#gilbert nightray fic

[lana7779]

People should really be careful when saying things like "hey, you should write (insert the randomest idea)", because by god, I will make it happen.

So here we are, 2.5k words of Gil taking out Break's hairpins...

Yuuuup... That's all this is...

Pulling out your partner’s hairpins as a metaphor for sex.

Gil was angry. Overall, relieved, of course, but still, very angry that Xerxes didn’t tell him. Didn’t tell him that he was blind, and carried that weight in secret. 

After Yura’s mansion when they got back the Rainsworth mansion and the debrief was over, they each went to their rooms, but Gilbert followed Xerxes to his. 

When he arrived, he saw the blind man fumbling with his hair pins, turned away from the mirror on the dresser because he no longer needed it. That angered Gilbert even more. He stalked into the room, not bothering to keep his presence a secret and slammed his hands down on either side of the Mad Hatter, trapping him with his body against the wood behind him. 

Break jumped a bit at the abrupt sound, Gilbert’s anger radiating off of him practically like heat. He kept his hands by his hair, looking in the direction in which he could feel the younger was near him. And he was so damn near. The reason Gilbert’s anger was comparable to heat is because he was indeed close enough to feel every fibre of Gil’s being. 

Gilbert probably felt like he could get this close only because Break couldn’t actually see him. Whatever the reason, his presence was penetrative, though not unwelcome. It was his favourite little pathetic Gilbert after all… What could he possibly do to him that Sharon already hasn’t put him through with her harisen? Although, being this close to the Raven, he truly did not know what to expect. So he pretended as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Aside from that loud bang of Gilbert’s hands against the dresser. 

The Raven breathed heavily, composing himself to not scream at his mentor in such close proximity. It would be rather counterintuitive to yell at someone whose all other senses except for sight were sharper now. Or could Break be going deaf as well and wasn’t telling him that either? 

Either way, all that came out of him was a measured sentence, the only question that he needed confirmation on from the source himself. Head bowed in front of his mentor, he asked. “You really can’t see… Can you?”

Despite showing the best fighting Gilbert has seen from his teacher in a while, the sight of the older fiddling with the hairpins was quite pitisome. At this point, he was wondering if eyesight was truly the issue or just lack of skill in the hair department. 

Break thought of a million different ways to retort to that question. To tease Gilbert about barging into his room like that and to now be bent over him like so. He wanted to. He really did. But at the end of the day, he could not be more grateful to the person that saved him from committing an irreversible mistake. He lowered his hands from the back of his hair in defeat. In an unnaturally small voice, he confirmed the younger’s suspicion. “No.”

Break both heard and felt the sharp inhale that Gilbert took. It was so… desperate… as if a part of Gil hoped for the opposite answer. But there he was, disappointing his subordinate. 

At this point, Gil decided to look up into Break’s unseeing eye. It was so unnerving, because Break looked back at him, and for a moment, he thought he could see recognition and some sensory input, but no. The iris was unfocused, not looking him directly in the eye as one would in this close proximity. Break was just doing his best estimate to figure out where he should be looking. 

Gil let out a defeated sigh, seeing how there was nothing to be fighting here for. No bargaining nor anger will do him nor Break any good here. He took a long look at his mentor and the situation they were in. He was in Break’s room, effectively pinning him against his own dresser, a blind man, no less. How opportunistic of him… Granted, had he tried to do so earlier, it would have definitely ended with his being thrown out in the most creative ways Break could conjure at the time. Now though, all Break did was stand there, accepting fate for what it was. 

Gil leaned forward to look behind Break’s head at the mess that was created there after a whole evening, which also happened to include a fight. With his breath ghosting over Break’s ear, he asked quietly. “How did you even get them in there?”

With Gil this close, Break suddenly felt uneasy, a slight heat rushing through his body. They’ve never been this close before outside of training and fighting. There was something… intimate about this moment. Not only that, but Gil’s sudden change in tone. Going from angry to soft after Break’s confession really put him through some mental hoops. 

This close to Gilbert, he could smell the lingering scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. He tried not to inhale too deeply so as to not appear as if he was actively sniffing his student. Though, he dared say, the scent was pleasant to his taste. However, the warm breath on his ear… there was nothing he could have done to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. In hopes that Gilbert wouldn’t notice, he answered his question. “Sharon…”

But Gilbert noticed. How could he not, being this close to someone, and being the one with eyesight. Break’s visible bodily reaction was very noticeable and Gil couldn’t help the smile that passed on his lips. He brought a hand up to hover over the back of Break’s hair, trying to find the best place to start with the hairpins

Break only continued to talk in an effort to disguise his growing comfort at being this close to another man. “She really likes all things dress up and hair, so naturally she was the one to--ahh…” 

Gilbert finally touched his hair, barely, but still noticeable enough to make Break lose his train of thought and gasp in awe over how nice the sensation felt. 

Gilbert pulled his hand back when he heard and felt the gasp. He only touched a few of the strands to see if they were a good beginning spot, but Break’s reaction made him hesitate. “Hm? What is it?”

“Nothing!” Break shook his head, embarrassed with himself at his own reaction. ‘What the fuck was that?!’ 

“Alright… you let me know if I’m hurting you, okay?” Gil reassured and went back to being infinitely close to Break. 

“Mhmm,” Break hummed his agreement and immediately fought back a low whimper once Gil’s hand actually fully immersed itself in his hair. What was this boy doing to him???

When Sharon played and fiddled with his hair, it didn’t feel like much. Just a necessity he had to sit through. But with Gilbert… the whole ordeal felt different. He was oh so aware of their proximity, but also there was something about knowing that Gil’s rough gun handling hands were doing the most miniature of tasks such as taking hairpins out of someone’s hair...

His mind swam. Maybe he should just call Sharon in here and get this over with, with no further complications to their relationship. Instead, he found himself gripping Gilbert’s forearm unconsciously, tilting his head in the direction of Gilbert’s head. What was wrong with him?

However, shortly after he realized he was holding onto Gil’s arm, Gil used that arm to return his hold on him. Recognizing this, Break’s thoughts shifted to, ‘what is wrong with him???’

Gil didn’t understand why Break suddenly decided to hold onto him, but he felt it would only be right to return the favour under the pretence that this way Break would hold still better and let him focus on his task. Or maybe he was hurting him, and Break was too proud to admit it, but instead transferred that pain into gripping him? This particular pin was a tad more tangled than the rest and he was really fumbling with it. Especially one handed, since he dared not let go of Break with his other hand. It was comforting in a sense, to them both, to be holding each other during this task.

Feeling Gil’s hand in his hair felt unlike any sensation he’s ever witnessed. No longer caring about why he was feeling this way, Break decided to just let himself get swept away in the soothing sensation of having someone fiddle with your hair. Since his hand was gripping Gil’s arm, he focused on how the muscle moved beneath the coat and skin. How firm and sturdy Gil felt in his hold. How strong his student has grown from the small and scared child he’d met a decade ago. 

He found that oddly comforting and unconsciously began leaning forward into Gil. He noticed that Gil pressed firmer into him as well, almost leaning his chest on his shoulder. ‘What is he doing…?’ 

Only being able to use one hand made the task more difficult, so with no other option, Gil decided to get his mouth involved. To do that though, he had to really lean into Break to be able to grasp the hairpin with his teeth. They could just change positions, but… somehow that felt like more work and he was comfortable enough as it was. Plus, he was practically already there. “Lean forward more, I can’t see…”

Break’s eye widened, and while he was dumbfounded, Gil used his hand to push his head into his shoulder. He gave a surprised gasp, his hand gripping Gilbert more earnestly now. His breathing picked up at being so intimately close to Gilbert, even closer than before, which is already the closest they’ve ever been. Now he was forced to inhale the scent of Gil’s coat, and to be practically embraced by his student. What a peculiar situation…

Now having a better visual on the back of Break’s head, Gil held onto the clump of messy hair with his hand and leaned in with his face to grasp the pin by his teeth. He felt Break stiffen underneath him and smirked to himself. This must be something new for his mentor as well. He had to admit, he rather liked this arrangement, for once putting Xerxes Break in an unfamiliar territory and watching him squirm as he was now. 

With the first pin successfully out of the white hair, he leaned back. Ideally, he’d have loved for Break to see him with his prize between his teeth, but alas, he will need to compensate. He pulled back slowly, talking lowly around the pin in his mouth, with his breath brushing right up against Break’s ear. “I got it…” 

Break bit his lower lip to fight back another involuntary whimper at both the sensation and action. ‘Did he just take it out with his teeth?’ He was able to deduce that much from the way Gil spoke, and how close he felt the younger’s face to the back of his head. He tried not to show his bafflement in his voice. “That one was really stuck in there, eh?”

Gil dropped the pin onto the dresser and leaned back in to get the other ones. “Mhmm,” he hummed. “The rest should be easier to get out.”

Break squeezed Gil’s arm when he felt Gil’s hand go back to touching his hair. “It’s okay, take your time…”

And so Gil did, take all the time in the world, slowly pulling out pin by pin, leaving Break to gasp, tremble and pant in his arms. After a few particularly gorgeous sounds from the older, Gil couldn’t help his own heart rate spiking, leaving him to breathe shallowly, which Break picked up on and played off of. They did not need to speak aloud to let their bodies talk for themselves. Especially when Gil’s hand would travel in between pins, just casually massaging gently the back of Break’s head. That bit in particular made Break lose composure and gasp louder than normal and grip Gil’s arm tighter. He even tried tilting his head back in pleasure a couple of times, but Gil just pushed his head right back against him, as that hindered the progress on getting the hairpins out. 

Another moment that made Break forget what was happening was when Gil would deliberately breathe against his ear hotly and sweetly. For no other reason, just because. Just because Break’s reactions likely fueled his own internal sensations, which he wasn’t hiding as well as he thought. Break could both feel and hear it. 

Particularly when Gil would get too close and actually faintly brush his lips against Break’s ear, making them each gasp in surprise, but carry on as if nothing happened. 

Soon enough, Break returned to looking more like himself with his scrunkly looking hair and the pile of bobby pins laid on the dresser beside them. Break wasn’t quite sure what to do now that that was over. As much as he enjoyed the moment, it was rather… peculiar, in the best sense of the word.

He still did not let go of Gil. Gil tried leaning back as soon as he was done, but Break kept a firm hold on him. Break’s next words surprised him. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, right?”

They just shared the most intimate moment of their lives with each other, gasping and trembling in each others’ holds without speaking a single word of it, the arousal running high between them, and Break was still holding onto him with an unyielding grip. 

Gil leaned back in to be eye level with Break again, face to face for the first time since he started pulling out the pins. “Just helping a blind man with his hairpins. Nothing more.” He whispered sweetly. 

He leaned in closer to Break’s face so that their noses would be barely touching and their lips hovering just over one another. Break was about to tilt his head to make their lips touch when Gil whispered reassuringly. “You can let go of me now…”.

Break hesitated for a split second, but did as was told. What a silly thing he did, holding onto Gilbert like that. He promptly released his grip and looked away, hand coming to hold the edge of the dresser he was still leaned back against. 

He expected this to be that, and for Gilbert to turn around and leave. That’s why despite Gil leaning away from his face, he was surprised to feel Gil caress the back of his head one last time, twirling a strand of his hair between his fingers before finally stepping away from him completely. 

With his unspoken message delivered, Gil walked out of the room quietly. If Break wanted more, he knew where to find him. 

[crazymecjc]

every day I am haunted by the fact that we know next to nothing about what happened in the ten years between oz getting thrown into the abyss and the beginning of actual plot. there’s lore in there!! there’s soup!!! Give It To Me!!!!!!!!

[nandalikesstuff]

Going Back to Those Times

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Characters: Oz Vessalius, Gilbert Nightray

Summary: Many have said that the child we once were is never lost, it’s only waiting inside us for a chance to go out and play again. Gil and Oz have just proven that theory true.

A/N: Like I've said, one of my goals for 2024 is to finally finish all the wips that have been collecting dust on my folder for ages. This fic is a part of this project and a specially difficult one at that, because:

1) Believe it or not, this fic was supposed to be a fill for a prompt on the kink meme in LiveJournal (computer says I started it in 2011, which makes sense, but somehow feels wrong, where did time go?); and

2) Do you think past!me wrote down what the prompt was or saved a link to it anywhere? She did not! :D So I had to put together a plot and ending for this fic from the thousand or so words I had already written for it and my very vague memories of where I was intending to go with this.

Bright side is: I did it! Not exactly sure how close it is to the prompt it was supposed to fill anymore, so uh, if you had a prompt on the kink meme that involved Gil and Oz playing as kids again in some way and you happen to see this, I hope you like it! And I hope everyone else likes it, too!

If you prefer, also read it on AO3!

~~**~~

When Gilbert Nightray got out of his bed that day, he expected and resigned himself, as always, to face all kinds of strange, scary, dangerous, and very likely to cause serious body damage situations. And all that setting aside the part where he would eventually have to actually go out of the Rainsworth mansion to hunt the human-eating monsters that were known as “chains”.

He did not expect, however, that an apparently harmless excursion to the market would lead to him finding himself thrown to the ground and then smashed by five of what should be the most annoying, tireless, relentless and devious kids he had ever seen.

Aside from his master Oz, that is.

Gilbert felt all the air being forcefully pushed out of his body and struggled to get it back, but, with the combined weight of the children pressing directly onto his ribs and lungs, this task seemed almost impossible. He gasped, desperate for air, and tried to scream and make the kids get off of him, but only managed to get out a strangled whisper.

One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar in victory, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.

An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children?

He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering, and went back to the events that had brought him to this ridiculous situation.

~~**~~

Gilbert had woken that morning to a mansion immerged in complete silence, what was, considering the people that lived there, rather odd and suspicious. Plus, having lived most part of his childhood with Oz Vessalius, he knew that silence was never a good thing.

While he washed himself and changed, his mind rushed through the possibilities of evil plots that could be being put into action at that exact moment. Horrible images started rushing through his mind: Of the mansion being blown up or he being thrown in a room full of cats or… Who even knew!? (And no, he wasn’t paranoid, thank you very much. Some of those things had actually happened before, especially the ones that involved cats).

Afraid of what he would face once he started wandering the corridors, the raven considered, for a moment, staying in his room and pretending it had nothing to do with him, but the fear of what could actually happen if he didn’t keep an eye on Oz and Break was enough to make him storm out the door, looking for them.

The obvious place to look at that time would be the dining room, as it was breakfast time, and, surely, as soon as he approached the door he heard Oz’s voice coming from behind it, but the one answering the blond was not who Gilbert had expected.

He opened the door to find Oz chatting animatedly with Reim (Well, the younger boy was chatting animatedly, the other was just listening, but seemed to be having a good time nonetheless). There was no one else there, which was odd. Where were Sharon, Break and that stupid rabbit? His master looked up at him when he entered the room and gave him a smile:

“Hey there sleepy-head. It was about time you woke up, Gil!”

“Good morning, Mr. Nightray.” Came Reim’s greeting soon after.

Deciding to ignore Oz’s comment, he took his place at the table, sitting right in front of them.

“Morning…” He looked over at Reim, trying not to look too curious, but he must have failed it, because the other soon added:

“I came to deliver some documents that master Barma wanted Lady Cheryl to analyse, and then I ran into Oz, who was kind enough to invite me for breakfast.”

One mystery solved. There was still the other one.

“I see… And where are the others? I mean, that stupid rabbit is probably still asleep, but where are Break and Sharon?”

It was Oz’s turn to ignore part of Gilbert’s comment. He had known since long that all the animosity between Gil and Alice was just for show, so he didn’t even pay any mind to it anymore.

“Sharon wanted to give Alice another one of those ‘lady lessons’ and took her to the city. Break went with them, of course, and he also said we could have the day off.”

At this, the raven-haired man sighed visibly in relief. So there wasn’t any evil plan being plotted, after all, thankfully (Okay, so he was just a little paranoid. No one could blame him for it after all he had been put through). More relaxed, he filled himself a cup of coffee. The rest of the morning went down smoothly.

Things continued calm until the middle of the afternoon. The others still hadn’t come back, so Gil and Oz were killing time at the library. The blond was sitting on the floor, back against one of the shelves while reading one of his adored Holy Knight books, and Gilbert was on the nearest table, filling up some paperwork, when the boy lifted his head and said the phrase that was bound to be the source of all of Gilbert’s nightmares:

“You know, Gil… I could really use some cookies right now…”

Gilbert didn’t even look up. The other wasn’t seriously asking him to drop everything to go bake cookies, was he? Didn’t he remember what had happened the last time he tried?

“So go ask one of the maids to bring you some.”

“But I want the ones that you make!” Oz almost but whined. “You were never able to finish them last time and I have been craving your cookies since then!” (Damn, so he did remember).

Receiving no answer, Oz huffed, immediately changing his tone of voice.

“Come on now, Gil; don’t make me turn this into an order, because you know I will.”

Yes, Gilbert didn’t have a doubt he would…

He really didn’t feel like making cookies at the time, but if that was going to make Oz happy, then he didn’t really mind.

The raven sighed, although it was only for show, and pushed his chair away from the table.

“Fine, I will make your cookies. I’ll be back in an hour or so, ok?”

“Oh, really?! Thank you, Gil!”

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he left the room. Oz had the sweetest of smiles on his face, as if he hadn’t just blackmailed him into doing just so, the manipulative brat…

Oz chuckled as he heard the library door closing. They were nice, these times when they played their little games, Gil pretending he didn’t like to obey Oz’s orders and the boy pretending that he didn’t give a damn. It was something they had been doing since they were kids, the only difference being that there used to be a lot more whining and crying from the (now) older’s part. But it was ok, most of the times. If the game was always the same, it would eventually become boring, but not with Gil. With Gil it just felt nostalgic, safe, welcomed... Just like home. Even if that “home” was always surrounded by deep darkness.

Caught in his own thoughts for a while, the book was lowered to his lap, almost forgotten. The sound of the opening door pulled him back to Earth with a startle, but he quickly composed himself and was back to his book-focused appearance by the time Gilbert appeared on the door frame.

“Wow, back already? You must be the quickest cookie-baker in the whole world!”

Gilbert huffed, not finding the slightest fun on the lame joke and thereby deciding to ignore it.

“The cooker said they have run out of vanilla extract because of the amount of deserts prepared for last night’s dinner and today’s lunch so I offered to go to town and buy some, since we are on a day off anyway. Just thought I should let you know.”

“Whaaat? You are not going to invite me to go with you? Are you abandoning me, Gil?”

Gilbert had only been teasing, and the comment was said on a tone not meant to be taken seriously, but shocked that his master would have that impression about him, Gilbert quickly sputtered a desperate excuse.

“What?! No! A-As if you needed any kind of invitation, idiot. And weren’t you the one that said that was going to stay glued to that book the whole day, anyway? I thought you would prefer staying here.”

“Huh? All alone? No way! I prefer going to town with Gil, it’ll be way more fun!”

Oz rushed to the exit, grabbing his sleeve, and started to pull him through the corridor, but that excited façade didn’t fool Gilbert. He had learned how to see through these expansive actions; that forced joy. He could count on his fingers the times Oz had really had fun after returning from the Abyss, and having to watch his desperate attempts of bringing back his old self, on continuing to seem untouched by the events surrounding them, clutched at his heart with an iron claw and ripped it to pieces.

No, even this was a false nostalgia, somewhat. There had been a lot of darkness surrounding Oz, even back then, that was why Gilbert was always doing – had always done – everything his master wanted, everything he thought might make him happy. But before his father’s ritual, there had at least been real innocence, real happiness in Oz and in plenty of his moments, specially when he was with his uncle Oscar and Ada. Now even those moments seemed tinged with a hidden angst.

If he didn’t know Oz as well as he did, though, it would be impossible to see. As he walked to and around town towards the market, the other boy chatted and ran everywhere, pointing at birds and interesting objects on the shop windows, and even making Gilbert chase him once or twice. Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder about the picture they painted, him all black and moody and Oz all golden and smiles, everyone that saw them would think they didn’t have a care in the world, though deep down he thought Oz was always ever so energetic because, if he stopped, then his thoughts would catch up to him.

“Hey, Gil, let’s take a shortcut through here!”

The call cut him from his thoughts, and he looked around to find Oz waving at him and pointing at the entrance to the park.

“That is not a shortcut. It will take us at least twice as long to get to the market through there.”

“No, no, it’s a shortcut. Trust me, Gil.”

Well, what was he supposed to do? Say he didn’t trust Oz? He begrudgingly followed the other into the park and off the path through the trees until they came to a clearing in the middle of the woods. Well at least it seemed like they were walking in the general direction of the market and should-

Something hit him on the back of the head, and he acted in a fraction of second, grabbing Oz by the arm and pulling him behind him as he turned around and pointed his gun in the direction of the enemy.

Unfazed, an angry looking young boy threw his ball in the direction of Gilbert’s face now, making him duck fast not to get hit.

“Hey, old man! Get out of the field, you are interrupting our game!” The boy yelled at him, and Gilbert quickly hid his gun away before yelling back.

“Don’t shoot balls at people, you know how dangerous that is?!”

“I wouldn’t have to shoot my ball at you if you didn’t walk in the middle of our game in the first place!”

Some other voices yelled in agreement behind him, and Gilbert looked around to see there were three or four more kids around, and no indication this was a playing field of any kind.

“Well, you shouldn’t be playing in the middle of nowhere like this. Where are your parents?!”

“None of your business!” The boy had the audacity to blow a raspberry at him, but before Gilbert could argue further, Oz got free from his hold and walked around him.

“A game? What game are you playing?”

“It’s a game I invented.” The boy said, sounding all cocky. “It’s called ‘monster’. The monster needs to try to shoot the ball at the others and if he hits someone, that person will be the new monster.”

“Woow, sounds super fun, can I play?”

“Sure!”

“Oz, we don’t have time to play, we need to go to the market and back to the mansion.”

“Aww, but Gil!”

The boy grabbed Oz’s hand and started pulling him away. “Don’t listen to that ugly nanny of yours, come play with us!”

The other kids cheered as Gilbert simmered in rage at being called an ugly nanny. He grabbed Oz by the back of his shirt. “No, we don’t have time to spend with these brats. Let’s go, Oz, or don't you want your cookies?”

Oz whined a little more, but soon his pout turned into the devious smirk Gilbert knew so well. He had a feeling he would not like whatever came next.

“Hey, I just thought of a new cool game we can play!” Oz said, and the other kids looked at him with confused faces. He pointed straight at Gilbert, and Gilbert immediately knew he absolutely would not like whatever came next.

“That guy is a super ugly, super mean monster, and we are the knights that are going to bring him down! Whomever can hit him with the ball, wins!”

“Oz, wait a-“ Gilbert started protesting, but had to jump to the side to avoid a ball one of the other kids had already thrown at him.

“Let’s get the monster!” She yelled and all the other kids, including Oz, cheered.

Oh, fuck.

Gilbert spent the next minutes running, dodging and jumping as the kids ran around him shooting and kicking the ball in his direction, trying to “kill the monster” or whatever it was. Oz gleefully joined in the torture and his attacks were the hardest to dodge since he knew Gilbert’s movements so well. It wasn’t particularly tiring or difficult after being trained most of his life by Break to fight Chains, but it was getting pretty annoying.

An idea suddenly stroke Gilbert and he wondered how he hadn't thought of it before. The next time one of the kids threw the ball at him, he grabbed it and held it high above his head.

“Game over, I win.”

“Aw man, that’s not fair!” One of the kids complained.

“That wasn’t part of the game!” Another joined.

The kid that had had an issue with him from the start looked angry for a moment and then gave a devious smirk that rivalled Oz’s and yelled:

“The monster is cheating! Let’s get him, guys!”

There was another round of yelling and before Gilbert could understand what he meant by that or react, one of the kids jumped at him from behind. He wasn’t expecting it so he lost his balance and stumbled, but he would have been able to recover, if the other kids didn’t follow soon after.

He fell to the floor with a scream, a couple of kids landing on his back and the others jumping after them in a pile over his body that left him unable to breathe. One of the kids – he couldn’t possibly tell which one – started to scream and roar, giving the cue for the others to follow him and start a deafening noise.

An alert started to sound off in his head (“You need air NOW!”) so he did the next thing that had come to his mind and used his arms to lift himself from the ground a little. The kids didn’t even notice, but it was enough to stop his chest from being crushed and to get the air back into his body. His breath was, of course, a bit erratic, but, as he was not facing imminent death anymore, he could focus on other important things such as: how he would get out from under those children.

He tried to search for Oz and ask for help, but his view was currently limited, and the blond wasn’t anywhere in his line of sight. Feeling completely hopeless, he dropped his head to the ground, groaning and trying to ignore the kids’ cheering as he tried to think, and that’s when he heard it.

Laughter. Pure and joyous laughter that he hadn’t heard in a long time.

His head jerked in the direction of the sound, and he could slightly make out Oz sitting on the floor and laughing like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life.

He had missed that sound so much. Oz’s real laughter, without any sign of being forced or hollow, like the one he had had when they were both kids. Before Abyss, before his father, before chains or Baskervilles; it elated him, it was his most favourite and the best sound in the world. It made Gilbert so happy himself, he almost started crying from the relief of it.

He would do anything to keep that sound alive.

With renewed strength, he pushed himself up, making the kids fall on their own pile behind him, then he turned around, glaring down at them, and said:

“Now you have made the monster angry. I am going to eat all of you!”

He fake-growled and the kids screamed and scattered as he chased them randomly around without any intention of getting any of them. After a few seconds of this, he turned and looked at Oz. The other boy was looking at him with a surprised look on his face, half thinking it fun and half disbelieving, so Gilbert turned to him with hands half raised in claws, and fake-growled again.

“And you! You turned against me! I’m going to eat you first!”

He ran towards Oz and was pleased to see him reacting just like the other kids: with a fake scream and starting to dash around. He ran after him for a while, and almost exploded from happiness when he heard Oz laughing again, before he took a sharp turn towards one of the other kids that were nearby and continued chasing them randomly around the clearing among the trees.

Every once in a while, the game changed: soon the kids organised themselves into a monster hunting squad, and started chasing him again, then the ball was rediscovered near a tree and they went back to something more similar to what the boy had explained at first, with the “monster” trying to catch the others by hitting them with the ball, which somehow turned into a soccer match, and a game of hide and seek, and another round of tag.

Every time Oz laughed or smiled or cheered together with the other kids, it made Gilbert laugh, too, and soon he had forgotten that his own laughter had also died over ten years ago or that he was a hunter and a killer, the Raven from the Nightrays, and not simply a boy playing together in the park with his best friend.

This is what they were supposed to be, they were supposed to have had more of this, still years of this to come. They had been robbed from themselves and each other, their lives turned upside down, but this was their defiance: they could still laugh, and smile and play, and every time they did, they were taking back a little piece of what had been stolen from them, they were back to being just boys and best friends playing in the park, with freedom and their whole lives ahead of them.

They would never be able to go back to those times, but they could pretend and heal for a while, at least.

~~**~~

The sun was already setting when Gilbert and Oz finally sat down on the grass propped against each other, exhausted and trying to catch their breaths. The other kids said goodbye and waved as each disappeared back to their own homes, inviting them to come back and play again tomorrow. Even the boy that had initially disliked him said they could come back anytime; it made Gilbert smile.

“I’m completely beat, I hadn’t run so much in ages.” Oz remarked, and Gilbert had to agree.

“How was this somehow more exhausting than taking down a Chain? What do kids nowadays eat?”

His dramatic statement made Oz laugh again, and Gilbert beamed. He would never get enough of that sound.

“What made you change your mind, Gil?” The other suddenly asked. “I never thought you’d start a game yourself, but you were almost having more fun than me.”

The raven didn’t know what to say for a moment. He didn’t want to bring attention to Oz’s present happiness – and general unhappiness, by consequence -, in fear it would make it disappear, so he just shrugged. “I just wanted to teach those kids a lesson for piling on top of me, and I guess I got carried away.”

“I see… You were really cool when you called yourself the monster like that, I couldn’t believe it!”

The comment made Gilbert blush a bit. “Don’t make fun of me, I was just going along with what you said.”

“I’m not! You were really cool, I mean it.”

They stayed silent for a little while longer, until Oz said, almost inaudible:

“Thank you, Gil.”

It took Gilbert by surprise, but then he smiled, and put his hat on Oz’s head in place of an answer.

“Come on. Let’s go find a cab and go back to the mansion, I can’t walk the whole way back again.”

They found their way back to the main entrance of the park and Gilbert hailed a carriage for them to climb into. Oz fell asleep almost instantly, and Gilbert contented himself with watching over him on their way back.

It wasn’t until they were back at the mansion that he realised they had forgotten all about the vanilla extract and the cookies, but it was okay. They had gotten something way more precious instead.

[kietamin]

wrote my first ever pandorahearts fic !!!!! if you enjoy pain and suffering... this may be the fic for you....

[okamigamer1]

I wrote something for PHMonth23 for Alice/Oz/Gilbert it's just porn what plot smut but it's here!

@i-prefer-the-term-antihero

[ao3feed-fengqing]

Blue Is the New Pink: Continued

by i_write_hurt_not_comfort After things finally settled down, the news of six new prisoners coming to the ward turns everything upside down again. [Sequel to Blue Is the New Pink] Words: 2482, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Series: Part 6 of Blue Is the New Pink Fandoms: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù, Diabolik Lovers, ヴァ二タスの手記 - 望月淳 | Vanitas no Carte | The Case Study of Vanitas - Mochizuki Jun (Manga), Pandora Hearts Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con Categories: F/M, M/M Characters: Vanitas (Vanitas no Carte), Noé Archiviste, Astolfo Granatum, Dominique de Sade, Jeanne (Vanitas no Carte), Roland Fortis, Olivier (Vanitas no Carte), Elliot Nightray, Leo Baskerville, Xerxes Break, Gilbert Nightray, Sakamaki Ayato, Sakamaki Kanato, Sakamaki Laito, Mukami Ruki, Mukami Azusa, Mukami Yuuma, Kino (Diabolik Lovers), Sakamaki Reiji, Hua Cheng (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Shi Wudu, Pei Ming (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Shi Qingxuan, He Xuan (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Feng Xin (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Mu Qing (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Qi Rong (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Lang Qianqiu Relationships: Dominique de Sade/Vanitas, Noé Archiviste/Astolfo Granatum, Leo Baskerville/Elliot Nightray, Mukami Ruki/Sakamaki Reiji, Kino (Diabolik Lovers)/Sakamaki Laito, Hua Cheng/Xie Lian (Tian Guan Ci Fu), He Xuan/Shi Qingxuan, Feng Xin/Mu Qing (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Lang Qianqiu/Qi Rong Additional Tags: other characters from diabolik lovers and pandora hearts will be mentioned, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prison, Blue Is the New Pink Sequel, sequel to another fic and this will make absolutely no sense if you don't read it im so sorry, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drug Addiction, Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, lots of crimes committed, Murder, Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Transphobia, She/Her Pronouns for Shi Qingxuan, He/Him Pronouns for He Xuan (Tian Guan Ci Fu), Silly Goofy Things, Depression, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, OSDD, Childhood Trauma, it's a very very dark fic but there's some comedy sprinkled in, full of inaccuracies because i don't know how prisons work, but the medical detail is top notch trust me, Don't Like Don't Read, further tags may be added in future via https://ift.tt/SmAP2xy

[tiniestdormouse]

Hi! I want to read the Borderlands series, but I'm sort of new to fanfic and ao3. There are 4 parts to the series, do you need to read them in order to follow the story? Or what is the best place to start reading?

Hey there! Thanks for your interest in checking out my twisted dark fic! There isn't a strong order to read to have it all make sense (except, of course, being familiar with Pandora Hearts.) The Borderlands series started in 2011 (!!) and I also eventually folded in more canon details they were released, while trying to stick to canon as close as possible. But I take characters who have only a passing mention in PH, like Fred Nightray, and fleshed them out as their own people that are pretty much OCs at this point, and technically the series is slightly divergent from canon because Fred still lives when Gilbert first acquires the Raven (for now, lol). Here's a reading order to help you explore this world!

1) Trust / Bond - can be enjoyed as a standalone 2) Wait for Sleep - takes place shortly after the events of Trust/Bond, but you don't need to read that in order to understand this. 3) Lucid Dreamers  - the "main story" currently being written 4) The Life and Times of Lord Frederic Wolfgang Nightray This started off as a sideblog for his character and is a collection of vignettes based on prompts readers sent. Mostly handcanons. No big spoilers for the series, but a fun exercise and character study. Really appreciate you asking, and please feel free to leave comments & kudos if you enjoy! <3

[antihero-writings]

Hereditary Loyalty 

Fandom: Pandora Hearts 

Summary: Do demon’s reside in the left hand after all? If so, Gilbert’s in need of an exorcism. || Exploring some of Gilbert’s internal monologue in chapter 78, and how current events relate to Break's warning earlier in the series.

Notes: This was written for @phmonth2021​‘s prompt for Golden Trio week, Day 2: Obsession. (Sorry it’s late!)

I’ve always wanted to explore what Break said about his loyalty being an obsession at this point, so that’s what this prompt made me think of. 

I will likely need to edit and/or add to this, so forgive me for any little typos!

Your comments and reblogs mean the absolute world to me, especially for less-well known series like this one! So I'd really appreciate if you'd leave me one!!

*

As Gilbert lay, half asleep on the bed, the sound of a bullet ricocheted off the walls of his mind. It echoed, growling louder, gaining momentum, as it traveled back and forth.

“I’ve always wanted to ask you this…How can you be so devoted to your master? That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession? Saying it’s whole hearted might sound pleasant to the ears, but the way I see it, it’s simply abnormal.”

“Believe whatever you want. Regardless of what you say I—!”

“Let me give you a word of advice. A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear. Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

Those cursed words. The whispers of the bullet on its merry go round.

He’d taken them as an insult, then. Told himself Break wasn’t completely sane, after all. His devotion was indeed wholehearted, pure, and he wasn’t going to lose anything else.

They were a warning. A prayer for his well being. Not some misunderstanding or otherwise creepy proclamation. Break was too sane for any of their good.

Gilbert understood now. And he hated himself for understanding. Hated Break for being right. Hated himself for not listening. Hated Break for giving him something to not listen to. Hated the truth most of all, for just how nightmarish it was. All this had no right being real.

The gunshot rebounded again, and he dug his nails into his palm. His left palm. Always the left. Always the pain. Always the truth. The horrible memory. Though it would have been true without the memory.

Do the demons reside in the left hand after all?

He’d fired many bullets in his lifetime. Too many, perhaps. Some at targets. Some at Chains. Some at people. Some at the Baskervilles, who were somewhere in between. And he wasn’t always sure the decision to fire was right.

But those shots—even those situations a bit too ambiguous to be sure—didn’t echo for longer than a night.

This one. This one he knew would echo throughout his whole life if he wasn’t careful, or was simply a little too careless.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all. He was bound and broken to Glen Baskerville, because that’s what he was: a Baskerville. Etched into his name, the fabric of his flesh, his being. So here he was, spending the night on the dark side.

Not Oz. No. Never. Never. Never Oz.

“Shoot him.”

His left palm was bleeding now.

His Master. His best friend. His dear light. He’d swallow and bathe in dark if only for a sliver of light. He’d never, never, never hurt his precious—

“A loyalty that holds fast will become a blade…and will someday pierce those you hold dear.”

Oh but it wasn’t a blade, was it? It was a bullet. There is a difference, yes. Blades are quiet. Far less risk of tainted memory.

Loyalty. But it wasn’t his loyalty to Oz that became the bullet, it was that towards Glen.

“Is the one you need really Oz Vessalius?”

Damn him. Damn him for trying to help. Damn Gilbert himself for thinking him nothing but a useless clown.

How can I know if I’m not with him?

He loved Glen, once. Looked up to him. Idolized him. Cut and polished as his successor, his copy. And, once upon a time, he didn’t mind.

This loyalty was more than pure and blind devotion. He knew that now. It was something far more deeply ingrained. Something that branded and stained, and may just maim. He loved Glen from the start, yes. He was kind. A good king. Even as a child Gilbert could tell that.

But at some point he couldn’t tell what was his true feelings, and what was the magic curving its way inside him like puppet strings.

Where was the oath written again?

No prince should be permitted to disobey his king, after all. Even those whose relation was bloodless. Hereditary loyalty.

Couldn’t we do this without anything attached? Can’t we let our bodies move according to the request of our souls?

So his loyalty towards Oz…was it something pure, or something that immured him? He always thought it his most honorable quality. He was his steadfast servant, his chivalrous knight. But perhaps he only latched on because he was puppeteered and programmed to be a creature of service.

“That loyalty of yours…No, should I call it your obsession?”

Maybe this was how things were supposed to be after all. There was no such thing as love or fate, or dreams. Just the strings, the spiderwebs. We’re all cocooned, waiting for the poison to kick in.

What was he thinking? How could he think he didn’t really care for Oz? How could their adventures, their time together really mean nothing?

He loved Glen too once. And he couldn’t tell if even that was real anymore.

Glen’s successor, his copy, his soul, his left hand, his wings—

Raven.

The one thing he stole from him. The contract half-fulfilled then. Promises broken. Promised that couldn’t help but be fulfilled. The one thing that would ever belong to him. A chain half-connected. The ship might just drift out to sea that way.

Raven, whose seal lay in his left hand. His ever cursed left hand. His symbol of Glen, still.

“You will be bound by your left hand again.”

He felt like his face might break as he tried to keep both the tears and laughter that simmered beneath the surface from boiling over.

Break wasn’t the only one who’d tried to warn him.

He hadn’t understood then. Hadn’t understood anything at all.

Raven. One of Glen’s four black-winged Chains. The first. The first drop of four poured into the vessel. A ceremony cut in half by the sound of screaming, and the smell of smoke.

Raven who he created his legal contract with because he thought he could save his master. Raven whose seal saved his master’s life and sanity. Raven who took them from Cheshire’s dimension, who protected him and Break from the Baskervilles.

Raven, who had only helped since he’d made his contract with him. Raven who he shared a connection with. Raven whose name he even took at times. A name he took once to save himself the pain of his master knowing who he really was.

Raven who perhaps could be of some good now.

He sat up.

Oz wasn’t merely the reflection of Jack. And Gilbert wasn’t merely the reflection of Glen.

Maybe Raven wasn’t a symbol of Glen’s tyranny either. Maybe he was just the opposite. Maybe Raven belonged to him. Maybe Raven’s fire was exactly what he needed to break the unbreakable.

And there is at least one benefit to being a Baskerville.

He looked at his left hand.

“Open both eyes wide. That is, if you don’t want to end up like me.”

He smiled, half mad. He had kept his eyes closed for far too long, and he knew even before he walked into the rain that he might just end up like Break after all.

[this-idiots-left-eye]

As the Fall Comes

This was a fic I wrote a while back for Inktober18 prompt 1: “Poisonous” about Gilbert’s internal monologue in Retrace XL: “Blindness”

*

It started small. The time when Gilbert was poisoned.

When he first stood up from the banquet table, the room spun, a little too fast, a little too far. And when almost everyone present turned to him with worried faces—(after everything that had happened, why wouldn’t they?)—he assured them he was fine, that maybe he had had a more to drink than he thought, or perhaps the gravity of all that had happened was catching up to him.

Next his head. Small, sharp pains. Like someone was knocking to get in, like a doctor was sticking a needle in different places to see where it would hurt most. Then it was everywhere that hurt most, and the knocking was on every door and window to his mind. He could do nothing but hold his head in his hands, curse, and pray whoever it was couldn’t get in, and would stop trying.

Then he was coughing, and when he pulled his hand from his mouth, crimson remained. And then he was even vomiting, and Vincent ran to his side, saying his name like he was dying—because, of course, he was. At least, on principle.

Vincent had made sure that the whole house was frantic, as if on fire, that they were calling the family doctor, using anything and everything they had to save his life.

And somewhere in the middle, he heard Elliot swear under his breath something about the Headhunter, and how one day he would kill him for what he had done to their family.

He didn’t remember much of that night, fever, and blood, and…

And after all that, after all he had put them through, after all his own wonderings Is this really it? Is this where I die? Will I never get to see Oz again? He…was fine.

Fine. Not even a scar, a cold, a leftover cough. When the morning came, and his pillows, sheets, and clothes were changed, all that was left was white, and he could breathe fine, and there was nothing to show he had almost died the night prior.

Everyone said it was a miracle, (Bernice said something about how the Abyss had saved him), that there was no other explanation, as no one (or almost no one) comes back from behind poisoned, and they should thank the angels that the Nightrays hadn’t had to lose someone else.

At the time, he believed it was the worst thing he had ever had to experience.

Until he learned there's one other thing that works the same way: thoughts can be poisonous too.

They too, started small.

It started with Vincent whispering things in his ear, (things about Alice, and Chains, and killing) and “Why won’t you kill her, Gil?” asking him questions about things Gilbert denied, but he realized quickly had always been there, somewhere, in the back of his mind. And he supposed it must have started much earlier than this. His brother’s words brought them to the forefront, started a record of them playing on repeat. He didn’t know how, or where, or when, but somewhere in the middle, the thoughts decided to change directions, decided to stop saying No, of course I won’t, I can’t. I would never kill Alice, how could Vince even suggest something like that? to Maybe he’s not completely wrong, it’s her…She’s the one destroying my master’s body…This is her fault, and the answer’s so simple, if I just got rid of her… skirting around the single word, until he was admitting it full well: If I just killed her, if I just got the chance, then my Master would be safe, he’d be okay, all I need to do is kill her, and it started sounding less horrible bit by bit. And then somewhere, somewhen, somehow, that one word started filling up his mind, until it was all he could think, the record of questions replaced with some dark chant of kill, kill, kill my Master’s enemies, kill…

Then Sablier. Sablier, where his head, his hand, ached, and where he got so very close.

That knocking in his head, growing in intensity the longer he left the door unopened.

But they had already gotten in, and now they were knocking on the inner walls.

The chance came for him to fulfill the call of this dark melody, and he was inches from action, if he just—

Instead he…saved her.

Saved her. How? Why? Why, when his thoughts bent to blood, how could his body choose to act in mercy?

It was in Sablier when he started to truly understand that this wasn’t the first time he had tasted this poison; somewhere in his cloudy past he had once thought If I just left Vincent behind, if he was gone…then I’d be fine…But when he’s gone, who will need me? The words reverberated back to him from some time he didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t, remember, and with them, this pain in his head. His breath caught in his throat, disgust rearing in his heart. How could he ever think something like that? Why? What would bring him to—?

But he didn’t dare think, Isn’t this the same? Am I not thinking the same thing right now?

And maybe this wasn’t the first time those words came to mind about Alice either. Maybe, once upon a time, he had said them aloud. He could hear an echo of his own childish tone—

Not just Alice, someone had tried to hurt his Master, and he had to protect him. He had to. There was no other option, no other choice to make. If anyone tried to hurt his Master, he had to protect him, even if that meant killing those who stood opposed to him.

All the while, his head throbbing. Had it always been this way? Had it always been like this? He was starting to forget what it felt like to be okay.

And it just had to be in Sablier when that man showed up. When Xai came, and brushed Oz aside again. Gilbert’s legs moved before his mind commanded them.

Long ago, when he was still too young to have blood on his hands, that one word—kill—had become so strong he lifted a gun and pointed it at Oz’s father.

He would have done it too—pulled the trigger. He wanted to. His jaw set, tears in his eyes, questions he knew the answers to (but everyone else denied) burning on his tongue, hands shaking, but aim true… it would have been so simple; just one motion, a single act, pull the trigger, and all this pain would be over.

But, it wouldn’t be. Over, that is. Gilbert knew that Oz was not like himself. Oz did not have these thoughts spinning through him—Oz had not been poisoned by them. And if Oz returned to a world where his father was dead, killed by his most dedicated servant, in some twisted show of loyalty, he wouldn’t be proud, or grateful, or anything of the sort. He knew it wasn’t what Oz wanted, no matter how much he had been hurt by this man. And if Gilbert did this now, it would be like he was saying, with the voice of a bullet, Oz isn’t coming back. So he didn’t, not then. There were pathways out of the thoughts, out of the chanting. The poison subsided, went dormant in his blood.

But in Sablier, things were different. In Sablier there were memories, and they made his head pound to escape his own skull. In Sablier there were voices, and his left hand was aching and What was going on with Oz—

Was this what they meant by poisonous gas? Did Pandora, Break and Reim, know about the thoughts, the memories? About the poison in his mind?—

And in Sablier he tried to kill Alice, and in Sablier, maybe some other him, in some other time, wanted to leave his brother behind too, but couldn’t bring himself to do—(not because he cared, but because he needed to be needed, and he wouldn’t admit that he still did)—and these memories, these memories, these memories—

If only he could cough them up too. If only he could turn them to a few drops of blood staining his gloves, rather than his entire past. But they stuck in his lungs, on his tongue, and they rotted there.

The word, the gun, were the only things left, in his hand, in his heart. The only thing left to do.

If only Xai could have been just a little bit kinder, just a tiny bit more forgiving. It wasn’t hard, was it, just to show one shred of human decency?

(Gilbert might just have changed the past for Oz, then. Might have erased the moment when Oz’s own father said he wished he had never been born, might have kept him from tossing him into the Abyss. Even now, if Raven told him he could, would he still—?)

How could this man stand there with a smile on his face, like he hadn’t ripped Oz apart all those years ago? Tossed his heart to the cobblestones, then, if that wasn’t enough, cast him into the Abyss itself? Like he didn’t care, and wouldn’t even try…

Gilbert would have done it. He no longer had anything with which to fend the thoughts off. They were enveloping his mind, and maybe there was no him left, just these sickening memories, a knocking that made his head throb, and the word kill.

Every intention in him was set on the task.

And it had been Break—Why did it have to be Break?—who stopped him.

If it had been Oz, things would've been different. If it had been Oz, things would have made sense. Gilbert would have listened to every word from the very beginning, and it would have been easy to stifle the thoughts, to come to the answer, to follow Oz out of this place, out of the dark…wouldn’t it?

Oz may have yelled, or kicked him in the shin, pulled on his hair, and called him an idiot, but he still would have made an effort to care, to understand, recognize what he was doing, and why. Oz would have stayed there, and talked him down from this place, slowly, made him put down the gun, second by second, drawing the poison from his veins in the same method it came.

But he didn’t get Oz. Oz was too shaken up himself. Oz was somewhere else, just as broken and hurting and Gilbert had to protect him.

(But how can I protect him if I’m not with him?)

Instead he got Break. And Break wasn’t kind like Oz. The Mad Hatter had severed the scene in two, he stuck his staff between Gilbert’s neck at the rest of the world, a barrier between him and the man he wanted to kill, ruining his chances of following the thoughts’ call through, in one fluid motion. And Break’s words were not compassionate like Oz’s surely would have been. For the most part, they were not cruel, but Break never seemed to make the effort to care.

Gilbert’s words hadn’t been any better, they grew more monstrous by the moment—(maybe that was the blood, the vomit on his tongue)—and that’s when they finally spilled out, “I have to kill him!”

Still—

(If he had been paying more attention, perhaps he would have seen how they made Break pause…)

“Gilbert-kun. That isn’t your will talking, is it?”

And it hurt so much. His head, his hand, he couldn’t even think with this pulsing, the blood in his throat—

“Who put that into your head?”

And he had to do it, he had to—

“Then you can kill me too!”

He had no choice, he had to follow the thoughts though to the end, he was their puppet—

Wait, what?

Did he really just put his gun to Break’s head?

Sure, Break could but insufferable at times, but was that enough to kill him?

“Let me ask you just one thing. Is the one you need...really Oz Vessalius?”

And then, of course, because it was Break, after saying the thing that cut to the heart of him, he had to jab his staff into his gut to finish the job. Punish Gilbert for holding him at gunpoint, even for a second, even at Break's own command, saying he let him off easy.

Break had never intended to be kind. He never gave any thought to the impact of things like words, and “worthless emotion,” did he? He had even admitted this fact himself.

And Gilbert had turned his gun on him, maybe even thought for a second That’s right, you’re an enemy too, I have to kill you. Something dark in him knew blood needed to follow blood, something dark in him needing to fire on someone, because someone, anyone, had to pay for all this pain in his heart, in his head, and he couldn’t think straight with this ache, this poison…

But, of course, in a moment, the very notion became so silly. This was Break after all. Sure, he was annoying, rude, maybe even cruel, but killing him for it was a bit far. And wasn’t Break somehow—(he didn’t like to say it too much)—his friend?

Except, when he had tried to apologize, Break had shut him up by shoving Emily into his jaw.

The question remained in the back of Gilbert’s mind: What if he’s right? What if it isn’t Oz I need? But he pushed the question down as far as he could, didn’t want to think, to wonder for a second that maybe…

Was this another poison? These questions of Maybe it’s not Oz…Or was questioning the poison’s intentions, bit by bit, was severing it at the seams, quickly and thoroughly as possible, the antidote? Was the antidote realizing just how very silly the thought was, from the very beginning?

He found himself so far from his reason for doing this; Oz. He hadn’t for a second thought what Oz would think about his actions. That had been what had kept him from the trigger before. Not this time. Though it was the only thing that mattered, he hadn’t even thought about it. It had just been pain, and knocking, and that one recurrent note.

So maybe, just maybe, Break was right. Maybe it wasn’t Oz, maybe—

Or maybe not.

And he wasn’t ready to tell Oz any of that. Especially not when he didn’t have an answer himself yet.

But he did tell Oz the truth. The thoughts flared back up, even afterwards, and Oz had been so quick to realize they were ridiculous—and, when Gilbert thought about it, wasn’t it weird that Break had took them so seriously, when Oz had laughed?—laughed, and said “What’re you saying? You’d never be able to do that!”

“No!” Gilbert had to prove the poison was real, “I tried to kill her!”

“But you couldn’t, could you? See, now that’s the Gilbert I know!”

He said it like he knew him better than Gilbert knew himself. It was starting to seem like everyone knew him better than he knew himself.

Maybe that’s how poison works. Maybe it made sense; the others could still breathe, after all.

Still, Oz’s words…and Break’s…

It was after they got back from Sablier, after Break had collapsed, after Oz had told him how silly it was, and after they got back from Rytas’ mansion, after the Headhunter showed up again, (the same Headhunter, surely that had tried to poison him before), Gilbert decided there was one thing left he should to.

He took a deep breath, and screwed up his resolve.

“Break?”

“Mm?” Gilbert had managed to find Break alone in the kitchen, making tea, and stealing candy from a place up high where Sharon had apparently tried to hide it. Break turned, leaning against the counter. “What is it, Gilbert-kun?”

“I…um…” Gilbert fumbled his words, realizing it was a lot harder to say it aloud, especially to him, “I wanted to say…” he looked at the ground.

“Looks like a kitty’s got Gil-Gil’s tongue.” Break took a sip of tea, looking smug.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists, biting back any insults that came to his lips. “About what happened in Sablier—”

Break looked up, realizing where Gilbert was going with this.

“Oh?” Break interrupted him, grinning, “Didn’t we already make it clear you were not to apologize?” He inclined his head towards Emily.

Why did he always have to make things harder? Gilbert was just trying to show him a little kindness, and he always had to spit it back in his face.

“Well, actually I, uh, didn’t come to apologize,” he cleared his throat, “I am sorry though, for,” he felt his cheeks growing hot, “pointing my gun at you. But, um, well—”

Break laughed, picking up his tea, slipping a few candies into his pocket, walking by, “Spoiled brats like you have the luxury of—”

“Thank you.” Gilbert said, more loudly than intended.

Break paused, shock flitting into his eye. He turned back to him, brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For what you said…in Sablier. I—”

“Oh,” Break breathed again. “Well, you seemed like you were in need of a good ass-kicking,” he brushed Gilbert’s heartfelt words off.

“But you—”

Break ruffled Gilbert’s hair in response, walking away, chuckling.

Like hell I’ll ever say something nice to him again. Gilbert glared after him.

But as the older man rounded the corner, Gilbert didn’t realize there was something genuine in that laugh.

Because Break knew what it was like. He too had once tasted this poison. He knew what it was like to have word kill infect your thoughts. And worse, he knew what it was like to have blood fill your past, to the point where you had to change your name for it to stop following you, stop calling to you. And in that moment, he was the only one who could have understood, and stopped, him.

Maybe if Gilbert was listening more closely, he may have realized there was something real beneath his laugh. But what Break certainly wouldn’t let him know was his exact thought at the time, which was very different from Gilbert’s own:

At least one of us is starting to see clearly.

[cyokie]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Pandora Hearts

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Gilbert Nightray & Oz Vessalius

Characters: Oz Vessalius, Gilbert Nightray, Oscar Vessalius

Additional Tags: Friendship, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Language of Flowers

Summary: Even after all the tragedies, Oz and Gilbert remain, as though connected by the very fabric of the universe itself.

[endlesstarrysky]

Hello there, it’s your Secret Santa @razzzmatazz ^^

Big thanks for @i-prefer-the-term-antihero and @maddyisenough for making it possible.

Merry Christmas <3

[lana7779]

The tags speak for themselves. Hahaha just a very VERY fluffy Breakbert fic to fix canon events and live in blissful ignorance forever more.

Part 2 of Fools trilogy, but can be read as standalone for those not interested in the smut prequel and sequel.

@phmonth @i-prefer-the-term-antihero @this-idiots-left-eye

@filzmonster tagging you as well in case you're interested <3

Death Bed (No More) (9645 words) by lana7779 Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pandora Hearts Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Xerxes Break/Gilbert Nightray Characters: Xerxes Break, Gilbert Nightray Additional Tags: Pandora Hearts Month 2023, Rose - Freeform, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Major Character Undeath, Fix-It, I FOUND A WAY TO KEEP HIM ALIVE, Canon Divergence, Canon goes YEET, Comfort No Hurt, Established Relationship, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, OTP Feels, I Will Go Down With This Ship, True Love, Romantic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Have I mentioned fluff?, Gil goes on an adventure, attempt at plot, no beta we die like… hahaha nope. Series: Part 2 of Fools Summary: Gil finds a way to save Break for good. PH Month 2023 Prompt: Rose

[grassycheesecake-writes]

Posted a little Pandora Hearts oneshot while I get back into the writing groove! For some reason this year (a good 5 years since I got into this series) was the year that I got smacked in the face with Emotions about Gilbert Nightray. 

Summary:

Gil has grown in countless ways since he lost Oz for the second time, but the same question that has haunted him for fifty years still lingers in the smoke of his cigarette. What if they had been allowed to grow together?

Half asleep and nicotine-buzzed, he wishes on a star for an impossible dream.

Tags:

Post-Canon, Aged-Up Character(s), Smoking, canon-typical emo bullshit, Oneshot, please god just let Gil get what he wants for once is that too much to ask?, the real ship here is gil x serotonin

[of-the-yard]

Tho those still alive in the PH fandom, what was your favorite fanfiction? Or who was your favorite author? 

[3amcorners]

FF.net

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Pandora Hearts Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Alice (Pandora Hearts), Oz Vessalius, Lacie Baskerville, Gilbert Nightray, Vincent Nightray, Elliot Nightray, Echo (Pandora Hearts), Sharon Rainsworth, Sheryl Rainsworth, Rufus Barma, Oscar Vessalius, Zai Vessalius, Xerxes Break, Reim Lunettes, Jack Vessalius Additional Tags: Canon - Tie-in Novel, Temporary Amnesia, dream - Freeform

Summary:

Takes place in between the farewell to Gilbert until when Oz and Alice finally reunite with Gil after so long.

And so, he and Alice fall back into the golden light, the image of their dear friend dressed in black dissipates from their sight. Tears remain billowing from his eyes as he said goodbye — both had tears still streaming down their faces as they fall together and letting the light take them away.

[powwidge]

this is @i-write-hurt-not-comfort ‘s and my fic swap number 4. xD Basically the pandora hearts characters playing never have I ever.

With lots of alcohol and crying about the pony of the amazon ad.

Rated: M