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imaginethebeautifulworld · 2 years

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Hi! I love your writing, esp with Gilbert! Can I request a scenario? I have this head cannon that Gilbert wears colored contacts due to years of torment from the church and peeps. Can I get a scenario where he gets something in his eye and the reader walks in and catches him changing them?

Hello, Lovely~ This didn't quite go the way I originally intended, but so few of my posts actually do. I thank you for your patience and such a good request, and I hope you enjoy.

Wow, he was a mess.

Bemused, he ran a hand through his hair, a fine snowfall of flour cascading in its wake, drifting to the floor.

He really hadn't meant to let things get so out of hand, but there was something about you that made him feel young again, something about your expression- never really annoyed, though you always tried so hard to make it seem that way- that always made him a little giddy. And what had started as an innocent baking session quickly turned into a flour fight, white powder coating the countertops and cabinets.

He offered to flip a coin for the bathroom, but you had more or less shoved him in there first, worried about the clumps sticking to his lashes.

A good call, he silently agreed with a wince, the familiar sensation of something in his eyes prompting the need to change out his contacts.

He made quick work of it, relieved he thought to keep a spare pair in his pocket for emergencies. He hadn't told you about-

Yeah. He was planning on keeping those a secret until your dying day. Or his. Whichever came first.

The cold water did fast work, the soap clearing away the clumps that were were being the more stubborn of the lot. He tried not to rush too much; it'd suck if he missed some and had to change out his contacts again. Yet he couldn't fight away the sense of urgency, the sounds of your tidying up fading away, your footsteps getting closer to the door.

Shit, shit, shit.

He only had one-

"Do you think we-"

He hadn't heard you knock on the door, your hand hanging uselessly in midair, eyes wide in surprise, jaw slack.

Terrific.

He quickly turned away from you, nearly dropping the other contact in his haste. He was scarcely aware of your coming closer, only acknowledged your nearness when your reflection- still wide-eyed- appeared in the space behind his shoulder in the mirror.

A spared glance was all it took to confirm that you were, indeed, staring at his eyes. He felt that familiar flush of shame, the need to shy away, hide away.

"Please don't say anything. I know they're-"

"They're beautiful."

"-ugly." He finished while leaning over the sink to get closer to the vanity. It took a beat too long for your words to truly reach him, and he was drawing back again, turning around to face you with surprise. "Wait, what?"

You had a look on your face, one he would swear was almost awe. Which was ridiculous, really. Why would-

His thoughts short-circuited when your hand gently settled against his cheek, that soft look somehow even more gentle than before.

There was a smile to it now, and he could feel his treacherous ears warming in response.

"It's like falling in a field of poppies, or a warm sunset."

"You aren't-" He started, failed, retreated, regrouped, resumed. "You don't think they're ugly?"

Your expression shifted into disbelief, annoyance, concern. "God, no. It's such a pretty color!"

He forced some of his tension away. This was you after all; if there was one person he knew he could trust, one person he could let past his defenses- It was always going to be you.

"You'd be the first to think that."

This close, he could see the way your eyes narrowed, the subtle movement of the muscles in your jaw. In a breath, you had processed your understanding, schooled your features, though there was no removing the slim brush of anger in your words, gentle and calm as they were. "That's why you've been hiding them?"

Centuries, a millennium- He lost count of how many years he'd been hunted, tormented, mocked, tortured for his appearances, never mind the whole immortality thing.

Even as the world changed, as ideals and perspectives and society changed, he had still received the looks, heard the whispers that were intentionally spoken just loud enough for him to catch. He was something other, something else.

"The Others- They can blend in more easily. Even Vlad can convince people his are just a weird shade of hazel, but when you're deathly pale walking around with blood red eyes-"

"I'm so sorry."

He felt his heart melt just a fraction at that, his thoughts pulled momentarily from their downward spiral. "Hey, it's okay. It's not your fault."

You frowned, far from reassured, but he continued. "It wasn't till the '50s when I first was able to get a pair. Only thing I could smuggle in were some brown ones, but they worked." His words trailed off, thoughts fading to wisps.

It was quiet for a few moments when a question was slipping past his lips, unbidden, unexpectedly. "You really like them?"

You had been studying him intently, surprise swiftly following when you realized he had asked you a question. He could see you weighing it carefully, needing only a moment before you were speaking.

"I do. They're like- Like a warm campfire at the end of a long day. They make me think of ripe strawberries, and the roses you bought me last week- which I'm still upset about!"

He couldn't fight his grin at your exasperation. "I'm allowed to spoil you once in a while."

"But you should save your money..."

"If I can't treat my better half to flowers and their favorite dinner when they had a shitty day at work, then I don't deserve to be with them."

"Gil..."

He would never get tired of your hugs.

You hugged with your everything, your entire heart and soul pouring into it. It was always warm, always with a promise to whoever you were embracing that nothing, no one, mattered than them, that the moment you were sharing was the most important moment, that every moment before or after was inconsequential.

He let himself melt into it, tried to convey how important you were, tried to show how much he loved you without words. Judging by your sigh, the way you melted into him, you followed his meaning perfectly.

He lost track of time there, neither of you really adamant to pull away. But after a while, you were humming pensively, a stray sentence slipping past your lips. "Father Christmas."

He tried not to laugh- really, he did- but a confused huff of laughter had him pulling away, just enough to raise an eyebrow at you, studying you with amusement. "Was ist das?"

You were smiling, something that made the years fall from your shoulders, that light he loved so much shining bright. "Your eyes... They make me think of Father Christmas, that bright, warm red. Or maybe a cardinal in the snow. Holly berries?"

"My eyes make you think of Yule?"

"Yeah. But not just that..."

He really shouldn't press, should let this conversation pass, let tradition reclaim its role. But oddly enough, surprisingly enough, the comparisons-

"Have any more?"

"Just a few," you hummed, while also trying to force away a small, bashful smile.

"Enlighten me?"

You were exaggerating when you said you had only a few.

Over the next few weeks, at random times, you would give him more suggestions; sometimes a quick Snap to show exactly the shade (the 6 am fog with its trail of tail lights making their morning commute), and sometimes a random Telegram ding would interrupt his workflow, bringing him a single word that would made him smile (ladybugs!, rubies., Louboutin?, BOOKS!).

It took a few weeks, but he soon grew comfortable enough to stick to his glasses when alone with you.

The whole world could go on with all of its inflexibilities and narrow-minded ways; when he was alone with you, he was no longer the demon child, the son of a witch, the Devil's herald.

You told him that his eyes made you think of warmth, of light, of all the bright and beautiful parts of the world.

After a few weeks, he was actually starting to believe you.

Thanks for reading!

#prussia x reader #aph prussia #hetalia prussia #hws prussia #aph gilbert beilschmidt #hws gilbert beilschmidt #hetalia gilbert beilschmidt #gilbert beilschmidt x reader #thanks anon #anon request #anon ask #thank you lovely!#I hope this came out okay

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