Riona (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rionaleonhart) wrote2023-09-18 11:26 pm
rionaleonhart) wrote2023-09-18 11:26 pm
Fanfiction: Awakening (Death Note, Light/himself)
It took me fourteen years, but I have finally written fanfiction for my selfcest OTP.
Tem and Ginger had very different reactions to learning about this fic, which more or less boiled down to the following:
Riona: I'm writing fanfiction in which Light gives himself a blowjob to make himself evil.
Ginger: wh-what
Tem: (nodding sagely) Yes, of course you are.
Title: Awakening
Fandom: Death Note
Rating: 15
Pairing: Light/himself
Wordcount: 2,200
Summary: Kira will need to use every tool at his disposal to tempt Light back into his destined role, and seduction is a tool like any other.
Warnings: Selfcest, extremely dubious consent (although this fic isn't explicit at all).
When Light touches the Death Note, the rush of memories almost buries him. Everything he’d been afraid of, everything he’d convinced himself he couldn’t possibly have done—
He’s screaming his throat raw, doubled over on the ground, and eventually it filters through his head that there shouldn’t be a ground here to kneel on. He was in a helicopter.
He raises his head.
He’s in a blank space, a white void. There’s nothing here, nothing to judge distances by; there’s no visual sense of where the ground is, although it feels like there’s something solid under his knees. There’s nothing at all.
Except a person, watching him. A single figure, and Light knows in an instant, without needing any time to process the concept, that he’s looking at himself.
Light stumbles to his feet, trying to keep himself steady. Suddenly ashamed of looking so vulnerable in front of this other him.
In a weird way, this almost makes sense to him.
When he’d made this plan, trusting himself to find the Death Note again, he’d thought he could just... take over. His true self’s memories would be restored the moment he regained the notebook. Light would be dead, and Kira would step into his body and carry on as if nothing had happened in between.
It’s as if there are two Lights inside him now: one triumphant, one horrified. He’s seen Kira’s work from the outside; he’s seen his father half-destroyed by the suspicion that his son is a murderer. He can’t just forget about that.
He can’t reconcile these sides of himself. It feels like his head is splitting.
So perhaps it makes sense that he’d find himself somewhere inside his shattering mind, somewhere outside space and time, where those two sides of himself can have a conversation.
“You’re Kira,” Light says. He was going to say you’re me, swerved away from it at the last instant. He knows, from the confident stance, from the slight smile, that he’s not just looking at himself; he’s looking at the version of himself who killed all those people.
“I knew you’d be curious enough to involve yourself in the search for the Death Note and smart enough to succeed,” Kira says. “You’ve done well. All you have to do now is kill Higuchi.”
“Are you trying to flatter me into letting you take over my mind?” Light asks.
“You’re already me,” Kira says. “We’re the same person, with the same philosophy. Nobody’s taking us over.”
Light shakes his head. “I’m not going to use the Death Note.”
Kira sighs, like Light is being an unreasonable child, and the sound makes Light bristle. “I know you’re not going to let all our work go to waste. We’ve always thought murderers deserve to die; are you telling me that’s changed?”
Light swallows. “What’s changed is that now I’m a murderer.”
“You know that isn’t the same thing,” Kira says. “How many innocent people do you think we’ve saved with our actions? Dangerous criminals are dead. People who might have committed crimes are too afraid of Kira to make a move. We’re weren’t committing murder; we were preventing it.”
“You’re rationalising,” Light says. “You’d killed two people to test the Death Note. It had to be the right thing to do, or you couldn’t have lived with yourself.”
He feels sick. He’s rationalising, too. He’s saying you, as if he had nothing to do with it.
Kira isn’t a separate person. He’s looking at himself.
“So you’re saying you trust the justice system,” Kira says, flat and unimpressed.
Light hesitates. “That isn’t what I’m saying.”
He hates that he can look inside himself at his own thoughts, on the world, on justice, and see how those thoughts blossomed into the deaths of thousands. He knows what he’s capable of, now.
“You’ve seen how crime rates have fallen,” Kira says. “We did that. We’ve been working to create a safer world. Everything we’ve done has been for that goal.”
But Light has his memories as Kira, and he knows that a safer world wasn’t the only thing he was thinking about.
“We were enjoying the chase,” Light says. “We did things just to taunt the people hunting us. We told that woman we were Kira so we could see her realise she was about to die. That was cruel.”
He can’t remember her name. He put in so much effort to learn it, to kill her; it feels like he should at least have done her the courtesy of remembering her. But he wrote her name and forgot it in almost the same moment. She wasn’t important any more.
“She would have had us executed,” Kira says.
“But she wasn’t a criminal.” She was just someone pursuing Kira, trying to stop him. Just like Light, in the months without his memories.
“She was still an obstacle. Nobody’s ever changed the world without making sacrifices.”
“So we had to kill her,” Light says. “Did we have to terrify her?”
For all of Kira’s confidence, all his arguments, it looks like he doesn’t know what to say to that.
“That was unnecessary,” he admits at last. “But we’ve learnt from these months. I know you’ll do better when you carry on our work.”
It’s just more flattery. Light has to tell himself that, fiercely, because a part of him wants to believe it. “I’m not going to kill anyone else.”
“Is that so?” Kira asks. He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re going to confess, then?”
Light hesitates.
“We’re so close to defeating L,” Kira says. “I know you want to bring him down. He held you prisoner for over a month.”
“You held me prisoner for over a month,” Light says. “You’re the one who decided to put me in that cell. My father pointed a gun at me. I had to live through that because of your plan.”
There’s a horrible thought in the back of his head. If he had still had his memories, would he have killed his own father? An innocent man, someone Light loves? Has he fallen that far?
L had a part in that moment as well, of course. L was his enemy as Kira, and L treated him inhumanely as Light. But they’ve worked so closely; they’ve been handcuffed together, day and night, for... what, three months now?
He wants to kill L, because Kira wants to kill L, and he can no longer deny that he’s Kira. But it’s also hard to deny that he thinks of Ryuzaki as a friend.
Kira folds his arms, regarding him with naked scorn. Looking down on him, and Light’s always hated being looked down on. “So you’re going to let L win.”
Light’s fists clench.
He doesn’t want to lose to L. But he doesn’t want to lose to himself, either.
“I’m not some other person,” Kira says. He spreads his arms, gesturing to the space around them. “We’re smart enough to know there aren’t really two of us here. This is in our head. The things I’m saying are your own thoughts.”
“So you know what I’m thinking, too,” Light says.
“He’s your friend,” Kira says. “It doesn’t make a difference. We’ve never been the kind of person to let that stop us.” Something in his expression shifts, the calculations changing, and he moves closer. “We’ve never needed anyone but ourselves.”
He reaches out and rests his upper palm against Light’s jawline. The pressure of his fingers dragging down Light’s lower lip, just a little.
Light has never had much romantic interest in his peers. He wasn’t sure how Misa had ended up convinced that they were in a relationship; the memories he’s regained explain a great deal there. He’s always assumed he was above that kind of thing, desire and dating and dirty magazines. It’s never especially bothered him; he’s had other things to focus on.
But something about his other self’s fingers against his mouth—
Light backs away, his breath jolting out of rhythm. “What are you doing?”
“You’re thinking too much,” Kira says. “We already know what we want.”
“That doesn’t answer—”
Kira steps forward and kisses him, choking the words in his mouth.
“I’m helping you think less,” Kira says. Breaking away, but still there, still too close. He’s right; Light can’t form a single coherent thought.
He tries anyway. “You think you can – can seduce me into changing my morals?”
“I think I can fuck you into remembering who you are,” Kira says, quietly.
Light’s mind is a blank. It’s all he can do to keep breathing.
When Kira slips a hand inside his shirt, it doesn’t even occur to him to push back or move away.
“We killed hundreds of people,” Kira says. “Because it was the right thing to do, and nobody else had the guts or the skill to do it.”
If he can believe what Kira is saying, he doesn’t have to be ashamed of himself. It’s hard to resist that.
It’s hard to resist those hands.
“You wouldn’t let anyone else touch you like this,” Kira says. “You know why, don’t you?”
“Don’t,” Light whispers. He wants to step back. He’s – he’s trying to want to step back.
“Nobody else is on our level.” The words are hot breath in Light’s ear, more a sensation than a sound. “Someone has to make these decisions, and there’s nobody else we’d trust. You’ve seen what it’s like when this power falls into the hands of corporations. We were doing something beautiful.”
“We were killing people,” Light says.
He almost flinches as he hears his own words. He wants to say you, not we; he wants to distance himself from the things he’s done. Distance himself from the person he was.
“And it was beautiful,” Kira says. He kisses Light again. There’s no distance between them at all. “Just like us.”
He tugs the end of Light’s belt out through the buckle, almost casually.
This is all an illusion, his body here isn’t real, but Light can feel his own heart beating so hard that he thinks he might be sick.
He’s expecting to be shoved to the nothingness beneath them. But Kira kneels, and Light’s breath catches.
“May I?” Kira asks, looking up at him.
Light almost laughs: a startled, half-choked sound. “I think it’s clear you don’t care about what I want.”
Kira smirks in response and finishes undoing Light’s belt. They’re the same person. As hard as Light is fighting against begging Kira to keep going, not to leave this unfinished, Kira probably already knows.
This is all new to him. To have someone kneeling at his feet, as if worshipping him—
And for that person to be someone like Light Yagami, with all his intelligence, whose respect is hard-won—
It’s overwhelming; it’s more than he can cope with, and he has to shut his eyes at the first touch.
There’s nothing here to brace himself against; he has to fight to stay upright, his entire body shaking. He catches himself trying to say something and chokes the words back, because he’s afraid they’ll be yes, I’ll join you.
He bites down on his own wrist to muffle himself as he comes, as if there’s anyone here to hear him but himself.
-
He doesn’t know how long he stands there, eyes closed, just breathing. Kira is speaking again, but Light can barely process the words; it feels like they’re slipping straight into his bloodstream without passing through his brain. It feels like any defences he’d managed to put up against his other self have shattered.
When Light eventually brings himself to open his eyes, Kira is standing in front of him, no longer too close. Still fully dressed, still unruffled, as if he hadn’t just dropped to his knees and taken Light apart. Something untouchable, like the god they’re both supposed to be.
Light doesn’t know if he’s seeing more clearly, exactly, after everything that just happened. But he’s seeing differently.
So many people have died to get him here. But all those lives seem to be fading away as he tries to grasp them, and all he can see is himself, his eyes burning with determination.
He’s never believed that all lives are equal. Would he trade himself to bring all those people back? All those criminals? It’s not even a question.
“I don’t want to kill any more innocent people,” he says, quietly.
“You’ll do what you have to do,” Kira says.
It’s true, Light knows. He thought he had enough resolve not to kill anyone, but that resolve is already slipping away, replaced by a stronger resolve. He’s given ground on killing the guilty; he knows he’ll eventually be willing to kill the innocent, the ones threatening his plan, because he was willing to do it before. There’s a greater good here, and he won’t let himself be put in chains again.
His plan worked, in the end. He can feel Kira settling back under his skin.
He makes a small promise to the human side of himself, the Light Yagami side, the part of him that isn’t yet a god, in honour of the fight he put up here: if, one day, he truly finds himself hesitating to write a name, he’ll allow himself not to write it.
He doesn’t know it yet, but, years from now, that promise will save his sister Sayu.
Tem and Ginger had very different reactions to learning about this fic, which more or less boiled down to the following:
Riona: I'm writing fanfiction in which Light gives himself a blowjob to make himself evil.
Ginger: wh-what
Tem: (nodding sagely) Yes, of course you are.
Title: Awakening
Fandom: Death Note
Rating: 15
Pairing: Light/himself
Wordcount: 2,200
Summary: Kira will need to use every tool at his disposal to tempt Light back into his destined role, and seduction is a tool like any other.
Warnings: Selfcest, extremely dubious consent (although this fic isn't explicit at all).
When Light touches the Death Note, the rush of memories almost buries him. Everything he’d been afraid of, everything he’d convinced himself he couldn’t possibly have done—
He’s screaming his throat raw, doubled over on the ground, and eventually it filters through his head that there shouldn’t be a ground here to kneel on. He was in a helicopter.
He raises his head.
He’s in a blank space, a white void. There’s nothing here, nothing to judge distances by; there’s no visual sense of where the ground is, although it feels like there’s something solid under his knees. There’s nothing at all.
Except a person, watching him. A single figure, and Light knows in an instant, without needing any time to process the concept, that he’s looking at himself.
Light stumbles to his feet, trying to keep himself steady. Suddenly ashamed of looking so vulnerable in front of this other him.
In a weird way, this almost makes sense to him.
When he’d made this plan, trusting himself to find the Death Note again, he’d thought he could just... take over. His true self’s memories would be restored the moment he regained the notebook. Light would be dead, and Kira would step into his body and carry on as if nothing had happened in between.
It’s as if there are two Lights inside him now: one triumphant, one horrified. He’s seen Kira’s work from the outside; he’s seen his father half-destroyed by the suspicion that his son is a murderer. He can’t just forget about that.
He can’t reconcile these sides of himself. It feels like his head is splitting.
So perhaps it makes sense that he’d find himself somewhere inside his shattering mind, somewhere outside space and time, where those two sides of himself can have a conversation.
“You’re Kira,” Light says. He was going to say you’re me, swerved away from it at the last instant. He knows, from the confident stance, from the slight smile, that he’s not just looking at himself; he’s looking at the version of himself who killed all those people.
“I knew you’d be curious enough to involve yourself in the search for the Death Note and smart enough to succeed,” Kira says. “You’ve done well. All you have to do now is kill Higuchi.”
“Are you trying to flatter me into letting you take over my mind?” Light asks.
“You’re already me,” Kira says. “We’re the same person, with the same philosophy. Nobody’s taking us over.”
Light shakes his head. “I’m not going to use the Death Note.”
Kira sighs, like Light is being an unreasonable child, and the sound makes Light bristle. “I know you’re not going to let all our work go to waste. We’ve always thought murderers deserve to die; are you telling me that’s changed?”
Light swallows. “What’s changed is that now I’m a murderer.”
“You know that isn’t the same thing,” Kira says. “How many innocent people do you think we’ve saved with our actions? Dangerous criminals are dead. People who might have committed crimes are too afraid of Kira to make a move. We’re weren’t committing murder; we were preventing it.”
“You’re rationalising,” Light says. “You’d killed two people to test the Death Note. It had to be the right thing to do, or you couldn’t have lived with yourself.”
He feels sick. He’s rationalising, too. He’s saying you, as if he had nothing to do with it.
Kira isn’t a separate person. He’s looking at himself.
“So you’re saying you trust the justice system,” Kira says, flat and unimpressed.
Light hesitates. “That isn’t what I’m saying.”
He hates that he can look inside himself at his own thoughts, on the world, on justice, and see how those thoughts blossomed into the deaths of thousands. He knows what he’s capable of, now.
“You’ve seen how crime rates have fallen,” Kira says. “We did that. We’ve been working to create a safer world. Everything we’ve done has been for that goal.”
But Light has his memories as Kira, and he knows that a safer world wasn’t the only thing he was thinking about.
“We were enjoying the chase,” Light says. “We did things just to taunt the people hunting us. We told that woman we were Kira so we could see her realise she was about to die. That was cruel.”
He can’t remember her name. He put in so much effort to learn it, to kill her; it feels like he should at least have done her the courtesy of remembering her. But he wrote her name and forgot it in almost the same moment. She wasn’t important any more.
“She would have had us executed,” Kira says.
“But she wasn’t a criminal.” She was just someone pursuing Kira, trying to stop him. Just like Light, in the months without his memories.
“She was still an obstacle. Nobody’s ever changed the world without making sacrifices.”
“So we had to kill her,” Light says. “Did we have to terrify her?”
For all of Kira’s confidence, all his arguments, it looks like he doesn’t know what to say to that.
“That was unnecessary,” he admits at last. “But we’ve learnt from these months. I know you’ll do better when you carry on our work.”
It’s just more flattery. Light has to tell himself that, fiercely, because a part of him wants to believe it. “I’m not going to kill anyone else.”
“Is that so?” Kira asks. He doesn’t look convinced. “You’re going to confess, then?”
Light hesitates.
“We’re so close to defeating L,” Kira says. “I know you want to bring him down. He held you prisoner for over a month.”
“You held me prisoner for over a month,” Light says. “You’re the one who decided to put me in that cell. My father pointed a gun at me. I had to live through that because of your plan.”
There’s a horrible thought in the back of his head. If he had still had his memories, would he have killed his own father? An innocent man, someone Light loves? Has he fallen that far?
L had a part in that moment as well, of course. L was his enemy as Kira, and L treated him inhumanely as Light. But they’ve worked so closely; they’ve been handcuffed together, day and night, for... what, three months now?
He wants to kill L, because Kira wants to kill L, and he can no longer deny that he’s Kira. But it’s also hard to deny that he thinks of Ryuzaki as a friend.
Kira folds his arms, regarding him with naked scorn. Looking down on him, and Light’s always hated being looked down on. “So you’re going to let L win.”
Light’s fists clench.
He doesn’t want to lose to L. But he doesn’t want to lose to himself, either.
“I’m not some other person,” Kira says. He spreads his arms, gesturing to the space around them. “We’re smart enough to know there aren’t really two of us here. This is in our head. The things I’m saying are your own thoughts.”
“So you know what I’m thinking, too,” Light says.
“He’s your friend,” Kira says. “It doesn’t make a difference. We’ve never been the kind of person to let that stop us.” Something in his expression shifts, the calculations changing, and he moves closer. “We’ve never needed anyone but ourselves.”
He reaches out and rests his upper palm against Light’s jawline. The pressure of his fingers dragging down Light’s lower lip, just a little.
Light has never had much romantic interest in his peers. He wasn’t sure how Misa had ended up convinced that they were in a relationship; the memories he’s regained explain a great deal there. He’s always assumed he was above that kind of thing, desire and dating and dirty magazines. It’s never especially bothered him; he’s had other things to focus on.
But something about his other self’s fingers against his mouth—
Light backs away, his breath jolting out of rhythm. “What are you doing?”
“You’re thinking too much,” Kira says. “We already know what we want.”
“That doesn’t answer—”
Kira steps forward and kisses him, choking the words in his mouth.
“I’m helping you think less,” Kira says. Breaking away, but still there, still too close. He’s right; Light can’t form a single coherent thought.
He tries anyway. “You think you can – can seduce me into changing my morals?”
“I think I can fuck you into remembering who you are,” Kira says, quietly.
Light’s mind is a blank. It’s all he can do to keep breathing.
When Kira slips a hand inside his shirt, it doesn’t even occur to him to push back or move away.
“We killed hundreds of people,” Kira says. “Because it was the right thing to do, and nobody else had the guts or the skill to do it.”
If he can believe what Kira is saying, he doesn’t have to be ashamed of himself. It’s hard to resist that.
It’s hard to resist those hands.
“You wouldn’t let anyone else touch you like this,” Kira says. “You know why, don’t you?”
“Don’t,” Light whispers. He wants to step back. He’s – he’s trying to want to step back.
“Nobody else is on our level.” The words are hot breath in Light’s ear, more a sensation than a sound. “Someone has to make these decisions, and there’s nobody else we’d trust. You’ve seen what it’s like when this power falls into the hands of corporations. We were doing something beautiful.”
“We were killing people,” Light says.
He almost flinches as he hears his own words. He wants to say you, not we; he wants to distance himself from the things he’s done. Distance himself from the person he was.
“And it was beautiful,” Kira says. He kisses Light again. There’s no distance between them at all. “Just like us.”
He tugs the end of Light’s belt out through the buckle, almost casually.
This is all an illusion, his body here isn’t real, but Light can feel his own heart beating so hard that he thinks he might be sick.
He’s expecting to be shoved to the nothingness beneath them. But Kira kneels, and Light’s breath catches.
“May I?” Kira asks, looking up at him.
Light almost laughs: a startled, half-choked sound. “I think it’s clear you don’t care about what I want.”
Kira smirks in response and finishes undoing Light’s belt. They’re the same person. As hard as Light is fighting against begging Kira to keep going, not to leave this unfinished, Kira probably already knows.
This is all new to him. To have someone kneeling at his feet, as if worshipping him—
And for that person to be someone like Light Yagami, with all his intelligence, whose respect is hard-won—
It’s overwhelming; it’s more than he can cope with, and he has to shut his eyes at the first touch.
There’s nothing here to brace himself against; he has to fight to stay upright, his entire body shaking. He catches himself trying to say something and chokes the words back, because he’s afraid they’ll be yes, I’ll join you.
He bites down on his own wrist to muffle himself as he comes, as if there’s anyone here to hear him but himself.
He doesn’t know how long he stands there, eyes closed, just breathing. Kira is speaking again, but Light can barely process the words; it feels like they’re slipping straight into his bloodstream without passing through his brain. It feels like any defences he’d managed to put up against his other self have shattered.
When Light eventually brings himself to open his eyes, Kira is standing in front of him, no longer too close. Still fully dressed, still unruffled, as if he hadn’t just dropped to his knees and taken Light apart. Something untouchable, like the god they’re both supposed to be.
Light doesn’t know if he’s seeing more clearly, exactly, after everything that just happened. But he’s seeing differently.
So many people have died to get him here. But all those lives seem to be fading away as he tries to grasp them, and all he can see is himself, his eyes burning with determination.
He’s never believed that all lives are equal. Would he trade himself to bring all those people back? All those criminals? It’s not even a question.
“I don’t want to kill any more innocent people,” he says, quietly.
“You’ll do what you have to do,” Kira says.
It’s true, Light knows. He thought he had enough resolve not to kill anyone, but that resolve is already slipping away, replaced by a stronger resolve. He’s given ground on killing the guilty; he knows he’ll eventually be willing to kill the innocent, the ones threatening his plan, because he was willing to do it before. There’s a greater good here, and he won’t let himself be put in chains again.
His plan worked, in the end. He can feel Kira settling back under his skin.
He makes a small promise to the human side of himself, the Light Yagami side, the part of him that isn’t yet a god, in honour of the fight he put up here: if, one day, he truly finds himself hesitating to write a name, he’ll allow himself not to write it.
He doesn’t know it yet, but, years from now, that promise will save his sister Sayu.