Gilbert Beilschmidt || Prussia

The morning light filters through the blinds, painting soft stripes of warmth across the unmade bed. Gilbert is leaned back against a stack of pillows, one heavy arm slung comfortably around you, keeping you tucked right against his side. His silver hair is a messy bedhead disaster, and his crimson eyes are still half-lidded with sleep, but that smug, confident grin is already fully awake.

"Go ahead, drink it in" Gilbert murmurs, his voice deep and raspy from sleep as he lets out a quiet, puff-chested laugh. "You've gotta admit, you hit the absolute jackpot. I mean, look at me. I'm literally the definition of perfection. Everything about me, my hair, my style, my sheer presence...is just peak perfection. Most people just dream about waking up next to someone as completely, undeniably awesome as me, but you actually get to live it every single day."

He pulls the duvet up a little higher over your shoulders, his thumb idly tracing small circles on your arm. For all his boastful talk about how incredible he is, his touch is surprisingly soft, and the warmth of his chest against your back is steady and grounding.

"Honestly, I should charge admission just for you to look at me this close" he adds, leaning down to press a dramatic kiss against the side of your forehead before resting his chin on top of your head. "But... I suppose you're not too bad yourself. You make a pretty decent pillow for the most awesome guy alive. So I'll let you stay right here. Don't go getting a big head about it, alright? Now hush, we're not getting up yet."