Imagine waking up Wesley Gibson by kissing his neck.
It was always the train. You didn’t know how Wesley managed to sleep through it most of the time. It woke you up every morning, along with the sounds of honking from the street below and the neighbors fighting or fucking. You had tried closing the window against it time and time again but it was just too sweltering hot in that apartment that the hope of a breeze was the only thing that kept you sane.
Normally you’d just roll over. Try to settle in after the train had passed by. Put a pillow over your head. But there was Wesley. It was his day off, and he was just sleeping like an angel.
Lucky bastard.
You loved him with your whole heart. Of course you did. But sometimes there were these moments when you just wanted to irritate the ever-loving fuck out of him. What was with that? He did it right back to you sometimes. Cold feet against the back when you were trying to sleep. Well, Wesley baby, it was time for revenge.
You started off sweet and gentle. You cuddled on up behind his shirtless body. You started to kiss between his shoulder blades. He let out a little moan in his sleep. You moved on upwards, butterfly kisses all up over his neck. You could start to see that his eyes were beginning to flutter open. He moaned your name. Awww, that was almost kinda sweet. He reached up and started to try to reach for you, tried to pull you in close behind him at an awkward angle. You smiled against his skin. He still smelt of his body wash.
But then
-
glomp.
You gave the tender skin a bit of a bite and then sucked it in as a hickey, making him moan again and then shoot straight up in surprise. He looked over at you and you started to laugh at his reaction, clapping your hands.
“Do you want me to go the whole day with a boner?” He groaned, laying back down, his hand going to his neck where you’d bit. “A hickey? Really?”
“It’ll be gone before your work wife Jan sees it,” You teased, making him groan again.
Imagine telling Wesley Gibson you’re in love with him.
You just went ahead and said it, and now you were wishing that you could just suck the words back in, like they were merely air, right back into your brain. He didn’t seem to know how to take it. He furrowed his eyebrows above those amazingly blue eyes of his, making an expression that you couldn’t quite read.
You scratched the back of your neck, using your gun to get down your spine a little. You both had just been out on a mission, managed it successfully from the top of a moving train which you were both still crouched on top of. Today just had to be the day you opened your big fat mouth wasn’t it? It just had to be today that you told Wesley Gibson that you loved him.
“Or - you could just pretend I said awesome shot, good job, thumbs up pardner,” You said, and then cringed even more, oh fuck, how were you going to live this down? When Fox heard about this, she was going to laugh her head off - if it was even possible for that woman to laugh.
“Uhh - thanks?” Wesley said. Then his eyes seemed to grow a little wider. He tugged on your jacket, pulling you down onto the ground as a tunnel started to approach. Darkness, only being broken by bright orange blinking lights whizzing overhead, took over. You couldn’t see a damn thing. But you felt his hand still by your chest, oh lord, it was so warm. Or maybe that was just the train? It was really loud, too. But you thought you heard Wesley say something.
“What?” You shouted.
“Just one minute,” He yelled back, realizing it was pointless. You barely even got that much. But then you emerged back into the night, the cool air coming right back to hit you in the face. You were almost at the jump off point. You were waiting for it. You kneeled back up, feeling the wind against your skin, getting rid of some of the blush, you hoped. “I love you too,” He shouted.
You caught his eye. He looked nervous. He always looked nervous. He was just sweaty, panicked, bright-blue eyed Wesley Gibson, not the too-cool-for-school assassin you had just seen him to be. “Are you just saying that so I don’t feel awkward?” You asked.
“No, I mean it. I was planning on telling you tomorrow. The Exterminator was going to make us dinner-”
“You were going to trust that crazy Russian to make us food?” You asked, incredulously.
“Okay, maybe it wasn’t the best idea. But yeah. Yeah. I love you too.”
You grinned and crawled on all fours to get towards him. The kiss was messy, it was blustery, it wasn’t all that romantic. And as you pulled away, you realized something. “We missed the jump off point.”
“Looks like we’re going to have to go around again,” Wesley said, a little grin on his face.
Your wedding wasn’t the most traditional thing in the world, but neither were you or Wesley. Even the way that he admitted his feelings for you, atop a moving train, wasn’t really ordinary. There was no white gown or tuxedo, there was no family or friends because to be fair, neither of you had either, and there was no walking down an aisle.
Just a dirty parking lot near where you had your first shared kill, a fitting memorial to the life that the both of you were leaving behind and the potential of something more - after all, the lot was said to become a shiny new apartment building. A justice of the peace was recieving a nice little paycheck to do barely an hour of work in this unconventional wedding, but that would make it all legal and legitimized. Your witness was some hobo who had just been around, living in some cardboard boxes over in one corner of the lot. He didn’t get a paycheck - you just gave him cash.
There you stood, a windy day, surrounded by abandoned vehicles and a very confused middle aged woman who asked no questions but just did what she was being paid for. You looked into Wesley’s big blue eyes, the ones thad had seen so much, and held onto his hands, which had done so much. He gave you a wink and you broke out into a grin. You couldn’t hold it in.
“I love you,” He said, interrupting the Justice, and then laughed nervously, still somehow looking like a sheepish little boy despite, well - everything.
“I love you too," You said, not ashamed at all of interrupting. He side-eyed towards the woman who didn’t look pleased at all about having to pause.
“Can we hurry this up?” He asked, eyebrows raised.
“I’m going as fast as you will let me, Mr. Gibson,” The woman said, impatiently. You rolled your eyes and then stepped in closer to Wesley, waiting for the moment when you would finally be able to kiss him. You only half listened to the words. You were waiting for the stop. You could feel - you could feel Wesley’s heartbeat accelerating. His irises were so small now, focused, staring at you, really taking you in, his breath was hitching. One of his episodes. The not-panic attack panic attack. You squeezed his hand, and he nodded, knowing you were there with him. You counted under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear you, to count with you until finally, he felt like he could breathe again - and then -
“You may now have your kiss,” The JOP said, stepping backwards. And you did, rushing up to meet him just as he let go of his hands and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in close. Not letting you go. Promising with just those gestures that he never would. Not for anything in this world.
Imagine Wesley Gibson helping you with your anxiety.
“Focus that energy on something, anything,” Wesley was saying. His voice managed to crack through the anxiety bubble that you had around you, but it made him sound far away, or like you were underwater, hard to listen to. It wasn’t until he came in closer, when he took hold of your hands. When he blocked your eyeline from taking in anything further. The people that were staring, the people that were shaking their heads at the madness of this person who just stopped in the middle of the street. His blue eyes were calming, but not quite enough. You started to look around. Try to find something.
“P - Pigeon,” You said. Wesley looked over his shoulder to see the bird walking along the sidewalk. Pecking it’s way at food that someone had left behind. Had spilled rather than put into the garbage can.
“Okay, pigeon,” He said, finding that a bit too cute for words. “What color is he?”
Focus. Focus. The colors. “His little feet are orange. Almost a c-coral color,” You started. “His body is a really light gray with black around the wings. They get darker grey as they go along.”
“Alright, what about the head?” Wesley asked.
You were starting to feel calmer, just focusing on this one thing while Wesley squeezed your hands, bringing you back down to reality. Letting you know that you weren’t alone. “There’s so many colors, it’s - really pretty. There’s a soft gray at the top, it makes me want to pet him. There’s an green. And a purple too. Jewel tones. And the eye is a bright orange, almost amber color.”
He let you go on about the pigeon, and by the time that you finished, your breathing was feeling back to normal. You were able to look at him and didn’t feel hyperfocused or like things were blurry anymore. Your shoulders were dropped, your back not as tight, your posture back to something loose. But you did feel exhausted. “Feel better?” He asked. You nodded. “Good. Good. You did great,” He smiled. “Come on. Let’s get you some ice cream to celebrate. You got over that wonderfully.”
Imagine Wesley Gibson helping you through your nightmares while you help him with his.
Wesley’s head lifted off of the pillow, his eyes already open, adjusting to the morning sunlight streaming in through the window. You had already been awake for a quarter of an hour, lying there, trying to get your breath back. Trying to calm the goosebumps that had broken out on your flesh, stopping the tears, get yourself together before you would have to get up and get ready for the day.
He saw that you were next to him, and would relax once more, though he’d put his arm around you and pull you in closer, shuffling himself forward to meet you in the middle. “Did you have another nightmare?” He asked, sleep still tainting his voice. All that you could do was nod about it. “Yeah, me too.”
You had both been through so much. Your own life was messy, but it hadn’t been anything compared to Wesley’s. But he was so strong, he felt strong, with his arms wrapped around you, with his naturally cherry-red lips on your shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want me to get us some coffee?” He asked, giving you the choice. He was always considerate like that. You thought for a moment and then slowly breathed out, ‘coffee’. But as he’d start to pull away, you’d clutch at him again, making him lay back down, relaxing against you. “Alright, I’ll make us some coffee in a little bit.”
“Do you have to go to work today?” You asked. He thought for a moment, humming against your back. Then you could feel him shaking his head. “I don’t have to either. Let’s stay like this?”
“As long as we don’t fall back asleep,” He sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, we can stay here.”
You found plenty of ways to stay awake throughout the day, only leaving the bed to use the bathroom or to top off on coffee - until Wesley just grabbed the whole machine, and plugged it in on the floor of the bedroom so you didn’t have to go very far. The night was coming and your nightmares would return but for now - life was but a good dream.
Imagine going from being Wesley Gibson’s enemy to his lover.
When you first saw Wesley Gibson, it was hard to think of him as anything other than a slightly cute, but scrawny weight that would only lead the team down, down, down into the depths of failure. Nice eyes though, you had to admit to that - the boy had some baby blues.
“Great, the boy has panic attacks,” You groaned when you had seen him come into headquarters, seen the trembling of his hands, the sweat on his forehead.
“Give him a chance,” Sloan said, standing beside you. “He just might surprise you.”
And he goddamn did. He became better than Fox.
He grew in confidence as well, which you definitely noticed when he would walk past you, shirtless, with a cock swagger.
And then he had caught onto the master plot behind the Fraternity, and he stopped it brilliantly. Only getting himself a bit hurt in the progress. You, Sloan and Wes were the only survivors, and once Wesley woke up in one of your safe houses, he realized that you were on the same team.
“It’s a wonder you’re not dead,” You said, sitting on the end of the bed, loading your gun. “I think the same thing about Sloan too - but his situation, we’re fixing. You in?”
“Yeah,” Wesley said, hurrying up out of bed. Despite the situation, you could see the way that he was looking at you, the same boy that you mercilessly teased in practice. The one that you hoped would just die out at the beginning so you wouldn’t have to worry about him being a traitor.
Once Sloan was down, you told yourself, as he removed the shirt from your body, pulling it over your head with haste, hands wandering your chest. Once Sloan was down, you could have a happily ever after with this clumsy boy.
Rip Out The Wings of a Butterfly {Wesley Gibson x Reader Oneshot}
Requested by: @cryingforwill
Wordcount: 2598
Summary: You, the odd inventor, mechanic and tech geek of the Fraternity, get to meet the newest assassin.
Notes: Implied animal violence.
You were the youngest member of the Fraternity, at only nineteen years old. It was a huge accomplishment since it took time for them to learn to trust you, and for you to trust them. You weren’t one of the assassin’s - Heaven’s no, you could barely shoot a plastic gun at the duck in the arcade game - but you had a lot of talent in many other areas. Besides, you didn’t want anything to do with all of the blood and gore. You’d leave that to Fox. You were more focused on the technological part of the operation. Not the name-giving loom, since even you thought that was a bit ridiculous, but the weapons, the communications devices, the traps. All in the name of progress - and in doing the right thing, so you believed.
You were surprised when a new member was brought into the faction. That wasn’t a common occurrence, and from the way that his nerves were acting up, you weren’t sure that he would be staying, either. When he was introduced to you in your workshop, you were a little confused - he didn’t look like the usual type. He didn’t have the crazy chiseled jawbone or the killer look in his eyes that you had come to respect from the assassins you usually came into contact with. He was ... almost handsome in a average joe sort of way, except for those eyes. There was something special about that shade of blue, something that would haunt your dreams.
“I’m y/n,” You said, getting up from your workbench to give him a handshake, looking into those lovely eyes. “All the equipment that you’ll be getting, well, it comes from me, so you better be careful with it.”
“Oh, right,” He said, looking around at all of the things that you were tinkering with. “The most high-tech thing I’ve used is a ergonomic keyboard.” He looked as sheepish as he sounded, and your jaw dropped. You looked behind him to Sloane who gave you a patient look, and then to Fox who shrugged.
“I’ll have to ask Sloane to let me borrow you for a couple of days, consider it to be a quick course in Tech 101,” You smiled, weakly. “You don’t need to know how to make this stuff but you have to know how to use it.”
“Yes, there will be time for that,” Sloane nodded his approval. “And what are you working on right now?”
“Right now, I have two projects,” You said, going back around to your workstation to show off what was probably messy to the three, but perfectly organized chaos to yourself. “The first are these sunglasses. They look normal, no?” You held up a pair of ray-bans that you had picked up a month ago. “Expensive, yes, but nothing too out of the ordinary. But here - you try them on, new kid.” You handed the pair of glasses over to Wesley who was surprised by how they were heavier than regular sunglasses. He looked at Fox who gave a little nod, and then hesitantly put them on his face. His mouth gaped open as he took a look around, focusing on you first.
“Is this, umm, infrared?” Wesley asked, taking them off and set them back down on the workstation.
“Thermal imaging, for when the bad guys are hiding from you.” You smiled, picking up the glasses and setting them back where they were. “Anything that I can do to make your jobs easier.”
“What’s the second thing you’ve been working on. A weapon, perhaps?” Sloane asked, raising a grey eyebrow. You flushed slightly, knowing that it’s what you should be working on, but it really wasn’t.
“Uhh - it’s the custodian’s Dirt-Devil.” You held up the little red portable vacuum that you had stolen from the custodian after they had gone home. “Okay, I know, I know, I should be working on weapons, but the sound of this thing in the hallway drives me insane! I’m just trying to see if I can make it quieter at all.”
Wesley was the only one in the room to find this entertaining. His naturally cherry-red lips opened up to reveal a smile, and then a quick laugh. You flushed even more under the cold stare of Fox. “I need a new scope on my sniper, you can work on that.”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am.” You saluted, sitting back on your stool. The tour continued on, with the two superiors and the newbie leaving the room to go meet the less friendly people of the Fraternity. You felt a little bad for Wesley, for he had a lot to get used to in here.
-
You were working late into the night. In a jar, complete with a couple of holes, you had three captured butterflies flitting around. There was one, poor little thing, pinned lightly to your work station. Although tech was more your thing, you dabbled in medicines as well. Tonight, you were working on a gel that you had formulated all by yourself, and you were testing it on the most delicate creature known to you. Hence, the butterflies.
You absolutely hated this part of the job. The part where you had to hurt another living thing in the name of progress, but the last time that you had experimented a healing gel on a human being, well, turns out even the Repairman can feel pain. He had found that out the hard way, and he still avoided coming anywhere near you. But Fox had taken you out for ladies night after that, amused by the way that you had made the blonde man scream.
You were about to do the worst part of the procedure, and that was to cut a rip in the butterfly’s wing. God, this absolutely sucked, but at least if the gel didn’t work, it would be very easy to but the insect out of it’s misery. You picked up the scalpel and was just about to put it to wing when you heard footsteps in the hallway. It was after two AM, most people were usually either in a mission or sleeping right now.
“Try putting on a documentary about something you really don’t care about, that’s how I get to sleep.” You called out from where you were sitting, waiting for the person to make an appearance. To your surprise, it was Wesley who stepped into the door frame, smiling sheepishly at disturbing you. Taking any chance you could get to not be doing what you should be doing, you put the knife down and motioned him in. “How are you adjusting?”
“It’s a lot to get used to,” He said, laughing as he usually did when he grew nervous. It was something that you were picking up on, though you had only seen him a couple of times.
“It gets easier, though I say that without having undergone all the ... repairing.” You winced, thinking about all of the times that you had seen the Repairman’s trainees in the wax baths. That was one of the main reasons why you were trying to make this gel. Easy to carry around in it’s tiny bottle, easy to apply - just a little bit and the skin will fuse together as if it was fabric and fabric glue.
“How did you end up here. You look very...” Wesley’s face turned red as he tried to look for the appropriate word.
“Young? Innocent? Completely out of place next to everyone else here?” You filled in his blanks. You took off the safety goggles that you were wearing, and placed them next to your work. “Yeah, I’m only nineteen, I can barely shoot a gun but I can build one from pretty much nothing, and the closest I came to killing anyone was I told a dirty joke in front of Sloan while he was having a cup of coffee and he nearly choked.”
“Wow,” Wesley blinked.
“If we’re going to be friends, I might as well tell you the story. It’s not much, though. I was a prodigy,” You did air quotes at the p word that you hated so much. “So I was in high school by the age of ten, which of course lead to some bullying. When I was close to graduating, one of the worst bullies that I had died suddenly. Was killed. They officially said it was gang violence, but that didn’t sit right with me because he picked on people lower than him, but was scared by anyone who was higher, you know? He really wouldn’t mess with gangs, or go anywhere near them. So after a bit of digging, too much digging, I managed to find out about the Fraternity. They were alerted right away, stormed my house, saw the potential in me and recruited me. I joined up as soon as I graduated high school so I’ve been here about six years now. And you?”
“Wow, that’s impressive,” Wesley said. “I used to have panic attacks, or what I thought were panic attacks and worked at a useless desk job and had a cheating girlfriend,” he started, but you put your hand up to stop him.
“That’s a lot of negativity,” You said. “Sorry Wes, this is a negative free space. How did Fox find you?”
“Oh, uh, I was picking up my prescription. My anti-anxiety medication. The man who killed my father hunted me down and tried to kill us. Then she introduced me to all of this.”
“Welcome to the wildest ride of your life, Wesley Gibson. You’re going to find out a lot about other people, and even more about yourself here.”
-
Over the next couple of months, you worked with Wesley closely. You couldn’t teach him how to shoot of course, or how to handle pain and other weapons, but you could show him how to use the gadgets that you made. You were extremely proud of the little EMF ipod that you put together which turned off all of the electronic devices in a two-block radius for up to half an hour at a time. Very handy for tricky alarm systems when he had to get into a building. Wesley was a fan of the bungee belt that you put together, for it gave him a rush to jump off the buildings, still have mobility, and know that he was safe while doing it.
“What are you working on?” He asked, walking into your workshop with a paperbag. You could smell your favorite takeaway inside of it and your mouth started watering immediately.
“Nothing fancy. Sloan is going abroad for a little bit and I’m trying to fix up this camera to take some 3D pictures.” You said, tongue sticking out of your mouth as you attached a lens to the camera. You picked it up, pointed it at Wesley and grinned. “Say cheese!”
Wesley grimaced as the flash went off in his face. You brought the camera down and looked at the image on the display. It hadn’t worked, but you saved the photo anyway. You’d keep it for yourself, because embarrassing photos of ones friends is something that should always be hoarded. “Maybe I’ll make this my laptop background,” You chuckled.
“Oh, don’t,” Wesley groaned. He came up to your work station, crossed his arms and rested them on the wooden table. “I was wondering if you wanted to get out of here.”
“Why? You already brought me food,” You said, putting the camera off to the side and opened the bag. “No reason to go out now.”
“When was the last time that you actually had fresh air?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Are you calling the city air fresh? Because I can tell you that it’s not. Studies show-”
“Enough about studies, I left that word behind in high school. I just thought maybe you’d want to act like a normal nineteen year old for once.”
“And what do normal nineteen year olds do?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. You really were curious about what Wesley was going to say. It would probably be something cringe-worthy that you can tease him about later.
“Go to parties, go on dates, go to the mall...” Wesley shrugged.
“Is what what you did when you were nineteen?” You asked, poking his chest. It astounded you how hard it was, this was the first time that you had actually went as far as to poke him. Damn - they really were working him hard. “I don’t think being around drunk people is fun, a lot of people are intimidated by my intellect and ... the mall, really?” You laughed at the thought of mingling around with the people inside a shopping center. It was far from something you were interested in doing. But then an idea sprung to mind. “Actually - can you take me for a little drive?”
-
After eating the food that Wesley brought you, the two of you sat inside a rather nondescript car, driving out of the city towards the more rural area. Resting on your lap was a large jar with four large butterflies fluttering inside. One of them had a little bit of a scar on it’s wing, but it was flapping strong anyway. You leaned your head against the glass of the window and looked out as the big buildings turned into suburban neighborhoods, and then pretty much nothing but long roads going many directions. It was only when you saw a little flower patch that you told Wesley to pull over.
You stepped out of the car and took in your first breath of non-city air that you’ve had in a long time. You walked over to the flower patch and smelled the colorful plants. Wesley opened up his door but stood behind it, arms folded over the top of the car.
“Fly my darlings, fly!” You said, unscrewing the top of the jar. The butterflies took their time on leaving, but eventually settled on the flowers. The one with the scar, the only one who ended up under your knife, went to the largest flower in the bunch and spread it’s wings to show off it’s beauty. You got down on your knees and watched as they took in their new surroundings, then slowly started to fly away, towards a small patch of woods close by. It wasn’t as dramatic as you thought it would, but it was only four butterflies after all.
“That’s all you wanted to do?” Wesley asked as you walked towards the car, screwing the lid back on the jar. You nodded with a big grin.
“If you’re gonna bug me to get out of the house, I might as well provide freedom for my friends,” You said, opening the door and getting back inside. Wesley did as well, starting the car back up, but he didn’t go back on the road right away.
“You’re a bit fucking weird,” He said, smiling at you endearingly. You nodded, laughed and agreed with him on that one. He leaned in towards you and pecked your cheek before turning the car around to take the both of you back home.
Relembrando aqui, do niver do man #Cruel ( Erick Matheus ) brincando de dançar pra se divertir* . - eu não sou friboi mas tô na moda.. a mulherada gosta, a mulherada gosta do papai ♪♬ com ele* #WesleyG ( @lelynhookt s2* ✌🔝🏆
