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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Naomi and Halle's Ambitious Anniversary

All gifts should now be posted. If you don’t see your gift, please contact a moderator right away. Thank you all for your wonderful creations and we look forward to seeing you in future rounds!

Below the cut is the compiled list of everyone’s prompts from this round of our exchange. They are organized by their submitter, so feel free to ctrl+f to find character-specific prompts. Please feel free to use them for inspiration, whether you participated in this exchange or not!

Anonymous

fanart of the wammy's kids inspired by the lyrics to curses by the crane wives

near and mello fanart inspired by the lyrics to no children by the mountain goats

L with stubble!!

A peace that highlights the parallels between Halle and Naomi, their similar motivations and opposite fates

Naomi, Raye, and Hideaki Suruga hanging out back in college

Shinigami Naomi

AU ware Naomi was a Wammy's kid and first met L and Beyond through there

What if Gelus died for Naomi instead of Misa? (Either when she was about to die in canon, much earlier, around the same time Misa needed saving, or at any other point that sounds interesting!)

Naomi's journey from deciding to leave Japan after high school to retiring from the FBI

Light, Misa, and L all on some sort of date

Misa and Kiyomi in cozy attire also on a date or just spending time together

Misa giving a human Rem and makeover, picking out clothes, painting her nails etc

Mello in a fantasy au setting with a sword

Misa being motherly towards the younger wammys kids (Matt, Near, Mello, Linda )

Misa in a vigilante au where her superpower is regeneration like Deadpool

Matt and Mello on a motorcycle

fandom-fae

misa amane portrayed as a powerful goddess/godlike deity

linda painting a portrait of misa amane

mello and near on a fluffy date in a café with like a pastel cutesy color palette/aesthetic

fem lawlight hanging out with misa in an environment that has like fun/colorful lighting

an au where light dies at the end, but instead of actually dying he wakes up again afterwards in an alternate universe where he’s a wammy’s kid before the kira case started. how does the story go from there? does he still get the death note? does the kira case even happen at all? how does he get along w the other wammy’s kids? etc etc uwu

an au where beyond didn’t die after labb, but instead survived and broke out of jail and then years later decided to involve himself in the kira case to prove to L that he needs him(B)- and yeah i also wanna see Light and Misa interact with B ghjdghjhgf

an au where misa is the first kira instead of light and she is the one with the god complex and the plans to rid the world of evil (with undertones of revenge bc yeah-) but she still made the eye deal and still has rem and light is the second kira & a huge fan of the first kira; obv light would still be himself so he wouldn’t fall in love with misa (at most in like a tsundere way) and yeah

grelleswife

Naomi riding a motorcycle down an open highway. The breeze is blowing through her hair, and a gorgeous sunset illuminates the sky behind her.

Naomi and Halle having tea at Naomi’s apartment (romantic undertones preferred)

Halle and Naomi dancing together at an elegant evening ball as part of an undercover mission. I leave their specific attire up to the artist’s discretion.

In an AU where Naomi survives, she and Halle have a one-on-one training session where she teaches the other agent capoeira. Can be romantic or platonic.

A short piece on Halle’s early days working for the SPK (her motivations for joining, first encounters with Near, and so on)

A Kiyohalle short in which Halle protects Takada from a would-be anti-Kira attacker.

chaotic-angsty-teen

Light with wings

Misa inspired by the song Teen idle by MARINA (could be a lyric comic or just a drawing of her that fits)

L in an ugly Christmas sweater drinking teafree sugar.

Hannibal nbc crossover or AU

Time-loop AU for the day L dies in canon from either L's or Light's perspective

Misa eventually gets disillusioned with Light during the timeskip

AU where Soichiro finds out Light is Kira after L's death

dillyfirestarter

Don't be a coward, join me in my crackship and draw me an L/Soichiro picture. 1.1 How would they flirt in the hotel rooms before L meets Light in person? 1.2 In the Yotsuba arc, Light catches L making a suggestive face/gesture to Soichiro. He doesn't realise it's a mutual attraction, but he's still horrified.

If that's too terrible to imagine, then I'd like to see Nu the eyeball-column shinigami as Misa's shinigami. Perhaps Misa is putting eyeliner/fake lashes around every eyeball?

Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Everything: if you know this story, show me what you think dapper lawyer L looks like

Depressed adult Near has far too much hair. Does he make one of the SPK brush it for him? Or does he just lay there and occasionally pick out lego from his masses of curls?

Naomi is my goddess. I wish I got to see her interact with L or the Task Force in canon. How would she fit into the team?

Alternatively: Naomi, alive and well several years after the show, has to pick up her gun once more and strap her baby to her back to go fight crime.

Alternatively: Light actually decides to assault Naomi to stop her going to the police station. Make her give him the most satisfying arse-kicking

Death Note/Code Geass crossover: What Geass would L or another character have? Would it be a help or hindrance catching Kira?

complicatedmerary

Halle and Naomi on a motorcycle adventure together

Kiyomi Takada attending her first concert as a child, reaction is up to you

Misa plays a prank on Light (gone wrong) (REAL) (we all cried).

Mikami is stuck with Takada in her apartment after the district got shut down with an unusual outage, they are forced to talk about topics other than Kira

Light Yagami has a diary that no else but him knows, what would that look like prior to his final days? Bonus points if someone got to read it, be it before or after his eventual demise

Near likes to pretend that defeating Light Yagami was satisfying to watch, and yet, he still feels like something about it wasn’t quite right, some questions still unanswered.

bring-back-beyond-birthday

Beyond Birthday and Mello hanging out

Shinigami tea party!

L and Light looking at a sunset together!

Light and L having a chance meeting or accidental relationship~? I’m a big fan of coffee shop au’s!

What do all the Whammy’s kid do when the adults are away?

Matt and Mello’s adventures once they team up!

mapsareforbraindeads

death note… but it’s alice in wonderland!

light, L, misa, and the task force get together for a movie night.

matsuda made a cake for L! is it a disaster? is it delicious? you decide!

anything with b x light x l (beyondlawlight) or any ship involving that trio.

any character’s journey through realizing that they are aromantic. ideally with a proper coming out scene.

a yagami sibling-centric fic taking inspiration from “we all need a hero” from the musical.

light and near making cookies together to surprise L, who sneaks in and tastes the cookie dough when they aren’t looking and critiques it. i actually had a dream about this once.

a beyond-centric fic that explores his thoughts during another note

izaori

LightMello as Pokemon trainers! Doesn't have to include Pokemon but if so I think Mismagius and Infernape would be cool

Naomi being badass like on her motorcycle or on the job. Action-y. The movie motorcycle slide thing would be super cool.

Holiday Ryuky :D like Ryuk in a Christmas hat or with Valentines gifts or easter bunny ears. Or saint pattys day stuff. Literally any holiday and Ryuk is celebrating it. Feel free to choose your favorite holiday!

Misa planning a big Valentines day surprise for Light. Maybe getting special chocolate, or a cute outfit, getting movie tickets. Light's reaction to it (maybe positive if it makes him look good, negative if it just interferes with his plans).

Mello after the mafia explosion and before we see him again. What happened? How did he survive? Who helped him? Maybe when he contacts Matt/Wammy's House for help.

Young L investigating the 'mysteries' of Wammy's House. For example, a 'kitchen ghost' that's actually just a squeaky cabinet that keeps opening. Or why the sharpies in a classroom keep going missing. These child mysteries must be solved!

birdlizard

matt living his best life

rem listening to misa talk about light

beyond birthday with dramatic/fun lighting

matt and mello roommate drama

L tries to do chores

rem gets herself some standards

thisworldisrotten

light playing a string instrument (violin, viola,cello, double bass, harp) in a fancy suit

light and b killing l together (bonus if it's bloody)

light and mikami being evil and ruling the world together

a third party (matsuda, soichiro, mello, oc, etc) witnessing L and Light's interactions and having no idea what they're talking about because it's like they're sharing the same brain

L wins au- L regrets executing Light

Light feeling lonely and superior to everyone else during his childhood and through the years

#death note #prompt list #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Mama Misora

Author: @realtruesuccessor

For: @dillyfirestarter

Characters: Naomi Misora, Original Child Character, Original Villain Character, Kira (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Teen and Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply

Prompt: Naomi, alive and well several years after the show, has to pick up her gun once more and strap her baby to her back to go fight crime.

Author’s notes: Sorry for the wait! This was such a fun prompt to write, and I hope you enjoy reading the fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!

When Naomi Misora gets the call, her first instinct is to say no - and so, that’s exactly what she does. “No,” she tells the FBI assistant director on the other end of the line. “I’m not a field agent anymore.”

The man protests loudly, but Naomi tunes him out. She glances down at her young daughter, Kiko, who is eating mushy sweet cereal out of a brightly-colored plastic bowl. Naomi smiles softly and runs her hand over Kiko’s soft black hair. As Kiko eats messily, the man’s harsh tone becomes background noise through the speakers of the phone.

Just as Naomi is about to end the call, the man says, “We’ve already sent a car to bring you to the train station.”

Naomi sighs and feels her eyebrows draw together into a scowl. “I’ve already told you, I can’t do this,” she snaps. Her patience is wearing thin. “I’m a single mother to a three-year-old girl, and I have no family to support me here.”

“Bring her along! I don’t care!”

The line clicks, and silence follows.

Frustrated and pressured, Naomi goes to find Kiko’s baby carrier before the car shows up at their small home.

The car ride to the train station is quick and smooth, but the train ride into the city is long and tedious. Naomi spends most of her time staring out the window, watching the trees. Kiko sleeps beside her, leaning against her. For most of the trip, the ride is quiet and peaceful, save for the soft clacking of the train in motion.

Towards the end of the line, as they approach the big station in the heart of the bustling city, a single young man boards the train. He’s blond-haired and blue-eyed, wearing an oversized sweatshirt with bold words printed across the chest. Naomi recognizes the expression as a pro-Kira slogan. She reaches out and wraps a protective arm around Kiko as the young man walks by their seat.

“Ugh, there are too many people on this train,” he mutters to himself as he walks down the aisle.

Naomi hears him sit down a few rows back from where she sits with Kiko.

A few minutes later, Naomi stands up and straps Kiko to her back. She approaches the door to the train as it slows to a stop. Behind her, she hears the other passengers begin to stand up and prepare to exit the train as well.

“Outta my way!” A now-familiar voice yells through the crowd of passengers. “Move!”

Naomi turns around and looks for the source of the commotion. Sure enough, the Kira supporter from earlier is pushing past the other passengers in an attempt to get to the front of the crowd. He shoves a small, dark-haired woman out of his way, and she bumps into someone else in turn.

“Hey!” The woman yells, glaring daggers at the Kira supporter. “Watch yourself!”

The young man turns back to look at her, and from this angle, Naomi can’t see his face. “What was that? Was that a threat, you–” His tone is angry; there’s a personal viciousness in the way he speaks to the smaller woman.

Kiko’s whimpers draw Naomi’s attention away from the encounter. Her daughter’s tiny hands reach up and grip the sleeve of Naomi’s black sweater. “Mama, they loud,” Kiko complains.

“Excuse me, can you please be quiet? Your noise is bothering my daughter,” Naomi speaks sharply. Her gaze rests firmly on the young man.

He turns to look at her, anger flashing in his blue eyes. He opens his mouth to say something, but hesitates once he notices Kiko sitting in her carrier, staring at him with wide dark eyes. An awkward silence stretches between them.

“Thank you,” Naomi says gently, just as the train doors slide open.

The man’s eyes return to Naomi, and he scowls fiercely at her. “Whatever, lady,” he grumbles, pushing past her. He steps out onto the platform and disappears into the dense crowd of people.

The assistant director glances at Kiko, who stares back at him with innocent dark eyes. He frowns at the toddler. “You brought her here?” He asks, although he can clearly see the child in front of him.

Naomi scowls at him. “That’s what you told me to do.”

Their conversation quickly turns to the case at hand, although Naomi doesn’t miss the way her superior keeps glaring at her child.

“We’re looking for a domestic terrorist,” the man explains, sliding a pile of photos and documents across his desk. “We’ve been monitoring his social media movements, and we gathered that he’s planning an attack on Public Square tomorrow night.”

Naomi takes the documents and begins to flip through them. Her careful eyes scan for any glaring clue or hint that the other agents might have missed. She stops flipping when she notices a manifesto, littered with obvious misspellings, that had been posted to the terrorist’s social media.

“What do you know about his motives so far?” Naomi asks as she reads the manifesto silently to herself. From Naomi’s lap, Kiko glances at the paper, and her tiny face scrunches together in a confused expression.

The assistant director clears his throat. “Well, based on his social media activity, we’ve gathered that he’s probably an extreme evangelist–”

“You’re wrong,” Naomi says, interrupting the man.

“Huh?”

“He’s not an evangelist. There’s no mention of the Christian God in this manifesto, only vague references to a savior figure. Also, there’s a particular focus on crime and justice throughout the post, which suggests something else entirely.”

The man seems flustered for a moment. His eyes are wide, and he blinks a few times before he gathers himself. “What does that suggest?”

Naomi looks at the man in the way an adult might look at a particularly foolish child. “You’re looking for a Kira supporter,” Naomi explains, slow and tense.

“Are you sure?”

Before Naomi can say anything, Kiko speaks up. “Mama, those words are wrong!” She exclaims, fidgeting anxiously on Naomi’s lap. She points a single, pudgy finger at the paper. “Bad words!”

Naomi smiles fondly at her daughter. “She’s right,” Naomi says, “Each sentence has one misspelled word, and when you combine the first letters of each misspelled word, you get another message. K-I-R-A-W-I-L-L-R-I-S-E. Kira will rise.”

As soon as Naomi and Kiko solve the message, the field office starts to boom and pulse with heightened activity. Agents rush in and out of various rooms and offices, making preparations to apprehend the domestic terrorist. The “rise” part of the message implies that the attack will come from the sky, or somewhere up high, so the agents prepare to storm the skyscraper closest to Public Square.

The next day, Naomi finds herself standing with a group of agents in the Prometheus Building. Kiko is strapped to her back, and her firearm is strapped to her hip. Bright sunlight shines through the large glass windows of the building, and Naomi peeks outside to catch a glimpse of Public Square; the streets are bustling with people.

“So high up!” Kiko exclaims in wonder. “They look like ants!”

Naomi has to agree; they are very high above the crowd of people moving around below them. The people resemble tiny bugs, small dark dots dancing through the streets of the city. Something shifts in the pit of her stomach. A chill runs up her spine, despite the warmth of Kiko’s tiny body against her back.

“Kiko,” Naomi begins, her voice strained, “When someone rises up, where do they start?”

Kiko fidgets a bit before she responds. “Um, the ground?” She says, her tiny voice soft and uncertain.

Naomi rushes away from the window, and finds the leader of the operation. He’s a tall man with short dark hair, and Naomi gets the distinct impression that he’s ex-military. “Agent Bradley, we need to head down to the basement,” she says, stepping into his field of view. “We were wrong. The target isn’t at the top of the building, he’s under it.”

Bradley looks at Naomi with distaste. His eyes flick over her shoulder, and Naomi is suddenly filled with the instinct to shield her child from view. She fights the urge.

“Sir, we need to–”

“I heard you the first time, Agent Misora,” Bradley snaps. “The team will remain here, and carry out the operation as planned.”

“But–”

Bradley doesn’t entertain any more of her protests. He walks away, and begins conversing with another male agent.

Naomi narrows her eyes, sending a sharp glare at his back.

A small finger taps at Naomi’s shoulder. “Mama?” Kiko whines nervously. “What’s goin’ on?”

Instead of answering, Naomi tightens the strap of the carrier to make sure that Kiko is secure. She pulls out her firearm and checks to make sure that the weapon is loaded and ready. Then, she turns abruptly and walks purposefully out of the room. No one says anything to her as she leaves.

A few minutes later, the elevator of the Prometheus Building opens at the basement level. Naomi steps out of the brightness of the elevator, leaving the soft classical music and warm tones behind her as she enters the cold, dark basement.

Kiko shivers at the damp chill in the air, but she knows better than to be noisy while Mama is working.

It doesn’t take too long for them to find the target. He’s standing in front of a large metal furnace. His silhouette is dark against the bright glow of the huge heater. He faces the warmth. His face is hidden from view, but Naomi can see the back of his head. He doesn’t react as she approaches him.

Naomi raises her weapon, aiming squarely at the target’s back. “Austin Dean, you’re under arrest. Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly.”

The target startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin. He raises his hands in the air and turns slowly, just as Naomi instructed him to do. When he catches sight of her, alone and with a toddler strapped to her back, his eyes go wide in surprise. “You’re the lady from the train,” he says, as his eyes flick from her to Kiko and back again.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Naomi reminds him, taking a few steps forward. Her gun never wavers from its aim directly in the middle of his chest. “Anything you say can, and will, be held against you in a court of law.”

Dean’s familiar blue eyes narrow as he assesses the situation. He lowers one of his hands and reaches for something in his back pocket.

Before Dean can grab whatever he was reaching for, Naomi hits him with a roundhouse kick to the temple. Her shoe slams into the side of his head, and his entire body twists with the impact. He crumples to the ground, out cold.

“Well, that was easy,” Naomi observes as she squats down next to Dean’s unconscious body. She squints at his face, and confirms that he is the young man from the train, the Kira supporter who had been extremely rude to her and the other passengers. She reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a small detonator, securing it in her own jacket pocket.

Kiko giggles happily and kicks her feet. “Mama, so cool!”

Naomi takes out her phone, punches a number into the keypad, and raises the device to her ear. “Hello, Assistant Director? The target is secured.”

Hours later, after giving a full report to her superiors, Naomi finds herself back on the train, heading home. She doesn’t regret shunning all of the thanks and praise after her successful capture of the target. All of the awards and honors in the world don’t compare to the feeling of finally going home, being whisked away from the danger and violence, with Kiko sleeping peacefully at her side.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #Naomi Misora #original character #realtruesuccessor #dillyfirestarter #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Hello, just curious, have all gifts been posted?

There is one more gift that will be posted within the next few days. One of the mods is pinch-hitting the final gift, and it will be posted as soon as it is done. Thank you for your patience and understanding.

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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Artist: @stafsar

For: @chaotic-angsty-teen

Prompt: Light with wings

Artist's notes: amazing big brain prompt, thank you for giving me the excuse to draw this. Also two versions because ;P

#fanart #fanfiction #death note #submission #light yagami #stafsar #chaotic-angsty-teen #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Lights Out

Author: @yagami-raito-kun

For: @complicatedmerary

Pairings/Characters: Kiyomi Takada, Teru Mikami

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: Mikami is stuck with Takada in her apartment after the district got shut down with an unusual outage, they are forced to talk about topics other than Kira

Author’s Note: It was great fun to write for you again, considering the first Death Note fic I ever wrote was as your shinigami for the very first Death Note gift exchange almost a full decade ago. I hope you enjoy!

“Any luck?”

The prosecutor shakes his head. “They aren’t sure why the power is offline.”

Kiyomi Takada has never been the sort of woman who curses—heaven forbid—but at the moment, she understands the impulse. “How inconvenient.”

“Yes.”

Even in the dim candlelight, his awkwardness is visible, his formality hanging off him like a slip cover. With her best TV-ready smile, Kiyomi gestures at an empty chair. “Someone will take care of it soon, I’m sure. We can continue when the power is back on.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t sit.

Well, then.

“This isn’t part of the interview, you know,” says Kiyomi. “There’s no need to stand on ceremony. We can just talk until the power comes back on. Not about Kira, of course—I don’t want to miss jotting down any important notes—but other things. Whatever you like. Is that all right?”

“Of course.”

“Good.”

She waits for him to set a topic, but he gives her no further response. Despite his suit and his ordinary appearance, he stands like a man ill-at-ease in his own skin—as if he were a tenant or visitor there, rather than a permanent resident. That’s a very insightful description. I should remember that one for my memoir.

Not that Teru Mikami seems anywhere near interesting enough for a spot in anyone’s memoir.

Kiyomi tries again. “Surely you must have other interests besides Kira. You wrote on your form that you’re an admirer of Winston Churchill?”

“I am.”

“I’ve met a lot of men with an interest in the war, but not many who cared about Europe.”

“I don’t care about the war or Europe. I admire Churchill. He was a remarkable man.” Presented with a topic of interest to him, the prosecutor becomes more animated, his eyes taking on an almost zealous gleam. “There are very few men in this world who stick to their principles in the face of opposition, but he never wavered. Popularity meant nothing to him, only duty. Only results. He gave no quarter to his enemies. The world needs men like that.”

“Only men?” Kiyomi teases lightly.

“It’s more common among men.”

She smiles and doesn’t challenge him. “You admire strong leadership, then? A firm hand in time of war?”

“The world is always at war.”

Kiyomi waits for him to elaborate, but once again, he doesn’t. For a man who admires leadership and initiative, he seems very bad at it himself. That doesn’t surprise her, really. Since her college days, she’s met no shortage of men keen to tell her about some imagined, glorious past or some long-dead, manly leader they aim to emulate. Weak men and followers, all of them. Real men are their own heroes. The only men focused on the great past are men who have no real value in the present—which is, unfortunately, almost all of them.

She’ll leave that opinion out of her memoir.

“I’ve never studied his politics in depth,” Kiyomi says, “but we analyzed several of his speeches in one of my college classes. He was an incredible public speaker, a real master of the radio address.”

“Which college?”

“University of Tokyo.”

Ever so slightly, Mikami’s eyebrows rise. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you. I had a wonderful experience there.”

“I’ve heard it’s a very rigorous program.”

A lesser woman would beam at the flattery. Kiyomi accepts it with practiced, modest graciousness. “Oh, it wasn’t so difficult as all that. As long as someone is willing to work hard, it doesn’t take much natural talent to succeed.”

“Hard work is a dying value.”

“Indeed.” She looks up at him demurely. “Like sticking to one’s principles?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Then we’ll simply have to revive them. That’s part of why I became a news anchor to begin with. Popularity may have meant nothing to Churchill, but he understood that if you want to lead, you need a microphone. And a message worth hearing, too.”

Yet again, Mikami goes silent—a different kind of silence this time. Despite the poor visibility, Kiyomi can feel that he is studying her, weighing her answers on some private set of scales. Uneasy, she shifts in her seat. “Would you mind—?”

At that moment, the lights come back on.

Oh, thank goodness.

As Mikami looks up at the light fixture, Kiyomi swallows a sigh of relief. “That would be the power,” he says, pointlessly.

“It seems so. Do you still have time to sit for this interview? I’d hate to keep you if it would be an inconvenience. We can always reschedule and talk about Kira another day.”

“There’s no need for that, Ms. Takada. The prosecutors’ office can wait.” The zealous light is back in Teru Mikami’s eyes, and at last, he takes his seat. “I always have time to discuss Lord Kira.”

Weak men and their heroes, Kiyomi thinks. With her best TV-ready smile, she uncaps her pen and prepares to write.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #teru mikami #kiyomi takada #yagami-raito-kun #complicatedmerary #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

Photo

Artist: @wormboytrav

For: @bring-back-beyond-birthday

Prompt: Beyond Birthday and Mello hanging out

Artist’s notes: i hope you like this!!! it’s actually based on a calvin and hobbes comic strip which i thought fit their vibe lol

#fanart #death note #submission #mihael keehl #beyond birthday #wormboytrav #bring-back-beyond-birthday #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

Text

The Nerve

Author: @complicatedmerary

For: @himbo-kronk-stan

Pairings/Characters: Naomi Misora, Raye Penber, Naomi/Raye, FBI character mentioned in DN media (plus one I made up on the spot).

Rating/Warnings: T; mild violence, PTSD, swearing, sexism

Prompt: Naomi’s journey from deciding to leave Japan after high school to retiring from the FBI

Author’s notes: Hi! I really love all of your prompts, but a character study on Naomi seemed the most appealing to me (with a subtle love story), so I hope I fulfilled your gift and more. Enjoy!

October 2001

“Geez, Naomi Misora, I need my legs for this evening!”

“Misora!” Randall Weiker, one of the top trainers at FBI Academy, approached Naomi Misora and Beth Skulmore to separate them from each other. “I understand you are a great fighter, but this is your peer, not a terrorist!”

It was the second week of training for all new agent trainees and it was becoming clearer that Naomi Misora had what it took to be a headstrong future agent. The moment she moved to the United States after graduation to fulfill her dream of joining the FBI, she was determined to make her parents proud overseas after all the strings that had to be pulled to get there in the first place. After passing the required tests with flying colors, she was admitted to start training for the next 20 weeks and prove her worth among the eligible recruits.

When it came to analyzing and solving mock exercises, she was calm to the task and was not allowing her feelings to get in the way yet. During classes, she proved her understanding and competency of the subjects, passing with high marks.

However, when it came to physical training, she may be too overtly ambitious. From her point of view, she was showcasing that she was an expert in martial arts after years of practice. Randall Weiker did not see it that way and was worried that she could make the new trainees quit on the spot for not catching up to her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Weiker,” Naomi dropped Beth from her grasp, causing her to yelp in pain. “I don’t know what came over me, I just didn’t want to lose.”

“Listen,” Randall clasped his hand on her shoulder sympathetically. “When you get out there in real-life missions, you can be as forceful as you like, but this is only the second week, you have to develop over time. You do understand, right?”

Naomi nodded. “I do,” She reached for Beth’s arm and helped her stand up. “I’m sorry, Beth, it won’t happen again.”

“You got that right,” She raised her nose in the air, a pompous energy surrounding her. “Next time I’ll think about training with you out of everyone in here.”

Randall gave an exasperated sigh. “We need to find another partner for you, I can’t have you standing still for the next half hour.”

“I’ll do it!”

Naomi turned around at the figure approaching her, narrowing her eyes. He looked to be a couple years older than her, quite fit and tall, and had the typical movie star looks that some Americans possessed. It didn’t help that he had a cocky smile plastered on his face, definitely under the impression that beating her would be a piece of cake.

She wanted to prove to him that he was dead wrong.

“Raye Penber,” Randall read over his assignment list. “If you are so willing, could you keep Misora occupied for the rest of training? I am afraid that she is out of options.”

Naomi rolled her eyes. It would be a shame to bruise his good looks, but if he insisted …

“Thank you, Mr. Weiker, I’ll take it from here.” Raye flashed a luminous smile at her and set her back aside to the mat.

Oh, he was insufferable.

“I saw what you did to Beth, it was incredible,” Raye crossed his foot against Naomi’s, the two of them began to circle around each other. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“None of your business,” Naomi retorted. “Enough chit-chat, give me what you got.”

“That’s not a problem,” Raye swiftly grabbed her waist tightly, and attempted to lift her from the ground.

Naomi resisted as much as she could, but her feet were no longer on the mat, and she tried to compensate by swinging her leg and hitting his back.

Raye dropped her from his grasp and attempted to use his own legs against hers, restricting any upcoming movements she might have thought about.

“My father was in the FBI,” He breathed in her ear. “He taught me everything he knew.”

“Is that so?” Naomi groaned. “I’m impressed, your reflexes are not so bad.”

“Thanks,” He released her for a few moments before they pressed their arms against the other, waiting for the next move.

“None of my parents are in the police force, I learned everything by myself.” Naomi said, confidently.

“I can tell, your moves are kind of … eccentric,” He stopped moving abruptly and then held her arms, focusing on restriction once again.

Naomi couldn’t help but smile at his audacity, he was making it too easy for her after all. With her lower body weight, Naomi lifted her legs and flipped over Raye, landing her feet on his back. This caused Raye to loosen his hold on her and she took this opportunity to wrap her legs around his waist instead and successfully pushed him down the mat. Unfortunately, Naomi slipped with his sweat and landed on top of him, leaving the two of them breathless and with their muscles strained.

After recovering for a few minutes, Naomi pushed herself off of Raye and was perturbed that not only was he smiling widely, but his eyes were twinkling in admiration.

“Misora, NOT AGAIN!”

October 2003

Naomi groaned against her pillow as the shrill sound of the alarm blared on her ears, shuddering her with distaste. With her eyes still closed, she grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it with precision at the alarm clock, the impact catapulting the batteries out of its socket.

She rolled around the bed, stretching her arms and legs out until she could feel her spine adjust under the mattress. As she slowly woke up, she noticed that the other side of the bed was empty, and for a split second, she panicked. Where was Raye? Did he go back to Quantico unannounced and left her all by herself? No, that didn’t sound right, he would never do something so cruel, it was not in his character. There had to be a logical explanation for this, he was using his vacation time … Naomi scoffed at herself. The florist appointment was today, how could she forget? That alarm was set up last night so she could ready two hours before schedule, so she could be ready and take her time.

She put on her slippers and searched for Raye, predictably finding him making breakfast for the fifth time this week. It was a nice gesture, Naomi would admit, but if she was going to be his wife, shouldn’t that be her duty? She felt guilty that the nice apartment in Richmond that they were living in temporarily was not being put to good domestic use; this was supposed to be their premarital practice to living as husband and wife, her cooking and cleaning for him while he provided for them with his work at the FBI. Wasn’t that the life they deserved after everything they’d been through? What she went through? She shook her head. What a ridiculous thought, the idea of telling Raye not to take care of her was so embarrassing that she recoiled physically.

“Hey, good morning! I hope you like pancakes because I made too many.” Raye smiled at her, as he placed two plates of pancakes on their dining table.

“Hmm, thanks,” Naomi murmured under her breath, sitting down on one of the dining chairs.

“I take it you didn’t sleep well?” Raye was overtly cheerful for a man that has been up since 7:00 AM; Naomi couldn’t comprehend how anyone can be like this normally. “I did think about waking you up when I did, but I had a feeling that you would have chewed me out.”

“I definitely would,” She couldn’t help but agree. “It’s going to take a while to get used to, but I’m welcoming the idea of becoming a morning person.” When they get married and have kids running around the house, it would be a necessity.

They both ate their pancakes in silent for a few minutes, enjoying their tranquil synergy they developed over the years. Raye was the sunshine to her unpredictable thunderstorm, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. She was the first to start up a conversation after she finished half her plate.

“I dreamt about you last night.”

“Oh, was that the reason you couldn’t wake up?” Raye smirked. “I am flattered, Miss Misora, but we don’t have a lot time to spare this morning.”

Naomi let out a scoff, but she couldn’t resist smiling afterwards. “No, nothing like that, I’m trying to be serious here. I dreamt about the very first time we met, during our training program.”

Raye looked at her sheepishly. “Are you talking about the time you kicked my ass?”

“I am talking about the time I kicked your ass, it was so easy, I barely broke a sweat.” Naomi teased, as she leaned against her chair. “We should try that again sometime, I want to make sure you are not losing your touch.”

“Heh, I’ll think about it,” He laughed nervously. “In the meantime, we promised our florist that we would settle on flowers for the bouquet before the appointment. I was thinking of those orange flowers … What were they called again?”

“You mean calla lilies?”

“Right, that’s exactly right, I think, hold on,” Raye stood up and began walking back to their bedroom to bring his laptop. He set it up on the table and typed out his search. “Here, that is what they look like. I just want to make sure you like them.” The laptop was turned towards Naomi’s direction.

She scrolled past the images slowly with her finger and pictured her dream bouquet, visualizing herself carrying it as she walked down the aisle. It was a breathtaking sight, she could picture Raye admiring her with every step she took, his eyes watering with tears of joy. She held onto the bouquet of orange calla lilies, the delicate chalice-shaped flowers peaking between her hands, as if she was offering a crackling flame between them. The sweet, flowery fragrance was long gone and was replaced with a smokey warmth trailing over her, surrounding her from every direction, like a lighter licking a piece of paper. She wasn’t sure where it was coming from, but it stuck with her like a tattoo, and she tried her best to look ahead. When she approached Raye, that look of adoration was long gone and was instead overwhelmed with panic. She didn’t understand what the commotion was until she heard the screams of her guests behind her, warning her that danger was near. She turned around and was confronted with a shocking sight: The train of her dress was disappearing before her eyes, as the flame rode towards her, no chance of it stopping any time soon, determined to consume her completely. The fire seemed to avoid her skin until it finally reached the back of her veil, and then bruised against strands of her hair—

Naomi’s eyes flew wide open as she felt two hands shaking her out of her lucid state, slowly acknowledging her surroundings. All she could see was Raye’s worried grey eyes looking deep into hers, not losing his concentration for one moment. She didn’t realize just how much tension she was carrying in her body until she took a deep breath and leaned against Raye, wrapping her arms tightly around him, as if her life depended on it. He held her back, reassuring her that whatever made her suddenly scream with panic was not real.

Raye pulled back gently from her to check for any signs that she was fine and received a nod in return. He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded back with a small smile. No other words needed to be said because they both knew what caused this reaction.

“Naomi, are you going to be alright? Maybe we should reschedule and meet our florist another time.”

“No!” Naomi said hastily. “I mean, there is no need to do that. I think all we need to do is pick a different color for the lilies. If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Of course, I don’t mind,” He nodded sympathetically. “This is your wedding as much as it is mine. If something doesn’t make you happy, I’ll change it in a heartbeat. I love you, Naomi, I’ll do anything for you.”

“I love you, too, Raye,” Naomi took another deep breath. “Can I ask you a huge favor?”

“Yes, anything.”

“If for any reason I start talking like I’m back in the FBI, please snap me out of it. I quit for a reason and I want to move forward with my life with you, no questions asked.”

Raye looked away. “I’m not too sure about that, being in the FBI was a part of you, that would be like asking you to never act like yourself again.”

“Promise me, Raye! Please?” She insisted.

He let out a heavy sigh, already not having a great feeling about this. “I promise.”

“Good,” Naomi smiled, getting up from her chair. “Thank you, Raye, you have no idea how relieved I feel right now. I don’t want us to be late, I’m going to take a shower and I’ll be right back.”

Raye watched her walk away and when she was out of sight, he recapped what she said on his head. Naomi was right, they have to move on with their lives, especially for her sake. It did sadden him that such a brilliant mind and incredible force was out of the FBI, but if this was what made Naomi happiest, who was he to deny her that privilege?

He just hoped that none of them regretted this decision.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #naomi misora #raye penber #complicatedmerary #himbo-kronk-stan #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Stacking the Odds

Author: @bring-back-beyond-birthday

For: @izaori

Pairings/Characters: Slightly implied Mello/Matt

Rating/Warnings: Teen and Up

Prompt: Mello after the mafia explosion and before we see him again. What happened? How did he survive? Who helped him? Maybe when he contacts Matt/Wammy’s House for help.

Author’s notes: Hello! I have never written for Matt/Mello before, so this was super fun for me! (and was longer than I anticipated!) The thought of Mello eating a kitkat wrong inspired me, and i learned tetris can help regulate after a traumatic event; thus this is how the fic turned out! I hope I didn’t stray too far from ur prompt!! (I loved all your prompt ideas too, so I wanted to reference one of the others as well!) Fun fact: In the manga, there were only eight days between mello’s explosion and when he goes to confront Near in new york. This boy never quits! <3 I hope you enjoy!

Mello decided he absolutely hated Tetris.

It had been two painstaking hours of nothing but Tetris. Two hours of staring at the same bare wall of yet another abandoned building, all while the god awful retro game music bounced around Mello’s skull as Matt stacked thousands of virtual bricks on top of each other on his tiny screen. Mello couldn’t even think through the noise of it. The only other sounds to compete was the clicking of buttons as Matt expertly stacked each new colorful block, the loud crumbled sound effects that followed when he cleared a row, and the occasional puffing then crushing of yet another cigarette into the ashtray. The smell of wet mold and nicotine smoke filled Mello’s lungs, which only proved annoying to him as he tried to keep his breathing even through his pain.

He shifted to sit up and groaned in pain, quickly laying down again. Two hours of staring, waiting for the painkillers to kick in, or waiting for a new plan to pop into his head. He still felt nothing but phantom flames dancing along his entire left side of his body. The sizzling feeling of the explosion still hadn’t left his skin after two days, even after the bandages and painkillers, and whatever else that Matt had brought him. It was impossible to focus on anything but the pain, but Mello was stubborn. No way would Matt catch him whining. No way would he give up in catching Kira.

He just couldn’t do a damn thing with that tetris music playing!

“Hey, where’s my damn chocolate?” He called in the general direction of the gamer who had become his bedside nurse.

Without pausing the game or that awful music, Matt tossed a plastic rectangle onto the couch and into Mello’s lap. He kept on stalking each block without missing a beat. “Here’s some chocolate.”

Mello squinted and turned the unidentifiable candy package in his hands. The smooth plastic felt unfamiliar on his fingertips and he dropped it to the floor, kicking it away with his boot. He would never admit out loud to Matt just how blurry the world suddenly looked, or how much effort it took to shove the candy bar far away. Despite all the pain from his burns, his blurred vision, and maybe the meds kicking in, he could still recognize his favorite snack anywhere. And that sure as hell wasn’t a chocolate bar.

“The fuck is this?” Mello hissed, tilting his head towards the gentle direction of the glowing screen in his gloved hands.

Matt paused his twelfth round of Tetri Effect™️ on his Pikachu themed Nintendo gameboy advance. “Listen. I’m still waiting for the shipment of all your snacks to get here. You didn’t give me much time to prepare before I got here.”

“I’m not going to sit here and listen to your excuses. I had an endless supply from my guys when I was in the mafia!” He huffed and laid his head back against the arm of the couch. He had taken to laying carefully on his right side to face Matt, face away from the back of the couch and staring at absolutely nothing all day, and to avoid facing the pain that any pressure on his burns would cause him if he laid on his left side.

“It’s not an excuse!” He picked up the rectangular package and waved it around. “It’s a Kit-Kat.”

“I hate you.” Mello weakly kicked his boot again in Matt’s general direction. “It’s been two days. You can leave now.”

Matt laughed and Mello frowned, lifting his head again as Matt stood and came to sit on the couch, carefully raising Mello’s legs to rest on his lap. He felt relief that Matt didn’t actually just walk out. He really was all he had left, at this point. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, the explosion had set him back a lot more than he anticipated… Now each hour was another chance Near had to get ahead of him, like always.

But of course, Matt didn’t really think about the situation the same way.

“I already told you, I’m not letting you put on any leather jackets or set a foot outside until it’s been a week of wound care. I didn’t sneak a Wi-FI hotspot onto my Delta flight for nothing you know.” Mello heard him opening that stupid candy bar as he spoke. “I did research about how to take care of you, obviously. If you’re so quick to catch Kira before Near… You’re going to make your scars worse if you rush after him too quickly after that explosion.”

The serious tone he suddenly took on took Mello off guard, and so he kicked him in the stomach and grinned when he coughed and dropped the KitKat again. “Well if you really knew me, you’d have made sure the chocolate arrived before you did.” He shook his fist in mock anger. “I’m having withdrawals!!!” He had become an expert at avoiding all of Matt’s questions and concerns since he had come to take care of him.

Matt was now aggressively tugging Mello’s boots off to free himself from further pain, starting to sound agitated. Oh, so Matt was going to be whiny now instead of him? “It’s not chocolate withdrawals. It’s the pain meds I’ve been giving you. You’re welcome.”

He grinned softly, like he was doing Mello a favor. This KitKat is as good as it’ll get until tomorrow, Mels. It’s a snack that you’re forced to use both hands, and focus on while eating. It’ll help.”

Mello laughed bitterly and closed his eyes. “This medicine you gave me must have been from Roger’s stash or something, because I feel just as awful as before.” He stretched his body out along the couch carefully, settling himself as he pondered. “But…Fine. Any chocolate will do I guess.. Sugar withdrawal is real, alright? I feel like you do, when you don’t smoke. All irritable and restless… You know… when L told me about some of his old cases, he mentioned when he had to travel to a remote country and Watari couldn’t find him any bakeries. He said, and I quote, ‘my detective skills were reduced to roughly… 15%. I never let them drop below 87%’…” Mello paused and then laughed at the memory. “What does that even mean?”

Matt laughed back and reached to grab Mello’s hand, setting the now unwrapped KitKat in his hand. “You know, I always doubted those stories you always say L told you about. I mean… remember the one he told you about his first time investigating a case? He was five, and uhm…”

“The ghost in the wammy’s kitchen! I remember!” Mello shouted back, sitting up quickly to respond, much too quickly. He had to pause and grip the side of the couch with a groan as he calmed the flare of pain, and dizziness. “Ugh… Yeah.” He looked over and nodded. “What do you mean you doubted that?? He told me it ended up being a squeaky cabinet, you know. He knew it wasn’t a ghost…” He stared down at the offensive KitKat in his hand, watching the cheap milk chocolate melt onto his fingers.

Matt leaned close, the light reflecting off his goggles. Why he always chose to keep them inside, Mello never knew, but he did enjoy that some things about Matt hadn’t changed in the years they’d been apart, like his goofy outfits. “Hey, what if it was a shinigaaammiii~?” He exaggerated the word, sounding like a ghost. “Like the one you told me came for Kira’s notebook~?”

Mello frowned and shifted right back into whiny mode. The fact that a shinigami was attached to each notebook was actually the only thing he wasn’t worried about, despite the circumstances. At least he knew it was something Near hadn’t figured out yet. Same with the fake rules, he could use that.

“Shut up.” He shoved Matt away again and turned away, taking a big chomp out of the center of the KitKat, grimacing. It wasn’t close to what he craved at all. “Sidoh was kind cool, and Near doesn’t kn-”

“Mello! How dare you!” Matt cut him off and snatched the candy back from him. “Have you NEVER eaten a KitKat before?”

Mello winced and shoved Matt away a lot more aggressively this time, fighting to reach for it back. “So what?? It’s just chocolate!” He succeeded and took another bite, just the first one.

Matt laughed louder and shoved him back, shaking his head. “I’ve just never seen someone so confidently eat a KitKat wrong. You’re always surprising me, Mels.”

Mello decided he hated KitKats more than Tetris.

Mello wanted to smack that stupid grin off Matt’s face. “I hate you.” He said the words with no weight to them though.

Matt smiled and broke the pieces of the candy apart, handing the long chunks of what was left of the wafer pieces back to him. “I just thought it would be good for you to have a snack you had to focus on, something to keep your mind off everything.”

Mello’s annoyance deepened and he munched down on the wafers, grateful at least for the sweetness. “And why would I want to do that? The sooner I heal, and figure out a plan, the sooner I beat Near.”

Matt sighed, his mood shifting back to concern. “Yeah, Okay…”

The mood shifted and Mello chewed, wishing he the medication would blur his memories again, like it had done just fine at doing the first two days of the explosion. Why hadn’t he felt better from them today yet?

“Why did you call me, Mello?” Matt broke the silence and turned to him. “After all this time, why now? It’s not like you’ve been alone since you left wammy’s.”

Mello swallowed his bite, looking away. He had made sure to share only the details of the Kira case, and the details of the kidnappings he’d done with the mafia and the Japanese police. He told him he had to use the explosives, but not why…He didn’t want to admit that blowing up their hideout had been plan b. He couldn’t admit that his plan to use Sidoh hadn’t been perfect. His whole life he watched as every plan Near had never failed… but having to use the explosives was supposed to be a last resort… and he was forced to use it. Not only that, but he had managed to get his name revealed, lost the notebook, all his men, and gotten badly wounded. Needless to say he wasn’t in a rush to admit these mistakes to Matt. But there was no point in avoiding it any longer…

“When I placed the explosives in the hideout, I told my guys it was only as a last resort. I didn’t want to use them. Because I knew I’d only end up getting hurt. I’ve made my peace with dying for the Kira case, I know it’s what L died for, but I’m still finding it hard to accept that I even needed to have a plan B.” He stared down at the last pieces of KitKat, broken and melted. “I can’t accept that I’ve lost yet. I know I still have what it takes to defeat Near, and Kira in all this…. But hell, it’s hard to feel like I’m making any progress when I’ve lost so much suddenly.”

Matt sighed and pulled another of the replacement chocolate from his vest as he listened, starting to open it up again. “Okay, but how did you escape the explosion when no one else did?”

“I placed all the explosives by the door to the room, and with the mask protecting me, and the desk, I was able to stumble out of there with just this.” He waved to the bandages covering him, the ones Matt had researched how to secure and had carefully been monitoring. “ Most of the police that ambushed lived, though. So I escaped outside and hid under some of the debris, until they managed to pick themselves up and go. I knew I couldn’t call an ambulance, or go anywhere really, without them finding me eventually. I had no one left, but you.” He lifted his head and smiled. “So thanks for actually showing up.”

Matt smiled back and handed the new candy over. He seemed satisfied with what Mello was willing to share. “Do you know why I decided to bring my gameboy along with my other investigating equipment?”

Again with this sudden mood shift. Mello felt like his head was spinning just having to think about the explosion again. Why didn’t the painkillers kick in yet? “I don’t know, because Tetris has the worst soundtrack and you’re determined for me to heal slower as I go slowly insane?” Mello was careful to break apart the candy properly this time as he sneered.

“I decided to bring my gameboy, and specifically tetris, because they’ve had studies done with the game that prove playing it can help you regulate after a traumatic event.” He smiled and snatched the gaming system from where he left it. “It’s about time you practice your coordination and chill out a little, Mels.” He smiled and waved the game around, like saying this would solve everything. The chocolate on his gloves smeared all over, and he didn’t seem to notice. “Let the gamer do what he does best. I’ll mute the music.”

Mello sighed, rolling his eyes. “How about you play, and I’ll watch. I need the sugar to kick in.” He shifted so he could rest the right side of his head on Matt’s shoulder, munching on another stick of chocolate. “If this turns out to be a waste of time, I’ll shove the rest of this candy in your hair.”

Matt laughed and leaned close so he could see the screen, starting up a new round. “Watch the master, soon you’ll be so transfixed by my block stacking that you’ll come up with your next plan to beat Near. Or, Kira. Whatever comes next.”

They sat like that for a while, the lack of music somehow not taking away from the experience. Mello actually did find his nerves calming, and his focus on the pain was then shifted to focusing on the game. Matt eventually gave him a turn, and it helped him relax even more. His mind was able to settle, and he even let the music play out loud again.

The meds never did kick in, and after another two hours of playing, they needed to break so Matt could check and change his bandages again.

“You’re looking better everyday, Mels. If you keep resting, we’ll be able to start the race for Kira again by next week. Thought of any ideas yet?” Matt has just finished putting the equipment away, and lit himself another cigarette as he mused.

Mello rested back and thought over all he knew about Kira, the SPK, and the notebooks. He knew he had what it took to see this to the end.

“I think by then, it’ll be time I go to New York. I have someone in the SPK that’ll help me get close to Near, so I can get my photograph back, and then we can go from there together. Are you up for it?”

Matt grinned and nodded towards his gameboy again. “Time to stack the odds back into our favor. Right?”

Mello rolled his eyes and snatched the system back for another round. Maybe KitKats and Tetris weren’t so terrible after all.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #mihael keehl #mail jeevas #bring-back-beyond-birthday #izaori #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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secretshinigami · 1 year

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Cooking vs Cookies

Author: @izaori (Malcolm or Kris works, too)

For: @mapsareforbraindeads (this makes me a brain dead, rip)

Pairings/Characters: Light, Near, L. Light/L, PLATONIC moonriver. Like a sibling relationship.

Rating/Warnings: Comedy, kind of fluff.. If people messing up stuff in a kitchen counts as a warning, you have been warned. Also food talk.

Prompt: light and near making cookies together to surprise L, who sneaks in and tastes the cookie dough when they aren’t looking and critiques it. i actually had a dream about this once.

Author’s notes: It’s been a while since I wrote characters that weren’t my ocs, so I was pretty excited to do a fic this time. I started one of your other prompts, but this one felt more natural, so here we are. I liked all your prompts. Wish my hands would’ve worked for drawing this past month lol.

Valentine’s Day. A fun, yet very stressful time of year. Some people rush to stores to buy chocolate and flowers, plan a fancy meal, wear different clothes for a variety of reasons, but Light Yagami has decided to bake.

Baking and cooking are very different. When you cook, it’s usually pretty easy to change a recipe on the fly. Adding a little more this, leaving out a little of that, and so on. Baking? Baking is a science. You add half a teaspoon too much of something and the entire process goes tits up.

Before he’s even started baking, Light has brought out every single utensil and ingredient he’ll need. His first idea was making cake, but there is simply too much that could go wrong with cake. Brownies were a no go, and cupcakes are essentially like small cakes that he could also very easily mess up. After mulling it around, Light decided on cookies. But what kind of cookies? Classic chocolate chip? A fancy lace cookie? The kind you roll up and put in a freezer? Lemon crisps? Thumbprints? Snickerdoodles? What about something more out there, like springerle? Light doesn’t have the tools to make those, anyway.

Who could go wrong with a classic chocolate chip recipe? Simple and delicious, easy to make in bulk. His boyfriend’s diet consists of pretty much only sweets.

Right when he’s about to get started, someone joins him in the kitchen. “It’s not good to let eggs sit out.”

Light sighs. Out of all the people to interrupt him, it had to be none other than, “Near. I’m baking, the eggs will be fine for a few minutes.”

Near observes the ingredients scattered around the counter, and the various mixing bowls and utensils. Light goes back to reading the recipe, but stops when he hears tapping. Near is playing with the mixing bowls, stacking them in an odd way. He doesn’t stop even after noticing Light’s glare.

“What? You aren’t using them yet.”

“And how will I, when you’re playing with them like toys? Did you even wash your hands?”

Near rolls his eyes. “I’m not dirty.”

“So? I don’t know where your hands have been.”

“On the bowls. Obviously.”

Light huffs, snatching the bowls away and setting them in the sink. He gives them a quick wash while Near moves on to playing with the spatulas instead.

“Stop playing around. I’m trying to bake.”

“L kicked me out of the room to study something. I’m bored.”

“Either help, or find something else to do.”

Near gives a slight pout, pondering the decision. He’d like to tell Light he’ll do what he wants, but knowing this is for L, maybe he should give the guy a break. This time. He’ll go back to being a nuisance another time. Near walks over to the recipe book and scrunches up his nose. “This is boring.”

“Sometimes boring is better.”

“Only two teaspoons of vanilla? That doesn’t seem like a lot. Why not half a cup?”

“You have to be joking.”

“It doesn’t sound like a lot to me.”

Light pinches the bridge of his nose, holding back some colorful language. “I don’t believe they even sell vanilla extract in that large a quantity, unless you’re buying one of those bigger, aged bottles. This,” he says, grabbing the tiny container, “is how vanilla extract is usually sold.”

Near takes the small bottle out of Light’s hand. Once more, he observes it carefully. “Why is it alcoholic?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you making alcoholic cookies?”

“Do you know nothing about baking? I’m not trying to get L drunk off vanilla. Think of it like bier cheese, the alcohol basically gets cooked out. It’s just there for flavor.”

“Why are you putting something in just to bake it out?”

Light finally catches on to the joke. He glares, and Near gives a shit eating grin. “Very funny, Near. Hand it over.”

Near gives back the extract and moves on. Finally, after what feels like forever, Light starts working on the batter. Light mixes the dry ingredients together, then grabs a different bowl. Near stops him.

“Why aren’t you putting the butter with the rest of it?”

Light is starting to feel more agitated. “It won’t mix properly if you do the ingredients in the wrong order.”

Near looks around at the remaining contents. “It all goes together anyway. Why does it matter?”

“It’s like math. If you do the equation in the wrong order, like not using PEMDAS, you’ll get the wrong answer. We don’t want the cookies to be messed up.”

That makes sense. Near doesn’t really understand the order of baking, but he definitely understands math. He’ll take Light’s word for it. The recipe backs up his reasoning, anyway. Near doesn’t lose the page as he flips through the book, noticing most of the recipes carry on that way. Dry ingredients, wet ingredients, mix. Seems simple enough.

The process has been prolonged by Near’s shenanigans, but the cookies are almost ready to be put in the oven.

“Why are you using such a small amount of dough?” Near questions, again.

Light has had enough. He turns his attention away from the batter and pulls Near over to the recipe book. “Look. Just look. We need to use one inch balls so that the cookies aren’t too small or too big. See the picture? If we use more dough, it won’t cook right. If we use less dough, it won’t cook right. The recipe is made for cookies like this!”

Near scrunches up his nose again. “L likes a variety of cookies. Underbaked, overbaked, just right- he’ll eat them no matter how you serve them. Why not make bigger cookies?”

“Because I want them to be perfect! I want to make something delicious for my boyfriend!”

With the argument happening, said boyfriend is able to sneak into the kitchen with ease. L quietly takes a look around, finding himself at the pot of gold- raw cookie dough. Salmonella be damned, raw cookie dough is a delight, a delicacy, one of the greatest things Watari would never purposefully let L have. He grabs a clean spoon and swipes some.

Oh. Oh no. He frowns.

“This isn’t right. At all.”

Light and Near freeze. With perfect timing, they both turn around to face L.

“He followed the recipe,” Near gets out first.

“Right, the recipe-!”

L shakes his head. He looks at the different measuring utensils laid about and figures out the issue with ease.

“You didn’t convert to grams properly. The ratios are all wrong. Also, it reeks of vanilla.”

Light glares at Near. Near smiles sheepishly. “Oops.”

L takes another spoonful of the cookie dough anyway. “It’s not horrible. You could try again.”

“I think I’ll go store bought this time.”

L smiles and tosses the spoon into the sink. “That might be a better idea for you two. Leave the baking to Watari.”

Light and Near have been defeated, but they still come out winners. L’s smile is the real prize. At least they attempted making something, even if it ended in disaster.

#fanfiction #death note #submission #light yagami #nate river #l lawilet #izaori #mapsareforbraindeads #naomi and halle's ambitious anniversary

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