured him, with a sort of fervent determination in her voice. “Misa won’t let anyone hurt her boyfriend.”
“I know, Misa,” L said, taking a moment to stroke her cheek, thanking his lucky stars that, despite everything he had put her through, Misa still somehow cared for him. Or, at the very least, felt that she needed him. Then, turning back to the shinigami, he returned to business.“Rem, would you please tell me why you want me dead? Maybe we can find another solution.”
Rem hesitated, but Misa said, “Go on.”
“You guessed about the thirteen day rule,” the shinigami rasped. “Light Yagami said that if you proved that he and Misa were Kira, you would have them both executed.”
“And you don’t want that?” he prompted.
“I do not care what happens to Light Yagami. He has only survived this long because Misa wished it.”
L took a moment to marvel. All along, he had seen himself and Light as the major players, never guessing that Misa’s love for Light had been the only thing standing between the first Kira and death. And now that he had won Misa for himself, he had taken that protection away from Light—and, hopefully, won it for himself.
He had never guessed, when he began this relationship, that it would be the difference between life and death. Sure, he had hoped that Misa was the key to the case, but the level of power that she held over his fate was entirely unexpected. Nor had he known, when he had been mistreating her, that he could be signing his own death warrant. If she turned against him now…
He forced his attention back on track. “But Misa, you do care about. You want her to live.”
“She will live,” Rem snapped. “Misa will live if I have to kill a hundred thousand people to do it. If you try to execute her, you will die. The executioner will die. Your every ally will die—the old man, and any others.”
L suddenly felt quite cold.
“She’s bluffing,” Misa said, and the shinigami’s head snapped around to glare at her. “She could kill you, maybe one or two others, but that’s it.”
“Is there a limit on how many people a shinigami can kill?” L asked, touching a thumb to his lips in confusion.
“Misa, it is unwise to tell him this. I am only protecting you. Please, do not—”
“If she kills someone to save me, she’ll die, too. I think she’d do it, but I don’t think she could write many names down before dying.”
The shinigami was silent, but L could feel the irritation radiating off of her.
“That’s why you had to kill Higuchi,” L guessed. “Rem couldn’t do it. Because it’s forbidden for a shinigami to protect a human?”
“Only a human that they love.”
L took a long moment to process that information, looking Rem up and down. While he had known when entering into a relationship with Misa, a famous idol and model, that he would have plenty of competition from her fans, he had not expected one of those fans to be a skeletal, eight-foot-tall goddess of death.
For that matter, why would that kill a shinigami? What a silly, fairytale-esque weakness for the creatures to have. L found himself more curious than ever about what shinigami even were, and why they existed in the first place, but the priority for the moment had to be concluding the Kira case. While he had some answers, there were more than a few loose ends to tie up.
“Misa, am I right in assuming that you don’t have any intention to use the death note again?”
“Of course not!” Misa gasped, putting a hand over her heart. “Misa has changed! She would never do that! Unless Ryuuzaki wants Misa to,” she added quickly.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned to Rem. “Why did you give Misa the death note? Did you want her to use it?”
Rem hesitated again, but Misa looked at her and ordered, “Tell him everything,” so the shinigami did.
“The notebook belonged to a shinigami named Gelus. Many shinigami watch the mortal realm for entertainment, because our own realm is very dull. However, it is rare for a shinigami to develop an interest in a specific human.
“Gelus began watching Misa Amane all the time. He was infatuated with her. However, Misa’s expected lifespan was short, and Gelus could not understand why—not when she was still young and healthy. One day, a man cornered Misa, attempting to kill her.”
“A stalker,” Misa added.
“When was this?”
“Oh… back in March.”
Less than a year after the violent deaths of her parents in front of her, and only a month or so after her parents’ killer was himself killed by Kira. L took a moment to wrap his mind around the amount of trauma which Misa had endured in the years prior to their meeting. It was not at all surprising that her mental state had been fragile, even before his manipulations.
“Before the man could kill Misa, Gelus wrote his name in his notebook,” Rem continued, “and crumbled into dust.
“Gelus was my friend, and this human he loved was all that was left of him. So I brought his notebook to the human world, giving it to Misa. I thought he would have wanted her to have it, whether she used it or not. I regret it now—it brought Misa nothing but pain.”
“That’s not true,” Misa said. “Misa would never have met Ryuuzaki if it weren’t for the notebook.” They both ignored her comment.
Rem’s choice to give Misa the note didn’t quite make sense to L, but he supposed he didn’t entirely understand the cultural significance of death notes to shinigami. “Every shinigami has a notebook?” he asked.
“Yes,” Rem said. “Unless they lose it somehow.”
So Rem had a notebook of her own, in addition to the one which she had given to Misa.
“The thirteen day rule was false; does that mean the rule against destroying the notebook is false as well?” he asked.
“Yes,” Rem rasped. “Both rules were written at Light Yagami’s behest.”
One rule to clear his innocence, the other to prevent L from destroying the notebook before Light could get his hands on it again. “So if I were to destroy the notebook which belonged to the shinigami Gelus, or otherwise retire it, would you try to stop me?”
“Only if Misa did not want you to.”
When L turned his eyes to Misa, she quickly said, “Misa doesn’t care what Ryuuzaki does with it.”
That was one Kira taken care of. But there was still the question of Light.
“Each Kira had a notebook and a shinigami, correct?” L asked, and Misa nodded. “What happened to Light’s?”
“You have Light’s notebook already. After you kidnapped Misa,” Rem began, and L thought of correcting her that he had only arrested the girl, but decided to let it slide, “Light spoke with myself and his own shinigami, Ryuk. He asked us to trade the death notes, so that I would be attached to Light’s and Ryuk would be attached to Misa’s. I was to deliver Light’s former notebook to Higuchi.”
L had several dozen questions and was uncertain where to start. What had Light’s plan been? Why switch the ownership of the notebooks? He tried to put himself in Light’s shoes, to figure out what he had been thinking. “How does someone lose their memories of using a death note?” he asked. Though he had some idea, it was best to make sure he knew everything.
“If someone owns a death note, they can forfeit ownership of it, either back to the shinigami that most recently owned it or to another human. Actually, it is one in the same. If the ownership is returned to the shinigami, the next human to touch the notebook becomes the owner. And so, to transfer ownership to another human, the owner would have to forfeit ownership while that human is touching the notebook.
“If the owner of the death note dies, the ownership transfers just as it would as if they willingly forfeited it.” So that was what had happened when Misa killed Higuchi. “In addition, if the notebook is destroyed, the owner will lose their memories of it.”
“Can you—the shinigami, rather—force the human owner to relinquish the notebook?”
“Not without killing them,” Rem said.
“What memories are lost?” he asked, though he had a good idea already, just from interacting with Misa these past months. He felt relieved that he had not been the one holding the notebook at the moment of Higuchi’s death. If he wanted to maintain his knowledge of the shinigami, he would have to avoid taking possession of any death note.
“The memories of using the death note, the existence of shinigami, the ability to see shinigami, and, if applicable, the use of the Shinigami Eyes and any knowledge gained from using them.”
The eyes! L had almost forgotten about those in the deluge of information. “The Shinigami Eyes, those allow a person to see another person’s name?”
“Name and lifespan,” Rem said, “although the lifespan is given in shinigami time, which makes it difficult for humans to understand. If the person is already dead—such as a photograph of a dead person—the lifespan is missing. In addition, the person possessing the Shinigami Eyes cannot see their own lifespan, or that of a fellow death note owner.”
That was how Misa knew that Light was a Kira. She had simply looked for a person without a visible lifespan. But there was one important question he needed to ask. “Misa had the Shinigami Eyes, but Light and Higuchi did not, correct?” he asked, and Rem nodded. “Why?”
“A human must make a deal in order to receive the Shinigami Eyes. Light and Higuchi did not like the terms of this deal.”
“Which were?”
“The human who wishes to use the Shinigami Eyes must give the shinigami half of their lifespan.”
At that, Misa made a startled noise, and when L turned to look at her, her eyes were wide. She had been quiet for a long time, not having much to add without her memories, but now, she spoke. “I gave away half of my lifespan?” she asked.
“Yes,” Rem confirmed, “but Misa also received Gelus’s remaining lifespan when he died. In addition, interaction with the death note can change a human’s lifespan from the one that the shinigami sees. Even I do not know how long Misa will live now.”
L put his hand back on Misa’s shoulder, trying to offer her some comfort. “What happens if someone gives up ownership and then gets it back? Will the Shinigami Eyes and their memories come back?”
“No and yes,” Rem said. “They will regain all of their memories, including any knowledge gained with the Shinigami Eyes, but the eyes themselves will not return, unless they choose to make the deal a second time.”
Reducing their lifespan to a quarter of its original value. “Is there any other way to regain the memories?”
“If the former owner touches a death note they previously used, their memories will return, but only as long as they are in physical contact with the notebook.”
“But not if they touch another notebook?” L asked, and Rem nodded again. So Misa hadn’t remembered being Kira, even when Rem had touched her with the paper. “But to get their memories back permanently, is it enough to become the owner of any death note, or does it have to be one they previously used or owned?”
“Any notebook will do.”
“This is so boring!” Misa suddenly complained. “All these stupid rules and details. Does it really matter?”
“It’s important to me,” L said. “If Misa is bored, though, she can go do something else while I speak with Rem.”
“Nooo, I guess it’s fine,” Misa said. “Put your legs down.”
L frowned. “I need to think, and sitting normally reduces my mental abilities by 40%.”
“Do as Misa says.”
The shinigami’s voice was sharp, and L gave her a considering look before slowly lowering his legs. This could be a problem: as long as Rem was around, L would be held to the mercy of Misa’s whims. But what could be done? For the moment, he would bear it.
Misa flopped happily down onto her side, setting her head in L’s lap. “Pet Misa’s hair,” she demanded, and with another glance at Rem, L obliged. He carded his fingers absently through her hair as he tried to remember where the conversation had left off.
L was beginning to see the outline of Light’s plan, but to fill it in, he needed more information. There was another major player that he knew nothing about. “Light’s shinigami, this Ryuk. What can you tell me about them? Are they as loyal to Light as you are to Misa?”
“No. Ryuk cares for nothing other than himself and his own amusement.” L noted that Rem had not disagreed with his characterization of her loyalties.
“That’s his motivation?” he asked. Light was the first Kira, meaning Ryuk had been the first to give a death note to a human.
“I believe so,” Rem said. “In the Shinigami Realm, Ryuk was always complaining about how bored he was. I believe he gave the death note to a human because he wanted to see what would happen. He did not care for Light. If Light had begun to bore him, Ryuk would have killed him.”
L considered the implications of that statement and found himself feeling light-headed, because… if he had to guess, the most interesting thing about Kira’s existence had been the chase between Kira and L. After all, for there to be a conflict—a story—both a protagonist and an antagonist were needed.
In trying to stop Kira, had he inadvertently extended Kira’s life, causing more deaths? If Kira had gone unopposed—if L had not existed, or had left well enough alone—would Ryuk have lost interest and killed Light by now?
“Where is Ryuk now?” he asked, pushing those thoughts aside. “And where is the second death note?”
“Light, Ryuk, and I were in a forest when I last saw Ryuk. Light gave me the death note you now possess. He told me he had removed his fingerprints and writing from it, and he instructed me to deliver it to Higuchi.”
“Did he name Higuchi specifically?”
“No… He told me to choose a human myself. Someone…” The shinigami seemed to be struggling to remember. “Someone powerful, high within a human organization. Someone greedy, who would use the death note for their own ends. But only if they were willing to continue punishing criminals as well.”
“Hmm. Continue. Light gave you the death note?”
“And I flew away with it.” L was momentarily distracted by the knowledge that Rem could fly, even though he had already seen her floating. “I do not know what Ryuk and Light did after that. But if Light has truly given up ownership of the notebook, there are only a few options. Ryuk could have given it to another human, as I did with Higuchi. Or they might have hidden the death note somewhere, or even destroyed it, in which case, Ryuk would be back in the Shinigami Realm.”
L doubted that Light would have destroyed the notebook. No, he would want to hold onto as many resources as possible. And while it was possible that Light could have passed the notebook to someone else, his gut was telling him no. Not if they hadn’t been using it. Light wouldn’t choose to trust another person with a death note unless he absolutely had to—he did not easily trust or rely on others. If giving one person a death note would suffice for his plan, he would stop there.
Rem regarded L silently as he thought. The second notebook was probably hidden somewhere, waiting to be recovered. It seemed that Light’s plan had been to catch Higuchi, frame him as Kira, and regain ownership of the death note once he had cleared his own name.
L understood why Light had given his own former notebook to Higuchi while hiding Misa’s: he needed to be sure that his memories would come back when he touched it. Light was arrogant when it came to his abilities and the esteem of others. Most likely, he had counted on L respecting his investigative abilities and allowing him to help catch Higuchi. He had expected to be there on the scene when Higuchi was arrested and the death note discovered.
If the notebook had found its way into his hands, Light would have found a way to kill Higuchi without being seen, or else convinced Rem to kill Higuchi for him. Once the ownership passed back to Light, he could release the notebook, allow L to lock it up, and still retain his memories. Then, when he was released, he could retrieve the second notebook, or else instruct Misa to.
One thing, though, still nagged at him. Why ask the shinigami to switch notebooks? “Rem, did Light say why he wanted you and Ryuk to trade ownership of the notebooks?”
“Not really. All he kept saying was that it was to help Misa.”
“Give me a moment.” L closed his eyes, imagining himself in Light’s shoes. Ryuk was a wildcard, willing to kill him at any moment, unwilling to obey him. Rem seemed easier to control, because he knew what she wanted: Misa’s survival. On the other hand, in the short amount of time L had known Rem, she had already begun ordering him to do whatever Misa requested, even things as small as lowering his legs so that she could rest her head in his lap. L could only imagine how much Light would chafe at that—especially if Rem had forced him to become Misa’s boyfriend in the first place. And if Light’s plans went counter to Misa’s best interests…
L opened his eyes again. “If Misa wanted to get the Shinigami Eyes back, would you make a deal with her again?” After all, Light had clearly kept Misa around for the use of her Eyes. Without them, he would find her much less helpful.
Rem glowered at him. “Absolutely not,” she said. “If you are thinking of asking her to do that…” The shinigami’s voice was low and threatening.
L glanced down in his lap at Misa, who seemed to have fallen asleep, or else to be faking it, before answering. “Don’t worry, I am not going to do that. I was simply thinking about Light. I believe he might have asked you to trade notebooks with Ryuk in order to separate you from Misa. If he wanted her to get the Eyes back, or if he thought he might not want her around anymore…”
There was a silence as Rem processed this, and then she growled, “I should kill him right now.”
“Please wait until I am done with him,” L said quickly. “He is no threat to Misa now, and he will be punished for his behavior. Trust me.”
“Why should I trust you?” Rem was only getting more worked up. “Light Yagami pretended to care about Misa too, but he only wanted to use her. You remind me of him. You want to use Misa as well. You will hurt her.”
“No, no, that’s not true,” L said as his heart rate accelerated. He tried not to think about the myriad of ways he had already used and hurt Misa; dwelling on them would only make him act guilty. Taking a deep breath, he tried to think past the fear of being killed.
What did Rem want? What could he offer her?
“Light wanted to rid the world of crime and to have control over that world, and was willing to sacrifice Misa to do so. I only want to stop Kira. You and Misa are not standing in the way of that goal, so why would I hurt her?”
That sounded cold, of course, but he wanted to demonstrate that, even if he was like Light, he lacked any motivation to turn against Misa. Maybe Rem would believe that.
“You want to catch the death note users and send them to prison, or else to kill them. Light told me that.”
“I did want that,” L admitted, “but more importantly, I want the deaths to stop, and I want to live. I will make a deal with you. I have power—more power than the police or the government—and resources. I can protect Misa, prevent her from going to prison. All I ask is that you help me make sure the Kira killings are truly ended.”
“You are like Light. He always wanted to make deals, to make me agree to things by using Misa.”
L winced. “Okay. I understand. Light was arrogant. He thought he could control you. I know that you could kill me at any time. I will not threaten Misa’s life. But she wants me to live, and I can help her.”
“Misa wanted Light Yagami to live, too. She loved him and believed he would bring her happiness. Instead, he used her and plotted against her.”
Rem wants Misa’s happiness. L needed to shift his perspective, to change what he was offering. A carrot, not a stick. No more mentioning the threat of Misa being convicted as Kira.
“When we are finished, you will return to the Shinigami Realm. You can watch me from there. From now on, I will place my life in your hands. I will stay by Misa’s side and work to protect her and to make her happy. You can watch me, and if you are dissatisfied—if Misa passes away early, or if she is unhappy, or if you believe I am plotting against her—you can kill me then. I understand that you hold all the power here.”
He was screwing over his future self in his desperation to placate her, but he understood how close he was to death. He would choose survival, even if it was at the mercy of a suspicious shinigami and an emotionally unstable young woman. And he knew that, if he wanted to prove himself different than Light, he needed to swallow his pride and submit.
Rem regarded him suspiciously, so he continued, trying to sell it. “From now on, my two most important goals will be to keep Misa Amane alive and to keep her happy. I will not be able to talk to you when you are in the Shinigami Realm, to talk you out of killing me—or to manipulate you, if you think that’s what I’m doing—so I will have no choice but to be on my best behavior, to do everything possible to keep you happy with me.”
The question that came from the shinigami was not one L expected. “Do you love her?”
L needed to tread carefully. A passionate romantic declaration would come across as false, an attempt at manipulation, when L did not even know the answer to that question himself, but Rem would not be happy if he said no, either.
Finally, carefully, he said, “I believe that love is an action, not a state of being. To love someone is to work to assure their happiness above all else. By that definition, I will love Misa. I will have no other choice.”
Unromantic, but something in the shinigami’s eyes told him that she was content with this answer. “This is acceptable… for now. You will make sure that Misa is not imprisoned or killed. You will obey her and stay by her side, for as long as she wants you. Your life belongs to her. And if she tires of you…”
L swallowed at the threat. He did not know if he could really keep someone like Misa from losing interest in him eventually, nor did he like the thought of putting his life in the hands of someone as volatile as her, but at least he would live. He could sort the rest out later—maybe even find a way to get rid of Rem, once she was less suspicious of him.
“May I still stop Kira?” he asked, hating what he had been reduced to.
“So long as Misa is not put in harm’s way.”
“It will help Misa. When I gather enough evidence, I will pin the responsibility for the deaths on Light and Higuchi, clearing Misa’s name.” L did not especially care who took the punishment, as long as he knew the truth.
“Alright,” Rem slowly agreed. “What assistance do you ask of me?”
“I need to find the second death note. For that, I will need your help, and I may need to temporarily return Light Yagami’s memories in order to question him. In addition, I need to know about Ryuk. Will he interfere?”
“Only if he gets bored,” Rem said. “If he decides the game is over, he will kill Light. He sees Light’s life as his to take.”
L had the unfortunate suspicion that Ryuk would find it more entertaining for the second death note to pass into another human’s hands, rather than being destroyed. If he believed that L finding the notebook would put an end to his fun… “Can Ryuk stop us from getting the notebook?”
“Yes, he could kill you. Or he might be able to retrieve it himself. A shinigami can only come to the human realm for a few days in order to stalk a human they intend to kill if they are not following a human that possesses one of their death notes. But if he knows where the notebook is, that would be enough time for him to retrieve it and pass it to a new human.”
Well, that was a problem. Light, imprisoned and amnesiac, could not interfere with L’s plans, but his shinigami… “Is there anything Ryuk cares about? Anything that Light used in order to secure his cooperation in his plans?”
“Apples,” Rem replied, and L blinked. “Ryuk loves apples almost as much as he loves chaos.”
In L’s mind, Ryuk took on the visage of Eris, the Greek goddess of discord, who had begun the Trojan War with a single golden apple. To the fairest!
“When you are in the Shinigami Realm, how do you see humans?” L asked. “From what angle?”
“From above…” Rem said, looking confused.
L tilted his head up to the ceiling, feeling ridiculous as he did so. “Shinigami Ryuk,” he addressed the empty air above his head. “If you are listening, I would like to make a deal. Do not kill Light, or myself, until after I have found the second death note. When I find it, you will be able to return to the human world and we can speak together. I have a lot of money, and I can give you more apples than you can possibly imagine. And I promise, you will find talking to me entertaining.”
Once Ryuk was there in person, L could try to negotiate with him and make a deal for his continued life. Since he had no way of confirming whether Ryuk had heard, he would have to repeat his words periodically, hoping that he’d eventually catch the shinigami watching.
While L still had more questions for Rem, he needed some time to think. It would not be easy to find a way to blame Light while clearing Misa’s name, especially since he had removed all traces of his use of the death note. L would still test the notebook using Namikawa, but proving the thirteen day rule false might not be enough.
What he needed was to interrogate the first Kira.
Notes:
L getting his "You needed worthy opponents" moment (I say, like most of my readership will have any idea what I'm talking about).
Chapter 26: don't make me get violent
Notes:
Don't make me get violent
I want my ring back, baby
That's a diamond
You don't listen anyways
I'll be quiet
I don't really feel like fighting- carolesdaughter, "Violent"
Chapter Text
L left Misa sleeping in his bed. He’d thought for a moment that Rem might follow him, but in the end, her desire to remain near Misa had won out.
For his first stop, L retrieved the notebook from the safe, cut out a blank page, and had Watari touch it. There was no reaction from him until they opened the camera feed to L’s quarters, confirming that they could, in fact, see Rem floating in his sitting room. Even then, Watari’s eyes widened only slightly at the sight—although L supposed the shinigami was far more intimidating in person. Viewed on a screen, she might as well be CGI.
Next, reassured that Watari would be able to keep an eye on Rem, he took the page to Namikawa’s cell. “My apologies for the delay,” he said. “I have a page from the notebook here. You should be able to write without my uncuffing your hands.” He placed the page on the table in front of Namikawa along with a fountain pen.
“What do you want me to write?”
“Begin with the details of death,” L said. He didn’t want Namikawa to run out of time. “Write that, at… eleven in the morning Japanese standard time, October 27, 2004, the person named will state out loud, ‘I am being killed by the power of the death note.’ This person will then cluck like a chicken, cross their eyes, and die of a heart attack.”
The sequence of events was chosen at random—something that the victim would be unlikely to do of their own volition. This conversation was being recorded, of course, as were all of the Yotsuba men in their cells. He could provide proof that he and Namikawa had not come into contact with the victim before the morning, when the victim would die in front of Yagami (if he cooperated) or some of L’s mercenaries (if he did not), providing L an eyewitness.
Namikawa did exactly as instructed, seeming untroubled by any hints of conscience. “Whose name would you like me to write?”
“Any of your co-conspirators will do.” L was curious to see who Namikawa would choose.
After taking a second to think, he wrote, Takeshi Ooi.
Interesting—he had chosen the most senior, and influential, of the group. Even now, was Namikawa taking advantage of this opportunity to advance his own ambitions, clearing the way for himself to rise in the ranks if he returned to work in two weeks? Just in case his accomplices somehow escaped justice too? Well, L had no complaints.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the paper back. It would go in the safe as an important piece of evidence. Then he reached down and unlocked the handcuffs; Namikawa looked up at him in surprise. “You must stay here until the thirteen days are over, but I will have someone bring you to a more comfortable room in a moment.”
After all, it was important to reward those who served him well.
As tired as L was, there was something else which he needed to do, and it was best to do so now. Misa should still be asleep, meaning she couldn’t object, and Rem wasn’t tailing him either. So he returned the used notebook paper to the safe and cut out part of another page.
It was time to pay Kira a visit.
As L entered Light’s quarters, a simple press of a button on his phone turned on every light on the floor simultaneously, hopefully rousing Light rudely from his sleep. It was late, and L wanted him as disoriented and unprepared as possible.
By the time he reached Light’s bedroom, he was already sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes, looking around in confusion—just as L wanted. “L?”
In lieu of answering, L tossed a pair of handcuffs onto the bed. “Put these on,” he said. “We need to talk.”
A few minutes later, Light was sitting on the sofa in his living room, bound not only at the wrists but the ankles as well. L was not taking any chances, not with Kira—the gun strapped to his hip was evidence of that. Between said gun and the excess of restraints, Light probably would have protested more, but his half-awake state worked in L’s favor.
Even now, Light seemed more exasperated than afraid. “What is all this, Ryuuzaki?” he asked. “You don’t need to tie me up, you know. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Ignoring him, L stepped forward until he was right in front of Light. Risky, getting this close, but necessary. He took from the table the thing he had prepared: a strip of duct tape holding on it a tiny sliver of notebook paper, too small to write on, which he had carefully cut from the death note in plain view of the cameras. Moving quickly, he slapped the piece of tape to Light’s bare shoulder, trapping the fragment of paper against his skin, and then stepped back, out of arm’s reach, eyes glued to Light’s face.
L was not sure what he’d been hoping for. A flinch, a widening of the eyes, any reaction at all. The cameras in the room had been rearranged, several pointing right at Light’s face, ready to capture the slightest response, any change in expression or demeanor. Meanwhile, the other cameras would show they were alone in the room, while those in L’s quarters were recording the shinigami—proof that, whatever reaction Light gave, it was not due to her presence.
How unnecessary that turned out to be—because the moment the paper touched Light’s bare skin, his eyes opened impossibly wide, and he began to scream.
L could only watch, his own eyes almost as wide, thumbnail between his teeth. Light ducked his head, gasping for air, letting out noises of distress, and his hands flexed uselessly in their restraints.
He’s remembering.
Finally, the noises died down, leaving Light breathing hard, hair hanging in his face (beautiful, even now). And when he looked up at last, meeting L’s eyes, L immediately recognized the person he’d become. It was someone he had not seen in quite a few months, not since the moment Light had said, “My useless pride—I forfeit it!”
“Hello again,” L said with a smile. “Kira.”
Of course, Light made a valiant effort. “Kira?” he repeated. “I’ve told you, Ryuuzaki, I’m not Kira. Anyway, what are you doing? Why did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You—I don’t know, electrocuted me or something.”
Was that how he was playing it? Not trying to trick L, then, since he knew he’d done no such thing, but putting on a show for the cameras he knew were watching his every move. Maintaining plausible deniability to the last—although it was a sort of victory for L that Kira was no longer hiding from him, at least.
L had considered bringing Yagami to join this interrogation in person for this exact reason, but had decided against it. With his father there, Light would be even less willing to drop the act, even if it would be easier to prove L hadn’t done anything to him. In any case, getting video evidence against Light was far less important than proving the thirteen day rule false and finding the second notebook.
“I did no such thing,” L said, nonetheless. “All I did was tape a piece of the death note to your arm.”
“Death note? What’s that?”
L rolled his eyes. Light wasn’t the only one who was tired, and he didn’t have the patience for this. “Give up, Light. I have everything I need. I have your former death note, the one which you gave to the Yotsuba Kira, Kyosuke Higuchi. I have all of the Yotsuba group in custody and have met the shinigami Rem. I have already begun testing the thirteen day rule, and before long, I will have proven it false. It’s over.”
It would have been more convincing to also mention that Misa and Rem had confessed, but L would leave that unsaid. If he were to show this video as evidence, he could not mention that Misa had been a Kira. He was still determining who to pin the second Kira’s killings on once he’d fabricated an airtight alibi for her, assuming that he followed through on his promise. In addition, Light not knowing that the shinigami was working with him might come in useful.
For a second, Light’s eyes flickered, and L knew he was wavering. He wished he could pry open Light’s mind to see the panic and anger he knew must be inside, now that he was aware just how completely his plan to prove his innocence had gone off the rails. To see his reaction to the memories of what he had allowed L—begged L—to do to him, or the knowledge that he had still been thrown aside for Misa. L was certain that nothing would be more satisfying.
But Light would never give up the act, not until certain that every possible avenue of escape was closed to him. After a moment, he said, “You’re bluffing. If you had proof that I was Kira—which you don’t, because I’m not—you wouldn’t be talking to me now. You’re trying to get something out of me.”
“Maybe I just want to gloat,” L said, which was actually honest of him. That, or to see Kira face-to-face, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt who he was, and to be able to ask him why, and how, he’d done it all—only, for that, he needed to break through Light’s facade.
But Light looked unconvinced, so he added, “I do need something from you, but it has nothing to do with implicating yourself as Kira. Whether or not you admit it, I have all the evidence I need to put you away. However, I would like to find the second notebook. I would prefer not to risk another human stumbling across it and deciding to use it.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you. Since I’m not Kira.” As L had expected, Light looked smug, pleased that L wanted something which he could deny him. “Though if you think I am, I don’t see why you don’t just ask Misa instead. Unless—oh, is she mad at you?” he added in a tone of false sympathy.
L chose to ignore everything Light had said. He was probably testing him to see if L knew that Misa hadn’t been there when he’d hidden the notebook, but there was no reason to admit as much to him.
“This is how this will go, Kira. You will tell me where you have hidden the second notebook, and I will retrieve it and confirm its authenticity. Or I will hand you over to my assistant, and he will extract an answer from you by any means necessary. Either way, I will find it.”
Light laughed disbelievingly, but L thought there was a hint of fear in his eyes. “Torture?” he said. “Even you wouldn’t stoop that low. You’re trying to scare me.”
Right—he didn’t know what L had done to Misa.
“Look in my eyes, Kira,” L said, leaning forward, staring straight at Light. “Do I look as though I am making empty threats? Do you believe that I won’t do anything necessary to find the second death note?”
Light stared back at him, and the silence stretched heavy between them. His eyes widened slightly at whatever he saw on L’s face, then narrowed. His jaw tensed, a muscle flexing under the skin.
“Admit it now, and tell me where the notebook is hidden,” L said softly, “or I will have the truth cut right out of you, one piece at a time.”
He could see it—Light trying to work out if there was a way out of this. Of course, he didn’t have all of the information, and some of what he did have was false. The benefit of him being so isolated was that L could tell him anything he liked, and he would have no way of confirming whether it was true.
And if Yagami took umbrage to that, if he became too difficult to work with, L could find a way to force him to give the notebook up, erasing his memories. Quite convenient, really.
Light swallowed, and something came to his eyes then. Was that fear? “You don’t—you don’t have to do that. Hurt me, I mean. I’ll show you where the notebook is.”
“You’ll tell me.”
“If I tell you, you’ll probably just kill me or arrest me right away. At least this way, I can live a bit longer. If you want to find the notebook, I’ll take you to it.”
Oh, L had almost forgotten how good Light was at this. Even if anyone saw the video, he would claim that he was just feeding L whatever he wanted to hear, trying to keep him from torturing him. Buying himself a little more time.
Obviously, his plan was to give himself a chance to somehow escape. The question was, how? He could lead L to the wrong place and then try to make a run for it, but he had to know that he would be restrained and under guard the whole time. The most likely outcome of such an attempt would be him failing to escape and then being tortured for information after all.
On the other hand… If he brought L to the real location of the notebook and someone touched it, Ryuk would be summoned to them. Light couldn’t know how much L knew about Ryuk and his motivations. Perhaps he thought that, once Ryuk appeared, he could convince him to free him from his restraints for the purposes of keeping things interesting.
Yes, L was almost certain that was his plan. The question was, should he go along with it? Rem could at least take him to where she had left Light and Ryuk in the forest, and they could begin searching from there.
But there was no telling how far from that point Light might have hidden it—for all L knew, even the possibility of Rem betraying him had occurred to him, and he had used the forest as a red herring, hiding the note somewhere else entirely.
If L allowed Light to join him in retrieving the notebook, on the other hand, he was almost certain to bring him to the right place. It would narrow down the search considerably. Of course, L could not be certain that Ryuk would not listen to Light… but he had not killed L yet, at least, which seemed like a good sign.
Actually, there was no reason L should even give Light a chance to speak to Ryuk. The second that Light announced that they had reached the notebook’s location, L could simply have one of his allies—Wedy, most likely—inject him with a sedative of some sort, or otherwise render him unconscious. At which point, if the notebook was there, someone under L’s employ could touch it, gain ownership, and summon Ryuk, allowing L to negotiate with him directly.
And if the notebook wasn’t there, Light would wake up strapped to a gurney in a featureless, soundproof cell.
“I suppose that would be acceptable,” L said, noting the flash of not-quite-triumph in Light’s eyes—for all his arrogance, he must have known that his plan was a long shot, a last-ditch effort to save himself. Good: if he believed L was falling for it, he might get sloppy. “This coming afternoon, we will go to retrieve the second notebook. You will be bound and under guard the entire time, of course.”
L gave Light only a moment to enjoy his quasi-victory before stepping forward, drawing a hypodermic needle from his pocket and uncapping it.
“What is that?” Genuine shock now, at least, if not real fear.
There was no reason for L to respond, so he didn’t. Light struggled, but with his wrists and ankles restrained, it was not too difficult for L to slide the needle under his skin and depress the plunger.
“Hey, what—what are you…” Light trailed off, his eyes going unfocused and distant, before slumping over on the sofa.
Once L had confirmed that Light was truly unconscious, not simply faking it, he set about putting him back the way he’d been: removing the restraints, making sure there were no marks left behind, and gently pulling the duct tape from his skin, before settling him back in bed, under the covers.
The combination of the memory loss from having the notebook paper removed from his skin without being the owner of the note, the cocktail of drugs, and the fact that L had roused him from sleep in order to interrogate him in the first place, should hopefully lead Light to believe that anything he did remember of their conversation in the morning was nothing but a nightmare.
Of course, L would have to return Light’s memories again when they went to recover the notebook, but this would mean that Light would have as little time to plan his escape as possible—because even a Light who didn’t remember being Kira might get desperate if he felt he was on the verge of being convicted. Best to let him think everything was normal until the last moment.
Now the question was, how much should he tell Yagami? In the end, he didn’t really need the cooperation of the police, or to convince him that Light was Kira—although if he did have the police chief confirming L’s assessment of his own son’s guilt, it would certainly help.
In addition, he was already the owner of one death note, which made him the optimal choice to gain ownership of Ryuk’s as well. It would mean involving fewer people in the case at this late stage, and that only one person would have to give up their memories, as well as being potentially exposed to any negative consequences of owning a death note.
On the other hand, telling Yagami how close he was to convicting Light could make him grow desperate… Hm.
L contemplated the results of his confrontation with Kira as he locked Light’s quarters once more, having made sure everything was just as he’d found it. He knew he should feel uneasy about the plan to take Light out of the headquarters, but in truth, he did not. It felt almost right, in a way: one last game between the two of them. One last chance to pit his wits against the only person that had ever been able to match him. The danger of it, the risk that Light would come out on top, would only make L’s victory over him all the sweeter.
When L reached his own floor, he found Rem waiting in the sitting area, looking about as anxious and suspicious as he thought it was possible for a shinigami to look. Keeping not only Misa but Rem happy with him was certainly turning out to be an endeavor of its own.
“Namikawa has tested the notebook for me,” L said in French, just to test his hypothesis that shinigami understood all human languages, as well as to make it harder for others to understand if they somehow ended up seeing this footage. Rem didn’t react at all, even to question the change, so he continued. “His victim will die in the morning in front of a witness of my choosing. I have also interrogated Light. He refused to tell me the location of the notebook, but has offered to lead me to it. I am 95% certain that his plan is to attempt to negotiate with Ryuk for his release once someone touches the notebook and he appears.”
As he expected, Rem’s aura of anxiety grew. “This is a bad plan,” she said, also in French. Did she even notice that she was speaking it, or did her powers translate somehow? “I don’t know what Ryuk will do.”
“That’s why I won’t give Light a chance to talk to him,” L said, switching to Mandarin. Rem looked surprised this time, but it might have been at the words themselves, rather than the change in language. “As soon as he leads us to the notebook, but before anyone touches it, he will be rendered unconscious.”
Rem considered this for a moment. “What if he leads you to the wrong location?” Mandarin, too.
“Then I will torture the real location out of him.” Russian.
Rem replied in kind: “Like you tried to do to Misa?”
L suppressed a wince. He had expected this would come up eventually. Rem had likely avoided mentioning it in front of Misa out of fear of upsetting her, but now that they were alone… “Yes,” he said in German. “But, as discussed, I will not cause Misa the slightest harm, or you will kill me.”
As he had hoped, the shinigami, who had clearly been building up to threatening him, seemed disarmed by him voicing the threat before she could. Recovering herself, Rem narrowed her eyes and said, “Yes, L Lawliet… I will. You might believe yourself able to outsmart any and everyone, but at the slightest sign of treachery on your behalf…”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” L said in English, unsure whether or not he was lying. It would be arrogant, to try to outsmart death itself, but he also didn’t much like the idea of being Misa and Rem’s puppet for the rest of his life.
Rem watched him suspiciously as he slipped into the darkened bedroom, and the tension didn’t leave his body until the door was closed firmly between them. He was playing a dangerous game, but what else could he do?
“Where’d you go last night?”
L opened his eyes slowly to find Misa already awake, her face inches from his, eyes fixed on him. His heart jumped immediately, and it occurred to him, later than it probably should have, that he had grown frightened of her.
“When?”
“After I fell asleep. I woke up and you weren’t there. Misa was lonely without you.”
She must not have asked Rem, L thought, or the shinigami would have told her. Still, he knew that he had to tell the truth. He could not afford to be caught in a lie now, not with Rem under Misa’s control.
“I’m sorry Misa, but I had to go to Namikawa to convince him to test the notebook. It went very well—he used it to schedule the death of one of the other Yotsuba men for this morning, so that my allies can witness it to prove the thirteen day rule false. After that,” he added, doing his best to keep his voice normal, as though this were no big deal, “I used a page from the notebook to temporarily return Light’s memories so that I could interrogate him.”
Misa’s expression immediately changed, her brow furrowing, anger settling in. She sat up in bed, pulling the blankets up to her chest. “You what?”
L had suspected she wouldn’t take that well. He slowly sat up himself, trying not to look guilty. “I needed to interrogate Light as Kira,” he told her. “To make sure that I can keep Misa from being arrested, and to find the second death note.”
“And did you fuck him before or after you gave his memories back?”
Taking a deep breath, trying not to show his irritation, L said, “Misa, I have not had any sexual contact with Light since I first told you about it. Doing it now would be completely pointless and irrational.”
“Liar!” Misa shouted, standing up from the bed and beginning to angrily pull her clothing on. She gave the nightstand a frustrated kick, sending the lamp toppling to the floor. “Ryuuzaki has no reason to talk to Light! Ryuuzaki promised he wouldn’t!”
“What?”
“Two days ago! Ryuuzaki said, ‘I swear, I won’t go near Light.’”
Oh. He had said that, in the process of telling Misa whatever she wanted to hear to keep her from interfering in his finishing the case. He hadn’t remembered because he’d barely thought about the words he was saying at all, except to consider how Misa might react to them. Anyway, he’d meant it more as a figure of speech, indicating that he would not sleep with Light again.
“These were exceptional circumstances,” he said at last. “I was only with him long enough to interrogate him, and nothing sexual happened.”
“Misa doesn’t care! A good boyfriend would have kept his promise. There’s no excuse for cheating!”
L’s eyes widened slightly at Misa referring to his conversation with Light as cheating. Given that she had recently told him that they would both die if he cheated on her again, and that her goodwill was the only thing keeping Rem from killing him, his fear felt entirely justified.
At the same time, part of him couldn’t help but resent how ridiculous it was. Here he was, this close to proving that Light Yagami was Kira, and he was having to scramble to appease a girl who thought that interrogating his suspect was akin to cheating on her.
L tried his best to push his fear down, switching into a mental state more useful for placating Misa during one of her tantrums. “Misa,” he said, slowly and soothingly, “I love you. I don’t have any feelings for Light, and to be honest, I find him repulsive now.” And he did—at least emotionally, if not physically. “I didn’t want to talk to Light, but if it’s what I have to do to protect Misa from going to prison, so that we can be together, then it’s worth it.
“Besides, the entire encounter was recorded on video. I can show you—in fact, I can show you recordings of everything I did after I left your room last night.”
Slowly, Misa seemed to deflate. “I want to see the video,” she muttered.
“That is perfectly fine—I am happy to show Misa,” he said, climbing off the bed himself, stepping close enough to stroke her hair. “I want all of Misa’s worries to be assuaged.”
Misa looked up at him with suspicious eyes. “Misa’s still mad,” she said. “Ryuuzaki better not see Light ever again. Misa forbids it.”
That was going to be a problem. “Ah, about that,” he said, and Misa’s eyes narrowed. “I need Light to show me where the second notebook is hidden. He’s the only one who knows where it is.”
As he spoke, Misa was already shrinking back, her face clouding, and he spoke faster, trying to get ahead of her temper.
“But my mercenaries will be there the entire time, and if you like, I can even bring Rem along.” Which would mean bringing Yagami as well, but he’d already been considering that. “Rem can watch for you, and tell you that nothing happened. And after that, Light will go to prison and we’ll never have to interact with him again.”
“No!” Misa shouted, stamping her foot. “What did Misa just say? No more Light! Not ever!”
“Misa, please, be reasonable,” L said, and she shoved him. It didn’t do much, because she was nearly a foot shorter than him and nowhere near as strong, but it did catch him off guard.
“If Ryuuzaki wanted Misa to be ‘reasonable,’ he shouldn’t have cheated with her ex-boyfriend!” L couldn’t help but admit to himself that she had a point there. “Ryuuzaki doesn’t have the right! Not now! Not after what he did!”
To make matters even worse, Rem inserted her head through the wall, looking alarmed. “Why is Misa shouting? What did you do?” Of course, she was glaring at L, and he found himself outnumbered two-to-one.
“Misa dislikes our plan to make Light Yagami show the location of the notebook,” he said, hoping that referring to it as ‘our’ plan would make Rem remember that she had agreed to it already.
Misa cut in. “Because Ryuuzaki is a cheating bastard! And Light is a slut who is just trying to get my boyfriend alone so he can fuck him again! Rem, don’t let him go! If Ryuuzaki sees Light one more time, I’ll throw myself off the fucking roof!”
L was pretty sure that Misa was just being hyperbolic, but on the other hand, the cuts on her thigh hadn’t even finished healing. He didn’t trust his judgment of what Misa would or wouldn’t do, not after that night. (Fuck—if Rem found out about the cuts…)
“I will not allow him to do this if it upsets you so much, Misa,” the shinigami reassured her, and L fought the urge to object to her acting like he had no say in the matter. “But what exactly is upsetting you?”
Not trusting Misa to explain it in a way that a shinigami would understand, L said, “When two humans are in love, usually, they are expected to only have sexual intercourse with each other, and it is considered very hurtful and disloyal for one of those people to have sexual intercourse with someone else. I did that with Light, violating Misa’s trust, and she is quite understandably angry with me.” Seeing the fury on the shinigami’s face, he continued, “But I apologized and will never, ever do something like that again, and Misa forgave me.”
Rem turned to Misa. “You are afraid that L Lawliet and Light Yagami will have sexual intercourse in the forest?” she asked.
“Yes. No!” Misa threw up her arms in frustration, not even reacting to the revelation of L’s real name, solely fixated on the problem of Light. L, on the other hand, felt his pulse accelerate further—if Misa still had the piece of paper from yesterday, if she’d managed to hide it during the search, then she now had all she needed to kill him.
“It’s about respect!” Misa continued, oblivious to his reaction. “Ryuuzaki is hanging out with Light and rubbing my face in it. He’s making Misa look like a fool, but I’m not! But he doesn’t even care. Ryuuzaki probably loves Light more than he loves Misa, or else he wouldn’t do this.” She sat down on the edge of the bed, beginning to cry. “Ryuuzaki is going to leave,” she sobbed. “He’ll leave with Light and Misa will be all alone and they’ll laugh at Misa together!”
L tried to step forward, but the shinigami blocked his way. “That’s not true,” he said. “I would never do that to Misa. I only love Misa, not Light.”
“Don’t worry, Misa,” Rem said. “I do not understand human emotions like jealousy, but if they do this thing that you are afraid of, they will both die.”
“Hold on, no one needs to die,” L interjected quickly. “I am certain that we can discuss this and find a solution that Misa is comfortable with. Rem, you’ll be with me the whole time, so you can tell Misa what I do. Light will be in handcuffs, and my people will hold on to him the entire time. I won’t even get within a meter of him or speak to him more than necessary.”
“Misa, would this be acceptable?” Rem asked, and she actually knelt down, bringing her face somewhat closer to Misa’s eye-level.
“No!” Misa shouted, crying more. “Ryuuzaki can’t go. Misa forbids it! If Ryuuzaki loves Misa, he won’t go!”
“Rem, could I speak to you for a moment?” L asked. The shinigami glared at him, but after a long pause, she followed him into the sitting room.
“You said that you wouldn’t hurt Misa, and yet, you already have,” Rem said the moment the door shut behind them. “Trusting you was a mistake.”
“Wait, no, it wasn’t. This is a response to an old hurt, a mistake I made in the past. I can’t change that mistake now, but I promise you, I won’t hurt Misa again.”
“Then simply do as Misa says,” Rem said, as if it was obvious.
“I promised you that I would keep Misa alive, out of prison, and happy. In that order,” L explained as patiently as he could. “We need Light Yagami to show us the location of the second notebook. If we go with him today, Misa will be momentarily unhappy, but she will forget it quickly. I will not have sexual intercourse with Light Yagami—the thing she is afraid of will not happen. She is simply irrationally worried that it will.
“This is our best chance of controlling the Kira investigation and making sure that Misa will never face punishment for her use of the death note—it will be very difficult for me to clear her name while simultaneously implicating Light Yagami, but if he goes free, he will be a danger to her. Please, Rem, believe that everything I am doing right now is for Misa’s sake.”
Of course, he could try having Watari torture the location out of Light, as he’d threatened, or just having Rem show him where she’d last seen them and searching the area, but there was no guarantee those approaches would work, and there was no telling when Ryuk might interfere. The faster they moved, the better, and there was no point in trading in a good plan for a worse one, just because Misa was irrationally afraid that if he and Light were in the same location, they’d suddenly fall into each other’s arms.
Rem didn’t say anything, so he continued. “You will be there the whole time, making sure that nothing happens that Misa would be unhappy with. Misa’s brain sometimes tells her that other people are going to abandon her, even when those people love her and have no intentions of leaving. That’s what’s happening to her now. But I won’t leave, or do anything else that would hurt Misa. If we can make her understand that, she’ll see that this is the best plan for everyone.”
Rem regarded him for a long moment, then said, “Let me speak with Misa alone.” Before L could respond, she phased through the wall.
L wanted to eavesdrop, but the chances of being caught were too great. The shinigami was already angry enough with him—he would be lucky to make it through the next few days alive.
They called him in about half an hour later. He’d tried listening through the door, and having Watari check over the cameras, but Misa was too smart for that, at least. Like the day before, she blocked her mouth from view and spoke so quietly that even his microphones could not pick it up, and Rem responded by whispering into Misa’s ear. The shinigami, he thought, must have determined the existence and location of the cameras.
By the time he re-entered the room, his heart was in his throat with anticipation and anxiety. “Well?”
Misa was sitting on his bed with her arms folded over her chest, streaks of drying tears visible on her cheeks. “Misa will allow Ryuuzaki to go with Light.”
L breathed out a sigh of relief. Inwardly, part of him still railed against the whole thing, the fact that he needed her permission to continue his investigation. Never before had he had so little control over one of his own cases. Still, there was nothing he could do about that at the moment; at least she was cooperating.
“Thank you, Misa. That is very generous of you.” He stepped forward, and Rem looked ready to stop him again, but Misa shook her head, and the shinigami stayed put. She allowed L to approach her, and so, carefully, as though handling an armed bomb, he slid his hands up Misa’s shoulders and kissed her forehead.
Misa was tense for a moment, resisting, but then she gave in, allowing herself to be pulled against his chest, sliding her arms around his back with a sigh. L’s eyes were open, and he could see Rem watching them.
“Misa hates this.”
“I know,” he said softly. “Not long now, Misa. This afternoon, we’ll find the second notebook, and then I’ll figure out how to turn Light over to Interpol and clear your name. He’ll be out of our lives before you know it, and we can go somewhere far away and forget all about this.”
A heavy feeling settled into his chest at his own words, and L determined after a moment what it was. Before, he’d always been lying when he’d said he’d stay with Misa after the end of the case, even if part of him had wanted it. Now, however, it seemed that it might be the truth. Unless something very drastic happened, or he came up with a very clever solution to the problem of Rem, this state of affairs—L being Misa’s, having to base all of his decisions on keeping her happy, making sure that her pet shinigami wouldn’t decide to take his life—was permanent.
At some point while he hadn’t been paying attention, caught up in the pleasure of having Misa for himself, in the thrill of his own brilliance, her trap had closed around him. Try as he might, he could not see a way out.
Chapter 27: missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me
Notes:
An extra long chapter. I'd give this one a big CW for all manner of fucked up sexual content and violence, so if you're worried about that, jump to the end notes for more info.
Missed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me
If you kiss me, mister, you must think I'm pretty
If you think so, mister, you must want to fuck me
If you fuck me, mister, it must mean you love me
If you love me, mister, you would never leave me
It's as simple as can beMissed me, missed me, now you've got to kiss me
If you miss me, mister, why do you keep leaving?
If you trick me, mister, I will make you suffer
And they'll get you, mister, put you in the slammer
And forget you, mister
Then you'll miss me, won't you?- The Dresden Dolls, "Missed Me"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After their argument, L had worried that Misa would not let him out of her sight, even to work on the case, but when he told her that he wanted to go inform Yagami of what was to happen, she let him leave with only a token protest (after, of course, insisting he promise one more time not to go anywhere near Light). She seemed just as exhausted by her anger as he was. Rem, of course, insisted on staying by her side, even when L pointed out that her absence would be suspicious.
So he went alone to the floor where Yagami had spent the night. As expected, the older man was already awake and fully dressed—and by the dishes in the sink, L could see he had used the groceries Watari had brought up to make himself breakfast and coffee.
“There are some things that I need to tell you,” L began, not seeing a point in beating around the bush now. “You are not going to be happy about them, but you should know.”
As expected, Yagami’s eyes hardened. It was clear that he had very little remaining faith in L. “What is it?”
“Last night, I returned to Namikawa and offered him a deal,” L said, watching Yagami’s suspicion turn immediately to anger. “In exchange for testing the notebook, he will be allowed to go free.”
“Ryuuzaki, you cannot—”
“I already did,” L interrupted, holding up a hand. “You can save your moral outrage—it is of no interest to me. Last night, Namikawa wrote on a page of the notebook the name of his collaborator, Takeshi Ooi, along with a manner of death prescribed by myself. The time of death will be today, in,” he checked his watch, “one hour and forty-seven minutes. You are invited to witness it in order to confirm the power of the notebook. I will also show you video footage of Namikawa writing the name according to my instructions. If he does not die in thirteen days, he will be released.”
Of course, he had promised to remove Yagami’s ownership of the death note before then, which meant that he would lose his memories, but a recorded statement from Yagami confirming that he had witnessed the event should suffice, especially in conjunction with the recording of the death itself. He could bring in Mogi or Aizawa as an additional witness, but he’d already have Wedy and one of his hired mercenaries in the room. It was best not to introduce anyone else not under his direct control, especially as they might try to insist on joining for the excursion to retrieve the second notebook. That would be complicated enough as it was.
“You are still trying to prove that Light is Kira,” Yagami said, as L had known he would. “I cannot believe—”
“I have something you might like to see,” L interrupted again, opening his laptop. There were three videos open, and he began playing the first.
In the video, Rem was visible in the sitting area of L’s quarters—he was lucky, he thought, that she had not insisted on staying in his bedroom with Misa while she slept. “You see,” he began, “that Rem is visible over the cameras. Last night, she was in the living area on my floor while I spoke to Namikawa.”
“Where is she now?”
“Resting,” L said shortly, pausing the video, and clicked over to the next. It showed every angle he had on Namikawa’s old cell, making it clear that the only people in the room were Namikawa and L himself. They watched L instruct Namikawa, and the latter man begin to write on the notebook page.
This served a dual purpose. First, of course, it was evidence that Namikawa had written the name, just as he had said. Yagami looked very unhappy with this, but he didn’t say anything, having apparently decided that shaming L was a lost cause.
“As you see,” L began, “when Namikawa first touched the notebook paper, there was no reaction. This is because Rem was not present in the room. When a person touches the death note, or a piece of it, they do not seem to react unless they see the shinigami.”
“What’s your point?” Yagami demanded, staring at him as though he thought this was too obvious to be worth stating.
L opened the third video. It showed himself standing alone in the sitting area of Light’s floor. As they watched, the L in the video held up a piece of notebook paper, tore off a small fragment, and placed it onto a strip of duct tape.
The video skipped ahead, and Yagami jerked at the sight of his own son sitting bare-chested and restrained on the sofa. “What is—”
“Oh, just be quiet and watch,” L snapped, losing his temper. Yagami shot him a poisonous glare, but did as he said.
They watched together as L slapped the duct tape onto Light’s arm. The other camera views showed every angle on the empty room, making Rem’s absence clear—and, just to further cover his bases, another view showed Rem floating alone on L’s floor. All of this, he hoped, made it clear that there was no reason, none at all, for Light to begin to scream.
Beside L, Yagami sucked in a sharp breath.
He was actually shaken enough, thankfully, to keep his mouth shut for most of the rest of the video, watching in wide-eyed silence as L interrogated his son. The only time he seemed about to say something was when L threatened to torture him, but he’d only gotten as far as opening his mouth before L snapped, “Calm down—I was bluffing.”
He wasn’t, of course. But Yagami didn’t need to know that.
When the video ended—cut off before L took the needle from his pocket—Yagami just sat there in silence. Then he said, “This doesn’t prove anything.” But he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than anything.
“It might not be proof, but it certainly is evidence.”
“You might have—done something to him. To make him react that way. Like he said. And you threatened him. Who says he wasn’t just telling you whatever was necessary to keep you from hurting him?”
L barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. “You are cordially invited to join us in retrieving the second notebook. If Light is able to lead us to it, I don’t think that even you can continue to deny his guilt. Actually, you should be the one to place the death note paper back into contact with his skin—that way, you can see for yourself whether he reacts. Of course, we don’t know for sure that he will react the same way the second time, but if it was a response to having his memories returned, I suspect he might.”
“And if he can’t lead us to the notebook, because he never knew where it was?”
Then he would restrain Yagami and torture the information out of Light.
“Then we will try to find it without his help.”
He considered telling Yagami that Rem had admitted that Light was Kira, but he decided he’d prefer to avoid a situation in which Yagami interrogated Rem—who knew what she might let slip. She didn’t seem all that strategic of a thinker. Besides, he was still working out how to provide Misa an alibi.
“If—when—if Namikawa dies, you will release Light. And Miss Amane.”
“I will.”
Yagami stared at him for a long time, and L thought he could see the police chief struggling with his desire to believe in his son’s innocence, his determination to be fair and unbiased, and, above all, his disinclination to believe whatever L told him.
This final sentiment was confirmed when Yagami said, “Your methods are despicable. You are despicable. If I had any other option, I would never work with you.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.” L shut his laptop, getting to his feet. “Now, would you like to join me in witnessing the death of Takeshi Ooi, or do you lack the stomach for it?”
Yagami’s determination to see the case through to the end won out, and though he looked sick, he joined L, Wedy, and L’s hired man in entering Ooi’s cell at the required time. He even tried to gently explain to Ooi that he was about to die, and that he was very sorry, but there was nothing he could do. This, of course, only sparked a predictable panic in the prisoner, who thrashed in his restraints and screamed until the designated time arrived and his programming took over.
Funny, the cruelty inherent in Yagami’s attempt at kindness.
When Ooi was dead, Yagami was sick, vomiting in the corner of the cell. Then, hands on his knees, hair hanging in his face, he looked up at L with eyes of blazing hatred. “You’re inhuman,” he said. “To kill him is one thing, but to make him… Have you no respect for the value of a human life?”
L was pretty sure the words omitted were something along the lines of ‘cluck like a chicken.’ “I needed proof that his death was not a coincidence,” he said blandly. “That meant having him perform actions that he would never normally carry out.”
“Fucking psychopath.”
L ignored that, though he noted inwardly that Yagami must be extremely upset if he were using such language. “We will leave to retrieve the second notebook in… two hours,” he said. That would give him and Watari time to get everything in order. “I am going to go check on the shinigami.”
By which he meant, check on Misa, whom he did not want to leave alone for too long. In addition, by returning to her side as quickly as possible, despite not having explicitly promised to, he hoped to win himself some goodwill.
When he entered the bedroom, he found her laying on her stomach in his bed with a magazine in her hands, seemingly fully recovered from her earlier meltdown. Rem was floating nearby, apparently content to simply watch over her, and it struck L all over again how strange it was that such a creature felt love for her. What was it about Misa that captivated everyone so much?
Maybe, he thought, it was how helpless she seemed… at first. It made a person want to protect her, and they only realized too late what she really was.
“Ryuuzaki!” she said, scrambling to sit up with a smile. “Is it already time for you and Rem to leave?”
“Not yet,” he said. “We’re still preparing. I just thought I would see how you are feeling… I missed you.”
It felt like such an obvious manipulation, and yet, Misa smiled. “Aw,” she said. “Come here.”
L climbed up to crouch on the bed beside her. “Is Misa feeling better?”
“Yeah,” she said, then leaned closer, eyes sparkling. Fully recovered, then—not a hint she had just been sobbing and screaming at him a few hours ago. “How much time do you have before you leave?”
“Just under two hours,” L answered. “But I will need to help with the preparations, so I can’t stay long.”
“How long?”
“Just a few minutes.”
Misa frowned, her eyes sharpening, before saying, “Rem, go outside—give us privacy.” As the shinigami phased through the wall, Misa took him by the shoulders and kissed him.
L allowed it, trying to keep the kiss somewhat chaste, because he knew that she was trying to distract him. He really didn’t have time for that, not if he wanted to do everything possible to make sure Light wouldn’t escape during their diversion. Nor did he think he was likely to be easily aroused under these circumstances—particularly with a shinigami just outside the door, likely eavesdropping on them.
But Misa’s tongue pushed against his lips, and her body against his, so that he had to abruptly sit down on the mattress to avoid being pushed over onto his back, catching himself with his hands braced against the bed behind him. Her breasts were pressed to his chest as she draped herself against him, between his spread legs, and her body squirmed on top of his.
“Misa,” he said carefully, pulling back.
“Come on,” she whined, staring into his eyes. One of her hands slipped between them, pressing against his flaccid penis through his jeans. “Misa likes Ryuuzaki. Doesn’t Ryuuzaki like Misa?”
“Very much,” he said “but I only have a minute. It’s very important to make sure Light does not escape today.”
There was a moment of unsettling silence as Misa drew away from him, anger building in her eyes, before it bubbled over into tears that spilled down her cheeks.
Suppressing a sigh, L set a hand on her face, brushing the tears away. “Misa,” he said again, keeping his voice soft and comforting.
“Ryuuzaki hates Misa!” she cried.
“No, Misa, I don’t hate you.”
She went on like she hadn’t even heard him. “Now that Ryuuzaki knows that Misa was Kira, he doesn’t love her anymore! Ryuuzaki is going to dump Misa!”
“I always knew Misa was Kira,” L pointed out. “That never stopped me from wanting you before, so it isn’t any different now.”
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Misa sobbed even harder, turning away from him and covering her face, shoulders shaking. L felt annoyed, but he tried to suppress it. He needed to keep Misa happy, especially when he didn’t know how much of their conversation Rem could hear, so he tugged on her shoulder, pulling her around to face him.
“I promise I don’t hate you,” he told her. “Misa is very precious to me. I have a lot going on right now, and it’s very important to me to make sure that nothing goes wrong today, so that I can clear Misa’s name and we can be together.”
“But what if you die?” Misa demanded, seemingly out of nowhere. “What if Light or Ryuk kills you?”
“That’s not going to happen,” L said, speaking to himself as much as to her, but she didn’t stop crying.
“Ryuuzaki is going to die!” Misa shouted. “Ryuuzaki is going to die and Misa won’t even get one last time with him and Ryuuzaki won’t even touch Misa because he hates her!”
They were clearly going around in circles, and logic was having no effect, so L did the only thing he could think to do: he kissed her. He felt very much like a puppet as he did so, so obviously was Misa tugging on his strings, and this less than twenty-four hours after he had learned that he still lived only at her leisure.
Misa’s face was wet with tears, and she still sobbed, but she opened her mouth for his tongue, immediately wrapping herself around him. She pressed forward insistently until L was forced onto his back, and she immediately followed, straddling him and beginning to rock her hips.
L, unfortunately, was not aroused, still preoccupied with the shinigami and everything else that had happened, not to mention all that he still had to prepare. When Misa realized he was soft, she pulled back with a pout.
“I knew it,” she told him. “Ryuuzaki doesn’t want Misa anymore. He’s judging Misa for all the things she did, even though she doesn’t even remember them. He’ll never want to fuck Misa again. Misa should just go away, since no one wants her here.”
L didn’t know how consciously Misa made the threat, but he heard it nonetheless. If Misa left, if she didn’t care for him anymore, then he would be thrown to the whims of Rem. Even if he promised not to arrest Misa, the shinigami might kill him anyway, just to be safe.
He swallowed his pride. “I want you very much, Misa,” he told her. “My mind wants you; my body is just too tired to catch up. I need Misa’s help so that I can be with you the way I want. Can you please help me?”
He didn’t have time for this. But what else could he do? He shouldn’t have come up to see her, should have gone straight to work with Watari instead—but then she probably would have punished him for that. There didn’t seem to be any way to win.
“If Ryuuzaki really wanted Misa, he would be hard already, no matter how tired he was,” Misa complained, but she still complied, letting out a frustrated sigh as she crawled down his body and pulled down his jeans and boxers, taking his soft penis in her hand and licking it. “Mmm,” she moaned, faking it.
L closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sensation, rather that on the knowledge that Rem was right outside the door and that he was caught in Misa’s trap. It was difficult, because—what did shinigami even know about sex? He wasn’t sure. What if Rem heard them, or walked in on them, and thought he was hurting Misa?
He couldn’t think of many worse situations to try to get an erection than this: knowing that he might die if he couldn’t, but also that he might die if he could, if Rem got the wrong idea. And the clock ticking away in his head all the while.
Desperately, L thought about everything arousing that he could. Fucking Misa while she was unconscious from the drugs he’d slipped her. Misa stepping out of Watari’s car with his semen on her face. His hand joining Aiber’s on the back of Misa’s head, pushing it down on him.
Misa in a straitjacket, chains around her thighs, a gag between her lips.
Light Yagami’s hands around his neck.
There was a brush of teeth against his sensitive flesh, and he didn’t know if Misa meant it as a threat, but it felt like one. He thought—she might really kill me, any moment now. If I don’t fuck her.
“Mhm,” Misa moaned, pleased, as he began hardening in her mouth, and he abruptly realized that that was what had done it. He’d thought it would make it harder to get an erection, but when he let his brain go down that dark road, to think that his life was in the palm of Misa’s hand, between her teeth, along with his cock… That his survival depended on his ability to please her… It did what her ministrations and feigned moans could not.
He thought, What have I gotten myself into? And then Misa slid her mouth down further, until his growing erection pushed into her throat, and he didn’t think at all, for a time. His heart was beating so fast.
When his mind switched on again, Misa was already naked and on top of him, straddling his hips, murmuring insistently, “Inside, put it inside.” She sank onto him, and he let out a groan at the feeling of being engulfed in her warmth. It felt better, maybe, than it ever had before, because of the danger. Because of his terror, his desperation.
“Oh god,” he said.
“Mhm,” Misa moaned again, grinding her hips down on him, and he grabbed her with both hands, helping to guide her movements. “Tell Misa you love her.”
“I love you.”
“Tell Misa you belong to her.”
“I belong to you.”
Misa threw her head back, bracing both hands on his chest. She was so beautiful. How could she seem to tower over him like this, small as she was? He looked up at her and thought, So this is the woman that two gods of death fell for.
“I’ll never leave you,” he said, watching her brows knit in pleasure.
“You can’t leave me.” Her voice was sharp, with pleasure but also with threat.
“That’s right,” he babbled. The trap didn’t seem so claustrophobic now. Or, if it did, it was only in the same way that Light’s hands had felt when they wrapped around his throat. “I can’t leave—I’m Misa’s.”
“Misa—oh,” she gasped. “Misa needs Ryuuzaki. If Ryuuzaki leaves, Misa will kill him, and then Misa will kill herself. And then we’ll be together—after. Always.”
L didn’t believe in an afterlife—actually, he should probably ask Rem about that—and he should have been afraid, hearing Misa’s words. Or, well, he was afraid. But it just made it better. And at least if she said she needed him, that meant she’d keep him alive. He just had to keep her dependent on him, just as he’d been doing. He could do this, he could.
“Always,” he said, ignoring the feeling that he was in far over his head. In this moment, the small woman on top of him seemed to be the entire world. She was terrifying and vulnerable and devoted and cruel. He wanted to carve her name into his own thigh to match. He wanted her hands around his throat.
Misa grew wild, leaning down to plant wet kisses on his jawline. Her little hands slipped into his hair and tightened, yanking his head back, and she bit down viciously on his neck, sucking until he was certain the bruise would be completely black. Marking her territory, no doubt, to ward off Light, as well as any other threats. He moaned and squirmed, kicking his legs against the sheets, holding on to her for dear life as she rolled her hips quickly down on him.
She licked her way up his neck to whisper in his ear, confiding horrible things in the most erotic tone of voice he’d ever heard. “Misa is worthless,” she moaned, her breath on his ear making him shudder as he hardened further inside of her. “Misa is useless and broken. She’s not a person at all, she’s a shell, all empty and hollow inside. Misa needs Ryuuzaki inside of her to fill her up and give her value so she can exist. Misa… Misa only matters when Ryuuzaki is inside of her.”
She sounded like she might be crying, but he also thought she might be on the verge of orgasm. Maybe both. There was so much desperation in her voice, like she really thought she might die if she didn’t please him. “Fuck Misa, make her real. I’m so worthless, Ryuuzaki, I’m so empty, I only exist when you’re inside me, please, please.”
L felt sick and sad and harder than he’d ever been in his life. “I’m gonna come,” he gasped, and Misa’s rhythm stuttered.
“No!” she moaned. “Misa is so close, so Ryuuzaki better not come yet! Ryuuzaki can’t stop, he can’t, Misa needs it.”
She was definitely crying now.
“I won’t, I just need to stop for a second, just a second, and get a hold of myself.”
“No!” Misa cried out again. “No, no no no, keep going, you have to, you have to!” She whined in frustration and ground her hips down on him as hard as she could.
L knew the danger well, knew that his ability to please Misa, to keep her happy, was all that he had left. If he failed her in this, she probably wouldn’t have him killed yet, but he couldn’t risk it. He didn’t know where the line was, not with someone as volatile as Misa, so he needed to stay as far in the safe zone as possible, to grant her every request.
His heart pounded as he tried to think of things that were boring or gross enough to hold off his orgasm, but not so much so that he would lose his erection and fail Misa that way. Pleasure built and built, even as Misa’s movements grew erratic on top of him, her breath coming hard and fast, but he knew that he couldn’t come, he couldn’t, he had to stop himself, his life might depend on it.
“Oh god,” he gasped. “Oh no, I can’t, Misa, I’m—oh god.”
“Ryuuzaki!” Misa shouted, starting to lift off of him in her anger, and L acted on instinct, gripping her hips tightly and slamming her back down on him, groaning in pleasure as her clenching muscles slid all the way back down his shaft and engulfed him once more. He snapped his hips upwards and cried out helplessly as his orgasm was ripped from him.
He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t do anything, his pleasure intensifying into a wave that knocked him off his feet because it was forbidden, because it was dangerous. He came so hard he seemed to be falling apart, chanting, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh god,” over and over again as he pulsed and spent inside of her.
“Ryuuzaki!” Misa shrieked. “No!”
Which was, of course, when Rem came through the wall, moving faster than L had even known she could, and ripped Misa from his body. She lifted Misa’s naked form right into the air, snatching her away, leaving L alone on the bed, still ejaculating weakly into empty space, head spinning.
“Rem, stop!” Misa shouted, pounding the shinigami’s chest with her fists. “Put me down!”
“But he was hurting you,” Rem said, looking utterly baffled. “You were screaming.”
“I—it wasn’t like that! Put me down, damn it!”
Finally, still looking confused and angry, the shinigami set Misa on her feet.
“Don’t look at him,” Misa snapped.
“What?”
“Don’t look at Ryuuzaki when he’s naked! That’s just for Misa!”
L, whose pleasure had transitioned straight into mind-numbing fear at the sight of the shinigami, covered his penis with both hands and fought back the inappropriate urge to laugh. Was she… jealous? Of the shinigami?
Rem closed her eyes and said, “I don’t understand.”
Misa let out an inarticulate noise of frustration, probably as much from her stymied orgasm as from the shinigami’s behavior. “This is human stuff,” she said. “It has nothing to do with you. Go wait outside, and don’t come back in unless I call your name!”
L wasn’t sure how on earth he could tell that the shinigami’s feelings were hurt, and yet, he had the very strong impression that this was the case. “Fine,” Rem said stiffly, turning and phasing back through the wall without a word, and Misa collapsed onto the bed next to him, fixing him with a glare.
“I was almost there,” she complained.
Though he considered pointing out that, if she had reached orgasm, Rem probably would have mistaken her sounds for ones of pain and interrupted them anyway, he decided not to. Instead, he said, “I know. I’m sorry. Misa just felt so good, I couldn’t last.” He hoped that framing it this way would make her more sympathetic, or she would even take it as a compliment, but she didn’t look any less annoyed.
The Misa he was used to would have forgiven him, wouldn’t have complained. But the way she looked at him now was different, and he suddenly wondered how much of the Misa he knew had been a role she played in response to the immense power he’d held over her. Now that the shoe was on the other foot, she was replaced by someone he didn’t understand, didn’t know how to handle. He suddenly found himself having to try, to think of her rather than taking whatever pleasure he could. He didn’t really know how.
Thinking back to how Misa had catered to his needs all this time, though, he had an idea. “Here,” he said. “Here, come on, come up here.” Taking her by the hips, he guided her up the bed, laying back again, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that told him how short on time he was.
“Ryuuzaki?” Misa asked, confused.
“Misa is always so good for me,” L said. “I should have returned the favor a long time ago. I’m going to take care of Misa until she’s completely satisfied.”
She still looked confused, but when he pulled her to straddle his face and slid his tongue between her labia, she let out a happy, surprised squeal.
Though L could taste his own semen on her, he didn’t mind. Back before their relationship began, when he wasn’t spilling himself onto pictures of her, he would often curl himself up into a ball and ejaculate into his own mouth after masturbating, for easier clean-up. The taste was not exactly pleasant, nor was the way it coated his chin, making a mess of him, but he could bear it.
L felt vaguely guilty at how rarely he had done this for her, particularly during the period between his first and second encounters with Light, when he had thought of nothing but sating his own lust before it led him back to the other man. At the same time, he felt trapped, performing for Misa like a plastic toy so that she would not tire of him.
Part of him wondered if this was how she had felt before: desperate to please him, always aware of the absolute power he held over her. He wondered how she had handled it so well, becoming submissive and cloyingly sweet rather than angry and frustrated.
In any case, he didn’t have to do it long, since she had already been close to orgasm. L flicked and laved his tongue against her, her neat black pubic hair tickling his nose, as she bounced and moaned atop his face. He kept his eyes open and could see her above him, the undersides of her breasts shaking, her hair hanging forward into her face.
Misa slipped right back into her earlier dirty talk, though it was more unsettling now that he was no longer aroused. She babbled down at him, telling him that she was worthless, that she was empty, that she would die if he stopped wanting her, that they both would, that she’d never let him leave her, and then she came screaming. He wondered vaguely how much difficulty Rem was having, restraining herself from interfering again.
Pushing that out of his mind, L smiled up at the panting Misa, grateful that he had found a way to satisfy her, despite his premature ejaculation. Earlier, he had felt angry and helpless, forced into sex by her tears and the implications thereof, but now he couldn’t help but feel warm and satisfied, seeing that she was pleased with him.
(Was this how he’d done it to her? Broken her down, made her into a needy thing that thought only of pleasing him, one hit of oxytocin at a time?)
“That was fun, Ryuuzaki!” Misa told him happily, running her fingers through her sweaty hair and practically glowing down at him. “One more?”
It took L a second to catch on. Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t be satisfied with a single orgasm. After all, that was more than he usually gave her. “Ah,” he said, “could we do it again later tonight? My tongue is tired, and I need to prepare for the trip out of headquarters.”
His heart sank when he saw the tears welling up once again in her eyes. “Ryuuzaki doesn’t love Misa the way that Misa loves him!”
L took a deep breath, the smell of Misa’s cunt overwhelming him. “What? Why would you think that?”
“Because!” Misa said, tears already falling onto the pillow beside his head, still straddling his face. “Ryuuzaki said that he wanted to please Misa, just like Misa does for him. But Misa never says no! Even when Ryuuzaki choked Misa until she couldn’t breathe and almost made her throw up, Misa let him. Because Misa loves Ryuuzaki. So if Ryuuzaki won’t do this for Misa, he must not love her enough.”
Her shoulders shook, and even though he felt like he was being manipulated, she seemed genuinely devastated. He wondered how she could do this—convince herself of things so quickly and totally.
“No one ever loves Misa the way Misa loves them. Misa’s not good enough.”
Well, L couldn’t even argue with her logic. Even though part of him still resented her for forcing him into this, he was the one who had gotten himself into this situation. When he was the one in control, he had used Misa selfishly and constantly, wringing every ounce of pleasure from her with no regard for her comfort. Could he really blame her for doing the same? He had thought she didn’t mind it, that she welcomed it, even. He hadn’t expected the roles to ever be reversed.
Only, could she not have picked a better fucking time? The clock ticked away in his head, but he pushed it back. All she had to do was scream for Rem and he would have far bigger things to worry about than Light’s plan to escape.
“Okay,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I would love to pleasure Misa as much as she wants.”
“You mean it?” Misa asked, and her sniffling immediately stopped.
L had a flash of inspiration, a way to prove that they were on equal ground. He knew he would regret it later, but as long as it kept him alive…
“Misa told me that she would have sex anytime I wanted it, so I would no longer need to masturbate. Now I want to promise Misa the same thing. No matter what, at any time and in any place, if Misa wants my body, she can have it. And I promise never to touch myself without Misa present, and to never go to someone else again. From now on, my body is Misa’s.”
Though he told himself it was simple pragmatism, he found himself flushing slightly at the words coming out of his mouth. Of course, he knew that he already belonged to Misa. One word from her and his heart would stop. All he was doing was admitting the power she held over him. And though he felt reluctant to reveal how completely powerless he was before her, part of him thrilled at it, his cock stirring slightly against his thigh.
“You mean it?” Misa asked, a pout in her voice, but she sounded much happier than she had a second ago. How quickly she swung between her moods.
“I mean it.”
“Misa is so happy,” she said, and then sat right back down on his face. “Please lick Misa’s pussy now.”
L fought back a sigh and did as he was told.
While he licked her, Misa spoke, muttering to him, or to herself—he wasn’t sure which. Now that she had come once, she seemed less frantic, taking the time to revel in her fantasies.
“Ryuuzaki likes it, doesn’t he?” she asked. “Misa’s pussy.” In response, he licked said body part more fervently, and she moaned louder. “Misa’s worthless,” she moaned. “She’s not even human. This is the only part of Misa that matters—this, and Misa’s mouth, and Misa’s ass. Misa’s holes. Ryuuzaki likes fucking them, doesn’t he? They make Ryuuzaki feel good.”
She didn’t seem to want a response, so he just kept on licking. Her hands slid into his hair, tugging at it, holding his head down against the pillow as she rocked on top of his face.
“Ryuuzaki wants to hurt Misa. Everyone wants to hurt Misa. They look at Misa and they want to stalk her and fuck her and kill her.” Her voice was breathy, almost like a sleepwalker, like she was somewhere far away. “Didn’t Ryuuzaki like it?” she cooed. “Didn’t it feel good when Misa choked for him? When he—oh—when he fucked Misa’s ass and made her cry?”
L was not certain how he was meant to feel about the things she was saying. A good man would be horrified, but then, as Yagami had pointed out, he was far from a good man. A ‘fucking psychopath,’ he’d called him.
“Misa knows Ryuuzaki hates her sometimes,” she went on. “Misa knows she’s stupid and annoying and no one likes her. But Ryuuzaki likes fucking Misa, doesn’t he? Ryuuzaki likes Misa’s holes.” She moaned, moving faster. “That’s all that Misa is. Just an empty hole for Ryuuzaki to fill up with his cock.
“Misa bets Ryuuzaki would like her better if… oh, if Ryuuzaki, what’s it called. Lobotomized her.”
Wait, what?
“Ryuuzaki could throw away all the parts of Misa he doesn’t need, only leave enough to keep Misa’s holes warm for him to use. Keep Misa in, in a cage, like a dog, take her out just to fuck her and put her back. Misa could be so good for Ryuuzaki if he forced her to be. He wouldn’t hate her anymore, because the only things left of Misa would be the parts he wanted.”
What the fuck. L was… well, he was getting hard again, but he knew he shouldn’t be. Though he tried not to imagine it, he’d always had a particularly visual imagination, and he could see it so clearly: Misa reduced to a mindless, drooling thing, with just enough brainpower left to be trained to offer up her body on demand. There wouldn’t need to be much of her left for that—for him to use her.
And, like when he’d drugged her, she’d be easier. (Did she know he felt that way? What she’d said, about him hating her, hating when she was anything more than an object for him to use… She’d always been such a sensitive instrument.)
“And when…” Her breath caught, a throaty moan tearing out of her, and she shuddered, so he licked faster, trying to tune out the horrible, arousing words coming from her mouth. “When Misa is old and ugly and even Ryuuzaki doesn’t want her anymore, when her boobs get saggy and she’s fat and her holes are all loose and used up—no, no, before that, Misa doesn’t want to wait that long—before Misa gets old and loses her value, Ryuuzaki should—should kill Misa.”
He paused, so thrown by her words that he forgot what he was doing entirely, at least until Misa let out a frustrated noise, said, “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” and yanked painfully on his hair.
Once he picked back up again, and her hips were once again sliding in a steady rhythm back and forth on his face, she continued. “Ryuuzaki should… should put Misa down like an animal. Misa wants it, oh, fuck, Misa wants to die. Misa wants to die with Ryuuzaki’s cock inside of her. It would be so good—Misa would never have to be empty again. Misa would be good, good enough.
“Maybe—maybe Misa would get tighter, while she was dying. Wouldn’t Ryuuzaki like that? That would be perfect, Misa thinks—if Misa’s death made Ryuuzaki come. Then she would finally be good for something.”
Once again, his active imagination worked against him. He’d do it with his hands on her throat, he knew. He would strangle her to death. Would it be like she said? Would her cunt tighten around him as her body fought for air? How would it feel? He reached down, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking.
What would Misa feel, in the end? Would fear come into her eyes as she realized, too late, that she didn’t want it after all? Or would she smile up at him, blissfully sinking into the knowledge that she was worth something, if only in her death? He didn’t know, but he knew what it would look like when the life faded out of her eyes. He had seen enough people die to know that much—had seen it only a few hours ago, when Ooi’s heart had stopped.
And he’d seen what came after, too. The bodies—mostly women and girls, sometimes boys, rarely men—dumped in rivers and forests, thrown in dumpsters, discarded naked on cold, dirty ground. Dark, hand-shaped bruises around their necks. Semen trickling out from between their thighs, if the perpetrator was sloppy.
It had always seemed to him one of the most monstrous things imaginable—to use up a human life in a few seconds of selfish pleasure. To take a human being—someone with a past, a mind of their own, who had loved and been loved by others, who had been someone’s precious child—and treat them like—well, like a tissue, an object to be ejaculated into once and then discarded, as though that were their only purpose, what they’d been born for—their entire life only the prelude to their killer’s pleasure.
And if he had occasionally grown erect on those crime scenes, well, he had been a young man—a teenage boy, for many of them—and they had been the first naked bodies he’d ever seen. It needn’t mean any more than that. Maybe that was why he was the way he was: he’d first learned of sex in the context of those who used it to hurt, who took it from others, destroying them in the process. Sex not as an act of love, but as violation, as just another means and motive for killing.
But never had he imagined that one day a woman would be begging him for it, begging for him to turn her into one of those bodies. It was—it should have been—unthinkable.
He tugged faster on his cock, hips rocking up, slurping messily at Misa’s cunt.
“Kill me,” she begged, “kill me, fuck me to death, come inside me while I’m dying, look me in the eyes when you do it. I deserve it, I’m bad, I did something bad, you’ll hate me, punish me, please Ryuuzaki.”
L groaned into her flesh, fucking up into his tight fist, pretending it was her body, and Misa suddenly stopped, looking back over her shoulder. “No!” she shouted, rising up just enough to slap him across the face, then grabbed his arm and yanked on it, pulling his hand away from his crotch. “Ryuuzaki can’t, he promised!”
Wasn’t he even allowed to touch himself while pleasuring Misa? He groaned again, this time in frustration. “Please, Misa,” he begged. “I want to come so bad.”
Misa looked down at him with a sudden, cruel smile. “Did it turn Ryuuzaki on?” she asked. “Thinking about killing me?”
He couldn’t even lie to her anymore. “Yes,” he whispered, staring up at her with wide eyes. Then, under the uncannily sharp scrutiny of her gaze, he added, “It’s Misa’s fault. Misa’s the one who made me think those things. Please let me, just a little…” He reached back down for his cock and she slapped him again.
“Ryuuzaki can’t waste it! That has to go inside of Misa.”
“Okay, then let me come inside you,” he said. “Doesn’t Misa want me to fill her up?”
“Mm… no,” she said, and he gaped at her. “If Misa lets Ryuuzaki stick it in again, he’ll just come right away, and Misa won’t get to feel good.”
“I won’t,” he lied. “I won’t, I promise, just let me fuck you.”
She laughed at him. “You’re a dirty animal,” she said. “You can’t keep your hands off your cock for two seconds, can you? All you can think about is finding somewhere to put it.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, nodding his head between her legs. “I want to put it in Misa.”
“Maybe if Ryuuzaki is very, very good,” she teased, then slid her hands down his arms to grab hold of his wrists, pinning them to the bed on either side of his face, sitting back down before he could argue further. “Now lick. Don’t stop until I’m done.”
L sobbed in frustration, thrusting uselessly up into the empty air. He could break Misa’s hold on him, but he might hurt her in the process, and even if he didn’t, she might still tell Rem to punish him for disobeying her. There was nothing else he could do but pleasure her, hoping to do a good enough job that she would allow him to fuck her after.
And yet, even as he obeyed, he was so angry, so desperate, full of lust and hate and barely restrained animal need. He didn’t care anymore. If it weren’t for Rem, he’d do what he wanted—would shove Misa off of him, pin her down to the bed, and fuck her whether she wanted him to or not. She’d said he could whenever he wanted, so he’d do it, even if she screamed and fought him. Then he’d put his hands around her throat and squeeze, just like she’d asked him to.
If Misa wanted to be fucked to death, destroyed, he’d do it and enjoy it, if only to pay her back for toying with him like this. If only to feel, for once, like he had the upper hand.
Because she’d had him on a string for too long, from the day she’d gotten them caught by the task force to the day she’d manipulated him into ejaculating on her face at her film set. Even when he’d thought he was the one in control, he hadn’t been, not really. But even Misa couldn’t turn things around on him if he killed her. He would finally have the power—would kill her, lobotomize her, inject her with drugs to keep her compliant and quiet and easy, a thing that he could control.
Besides, she was a killer. She’d taken hundreds of lives—what was hers, in comparison? Didn’t she deserve everything he’d done to her and more? If she deserved to die for her crimes, then who cared whether her punishment came by means of lethal injection or by L’s hands on her? Interpol would give her to him if he asked—she’d be his reward, and he would be her punishment.
Or maybe the other way around.
But Rem was outside the door, the leash was around his neck, and he had no confidence that Misa would actually allow him to fuck her. The way she was going, she’d probably just keep making him give her orgasm after orgasm, refusing to ever let him come or to go get the notebook with Light. (Was that what this was about?)
After all, if he had her lack of refractory period, that was what he would do.
Well, if he didn’t have the right to tell her no anymore, then the only way to end this was to exhaust her, completely and totally. And so, when she climaxed a second time, L didn’t allow her to pull away. He tore loose from her grasp, wrapped both arms around her thighs, and held her in a vice grip against his mouth. He kept on licking her clit at exactly the same rhythm and intensity, feeling a sort of vicious pleasure in his malicious compliance with her orders.
Misa thrashed above him, her back arching, and she literally screamed in pleasure. She writhed and bucked, grinding down against his face, surrounding him with the smell and taste of her, and still he wouldn’t let go, forcing her pleasure to build and build until she began to shove against his forehead, gasping, “S-stop!”
When L ceased his ministrations, relaxing his grip on her thighs, Misa’s head fell forwards as if her strings had been cut, hands barely supporting her against the bed. Her body gave a few last weak jerks, thighs clenching against his head and releasing again. She panted, her hair falling in a curtain around her face, her body silhouetted against the ceiling lights. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “Oh my god, that was, that was, oh my god. Ryuuzaki. I can barely sit up.”
He took a deep breath, letting himself relax at last. He had done it. His jaw and tongue ached, and his face was coated in her fluids, but Misa was satisfied. She lifted one delicate hand to cup his cheek, and he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes, distracted from his own arousal for a moment by a feeling of triumph.
“Ryuuzaki…” Misa said breathlessly. “Do that again.”
By the time Misa allowed him to stop, she’d come four more times and his tongue felt like it was about to fall out of his mouth. She’d held his wrists down the whole time, so his cock was aching, standing up stiff and red from his pubic hair, feeling like it would explode if she so much as laid a single finger on it. But Misa only lay boneless on the bed next to him, seeming utterly uninterested in doing anything but languishing in the afterglow of her pleasure.
“I was good, wasn’t I?” he asked, sitting up halfway on his elbows, looking down at her, but she ignored him. “Can I come now? I did what Misa asked. It’s my turn.” He crawled closer, until his penis was right next to her face, but she only wrinkled her nose and turned away, and he let out a sound of frustration. “Come on, Misa, please, just let me put it in your mouth. You don’t even have to do anything; you can just lay there and let me fuck you.”
And once she did, he wouldn’t hold back. He’d grab her head in both hands and fuck it as hard and fast as he could, make her feel every bit of his rage, make her pay for teasing him for so long. Take back control. Nothing would make him stop, not until he’d come. God, fuck, it would feel so good.
She still hadn’t said anything, so he continued. “Please, I’ll do anything. You love me, don’t you? You want to be good for me.”
Finally, Misa opened her eyes and looked at him. “What time is it?” she asked.
What? Oh, right. L turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. “Half past one.” Half an hour after he’d told Yagami they would leave to get the second death note. He could only imagine how angry the man must be.
“You have to go, don’t you?” Misa asked. “It’s important.”
She was throwing his own words back at him. If he said it wasn’t, she would point out that he’d tried to use it as a reason not to fuck her earlier, only to turn around and decide he didn’t care now that he wanted to come.
His voice tight with frustration, L said, “Well, I can’t really go like this, can I?” He could only imagine Yagami’s reaction if he walked downstairs with a massive erection and said, ‘Alright, let’s go.’
“I guess you can’t.” Misa turned to look at his cock, and for a second, he let himself get his hopes up, before she added, “Ryuuzaki better go take a cold shower.” At the dumbfounded expression on his face, she laughed, pushing herself up into a seated position. “Oh, is it frustrating having someone use your mouth as much as they want and not even touch you? Poor Ryuuzaki.”
Okay, he got her point. Glaring, he pulled out his cell phone and called Watari.
“I presume you will be needing extra time?” Watari asked, and L thought he heard the tiniest bit of exasperation in his voice, despite the fact that L had already informed him of their precarious situation. He’d warned him about Misa and Rem, and told him that, until he found a way around it, they needed to do whatever the pair of them said. What right did he have to act like this was L’s fault?
Oblivious to his annoyance, the old man went on. “I have already informed Miss Kenwood, Mr. Yagami, and the others. Everything is awaiting your order.”
“The precautions for Light?” L asked. He’d anticipated needing to go over those himself.
“All taken care of,” Watari said, rattling off the long list of security measures they’d be taking. “All that is left is to collect the young Mr. Yagami from his room.”
“Has Light seemed like he remembers being interrogated?”
“He has done nothing out of the ordinary today.”
L hung up and turned back to Misa. “I’m going to go shower,” he said, biting out the words in anger.
“Have fun,” she said sweetly, giving him a little wave and a smile.
Closing the bathroom door behind him, L banged his head against it and let out a groan of anger. That cruel, vindictive bitch. His hand slid down, cupping his aching cock for a moment, and he very nearly started jerking off, but he knew too well that Misa would find out and punish him for it.
Damn you, Rem. If it wasn’t for the shinigami, he would go back to Misa, inject her with a drug to render her unconscious, and spend the next twelve hours satisfying himself with her body in every way possible—second notebook be damned. Instead, he was standing alone in a bathroom, utterly emasculated, unable to even touch himself without her permission.
L slammed his hand against the wall once, breathing hard, then stepped into the shower and turned the water all the way to cold.
When he emerged, hair lying wet against his shoulders, sending streams of cool water down his bare chest, Misa was waiting for him. He grabbed his clothes, beginning to quickly dress himself, and said, “I can send my men to collect Light from his room. I’ll just need to watch over the cameras to make sure he doesn’t try anything.” As frustrating as it was, he couldn’t afford to piss her off now.
But Misa surprised him. “No,” she said, “it’s okay. Ryuuzaki can go get Light himself.” That was such an unexpected thing for her to say that it didn’t really surprise him when she added, “Misa will go with you.”
L’s pulse accelerated immediately. “Misa, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said, watching her face harden. “Won’t it be upsetting to see me interact with Light? Besides, I don’t want to see him. I’d rather let my men take care of it.”
Misa gave him the oddest look, determined but smiling. “Misa isn’t worried about Light anymore,” she said. “Misa wants to do this.” At his hesitation, she said, with more emphasis, “This is what Misa wants. It will make her feel better.”
This was such a fucking bad idea. But L didn’t see any way around it, not when Misa’s eyes flickered to the door as though she were contemplating calling Rem in for backup.
“Alright,” he said. “Let’s go get Light.”
L’s heart was pounding as he led Misa to Light’s floor, handcuffs dangling from his hand. The last time the three of them had been in one place, it had gone poorly, to say the least. This simple mission to find the missing death note was rapidly spiraling out of his control. And yet, what could he do? Somehow, without even noticing at first, he had entirely lost control over his case—his life—and now he found himself pulled along, caught in Misa’s wake.
Looking down at the girl holding his hand, smiling to herself like she had some private joke, L realized that he had a very, very bad feeling about this.
The feeling only grew until it was nearly excruciating. As they unlocked the door to Light’s quarters, L felt like he was outside of his own body. Like his feet were stepping forward without his consent, carrying him mercilessly towards something horrible.
Light got to his feet from where he’d been sitting at his desk, lost in thought. They’d told him nothing—he shouldn’t even know that L had visited him the night before, let alone that he was about to go out of the headquarters. He opened his mouth, and L was so certain he was going to say, ‘What are you doing here?’ that he practically heard the words before they were voiced.
That was why it took him a moment to process the words that Light did say.
“L belongs to Misa,” Light said, his face going strangely slack. “No one will take him away from her. And anyone who tries… Misa will punish them.”
That being said, Light blankly stuck his tongue as far out of his mouth as it could possibly go and bit down with his full strength, letting out a strangled scream. The muscle dropped to the ground in a torrent of blood. A second later, Light followed it, thrashing and gurgling as even more blood poured from his mouth.
For a long moment, that was the only sound in the room. And then L heard himself say, as though from distance, “Misa, what have you done?”
On the floor in front of them, Light stopped twitching and lay still, the slowly spreading red puddle beginning to soak into the carpet. And Misa—her small, soft hand still interlaced with L’s—began to laugh.
Notes:
CW: Uh. Misa blackmails L into sex under implied threat of death, then starts talking about herself in increasingly degrading and misogynistic ways. They both fantasize, Misa aloud, L internally, about Misa killing L, Misa killing herself, L killing Misa, L lobotomizing or drugging Misa, forcing her into sex, etc. L explicitly connects this to victims of sex crimes he's seen as an investigator and has increasingly violent fantasies towards Misa that he's unable to act on. Misa slaps L several times. Then, at the end of the chapter, Light bites his tongue off and dies in front of them.
Sorry to my Light girlies, but you know Misa was never gonna let him get away with taking her man.
Also, if you think this chapter is unhinged? The next one's worse.
Chapter 28: heads rolling for the one i adore
Notes:
General CW along the lines of what we've seen in the story thus far, but the violence is more graphic than usual. I'm not putting a detailed CW this time cause honestly, I suspect that anyone who would have an issue with this chapter wouldn't have made it this far.
Be mine and everything will be fine
This might get a little messy, I'm sure
Heads rolling for the one I adore
This may become a little brutal, if I'm honest
But it's any-anything for you, my dear, I promise- Jazmin Bean, "Yandere"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When L snapped out of his dreamlike state, it was only to turn to Misa, taking her roughly by the shoulders. “What did you do?” he demanded again.
Misa’s laughter trailed off, and she looked up at him with shining eyes, pouting. “Ryuuzaki can’t be mad at me.”
“Misa—you killed someone.”
She let out a giggle. “I killed a few hundred people, actually, and you were fine with that.”
“I was not—”
“Ryuuzaki wouldn’t listen!” she snapped. “Ryuuzaki never listens to Misa. He pretends to, and then he just does whatever he wants anyway. That, or he argues with Misa and talks in circles until she can’t think. Just because Ryuuzaki is better at arguing than Misa doesn’t mean he gets to always get his way!”
She turned, facing Light’s body on the ground, and his eyes followed. Light’s eyes were still open. He looked surprised. His mouth looked like a bloody, open wound.
“Misa wouldn’t have done this if Ryuuzaki had just stayed away from him. So, really, it’s your fault he’s dead. You killed him, not me.”
L’s mouth fell open in the face of Misa’s logic—if it could even be called that. “Misa is insane,” he said, though the words felt stupidly obvious—pointless—as they came out of his mouth. Because that begged the question, what was he going to do about it?
Nothing. He could do nothing. He would clean up her mess. Misa would get her way in the end, as always.
She seemed to see the realization on his face, because she broke into a fresh round of giggles. L felt something sweep through his body—hatred, he realized belatedly—and his hands moved from Misa’s shoulders to her neck. Just sitting there, for a moment, and then beginning to squeeze.
Misa’s giggles broke off, and her eyes went wide. She reached up, wrapping both hands around his wrists, but she didn’t try to pull him off of her. All she did was stare, holding on to him, as he started strangling her in earnest. She was so small, her neck fitting easily in his hands. It wouldn’t be hard at all. Dangerous as she was, she was still only a woman.
“It might be worth it,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “I’d die too, of course.” Rem would kill him the second she saw what he’d done. “But at least I’d be fucking rid of you—you crazy bitch.”
Somehow, he was as surprised at his own misogynistic language as he was at the fact that he was genuinely on the verge of strangling his girlfriend to death.
Misa opened her mouth and a noise came out. At first he thought she was crying, the sound choked and distorted from his grip on her throat, but after a moment, the harsh, gasping noise resolved itself into laughter.
Loosening his grip just the smallest bit, L said, “What?!” He felt feverish, dizzy, like he was in a nightmare. This wasn’t his life.
Sagging against him, giggling wildly now that the air could get through her trachea again, Misa said, “Wouldn’t help. We’d just wake up in hell together and do this all over again.” Then, sliding her hands down to cover his own, still encircling her neck, she squeezed, as if encouraging him to continue. “I don’t care,” she informed him. “Kill me or don’t—live with me, die with me, we’re together either way. If you’re going to do it, just do it.”
Staring her into her enormously dilated eyes, L had the belated realization that Misa was genuinely, one hundred percent insane at this point. She had come unhinged, and he knew exactly when—three nights ago, when she’d carved his symbol into her flesh while he slept. And he was the one who had done this to her, who’d pushed her over that edge. Not her personality disorder, not her trauma, not Light—him. He’d broken her completely.
It would be a mercy, he thought, tightening his grip on her neck again. She gasped and laughed, face starting to turn purple, and helped as much as she could, her hands squeezing down over his. To put her—both of us—out of our misery.
Misa’s eyes were just beginning to roll back in her head, her grip on his hands weakening, when he released her. He couldn’t do it, in the end, though he didn’t quite know why. Some much abused survival instinct, maybe, or whatever fragment of humanity was left to him.
Taking in a gasping breath, Misa used what little strength remained in her body to wrap her arms around his neck, falling against him chest to chest, and pull herself off the ground. He instinctively caught her as her legs came up to wrap around his waist. This time, when she started laughing, he was pretty sure he at least knew why—because she’d realized he had grown erect again at some point in the process of nearly killing her. She ground her hips down on his with a moan.
“Misa,” he began, eyes going to the bloody corpse on the floor, some part of him still recognizing that maybe now was not the right time to be fucking. There were things to do, choices to make, if he wished to get himself out of this situation unscathed.
But Misa pulled back, staring him in the eyes. Her own were red, blood vessels broken from what he’d done, and yet, she smiled. “I don’t think,” she said, her voice slow and sweet, like someone addressing a child, “that L wants to tell Misa no right now.”
L heard the threat in her voice and felt strangely relieved—absolved. Whatever happened now, it could be blamed on her. He had no choice.
Misa ran a hand into his hair and yanked, forcing him to tilt his head back so she could kiss him, her teeth coming together to bite down on his tongue, and he understood that, too. It said As Light went, so could you. Eyes half-open, tasting blood in his mouth, Misa writhing in his arms, L stumbled past Light’s body, shoved his laptop and papers off the desk, and laid her out on it, pulling away from her only enough to undo his pants and shove them down to his ankles.
Laying under him, Misa pulled her shirt over her head and threw it aside, then did the same with her bra. She hiked her skirt up her hips—no panties, had she planned this? (Crazy bitch.) Reclining back on the desk, arms stretched above her head to touch the wall on the other side of the desk, she said in a grating faux-innocent voice, “Has Misa been a bad girl?”
L couldn’t help it: he burst into harsh laughter, even with one hand already on his cock. “You killed someone. You fucking lunatic.”
“Misa’s sorry,” she lied, voice breathy and girlish. “Does Ryuuzaki want to punish her?”
“Fucking lunatic,” he repeated, shaking his head, and shoved himself inside of her. He would have thought something scathing about her being insane enough to be wet at a time like this, but then, he’d gotten an erection while strangling her, so. Glass houses. “Fuck,” he said instead, sensibly, and slapped a hand down on the desk right next to her head.
“Yeah,” Misa moaned. “That’s it.”
The desk slammed into the wall with the violence of their movements. L could see Light’s body out of the corner of his eyes, so he closed them and lowered himself over Misa until she was all he could see. Her nails raked down his back, probably drawing blood, and he moaned.
“God, I hate you.” He ground the words out through gritted teeth. “Fucking psychopath.”
“Show me,” Misa said, and when he hesitated, she grabbed hold of one of his hands and moved it back to her neck. He didn’t do anything, not at first, but she arched under him and moaned, “Come on, Ryuuzaki, don’t you want to hurt me? It’s okay, I won’t be mad.” Noticing the confusion in his eyes, she added, “Punishing Misa is allowed—as long as Ryuuzaki doesn’t leave. Come on, Misa deserves it, doesn’t she? She’s bad? Misa’s a bad girl, she’s evil, she’s worthless, please.”
L wanted to be able to say that he hesitated still, or wondered what the fuck was wrong with the both of them, or asked himself what the hell he was doing, but he didn’t do any of that. He just squeezed down on Misa’s neck and fucked her harder.
“Oh god, yes,” Misa moaned, apparently satisfied, moving her hands from his wrists to her clit. “Oh—” And then he tightened his grip, and no noises escaped her anymore. Her head jerked back, tendons standing out—not only from his assault, he thought, but from the force of her pleasure. Her mouth opened like she was screaming, but no sound came out, and she convulsed under him, cunt pulsing, before she went entirely limp. A puppet with its strings cut, the almost demonic force animating her movements seeming to vanish at once.
L’s movements stuttered, and he yanked his hands away. Was she—she couldn’t be. No, a hand under her nose confirmed it: Misa was alive. He hadn’t gone that far. She was simply unconscious.
He almost stopped, but, well. She was much more manageable like this, and she hadn’t let him come earlier. If he could just finish before she woke up, clear his head, he could focus on what needed to be done—cleaning up the body and all. So he closed his eyes and grit his teeth, gripping the edge of the desk tightly, rutting into her as she lay limp, both legs and one arm dangling off the desk. He was focused enough on this, on the pleasure building in his gut, that it took him a moment to register the sound behind him.
L’s head swiveled to see, of all fucking people to catch him at this, Soichiro Yagami standing just inside the door he and Misa had left open behind them. On his face was an expression L could only call utter desolation. They both stared at each other for a long moment—Yagami senseless with horror, L naked from the waist down with his cock inside an unconscious Misa Amane, the dead body of Yagami’s son on the floor just beside them.
Then Yagami broke the spell and charged forwards, and L flinched, moving too slowly to defend himself—but the man wasn’t going for him. No, he only dropped to his knees beside Light, hands scrambling to find a pulse, beginning to scream when he couldn’t.
And—look. Obviously, in this situation, L should probably have removed himself from Misa’s body and pulled his pants back up. However, he… did not do that. In fact, the thought that, at any moment, Yagami would recover from his shock and try to pull him away from Misa only filled him with desperation to reach his climax first. He clung to the desk as hard as he could, laying over Misa’s body, and thrust into her with a sort of frantic, mindless violence—the animal she’d always said he was. Fine, fine, he was an animal, he was disgusting, he was—fuck, he was so close, she’d teased him for hours, he needed—
He took too long. With a scream of primal rage, Yagami stood and launched himself at L, grabbing him with blood-soaked hands and tearing him from Misa’s body. L’s ankles tangled in his clothing and he lost his balance, falling heavily to his back on the floor. Before he could even begin to recover, particularly when half of his thinking power was still focused on his cock, Yagami dropped to his knees over him and wrapped both hands around his neck.
Funny how quickly the roles were reversed, L thought. Just like Misa, he didn’t fight back. He wasn’t really sure he should, not when he could see himself reflected in Yagami’s eyes—the monster he’d become.
Not that Yagami was looking so good either, tendons standing out in his neck, face red with his rage, eyes wide and crazed. L had the distant thought that they were all the same in the end—Yagami, Light, and himself. Get them angry enough, and their first instinct was to put their hands around someone’s throat. Human nature, maybe.
No—Misa, crazy as she was, didn’t seem especially inclined to strangle people who pissed her off. She found her own way of getting even. Male nature, then, L decided, as his vision started to dim. An absurd thought, the oxygen deprivation making him slow and silly.
And speaking of male nature, well. Even as the strength went out of the rest of his body, leaving him limp, one part of himself grew more rigid. It wasn’t surprising, even if it was depraved—he’d been approaching orgasm already, and apparently having a man half-mad with rage trying to strangle him to death was just the sort of thing he was into now.
Yagami should probably stop for that reason alone: he wouldn’t enjoy what would happen if this went on much longer. L considered telling him to stop, but he couldn’t get the words out, and what the fuck was he going to say, anyway? Just to warn you, if you don’t stop trying to murder me, I’m probably going to ejaculate on you. I don’t really care either way—just thought you should know.
Instead, L arched his back, closing his eyes, hips pushing up into the empty air. At some point in all of this, he must have given up on any pretense of dignity, or of being a human being at all. Whatever was left was… this. This wretched thing, wondering idly whether he would tip over into orgasm or death first.
The question was decided for him: there was a loud thunk!, and then Yagami’s full weight collapsed on top of him on the floor, hands going slack around L’s neck. All of the air rushed back into his lungs at once, the sweetest relief he had ever felt, wild elation, and from that and the sudden weight on top of him, pushing down on his aching cock, it wasn’t surprising that he immediately came.
His orgasm, built up from hours of teasing, was so strong that he forgot who and where he was, and what had happened, and who was on top of him. He let out the most inhuman, depraved noise that had ever passed his lips, clutched at the shoulders of the body pressing down on him, wrapped one ankle around Yagami’s legs, and bucked his hips up wildly, trembling with the force of his release.
It felt like dying, almost, stars bursting behind his eyes, but that might have been the effect of breathing again after so long without. Did it matter? Either way, the world was transformed into white static and a pleasure so intense it was painful.
And if, in the back of his mind, part of him remembered who the man was—if he even took a certain perverse pleasure in rubbing himself against the body of a man who hated him, ejaculating all over the front of his shirt, like a little boy pissing where he wasn’t supposed to—well, that was his own business, wasn’t it?
At least until there came a feminine grunt, following which the body was shoved off of him and off to the side, ruining his orgasm halfway through for the second time that day. L let out a pleading, frustrated noise, reaching for his cock, but before he could, Misa had crouched down between his legs and swallowed him to the hilt in one practiced motion.
L howled, throwing his head back and grabbing at her hair for purchase, his orgasm seemingly reinvigorated by his sudden engulfment in her throat, and it stretched on and on, pleasure utterly consuming him, and he didn’t give a fuck anymore. Not about any of it—nothing but this. She could kill whoever she wanted if she kept on doing this to him.
Except, when he was finally spent, his cock weakly twitching, Misa didn’t stop. She sucked even more harshly, pulling at him with her throat and tongue, and pleasure finally tipped over into pain. He whimpered, trying to push her head away, making incoherent noises of discomfort, but she dug her nails into his hips and kept on going, even when he managed to gasp, “Stop!”
He writhed and shuddered, trying to get away from that relentless mouth, pushing and pushing at her, but then he felt the sudden press of teeth around the base of his cock and his head went quiet. He froze, terrified, and Misa stopped sucking as well, gently beginning to bite down.
Slowly, L lifted his head from the floor and looked down to see Misa staring at him from between his legs like something out of a horror movie: a rats’ nest of blonde hair; bloodshot, empty eyes; lips drawn back to bare the perfect white model’s teeth that were an inch away from divesting him of his manhood.
He understood the message, just as he had earlier: I know what you care about, and I can take it away from you.
Not that far from her, the lamp from the desk was lying on the ground, a smear of blood on its base. Off to his side, he heard the groan of Yagami struggling back to consciousness. He felt sick.
“I didn’t—” he gasped, self-preservation belatedly coming back to him now that his cock was on the line. “I didn’t mean to, Misa, I swear, I’m sorry, it was an accident, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Misa pulled back abruptly, letting his abused penis fall back onto his stomach with a wet plop, and he gasped in relief. She sat back on her heels, looking between him and Yagami.
“I know,” she said. “It was his fault. Misa will punish him.”
As L stared up at Misa, he realized distantly that he should try to stop her, but how well had trying to stop Misa from doing anything ever worked for him? Still, he was shocked when she picked up the lamp, crouched over Yagami, and began to slam it down against his head, over and over, panting and letting out little shrieks of anger. He’d expected her to call Rem or something, not—that.
Some oxygen-deprived, blood-soaked part of his brain thought, I guess men strangle their enemies, and women bash their heads in with table lamps. He let out a hysterical noise that was either a giggle or a sob. He supposed he’d been broken now, too—lost what sanity he had left. It was almost a relief.
When Misa was done, there were streaks of blood on her body, still naked save for her tiny pleated skirt. She was breathing hard, bare tits shaking, and he wanted her, even with the… scene she had created.
Yagami was… well, L had seen a lot of crime scenes. This was one of the more brutal ones, granted, but not unimaginably so. (Although most of the time, he saw them in photographs, rather than visiting in person, and photographs didn’t include the smell.)
But really, the most unimaginable part was Misa, and the way she looked as she let the lamp fall heavily to the floor, surveying her work. Father and son in matching pools of blood, and L lying in the middle of it, naked from the waist down, shirt pushed up to reveal a stomach covered in streaks of red and white from—well. He could see a necklace of dark bruises around her throat and knew that if he did not already match her, he would soon.
She was smiling, girlish and mad and beautiful, running a hand into her messy hair and leaving streaks of red behind. Leaning down, she extended a hand to L, and he took it, letting her help him to his feet.
“Ryuuzaki,” crackled Watari’s voice from a speaker. “Backup is nearly there.”
L looked down at Misa, blood-soaked and smiling, and something in his mind just crumpled, broke to pieces like rotten ice. Without looking up, he called out, “Tell them to stand down. Misa and I have things under control.”
He slid an arm around Misa’s waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. It was unclear whose blood he tasted in her mouth, but at this point, did it even matter? He would swallow it either way.
After a quick shower in Light’s bathroom, the first order of business was to figure out whether Rem was still in the building, or had flown back to the shinigami realm upon Yagami’s death. L was a little surprised at how calmly he was taking the complete upheaval of his plans, but he seemed to have settled into a dissociated state in which he suspected very little could disturb him. At some point, he had simply crossed over from his own reality into Misa’s, and he was far less upset about this fact than he ought to have been.
As they walked to the room where L kept the death note locked up, he asked, “How much of that did you plan? Was Yagami’s appearance your doing?”
Misa bit her lip, trying and failing to hide a smile, like a mischievous child. “Might’ve been.”
“Why?” That was what he didn’t understand: what possible benefit could it have been to Misa, bringing Yagami into that scene? Killing Light made sense, but not that.
“He never liked me,” she answered with a pout. “He thought Light was too good for Misa.”
“So you purposefully showed him his son’s corpse?” As, what, a way of gloating?
“He was supposed to be there when Light died, but he was too slow, I guess.” She sounded slightly petulant, but not especially upset.
L nodded to himself. Considering Misa’s psychology, he supposed that made sense, but… “The building security system shouldn’t have allowed him access to that floor.” At Misa’s hesitation, the way she wrung her hands together, he added, “I am not angry—merely curious.”
“Rem… might’ve threatened to kill Watari if he didn’t unlock the stairwells.”
Of course she had. Well, at least he knew from hearing Watari’s voice over the intercom that he was alive. That also likely explained the delay in his sending backup, if Rem had been there for some of that time.
When they entered the room containing the safe, they found her waiting, hovering over it anxiously—or, as anxiously as a shinigami could.
“You know,” L couldn’t help but point out, “you would not have had to worry about Misa’s safety if you had not agreed to carry out that plan. Now it will be even harder for me to keep Misa out of prison.”
Rem glared. “You will keep Misa out of prison.” Then—did she look a little embarrassed?—she added, “I had no choice. Misa threatened to hurt herself if I did not comply.”
L glanced at the girl in question, who was smiling, looking entirely unrepentant. “Misa told Rem it would be fine.”
He thought of pointing out that they had not sorted out the issue of her potential imprisonment yet, but decided that would only increase the likelihood of Rem killing him. Instead, he asked, “Is the notebook still in the safe?”
“Yes,” Rem said. “But if it does not have a new owner soon, I will need to return to the shinigami realm.”
L thought for a moment. Who should take ownership of the notebook? Not himself or Watari. Misa, maybe? It didn’t seem like it could make things any worse, and he did not mind the idea of her losing her memories again at the end of the case. It might even help with… whatever he’d done to her.
On the other hand, while owning the death note would not greatly increase Misa’s power in the situation, it might make some difference, and seeing as she already had both the shinigami and L himself under her thumb, it seemed prudent to avoid that.
Someone else, then. Someone more tractable than Yagami or Misa, who would defer to L’s orders, but whom he did not mind losing their memories before long. Aiber or Wedy? No, they would be useful to him if a new Kira ever surfaced in the world. One of his mercenaries? That would require telling someone else the truth of the notebook and the shinigami.
No, there was one clear solution, and it wasn’t any of them.
“Catch,” L said, tossing the death note straight at Namikawa as he and Misa entered the prisoner’s floor.
Namikawa flinched, but to his credit, he did manage to catch the notebook, looking between it, L, and Misa with abject confusion. “What’s this?”
“Congratulations, you are now the proud owner of a death note,” L said, pulling his latex gloves from his hands with a snap. “Now please give it back.”
This was why he’d chosen Namikawa: although he was clearly baffled, he was intelligent enough to know there was no use doing anything other than exactly what L said. “Does this mean your plans for me have changed?” he asked calmly, placing the notebook back in L’s outstretched hands.
“Yes,” L said. “We no longer need to test the thirteen day rule. I am certain it is false, and the original Kira is dead, so there is no need to prove his guilt.” He paused, then added, just because he could, seeing as Namikawa might forget it all soon anyways (and even if he did not, would never be stupid enough to tell), “Well, one of the original Kiras is dead. The other one is right beside me, but she is my girlfriend, so I will not be turning her in.”
He put an arm around Misa’s shoulders, staring Namikawa in the eyes and daring him to say anything. Misa giggled, leaning into his side. For a split second, the man glanced down at Misa’s throat, then L’s, likely noting the dark bruising, before resolutely raising his eyes.
“…That’s very lucky for her,” he said at last. “Do you still intend to let me go free as well?”
A man with his priorities in order. “Yes, once we’re finished,” L said. “First, we are going to restrain you and take you out to the woods while we look for something. If we find it, all of your memories of the true nature of Kira’s powers will be erased and you will be free to go.”
He watched Namikawa carefully for any sign that he objected to this plan, or was thinking of trying to circumvent it, but he actually looked relieved—probably at the idea of getting rid of some of the incriminating knowledge floating around in his head.
“Why do you need me to go to the woods with you?”
“Ah, yes.” L glanced at the wall. “An eight-foot tall shinigami named Rem is going to follow you around for the next few days. In a moment, she will enter this room. Please try not to panic—frankly, I’ve had enough of listening to people screaming for one day.”
Even with Misa tagging along, going out to the forest with Namikawa was far less stressful than it would have been with Light and his father. Of course, Light’s absence meant that they were forced to simply go to the last place Rem had seen the previous death note, then begin searching.
L and Rem were not certain what Light had done with the second notebook, but it seemed that the most natural way to hide something in a forest would be to bury it, and so he’d had Watari rent a large number of metal detectors, as well as several ground-penetrating radar devices in case the notebook had not been buried inside of a metal container. The latter had been quite expensive, and had required they hire experts to operate them, but if they found the notebook, it would be worth it.
Rem pointed out the location to them first, after which L, Misa, and Namikawa climbed in the back of Watari’s van so that L’s mercenaries and radar specialists could begin their search without seeing them. He had still not decided what to do about Misa yet, but he was starting to believe that he would need to fake her death, so it was best to keep her out of sight.
Misa spent the entire time they were waiting sitting on his lap, twirling her hair and complaining about how bored she was, while Rem looked vaguely disgruntled and Namikawa pointedly faced the side of the van, likely trying to avoid staring at either spectacle—the shinigami, or the idol atop the masked detective. His wrists and ankles were bound together, but he showed no sign of intending to make a break for it.
In the end, the search went more quickly than he’d dared to hope. He had thought that Light might have changed locations after Rem had left him and Ryuk behind, but in the end, one of their radar specialists uncovered an object, buried only a few feet deep and wrapped in plastic and tape, within two meters of where Rem remembered them standing.
The hired men cleared out again, ready to be called back if the package turned out not to be what they were looking for, and L emerged from the van, Misa and Rem by his side, Namikawa shuffling slowly and awkwardly behind them with a soft clinking of chains. Wedy was hidden somewhere nearby, watching, a gun in her hands, just in case he tried to run.
Donning his gloves, L carefully cut the covering from the package, then opened the box within, revealing what appeared to be a notebook entirely identical to the first. “Please touch this notebook to obtain ownership of it,” he instructed Namikawa, holding it out to the prisoner.
Namikawa gave it a nervous look, probably wondering if there were more reasons than the memory loss that L didn’t want to own it himself, but he knew that his freedom depended on his obedience, and so he reached out and touched it with his bound hands.
The first sign of Ryuk’s appearance was a scowl on Rem’s face—L had gotten the impression that she did not care for the other shinigami. Next, a flinch from Namikawa and a widening of his eyes, but at least he wasn’t screaming.
Not wanting to miss out, L removed his gloves and touched the notebook, then briefly brushed it against Misa’s arm. There was a sharp noise from her, an aborted sound, as she remembered, and then immediately forgot, her time as a Kira. He was grateful that she didn’t try to take it back from him, seeing as he was not in a position to deny her anything with Rem looming over his shoulder. Instead, she only clung to his arm, leaning against him as if for support.
“Phew,” said a grating, guttural voice. “I’ve returned to the human world.”
L turned to face the hulking shape of the second shinigami he knew must be Ryuk, who took one look at him and burst into laughter. “Oh boy,” the shinigami said. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
Notes:
A lot of the first half of this chapter was inspired by Park Chan-wook's film Thirst, with a little touch of other horror films as well (Possession, Antichrist, and Gone Girl in particular). Also, given the opening line of this fic, I think it's interesting that L's ended up with Misa as his girlfriend, two death notes in his possession, and two shinigami following them.
I was gonna add a warning that there's no safe way to choke someone unconscious during sex (and probably no safe way to choke someone at all), but if you're taking sex advice from this fic at this point, I'm not sure I can help you.
Btw, I tried to make it clear in the fic, but I'm in no way implying that Misa has lost it and started killing people because she has BPD. She's lost it and started killing people because she's Misa Amane and someone pushed her a bit too far.
Chapter 29: tie me with balloon strings to the floor
Notes:
I never thought it would happen to me
You cut my hair off in my sleep and put it in the kitchen sink
I never thought it would happen to me
Well, you treat me like a little toy and made me do a danceIf you want to, we can make a pact
But it will be an act, it doesn't mean anything
Tie me with balloon strings to the floor
I don't care anymore, you can do what you want
No, I don't care anymore
You can do what you want- Slothrust, "Birthday Cake"
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
On the ride back to headquarters, Ryuk ate three entire bushels of apples.
They didn’t get to do much talking, given his steady (and incredibly loud) munching, and so the first item on L’s agenda upon their return was to negotiate a deal with the shinigami. Namikawa was returned to his floor and locked in, looking relieved to be rid of their presence, and the notebooks were locked in separate safes—eggs and baskets and so on.
Meanwhile, L, Misa, Ryuk, and Rem settled into one of the conference rooms that had once been used by the task force. Only L took a chair—Misa was on his lap, as usual, and the shinigami just sort of floated ominously on the other side of the table in the way they tended to do.
“Earlier, you said you’d been waiting to meet me,” L began, deciding not to jump straight to haggling. Besides, he was curious. “What did you mean by that?”
“You and Light were fun to watch,” Ryuk began, eyes glinting, “but you and Misa, oh man! I’ve been watching from the shinigami realm, and I got to say—you guys are freaks.”
“Hey!” Misa complained. “Misa’s not a freak!”
Ryuk chortled. After the dour Rem, L was slightly surprised to discover that some shinigami had senses of humor. “You’re always either yelling at each other, or hitting each other, or kissing, or doing weird stuff. Licking each other, putting stuff in your orifices, expelling bodily fluids on each other, and making those weird noises while you do. Oh, there was that time you put her feet in your mouth!” he exclaimed, pointing at L. “What was that about?”
Trying to think as little as possible about the idea of shinigami watching his sex life from the realm of death, L took a page out of Misa’s book. “It’s just human stuff,” he said. “Nothing that a shinigami would enjoy.”
“Couldn’t even if I wanted to,” Ryuk said, looking—was he regretting it? “I haven’t got a penis, you see. I’m all smooth down there. Like a doll.”
L had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.
“Watching you makes me kind of wish I had one, though,” the shinigami added, with a definite note of wistfulness in his voice. “You seem to enjoy it a lot. Hey, have you ever considered putting an apple up your—”
“Ew!” Misa shrieked, and L was grateful for the interruption, even if the volume of it hurt his ears.
“Ryuk,” Rem growled, seeming to understand that he was upsetting Misa, even if she didn’t understand human feelings about sex any more than he did. “Enough.”
“I put my foot in my mouth one time,” Ryuk said. “Just to try it. It didn’t really feel like anything.”
L took a slow, deep breath, trying to figure out how best to change the subject to literally anything else. He supposed he should just be grateful Ryuk wasn’t in love with Misa too, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to hear about what passed for the shinigami’s sexual curiosity.
In the end, he couldn’t find a way to be subtle about it, so he said, “Ryuk, my intention is to destroy both death notes so that they do not find their way back into human hands. Will you try to stop me if I do?”
Ryuk appeared a bit put out now. “That would spoil my fun,” he complained. “Why don’t you leave me one? That would be fair.”
“Because you’ll probably give it to another human,” L said, and Ryuk didn’t deny it. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”
Laughing again, Ryuk said, “I’m a god of death, you know. I don’t take orders from you.”
Before L could think of a response to that, Misa circumvented the entire argument by turning to Rem and saying, “Please make Ryuk do what Ryuuzaki says.”
Rem blinked, then turned to Ryuk. “If you interfere in Misa’s happiness, I will spend the rest of eternity making your existence as unpleasant as possible.”
From her perch on L’s lap, Misa stuck her tongue out at Ryuk.
The shinigami almost seemed to pout as he said, “It’s already unpleasant. I’m so bored, you have no idea. Shinigami are the worst. Hey, why don’t you keep a notebook and let me hang out with you? You don’t even have to use it.”
L very much did not want Ryuk following him around for the rest of his life, nor did he trust him not to try to convince him or, more problematically, Misa to use the death note to make things interesting. “Haven’t you been entertained enough, watching Misa and I over these past few months?”
Misa gave him a slightly betrayed look, clearly uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like he could stop Ryuk from spying on them. They might as well use it to their advantage.
“Yeah, but that’ll get old eventually.”
L thought for a moment. “How about this: you can watch me solve crimes, and when you’re bored, you can randomly kill people in interesting ways to throw me off. Then I’ll have to guess whether it’s you or a human killer. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
He felt few qualms about encouraging Ryuk to kill people—from what Rem told him, that was pretty much all that shinigami did. If he was going to take lives no matter what L did, then it didn’t really matter who the victims were, so long as Ryuk didn’t kill him or Misa.
“Hm.” Ryuk stroked his chin, seeming to consider this. “And if you get it wrong, I get to kill you?”
“No!” Misa shrieked.
“No,” Rem echoed sternly.
Ryuk scowled. “Aren’t I allowed to have any fun? I’ll tell you what—every time you get it wrong, I’ll kill someone you care about. That old man, maybe, or those kids he looks after.”
L’s blood suddenly ran very cold. Before he could respond, Misa said, “That’s fine.”
“No, that’s not fine,” L argued, grabbing Misa’s face to force her to look him in the eyes. “I’ll be very upset if you let him do that, Misa.”
“Why?” she asked, blinking at him with what appeared to be innocent curiosity.
Uncertain how to respond, L said, “Because they’re important to me.”
The look in Misa’s eyes immediately told him that was the wrong answer. “Ryuuzaki doesn’t need them anymore,” she said. “You have Misa now.” Turning back to Ryuk, she said, “You can go ahead and kill them if you want.”
Though L wanted to protest, Rem was giving him a warning look, so he kept his mouth shut. That’s fine, he told himself, trying to fight down his rising panic at how little control he had over—well, anything. At the thought of spending the rest of his life dancing for Ryuk like a puppet on a string, knowing that one false move would mean… Well. It’s fine—I just have to be smart enough to solve the cases. Same as always.
“Fine,” L said, pushing the thought of the Wammy’s House children out of his head. If he was a better person, maybe he’d just let Ryuk and Rem kill him to spare the rest of them, but—no one had to die. No one he cared about, in any case. As long as he was smart.
“And if I get my hands on another death note, I’ll do whatever I want with it.”
L nodded—he hadn’t really had any aspirations of keeping Ryuk from doing so. He didn’t even know how the shinigami had gotten the one he’d given to Light in the first place.
“Good!” Ryuk clapped his hands, then did a weird sort of somersault in the air. “Pleasure doing business with you. Got any more apples I can have before I go?”
“Go to Watari—he’ll provide you with whatever you like.”
With that, Ryuk disappeared through the wall, and Rem turned to L. “How are you going to keep Misa safe?”
Thankfully, L had had plenty of time to consider that throughout the course of the afternoon. “I will have Watari procure a young female corpse, which we will burn or otherwise mutilate beyond recognition,” he said. “We will tell Interpol that Light, Misa, and Higuchi were all Kiras, but that they died when they were discovered, taking their powers with them. As long as the Kira murders stop, they are unlikely to question it. I will claim that Yagami was killed by his son in the process of discovering him as Kira.”
Of course, the fingerprints and dental records wouldn’t match, but that was what bribes were for. Aizawa and Mogi were likely to have questions about the deaths of both Yagamis, and might even try to kick up a fuss, but being L came in handy. Aizawa’s family could be used as leverage against him, and Mogi was probably a practical enough person to accept that whether L was telling the truth or not, he couldn’t do anything about it—while L, on the other hand, could make his life very difficult if he chose.
“Once that’s settled, I will take Misa away from Japan on my private jet. She will accompany me as I solve my cases, assuming that is what she wants to do. Misa won’t be able to model anymore, or show her face in public for a time—her death will be too high-profile, even if we keep the connection to Kira out of the papers. But she will live.”
Rem, of course, immediately focused her attention on Misa. “Is this an acceptable outcome?” she asked, and L very nearly held his breath.
“Yes,” Misa said. “As long as Misa gets to be with Ryuuzaki, she doesn’t care about anything else.”
L put the finishing touches on the cover story the morning of his twenty-fifth birthday, and they flew out that afternoon, wanting to be gone from Japan before the surviving members of the Kira task force had a chance to try to obstruct them. He had informed the police force of the outcome of the case himself (over a video call, of course) and Aizawa had caused quite a scene, screaming that L was lying—that Light hadn’t been Kira—that he had killed the Yagamis himself—that he had done something horrible to Misa—that he was a psychopath, an evil piece of shit, and so on.
It had been troublesome, but the deputy chief of the NPA hadn’t listened, deciding that Aizawa must have been driven mad by his grief. L had watched over video as Aizawa—and Mogi, when he tried to come to his aid—were dragged from the room by security. The deputy had then apologized to L on behalf of his men, and L had assured him that he understood.
Aiber and Wedy had left without much fanfare when the case was concluded, and the Yotsuba men were all taken care of. L had burned both death notes, erasing Namikawa’s memories. So far as Interpol was concerned, he had been their mole inside of Yotsuba for weeks, and was granted clemency for that reason. The remaining four men were all jailed as conspirators of the Yotsuba Kira based on L’s video recordings of their meetings.
And so, it was only L, Misa, and Watari left, the latter flying the plane in which L smuggled his girlfriend from the country. They would return to England first, although L would stay away from Wammy’s House so as not to arouse Misa’s jealousy.
Last night, after she had gone to sleep, and the shinigami had already departed the mortal realm, L had managed to sneak downstairs for his first moment alone with Watari in days. The older man, who had observed all of L’s negotiations with Misa and the shinigami over video, did not seem to know what to say.
Watari stood in front of L, staring at him with something like grief in his face—or maybe disappointment—or maybe horror. There were dark circles under the older man’s eyes to rival L’s own, and for once, he looked every bit his seventy-something years.
“L,” he said quietly. Just that, his name, but so full of reproach that he wanted to flinch away.
“I solved the case,” L said. “I stopped Kira.”
Watari—Wammy—only looked at him.
“What else could I have done?”
Wammy opened his mouth—closed it—shook his head slowly. Anger rose up in L’s throat, along with bile.
“You made me,” he hissed, surprising himself with his own viciousness. “If you don’t like the person I turned out to be, you only have yourself to blame.”
Because, if L was a selfish monster, well—who was it that had enabled him all these years? Who had kept him in the dark, separate from humanity, until he had grown into this deformed, ugly thing, like a blind, sickeningly white fish that had evolved in the blackness of a cave?
Wammy let out a slow breath, but if he felt guilty, it didn’t show on his face. But then, they were alike in that way. “That may be true,” he said, just as dispassionately as L might have.
Somehow, L’s defensiveness fled, leaving him feeling only very tired and, if he was honest with himself, frightened. He felt young, in front of Wammy, having finally gotten himself into a mess that his handler could not clean up for him.
“We shouldn’t meet like this again,” L told him. “Misa might hurt you if she sees you as competition for my attention. You will continue to work for me, but you will do so from a distance whenever possible.”
Wammy took this in stride, just as he always did, giving L a stiff nod—nearly a bow.
L looked at him for a moment, as if some part of him still believed that Wammy might offer him a way out of the trap he’d walked into, but the older man didn’t say anything—or, not until he turned to leave. That was when he said, again, “L.” He turned back, and Wammy’s face, for just a second, betrayed something like pity. “I’m sorry.”
What for, L wondered? For making him into this wretched thing? For enabling him? For failing to step in when L first decided that Misa looked like an easier target than Light? Or maybe he was not apologizing, but only giving his sympathies. It didn’t matter, anyway—there was nothing Wammy could do, and they both knew it. He lived, just as L did, at the mercy of Misa and the two shinigami.
L didn’t respond. He only left the room, returning—as he always would, from this day forward—to Misa’s side.
Now L and Mira lay together in the jet’s bedroom, watching Japan shrink down to nothing out the window. They were all down there, L thought: the Yotsuba men, awaiting trial. Namikawa, wondering what, exactly, he had done to earn his freedom. Sachiko and Sayu Yagami, mourning the deaths of the other two members of their family. Aizawa and Mogi, stewing in their anger at the detective who’d ruined everything for them and left without taking responsibility.
“You know,” Misa said quietly, “this is Misa’s first time on a plane.”
She turned to look at him, and for a split second, she looked every bit her nineteen years. Innocent, girlish. Happy. On the side table were all the magazines she’d insisted he buy before they left, wanting to see what the world was saying about her.
The fact that Misa had been Kira had not been leaked—not yet, at least—but there were rumors, whispers that the idol’s sudden, unexplained death was somehow connected to the announcement that Kira was gone from the world. Some approximated the truth, while others were completely outlandish.
Overshadowed as it was by Interpol’s announcement, Misa’s fate had been reported everywhere, from reputable newspapers to trashy magazines. Some softcore men’s publications, capitalizing on the news in the most gauche way possible, had even published the surreptitiously taken cellphone photos of her on the film set that day, which had finally escaped containment.
One had been bold enough to put it on the cover: Misa standing in front of a mysterious black car in a wrinkled, stained sundress, trails of black mascara and streaks of drying semen on her face, with an expression of desolate determination like a criminal in front of a firing squad. Emblazoned over it: WHAT HAPPENED TO MISA-MISA?
Inside, the story speculated that the car had belonged to the original Kira, who had been keeping Misa as a sex slave, injecting her with heroin to keep her compliant, forcing her to kill for him. The author claimed that her actions on the film set that day had been one last desperate cry for help, and that Kira had killed her for it. Of course, the article was only secondary—most of the people purchasing the magazines would be too busy masturbating to the photos of the allegedly dead idol to bother reading it.
Eighteen magazine, whose popularity poll Misa had won less than three months prior, had put her on the cover as well: a more tasteful photo of Misa in a simple white dress, looking angelic and young, side-by-side with a black and white photo of a long dead American celebrity. The cover read: JAPAN’S MARILYN MONROE.
Sales of her CDs had increased five hundred percent, and it had already been announced that the film she’d been fired from would be released, even with her scenes half-finished, and dedicated to her memory.
It seemed to him that Misa was rather pleased by the stir her death had caused. While he had closed the case and made preparations for their escape, she had pored endlessly—morbidly—over the articles and stories speculating on her fate, commenting on which pictures made her look best. She seemed somehow lighter, freer, as though Misa-Misa was a weight she had left behind.
Somehow, it suited her, being turned from a person into a symbol. Of youth, vitality, taken too soon, stolen away from the world. A beautiful young woman dying under mysterious circumstances, the press combing through the breadcrumbs she’d left behind—pieces of something dark and disturbing they would never fully understand, but would fill in the gaps of regardless.
She had even expressed her disappointment that there would be no viewing of her body, no pictures of her in a coffin surrounded by flowers, immortalized. Forever beautiful, forever young. Sometimes, he wondered if she would rather be a beautiful, beloved corpse than a living woman.
Misa was unwell, L thought, but then, so was he. He kissed her there on the bed, next to the magazines she could barely keep her eyes off of, listening to the engines roar in his ears as he pulled her beneath him. It didn’t take long before he was hard, pulling her clothes impatiently from her body—even after everything, after seeing her bash in a man’s head with a lamp four days prior, he still wanted her—this undead girl he’d stolen—with a greedy possessiveness that left him breathless.
Not that it would matter if he didn’t. He was hers now, whether he wanted to be or not.
When he pushed inside of her, Misa stared up at him, her eyes bright and shining. “We’re going to be together forever,” she told him in a whisper. “For the rest of our lives.”
L knew that she was right, but hearing it made him feel like he was standing at the edge of a high cliff, about to fall—or to jump. He had never seen himself having a partner, getting married, but this was something even more irrevocable than marriage. He kissed her, trying to shut her up, but when his lips moved down to her neck, she continued, “Misa belongs to L now, and L belongs to Misa.”
She had said it before, but never with such finality. Back then, he had fantasized about it, but had never truly believed things would come to this.
At the moment, Misa Amane didn’t exist. Her legal identity was dead, and the woman left behind, nameless, was not just his prisoner but his possession—without the power of L, she could not exist in the world. Even if she eventually gained a new name, new papers, with his help, she would be completely dependent on him to keep her real identity a secret, to provide for her when she could not show her face in public. From now on, she would come with him from place to place, stashed away in his hotel room like the pet she’d once begged him to make her into.
But the reverse was true as well: he was hers for as long as she wanted him, and according to her, that would be forever. He couldn’t hurt her, couldn’t do anything that displeased her too much, could never cheat on her again, and he certainly couldn’t leave her if she didn’t want to be left. She had him in an invisible cage, and if he took one step outside the bars, his life would be forfeit. He wouldn’t even get a warning—would spend the rest of his life having to guess if he was doing enough to appease Rem, knowing he was one wrong move away from death.
She had trapped him in a way no one had ever trapped him before, and he had walked right into it. One choice—the choice to make her fall in love with him, believing that he could use her for his own ends—had placed him into the snare, set off a chain of events leading inevitably to this moment, deciding the course of the rest of his life.
He had learned the same lesson as Light Yagami, and both of them too late: she might not be a genius, but Misa Amane always, always got what she wanted. She’d wanted him, so he was hers, and he just had to hope that she would continue to want him—because if she lost interest, there was no guarantee she’d leave him alive. She could simply look up at the sky and ask Rem to kill him, whether she came to hate him for what he’d done to her or simply didn’t want to give him a chance to move on without her.
L felt like he was suffocating, the heat of her body making him sweat, her grasping body holding him to her, stealing his air. He hated her, suddenly and viciously, for trapping him like this, for being so happy about it. But he couldn’t tell her that, not without risking Rem’s punishment, and so instead, he bit down hard on the crook of her neck, sucking hard at the soft skin as he thrust roughly into her.
Misa cried out and cupped the back of his head, writhing under him. “I love you,” she gasped. “I love you so much it makes me want to die.”
He broke away and moaned into her ear. “God, fuck, Misa, I love you too.” Usually, when he said it to her, it felt like a lie, but in this moment, he almost believed it, the words seeming to spill from his lips without his permission. He loved her; he hated her; he was fucking terrified of her. It was all the same.
L was standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that he would fall, and the worst part of it was that he wanted to. Part of him, at least in moments like these, was deliriously satisfied at the way things had turned out. He felt like the world had moved on, leaving himself and Misa to do as they wished to each other, and he had no choice but to embrace it.
A pair like them should have never lasted, not in any sane world, and yet here they were, tied together permanently and inextricably—because she wanted him, not in spite of what he’d done to her, but because of it. They would consume each other, eat each other alive, and no one could stop them. Not Wammy, not the police force, not the press, not Misa-Misa’s grieving fans. Not even Rem, not if she believed that was what Misa wanted—and he knew that it was, because he wanted it, too. He wanted to destroy her, and to let her destroy him in turn.
L was standing on the edge of a cliff, and he jumped.
Notes:
"I killed for you. Who else can say that? You think you'd be happy with a nice Midwestern girl? No way, baby. I'm it."
- Amy Dunne, Gone Girl (2014)
I can't believe this fic is finally over! It went down a much darker path than I originally intended, and there was a period of time when I thought I might never finish it, but look at that. Thank you to everyone who's stuck it out this long, though the hiatus and all the unhinged chaos and bloodshed. It's been a wild ride.
Here is a link to a playlist of songs I listened to to get into the mood of Oleander!Misa. It doesn't include all the songs quoted in this fic, as some apply more to L and some just didn't fit the vibe, but maybe I'll make another playlist with those someday.
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dillyfirestarter on Chapter 1 Sat 30 Apr 2022 09:18PM UTC
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Halting on Chapter 1 Sat 30 Apr 2022 11:21PM UTC
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WhyDoesEverythingHappenSoMuch on Chapter 1 Sun 30 Jul 2023 11:36PM UTC
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gigantomachy on Chapter 1 Tue 01 Aug 2023 10:17PM UTC
Last Edited Tue 01 Aug 2023 10:25PM UTC
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