#inbox thing

Oh I LOVE these two, yeah it’s totally okay! Thanks so much for sending it in! ♥️♥️

12. Things you said when you thought I was asleep

On AO3

Touka wakes from a nightmare of blood, and she can taste it in her mouth. Heavy, slushes of disgusting meat and the never ending screams. Her stomach twists in nausea and she has to take a moment, has to breathe out and close her eyes against the swirl of storm that rises inside of her.

It never fucking gets old, Touka thinks with wry and wants to laugh.

She turns over.

Kaneki is fast asleep and looks utterly ridiculous. His mouth is wide open and he’s drooling, his shirt pulled up so his stomach is on display.

Her heart flutters without her consent. When was the last time she’s seen like him? Not plagued by the memories, and regret, and every fucking thing that exists in this world because for some reason he believes he’s responsible for it all. That idiot. (She loves him and hates him so much.) There are still dark shadows under his eyes and he looks still too skinny, and so pathetic. But—

The lines on his face aren’t deep anymore, but lighter, easier and she can trace an almost smile on his lips. Wonders, is he dreaming? What is he dreaming about? He’s stretched out, at utter peace and Touka can’t stop staring. Her eyes go hot and she closes them again when it gets too much.

The darkness that meets her doesn’t help, makes her even more lost and she needs to open her eyes again. Kaneki’s face meets her and Touka wants to cry. She wants to kill, there is an itch in her mind that she can’t get out. It exists there and it’s so fucking annoying, keeps pressing so much that she wants to dig claws into her brain and scream.

Touka shifts closer to Kaneki, rests her head on his collarbone and curls her arm over his waist. She can hear his pulse, counts to the beat of it and something like relaxation falls over her.

Touka doesn’t close her eyes, keeps them peeled open and stares at their wall. The colourful little handprints dotted all over white along with crayons drawings of scribbles and something that resembles three human-shaped people.

Her heart squeezes and Touka curls her arm tighter around Kaneki, presses her face into his skin and there’s—

There’s something else stuck in her throat that feels awful like gratitude. Soft, so unbearable soft and warm and large. She can’t breathe through the weight of it pressing on her—through the nightmare still resonating in her mind and the heavy taste of regrets, and death that stenches the inside of her mouth.

It never gets easy to wake up, but—

It feels so much better than the times where she would wake up alone and the nightmares lived with her, in the real world.

It’s not, here. Touka can press her face to cold-ish skin that she knows as well as her own heart and she can watch the drawings and think the small, amazing girl that wears smiles and laughter and only knows how to be free, and—

Touka is able to find the effort to lift the corner of her lips—can smile. It's a small one, crippled and broken at the edges, the nightmares still too close her but—even despite that, she can feel warmth bubbling inside of her.

Something she had never had before.

(Peace.)

(Something to belong wholeheartedly too.)

Anteiku was home, but she had forgotten what that felt like.

Rebekah and Hayley / 11.

Thank you, Aya! ♥️♥️

I find it’s sort of hilarous you and aeru sended the same ship.

11. Things you said when you were drunk

Surprisingly, a drunk Rebekah is nothing like what Hayley expected.

Hayley was half worried as she watched Rebekah gulp down the alcohol like it was nothing, groaning at the already-headache she was getting thinking about the disasters that this would lead to. But it turns she had nothing to worry about. Rebekah’s completely different then what she thought. Instead—Rebekah is sweet, and clingy but in an adorable way. And oh god, her smiles.

It’s not fair at all. She shouldn’t be able to smile like that.

Hayley would love to be able to stare at it for forever.

Rebekah still never knows when to stop talking, Hayley thinks with a wash of affection. She’s babbling about how annoying and not fair Elijah is. “I mean! How could he—I am his one and only sister, and he said no.”

Hayley tries to repress the urge to roll her eyes and wisely doesn’t say what she thinks about that. Of course he’d say that. Rebekah wanted to burn down a whole town because they didn’t allow her to wear whatever she wanted. “At least Nik and Kol understood my feelings, you should have seen it—” Her face lights up and she leans in closer. “It was gorgeous.”

Hayley feels her breath tingle her neck as Rebekah whispers that last word, her voice hitched in awe. And doesn’t think she can handle for any longer.

She’s too close, her fingers all over her skin and arms and Hayley never had any self control. The alcohol she’s been drinking is finally getting her, starting to blur at the reasons why that’s a bad, absolutely terrible idea.

“They made a whole spectacle of it. Kol created the script, and it was hilarious and brilliant—not that I am ever telling him that—and even Elijah joined in the end.”

Rebekah’s body is pressing along her side, her fingers dancing along the edge of her hips and neck and her lips are too close. Just a little sideway shift and she could—

Before Hayley even registers, she’s kissing Rebekah.

Pump lips sliding against hers, nails digging into her skin and it’s wonderful—more than all the dreams, and her wishes—it’s real. She tastes like alcohol and Hayley’s head is buzzing. More, more, more, she’s thinking as she laughs and it should be awkward. Kisses and laughter don’t mix.

But Rebekah is laughing and they’re a mess and they keep kissing sloppy and pressing even closer, if that’s possible. Hayley can feel the way her breasts are soft against the side and heat pools and tugs in her stomach.

Rebekah’s cold hand on her bare skin is what shocks back to real life.

Hayley rips herself away from Rebekah with haste. “I—” This wasn't how it was to go. Her heart is pounding her chest, and all the good mood is being replaced with guilt. Oh god, what was she thinking—Rebekah’s drunk and she’s in love with someone else. She wasn’t thinking, that’s what.

Hayley looks away, unable to look at her, her bruised lips and her messed up hair, hating the way she ache with want.

“Urgh, why did you stop, Hayley. Come on, we were just getting to the good part.”

That’s—her voice—what—

Hayley whirls with wide eyes.

Rebekah meets her with a smirk, and doesn’t look at all drowsy but at perfect ease. Leaning back against the chair like—

“You weren’t drunk?!”

Rebekah laughs, bright and reaches a hand to drag her in. “It took you this long to figure it out?” The smirk on her mouth is infuriating and Hayley wants to take it off. Preferably with her own mouth.

“But...I thought...” I thought you were in love with Marcel.

Hayley swallows at the tender press of fingers on her face. “You wouldn’t catch any of my flirting so I had to go something more obvious.”

Flirting? She was actually flirting with her. Hayley thought it was just something that Rebekah does with anyone. That it was was her way of greeting. (She and Klaus do it all that time.)

“Oh,” Hayley says stupidly.

Rebekah laughs again, eyes crinkling and Hayley loves her so much.

“But what—what about Marcel?”

Thank you so much for sending this! ♥️♥️

8. Things you said when you were crying

Rebekah watches Hayley bury her head in her hands, listens to her wracked sobs and her expression crumbles.

It might have been a small time they got acquainted but Hayley is her family. She fit right in, Rebekah thought fondly through the twist in her chest. With her fierceness and anger that could destroy worlds and the way she looked beautiful and right with the blood on her lips. 

Rebekah wanted to make her feel better—rip off the grief right from her, and get back her Hayley, but didn’t know what to say. What could she?

There were no right words for a mother who lost her child. (Hope was alive but she was somewhere far away with Elijah and with no way to get back—She’s dead in all the ways that counts.)

Sliding closer Rebekah places her hand on Hayley’s back and pulls into a half hug. It’s awkward and Rebekah doesn’t know what she’s doing. Elijah was the one who kept their family glued together while Klaus and her broke everything. She doesn’t know the first thing about comforting someone. But—

It seems like it’s enough. Hayley shifts, presses her head on to her shoulder and grips her fingers on Rebekah’s arms. The wetness that drenches her shirt is uncomfortable, Rebekah grimaces, but—she can at least do that for Hayley. It’s nothing compared to the way Hayley looks small in her arms. So small, and trembling so much that Rebekah is trembling too. (Telling herself that’s the only reason.)

Rebekah doesn’t say anything, no promises, no empty lies. Those words would hurt more than what she’s feeling right now. She just holds her, lends a shoulder—leans perhaps more than she should, it’s hard not to with Hayley this close to—and hopes it’s enough. 

Thank you for the interest! ^^

That one is largely inspired by found by pseudocitrus! Which is an fantastic fic, and I really really love so much that I ended up writing my own canon divergence where kaneki, post-anteiku-raid, somehow doesn’t end in ccg detainment.

Tbh originally the fic was only supposed to be a PWP but it ran away from as per usual. The beginning is blurry but I do know that I had this idea of 240 trying to get a feel for Touka’s appearance and how she looks that...derails into smut. But. Uh. Then I started to backpedal and write about how it was like for Touka to take care of this Kaneki, and it. Turned into something more. :P

This one is certainly a hell lot of angsty. Broke my heart many times whilst writing it. It’s not all angst though, there are some moments that are really nice and all fluffy and warmth <3

I really didn’t have a plan, at first, about where I was going with this fic. Now I do! Was gonna go in a direction of Touka-Kaneki focus relationship fic where it deals with Touka with 240 and exploring their relationship is like and it still is that, but also. I want to explore more of Touka’s feelings. About how in this confusing mess of an aftermath after she looses her home, and they don’t know where everyone is — there’s only her, Yomo, and a Kaneki that doesn’t remember anything. Who she can’t help. Doesn’t know how to. And Touka trying to grasp any sense of warmth, and stability in between everything.

That means that Yomo is getting more of a role in this fic! Since I want to write some Yomo & Touka bits. And well. Considering how I’m unsure to how to write him...I probs need to reread the manga. It’s why this part of fic is stagnant. Since it’s Yomo’s appearance and having a lil struggle to how to write him. 

Speaking of “parts” —

So far I have two parts to this fic. The “non-smut” and the “smut” mainly because I wrote in non-chronological order and am now trying to fill in the gaps between the so the non-smut part can get to the smut part, lol. I’m writing both parts simultaneously, like when I get stuck on one I got to the other!

As for the fic is coming along. Surprisingly, really well. I’m happy with it so far. ^^ 

9. Things you said when I was crying

Al hates how, “Sorry,” is all he can say when he bites into Ed’s neck and drinks his blood up, hungrily, unable to stop. Like some monster.

Ed’s fingers are in his hair, tender and soft and nothing that he deserves. He wishes that he could stop—but he can’t—has tried twice and only made everything worse.

Ed doesn’t say anything, just presses back against the wall and bares his neck for him. And that shouldn’t make him shiver in anticipation, make his stomach curl in want. But it does, and he hates it.

(Ed doesn’t say anything and he knows the exact reason why. He tried once, to whisper reassurance and sweet words but his voice came out broken and full of gasps, pained gasps—no matter how much Ed was insisting it wasn’t—and since then, Ed didn’t speak anymore. But Al could hear his voice, imagine it and hated himself for ever second that he drinks Ed’s blood and doesn’t stop and loves the taste.)

His eyes burn and he’s unable to stop the tears that fall.

Ed’s immediate shifts, pulling him into his lap and into a hug and Al sinks into it, hating himself even more.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, he gasps against his skin and the delicious blood that sings to him, and Ed tightens his arms, doesn’t stay anything.

It’s so much worse than Ed would say something—even his pained voice that tried and failed to be reassuring.

This silence suffocating, wrapping thorny vines around throat, making the words fall out in his word, broken and choked-up.

He wants to hear his brother’s voice—just anything.

This silence feels like judgement, like he’s something wrong and he is, isn’t it?

Thank you for the prompt! This was so FUN to write. :D

One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

“Niklaus,” Elijah sighed.

Klaus choose to ignore him, and instead focused on his nails. Kept his expression straight—he could hold a poker face just as well as his brother, he only chooses not to—and slowly, trimmed the uneven edges with the nail file.

And silently baskes in the irration that is quickly turning to anger.

Listens, and hears Elijah grit his teeth, shuffle his papers—again, and again, and again—another sigh now; hands fisting.

It is so, so, so hard to not grin.

It almosts breaks out on his face, the edge of his lips twitching but Klaus mangages to keep a lid on it.

Barely.

“Niklaus.”

Elijah hisses.

He doesn’t respond.

And so, his brother resorts to other ways to catch his attention.

Shouting, screaming, whispering, hoarsely croaking out, Niklaus but—

Klaus doesn’t budge, even he is so, so tempted. He only slightly shivers—the skin on his neck break out into goosebumps and want coils so hot that it blurs the edges of his vision—all the ways Elijah had rolled his name in his mouth—

(By all means, Klaus should hate it, he should loath it, the name that Mikael had given him.

He never does, never could—not when Elijah says it.)

It’s been twenty minutes in when Elijah finally gives up. And crosses his arms, huffing.

Klaus has moved on and is now humming a tune that he knows his brother loathes, as he rocks back on his chair and reads a book.

He’s on the good part—has long since abandoned focusing on Elijah when he started becoming boring and gave up—and is soaked into the scene where the heroine is kidnapped, muttering under his breath all the ways the villain could improve his toture techniques.

Honestly. Everyone knows you don’t—

“Sorry,”

Klaus blinks. He lifts his head from his book to his brother, who’s wearing an angry face and pouting.

Giddiness rises and bubbles but Klaus resists the urge to burst into a grin.

And Elijah, eyes closed, like it’s hurting every part of him, says:

“I was wrong. I apologise.”

And Klaus can’t hold it back any more. It cracks open on his face like a fireworks. The largest, enormous grin ever.

“I’m glad you learned the error of your ways,” Klaus says, just to spite him.

And Elijah’s dark mood deepens, his pout sticking out more—but still managing too look his dignified, ever noble self somehow—

Klaus laughs, bright.

He gets up, throws the book away and moves to Elijah.

The want from before is rising back, so strong, that Klaus is almost dizzy from it—can almost taste it sharp on his teeth—

He kisses the adorably cute pout and laughs, again at face on Elijah before he pulls his brother in and,

screams