francis bonnefoy x gn reader
cws - gender neutral reader, no use of y/n, francis brushes readers teeth, france is kind of mean, semi ooc, reader has trouble keeping up w hygiene, user is depressed, slightly suggestive, mostly comfort
a/n - i like the idea of francis taking good care of his s/o and being kind of mean to make them feel better…
It was another difficult morning.
You found that forcing yourself back to sleep after Francis left was much easier than getting up and doing anything else. It wasn’t like you were completely helpless without him, of course. You were still your own person and he made it known that he wasn’t going to be here to take care of you forever. Acceptance was the only way you could take your life back and do what you needed to do in order to function like a human again.
That didn’t make it any less hard. Your eyes had been squeezed shut for hours now, trying to trick your brain into thinking you were still tired and it was time to just go back to sleep. It usually worked, with you eventually making yourself sleep in until late in the afternoon and leaving Francis to his own devices. But today, you just couldn’t seem to do it. Your body didn’t even have the energy to go back to sleep.
The day went by and you laid in bed, just until Francis eventually came back home and was welcomed by the pitiful sight of you lying under the covers. He couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been there all damn day. He sighed, approaching and shaking you just in case you were asleep.
“Mon amour, you cannot lay in bed all day,” Francis spoke, his tone borderline saccharine. He almost sounded exasperated, like he’d already expected you to be there, rotting in your shared bed and sulking over something he couldn’t figure out. He shook you back and forth, jutting out his bottom lip in an attempt to make himself look cuter. Maybe that’d make you finally listen to him and get up. “You must wash yourself. I don’t want to lay in bed with someone who stinks.”
Even if it was just teasing, it stung. You wanted to fold in on yourself and die right there. It wasn’t even something he said, you just knew that he was going to feel disgusted with you. Your eyes burned with embarrassment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with expectation and humiliation.
You didn’t want to be disgusting, but it was hard to be anything else right now.
Francis’s expression softened up when he heard you sigh shakily underneath the blankets. A pitiful sound, like listening to a puppy whine for help. He wasn’t going to back down just because you were sad, no. In fact, it made him want to help you even more. To take good care of you and bring you back to the you he fell in love with.
He sighed, leaning forward so he could turn your body around. You were was so horribly docile. You looked so pitiful like this, your greasy hair and wet cheeks making him grimace. Oh, you looked terrible. He couldn’t help but blame himself a bit. On some days, he’d try to push you to get up and do something. On other days, he wouldn’t do anything but sit in the same room as you. But he hadn’t ever forced you up. Even though he wanted you to be as beautiful as he knew you could be, he hadn’t made an effort to make you feel like you needed to do anything.
He tugged the blanket off of your body, watching as you instinctively curled further in on yourself to hide the shame that was so evident in your features. Your eyes were still closed, making him want to grab you and force you to face him. He hated that you felt like he couldn’t help you out of this. Francis placed a soft hand on your chin, turning your head towards him as he did his best to wipe the grimace off of his face and replace it with a softer, reassuring expression.
”Oh, my love, what have you done to yourself?” Francis murmured, mostly to himself, before placing a reluctant kiss on your cheek. He couldn’t believe he allowed you to get this bad. “Let me help you today.”
His statement didn’t sound like a lot on its own, but his voice was so gentle, so out of the ordinary that it made you shiver under his touch. It made you feel a little less like a ball of mess and more like someone that needed saving. What a nice feeling.
It took him a minute to coax you out of bed. You wanted it so badly, but it became difficult when you realized he’d have to see you. He’d have to really see you in order to help you. It was embarrassing, borderline dehumanizing. Your eyes welled up with tears as he sat you up, his thumb briefly wiping them away before they fell. Francis used the back of his hand to get some of the hair out of your face, clicking his tongue. He hated this for you.
”I’m sorry,” You mutter weakly, running your fingernails up and down your arm in an attempt to console yourself.
“For what, hm?” He asked, keeping his voice low. Francis couldn’t help but smile softly when you didn’t answer. You didn’t know why you were sorry. Even if he didn’t think this was your most attractive look, you didn’t deserve to feel sorry about this. It was perfectly natural for a person to struggle with mental health, and you were no exception. You had your highs and lows just like any other person.
He was slow to guiding you to the bathroom, taking both of your hands in his before eventually letting you go so he could place a hand on the small of your back. Francis rubbed a small circle on the spot before gesturing vaguely for you to sit on the toilet. You did so, and he pat the top of your head. The gesture was callous almost, like he did it because he felt like you needed to know you were doing fine. “I’m thinking you don’t really want me to bathe you. You’re a grown up, non?”
The silence was palpable.
You wanted to burn up and die right then and there. Even though he was completely serious, the question made it seem like you were incapable of doing anything for yourself. That was just it, wasn’t it? He thought humiliating you would snap you out of it and make you realize, “Hey! I’m being a little crazy, aren’t I?”. It wasn’t feeling too far off now. You sighed through your nose, looking off to the side uncomfortably. Francis seemed to pick up on that, his eyebrows furrowing in vexation as he eyed you expectantly. Your silence was beginning to annoy him.
“Are you wanting me to bathe you?” He asked again, leaning against the sink and gesturing towards the bath. “You really are going to have to speak to me, mon amour. Staying quiet won’t help me help you..” His tone was almost sing-song-y, like he was trying to coax you into telling him what you really wanted. It sounded much like he was speaking to a child, which stung a bit. You looked up at him with an annoyed expression, causing him to smile almost sheepishly.
“Oh, you can’t blame me for asking,” Francis said, brushing you off with a wave of his hand. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in the nude. Plus, isn’t there something weirdly sensual about me cleaning you?” Of course, he couldn’t get his mind out of the gutter. But unlike other times, this seemed more like he was trying to make you feel comfortable. He wanted to see you smile, perhaps laugh at his antics.
“I can bathe myself,” You said finally, crossing your arms. He didn’t respond, simply reaching over and grabbing your toothbrush like it was a practiced motion. You watched as he wet the toothbrush and applied a dollop of toothpaste on it. Then, he approached you, eyeing you curiously.
He hadn’t ever done something like this for you before. Francis was a man that preferred to keep cleaning habits private. He always waited until he was alone to do his laundry, take showers, or of course, brush his teeth. They were intimate, practiced behaviors that he didn’t enjoy performing in front of other people. He didn’t even like watching you do it. Seeing him want to do something like this for you was a bit… odd. Even if that weren’t the case, it made you feel even more childish than he was already making you feel. You didn’t need to rely on him for silly things like this! You’d been brushing your teeth long enough, damn it!
Still. The look in his eye seemed so expectant. He wanted you to let him do it, that much was for sure.
“What the hell are you doing?” You muttered, reaching to take the toothbrush out of his hand. Francis clicked his tongue again, smacking your pretty hand away so he could keep his grip firmly on the toothbrush.
What a quick way to get you to listen.
Your mouth popped open without much of a fight, even though your eyes held confusion. You weren’t exactly sure how to feel about him examining your mouth. Teeth were delicate things, they needed so much care and so much attention or else they’d cover themselves in a film. A nasty, yellow-ish film that you would notice from a mile away. You hadn’t looked at your mouth in a bit, but you were sure your teeth were covered in plaque. They were less than pretty. Still, Francis took the brush, starting with the bottom corner where your teeth started.
Brush, brush, brush. Despite the plaque, he really didn’t mind staring into your mouth. It was warm and wet, almost cute. Francis smiled at the thought. The look on his face made it seem less like he was brushing your teeth and more like he was petting a kitten. As sweet as he was trying to be, he couldn’t help but think such dirty things as he switched where he was brushing. The spit and toothpaste were building up, dribbling out of the side of your mouth. You were so focused on Francis’s expression that you didn’t seem to notice it, but of course, he did. How could he not? So cute, so cute, so cute!!!
His smile turned into a grin as he watched the bubbly spit dribble down your chin and into your lap. You surely noticed it by now. Francis gently wiped it off of your chin, drying his fingers off on your shirt before continuing to brush your teeth. It was so cute to see your mouth slowly fill up with the frothy mixture of spit and toothpaste. What a pretty sight! Even as your cheeks lit up, a soft pink color, he couldn’t help but think this was just the cutest sight he’d ever seen. Why didn’t he do this sooner?
“Ah, mon amour, you’re too cute, you know?” Francis cooed. “And now your teeth are all clean. Say, ‘merci beaucoup, Francis’!”
Francis giggled, watching you stammer a bit as you tried to figure out if he actually wanted you to do so. You wanted to please him, so whether you embarrassed him or not, it would end up alright. So, with your mouth full, you averted your gaze.
