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after-witch · 24 days

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Aisle 8A [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Title: Aisle 8A [Yandere L Lawliet x Reader]

Synopsis: You're on your period, and your captor sits you down for a very special talk.

Word count: 1500ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, reader has their period, misogyny, lots of period talk, L being a weirdo

It’s rare that you let your kidnapper see you squirm. Mostly because he’s admitting to enjoying the sight of you fidgeting on the couch or bed; apparently, all of your little body tics in such stressful moments are just absolutely fascinating.

So, whenever possible, you make your body sit (almost) perfectly still. You keep your face neutral. You bite back responses, swallow insults, and wait until you’re alone in the bathroom to cry. (Though you have speculated he may have a camera in there, despite the lack of proof, and his cagey denial.)

It works, most of the time.

Except for now--for several reasons.

One being, you’re on your period.

It’s not something you looked forward to pre-kidnapping, and it’s something that you dread intensely, post-kidnapping. Sitting in front of your captor while you bleed into one of the standard-issue pads you found in the bathroom--the thin, generic kind that are often stocked at public bathrooms--is certainly not the highlight of your day.

Two, and two is the primary reason for the way your body is currently shifting on the chair: L, your kidnapper, the person you hate most in the world, has presented you with a tray of assorted period products. Pads, of several sizes and materials. Tampons, the same. Period underwear. And a silicone menstrual cup, fresh out of a plastic wrapper.

Behind this tray, he sits on his own chair, knees pulled up, a small smile on his face.

He gnaws on the end of his thumb and looks at you with something akin to gleeful hope, and you’d like nothing more than to punch him in the face.

“Well?” He asks, voice lilting. “Aren’t you going to ask why I put these here?”

You’d like to ask him where he gets the nerve. But that would only feed his ego, you think. So you breathe in and out through your nose, slowly, carefully. You flex your fingertips and press your hands together on your lap.

“Why,” you say, slowly, carefully neutral, “do you have a tray full of period products in front of me?”

L beams. “Glad you asked!” He gestures across the tray, like you haven’t been staring at it for what feels like five full minutes. “I’ve been monitoring your last seven menstrual cycles--your menstrual bleeding cycles, in particular--and I have come to the conclusion…”

He leans forward, eyes wide, eager. “… that you are not adequately handling your period every month.”

You have put up with a lot of things during your months of captivity. The loss of freedom, of course. The lack of autonomy. L’s incessant, creepy staring. His tendency towards over-analyzing you. His love for mental games that leave you wanting to tear your hair out.

But this?

This is too much. Too far.

Especially right now, with the awkward feeling of blood pressing between yourself and the pad, and a dull ache of cramps sitting low in your belly.

The snort that comes out of your nose would be fire, if it reflected how angry you’re getting.

“And how, exactly, am I not--handling my period adequately every month?” Even though you know he’ll get some special entertainment from your mockery, you can’t bite it back.

L grins again. “I’m happy to tell you my conclusions.” He reaches over to a side table, and retrieves a stack of papers. Your eyes go wide. No way. No fucking way. He didn’t--

He did.

He taps the stack of papers on the tray in front of him.

“I’ve calculated that during your active menstrual bleeding, you are 57% more irritable than on days without bleeding. Although there are many ways to reduce your stress hormones during these days, you refuse to do anything except mope around.”

Your mouth opens, lips sticking to your teeth, but he puts up a hand before you can tell him that being fucking kidnapped is the reason you’re “moping around.”

“And yes, I have taken into account your… unhappiness with your current situation. While that should account for certain levels of your stress hormones, it doesn’t account for all of them, nor does it negate the distinct rise in your stress levels on these specific days.”

Your eye twitches. It actually twitches.

“What else,” you bite out, teeth grinding, “have you calculated in that report of yours?”

He tilts his head, still smiling. He might look cute, if you didn’t want to knock his teeth out.

“Would you really like to know more? I don’t want to bore you. Ah, but if you insist…” He flips through the pages, until he lands on something he’d apparently love to share. “I’ve also discovered that your current pad use is simply inadequate for the flow and consistency of your menstrual bleeding.”

He can’t be serious. Nope. He can’t be. You must be dreaming.

“Stop,” you mutter, cheeks blazing hot, chest almost equally so. “Just--”

“I think this is important,” he says, blinking innocently at you. “I’ve noticed that you’ve stained your clothing--undergarments included--several times, and when Watari had the sheets laundered, we spotted some--”

Nope. You’re not doing this.

You stand up, body shaking, skin hot and flushed with embarrassment.

“I’m not having this conversation,” you say, voice stilted, teeth grinding on the inside of your cheek to keep you from screaming. “This is weird. You are weird.” Your hand points at him, vaguely, accusingly, but you drop it without fanfare.

His smile tilts into the smallest of pout.

“It’s not weird to be concerned with your inadequate usage of menstrual products. That’s why I’ve arranged some samples for you,” he says simply enough. “So you can see which menstrual product is best suited to your size and flow. Personally,” he adds, looking down at the tray with mild fascination, “I’m interested to see if the overnight pads are really more absorbent than the daytime heavy flow. Shall we conduct an experiment to compare?”

“No!” The words come out practically shrieked, and you grab one of the cushions from the sofa and hug it close. Calm yourself, you think. Calm down. Don’t let him see you get mad. It’s what he wants. It’s probably the entire reason for all this---well, this.

“I don’t need you to tell me what products to use. Or how to manage my stress. Or--whatever else it is you have in there.”

L pulls out another sheet of paper. “Well, I have also considered the effectiveness of your using microwaved towels versus a proper heating pad--which you could ask me for, but haven’t--and--”

It’s your turn to raise your hand and, to your surprise, he stops talking.

“I’ve had my period every month since I was 11.” The inside of your cheek hurts--there will be a blister, and blood, soon enough. “You really, really think I don’t know how to handle my own period?”

Maybe this is your attempt at giving him an out--a chance to apologize for being so unbelievably awful.To admit he’s wrong, in some small measure. Your hands tighten around the pillow, in hope--in anticipation?

His eyebrow raises; there’s a quirk of a smile on his lips.

“That’s the strangest thing about all this. I calculated that you’ve had…” And the bastard actually recites the estimated number of periods you’ve had since you started puberty. “… in your life.” He taps the paper in front of him with one short, gnawed-on fingernail. “You really should have had a more logical plan for this by now.”

The cushion bonks off the side of his head with unsatisfying softness, and you stalk away, intent on going into the only room in the house where you get any semblance of privacy--the bathroom.

“I forgive you,” he calls out, even as you walk away. “I know you’re only overreacting with this level of aggression due to the elevated level of hormones in your bloodstream!”

You can hear the smile in his voice as you slam the bathroom door. The mirror rattles. Your breath comes out in awful huffs, and angry tears prick at your eyes. Stupid asshole. Smarmy bastard. It’s like there’s no part of your life he won’t dissect, won’t turn impossibly irritating, and he’s just--

Your eyes land on the box of pads you’d found on the day of your first period here. It was a larger, plain brown box with a bar-code in it--he probably got it from some bulk place, hence the low quality.

Only now…

The box is empty. There are no more pads, thin, shitty as they were. And you know you’re about to be finished with the current pad resting in your underwear from the feel of it.

There’s a soft, playful knock on the door. He knew--he must have known the whole time it was empty. Probably knew you’d wind up storming off in here, too.

“Did you decide which of these you liked best?” Even with his voice muffled by the door, the sticky self-assurance rings loud and clear. “I’m guessing you’ll need them sooner rather than later…”

Before you start looking for any object you might throw in his direction if he opens the door, he calls out again--

"If you've chosen the menstrual cup and you're worried about the insertion process, I watched the tutorial video and it's really very--"

You don't hear what he says in the end over your own muffled shriek into the nearest towel.

#yandere #yandere l lawliet #yandere death note #afterwitch writes #yes this is named after the king of the hill episode

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bigassmoonchild · 8 months

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Lost and Found

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: The results came back, the pregnancy results. You fear losing Simon, even after your talk and he holds you close. Things slowly go back to normal, but by god was Simon starting to smell a little too good. And the scent was coming from his door.

Content Tags: Angst, Almost Pregnancy Loss, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Simon Communicating, DROPPING THE L WORD (leprosy), Simon likes compound drama, Mentions of Masturbation, Use of Pet-Names, Teasing, No Use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: I'm working one day a week because they only need me one day a week. I might quit, ngl. Anyways, I'm getting better! Not as sick! I'm going to figure out at better way for people to navigate the maple syrup series, but you know the drill. Content under the cut and asks are open!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

The next few days felt incredibly slow. You'd worked on a bit of paperwork before heading back to your rooms and sitting in your nest, going through the clothes you were intending to give back to Simon because the scent was growing stale. As you were folding one of the last hoodies, a knock on your door made you pause.

Opening it, you saw a soldier standing outside. He gave you a salute before looking down and reading off of the paper he was holding.

"Your presence is required in room 62B. Please be presentable and there within the half hour," he handed you the paper and marched away. Glancing at it, they were requesting you for more questioning based on the hearing you'd been part of.

Shit.

You stood and dug through the wardrobe you had, pulling out a few of your better shirts and pants. At this point, you didn't really care what you wore. So long as it wasn't dirty and didn't have any rips or holes.

Reading the door numbers down to 62B, you took a deep breath before entering, nodding at the few people who were sitting, glancing past Price. You sat, folding your hands on your lap as the people across the table looked at you. They shifted, glancing from the door to you for a few minutes.

"We're just waiting for Riley, you needn't be so stiff, Doctor," you looked away from them, finding Prices eye before looking the other way. You just wanted to get this over with, they hadn't even notified you about your test, so the fact that they only told them about it was weird.

The door opened, and all you could smell was Simon. Leather and tobacco, hints of the gunpowder used on base came through. It smelled muskier, though, and as much as you could smell it wasn't sweat. Not like normal.

He sat beside you, not looking in your direction. The people in front of you shifted the papers about on the table, looking between each other. They didn't say anything for a few minutes.

"The pregnancy test came back," you heard Simon scoff beside you, a quiet 'no shit' coming from him. You rolled your own eyes, glancing down to the carpet under you. It was old, probably older than you.

The man cleared his throat. "It came back positive, at least at first," you looked up, brows furrowing. "After a few minutes, though, it turned negative. We did a few more tests and they eventually came back negative. Conclusively," you closed your eyes, head tilting back.

Why were you feeling so disappointed? Were you actually somewhat excited about having a pup, even if Simon didn't want it?

"Although, they did find some hormones synchronous with what is called a 'false pregnancy'," they explained, reading off of the sheet they had.

You glanced up, watching as they tried to find a way to explain it. "My body had hormones, probably from a fertilized egg that never attached properly, and it left my hormones thinking I was pregnant. They never cleared my body, so my scent and body was changing to prep for the pup," you explained, playing with your fingers.

So close, and yet you were so far from having a pup. You could almost smell distress on Simons scent, but you didn't want to go into the specifics. You couldn't think of his normal scent, not with how deep in your head you'd become.

You could faintly hear them explaining the outcomes, faintly heard a few 'probable cause for the attack' and a few other 'nothing is being pressed,' and finally you came to.

"We're considering this almost exactly the same as if the Omega was actually pregnant," they explained. "So you're getting off on just about the same as a slap on the wrist, but don't think we won't add this to your file," and you stood, turning and walking out.

There was nothing you'd realized you wanted more. A family. A pup to care for and watch grow and eventually maybe, just maybe, add more to your little family.

But no, you didn't have the luxury of that. No, you weren't allowed to have your family, your Alpha had been so mad at you and possibly didn't want you sometimes.

Alpha doesn't want a broken Omega.

You had to fight the tears you could feel building, jaw locking in place as you found yourself moving to your room. A few more halls, one or two more turns and you'd be able to curl up in your nest and hope to God that your Alpha would still want you.

As you went to close your room door, something stopped it from closing. You turned to figure it out, slightly pissed off that it happened. Simon.

"I'm sorry," you could feel tears starting to run out of your eyes, felt him pulling you into his chest and sobs tearing out of your chest. "I'm so sorry," you were muffled by his chest, hands grasping at his shirt and holding tight. You could faintly hear the door close, your legs moving with him as he dropped you back into your nest.

Simon pulled you into his chest, hands running along your back. Your hands never left his chest and you could hear him murmuring into your hair.

"S'alright, lovie, s'alright," he whispered, arms wrapping around your back to pull you in as close as he could. It felt like everything was back to normal but nothing was. Everything was changed but nothing was at the same time.

For what felt like hours, you laid there, grasping at Simon to stay where you were. He rubbed at your back and chuffed into your ear, your tears slowing and sobs breaking into hiccups, breathing slowing as you laid there.

His hands stopped, albeit slowly, before pulling you back to look at him.

"Y'alright?" He asked this time, wiping your face dry. You nodded, then shook your head before dropping it back onto his chest.

"'m sorry, Simon," you whispered, his hand finding your back and resting there. "Failed you," you added finally. He hummed in confusing, head lifting to look down at you.

You swallowed, closing your eyes. "Lost the pup," he shook his head, squeezing you a little. He ran his hand down your arm, rubbing it slowly.

"Didn't lose anything, lovie," he whispered. "Your body was just confused, it's not your fault," you wanted to argue with him, wanted to tell him he was crazy. You lost the pup, and he should get rid of you.

He kept murmuring loving words into your ears, telling you how good of an Omega you were, how much he cared about you. How much he adored that you were his and didn't want to leave.

"Love you, y'know that?" He whispered, hours having passed since the two of you found yourselves inside your nest. He slid you into his hoodie within the first hour, let you lay there and inhale his scent.

You hummed, fighting sleep. It hadn't hit you what he'd said, not yet at least.

"Love y'too," you whispered into his neck, breathing slowing as you were falling asleep. He loved you, Alpha loves you, your head snapped up. "Huh?" Simon barked out a short laugh, pulling his mask from his face as he looked at you.

"Y'didn't hear me?" You blinked slowly at him, smile slowly spreading on your face. His voice grew softer, eyes drifting away from you. He seemed almost, nervous. "Y'forgive me?" He whispered, hands tightening on you.

You nodded, dropping your head on him. "Thought you would've thought of me as a bad Omega," you whispered. "Thought I'd lost you after I said I might be pregnant, then again when they told us I wasn't," he shook his head.

He gave a humorless laugh. "Never lost me," he said. "'m not good at emotions," he started, looking down at you briefly. "Never was, never will be. I want to try, though, try and make sure you never feel like that again," he spoke into the side of your head, pressing his lips against your head.

You swallowed thickly.

"Thought I lost everything," you whispered into his neck, closing your eyes.

You glanced at your new squad, looking them over.

"If you don't want to be led by an Omega, leave. Get out, I don't want to see your face," you said, glancing amongst them. "If you don't like that I'm leading you, get the hell out. I don't want to see you, if you're going to cause problems, get out," you said.

No one moved, looking down at their boots and away from you. Nobody said anything, it all remained quiet. You smiled, arms crossed as you watched them stand still.

You crossed your arms, glancing amongst them. "The only problem I've ever encountered is you guys not understanding what it means to be a soldier. Combat medic, combat comes first," you told them. "Which means you're a soldier first,"

You sighed deeply, rubbing the migraine out of your temples. They were the worst group you'd ever had. They seemed to not have any knowledge on anything medical, and even less knowledge about combat awareness.

"Bad day?" Simon asked, placing a tray of food in front of you and putting his own on the side of your desk closest to him. You groaned at him, dropping your head down.

You glanced up, watching him pull the mask off of his face and place it next to his food, scooping some of it into his mouth. You snorted softly, watching him.

His brows raised in questioning. "We went from me absolutely despising you just a few days ago to you eating in my office," you laughed softly. "Anyways, I have the worst squad ever," you groaned and he paused his eating.

"They saying things?" He said, moving to stand and you hushed him, hands gesturing for him to sit back down.

In the few days since you two had been cleared back to work, he had made it a habit to bring you at least two meals during your shift. Usually lunch and dinner, which he had at the same time as you, quite thankfully.

You'd grown to begin telling him tales of what happened, whatever drama you could find that happened throughout the day. Oh my god, Simon, apparently Amanda now has an Alpha? And he works on another force, I think something air, you told him the first night.

Surprisingly, he was really interested in what was happening around base. Today, though, he appeared a little more out of it. He seemed slightly off, watching you closer and staring down Alphas who walked by you when he just so happened to be near.

It was weird, but you hadn't put too much thought into it. You were finally back to a normal, something the two of you were putting together. Maybe it was just his new normal, but you weren't going to ask questions.

He stayed quiet, giving you a few murmurs of agreement or interest at all of the new things you'd discovered. Once the two of you finished, instead of sitting with you until you were finished to walk with you back to your room he grabbed your trays and walked out, giving you a short murmur about needing to workout or something.

It left you a little confused, but you weren't going to mention it. You knew this took up a lot of his own time, and you knew that he would want to spend some time on his own to relax.

You felt the same way, but something was off and you could tell. By the time you finished putting away the last paper into its file, it was nearing 10 at night. You walked to your room, bag in hand as you watched the door numbers slowly shrink to your room number.

As you entered it, you'd been expecting to see Simon there, but maybe tonight he just wanted to relax in his own room and take some time to chill out. You understood, and found yourself slowly going through the motions of your nightly routine, some part of you hoping he would walk in right before you finished this part. Then it became this part, then the next.

Eventually, you were curled in your bed, lights all out while listening for movements outside. You found yourself waking up the next morning, groaning as you turned off your alarm clock. Simon never came to your room, but that was okay you told yourself.

It was fine, because everyone needed a moment to themselves here and there. So you began your routine, getting something small to eat as you walked through the clinic, checking on people who had come in overnight to be treated for something.

You ran your training, having the squad work on taking care of those who were harmed and trying to tourniquet them.

"I'm bleeding out, help me! Aaah! It hurts so much, I'm writhing in pain!" Soap was all too pleased to help you with this. Gaz was helping as well, but had stopped his acting to roll on the ground laughing at him. It seemed to work just as well as Johnny's screaming and writhing.

Shutting your eyes tight, you had to hold yourself silent to keep from laughing too hard or distracting everyone. Even as your back was turned, you could hear little squeals coming from Johnny, but as you opened your eyes you saw Ghost watching from a distance.

Gesturing him over, he shook his head and turned back to his own training group, leaning over to shout at someone. You sighed, turning around to watch the group once more.

"Steph, no, that tourniquet is way too tight, I can see it from here. You're cutting the blood flow off, not his leg,"

At lunch you grew a little worried when Simon didn't show up. He had been making sure to bring you food (and letting you watch him eat) every lunch and dinner. Sometimes it was breakfast instead of lunch, but he hadn't come during breakfast.

It took you a few moments before you decided to try and find him, but everyone you spoke to had turned away from you, telling you that it was in your better interest to leave him alone. When you found Gaz again, you pulled him to the side.

"What's up with S- Ghost?" You asked and he looked away, grimacing a little. "Go on, tell me. I'm his mate, it's not like he's doing something that would kill me," you said, brows furrowing as he didn't say anything.

You gestured for him to tell you. "He's been really violent today. Look outside, there's more people running than usual, and his temper is getting the better of him," he whispered, looking around like Simon would jump out of nowhere.

At dinner, when Simon didn't show up you found yourself walking the compound to look for him. To find out where he'd gone, or what was wrong. He wasn't anywhere you'd expected him to be, not the gym or field.

Walking to his room, it was a few halls before when the scent hit you hard. Leather and tobacco, some hints of the gunpowder used on base. You walked a little closer, musky tangs of something just entirely Simon breaking through.

Standing outside of his door, you stared at it. Hearing long groans and whines, huffs of your name. Trying the door, it was locked and everything in the room paused.

A bang on the door made you jump back before leaning in. "Simon?" You whispered, trying the doorknob again. He whined at the sound of his name coming from you, and you could hear nails on the door.

"Please," he whispered back, voice muffled by the door. You could hear another bang on the door and you gave a little laugh.

"Y'gotta unlock the door first, Alpha," a growl came from behind the door.

Tag List:

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon

If I forgot you, please send me a message, reply or ask. I apologize for any mistakes in the Tag List, I'm trying to get it all organized.

#angst #hurt/comfort #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #modern warfare ii #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #no use of y/n #simon riley #call of duty #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #teasing #pet-names #dropping the L word #Maple Syrup

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