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sober-stupid-shithead · 3 days ago

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warnings: self harm/mutilation mention, Hellboy x gn!reader word count: 3392 work - one shot

a/n for @welcomtothevoid you know what you did.

You could still see the way his smile had stiffened. The once bright slice of ivory in all that crimson had gone cold as a crescent moon as he’d done his best to hide how much he’d wanted to be anywhere else. But those little fingers hadn’t trembled, eyes shining, and he’d let it happen. No one in the crowd saw the flinch, all holding their breath, all waiting for something terrible to happen.

And nothing did. To the kid at least, but you’d seen the tightness around his eyes that could have been mistaken as crow’s feet from his smile. You’d seen the way his gaze kept flitting towards the kid’s mom who was hovering so close you knew it looked inappropriate at the wrong angle. Had watched the tension build in his shoulders as the kid gripped his hand and squeezed as had as he could.

Can you feel that?

Yeah, kid. I can feel that.

That’s so weird! Do you think my apartment feels things?

Not the kid’s fault, had to have been six or seven, curious about everything, and the big red man had just carried them out of a fire. Little bodies didn’t know what to do with all that adrenaline, but being smothered by mom hadn’t been an option. Might have been alright if the lady had said thank you, or maybe even looked grateful. Instead she stared on with wide eyed horror as her child continued to jabber at the demon that had walked out of a fire.

With her kid.

He wasn’t even supposed to have been there, a quiet walk, he promised nothing else. And what were you going to do when there was a building on fire and the fire department were struggling to hold back a screaming woman? Nothing, exactly. A very dark, protective you preferred to label it, part of you wished you’d turned left instead of right.

The way his smile had gotten more and more strained, catching the sight of her mottled knuckles at her side, the way she was breathing shallow and light as if getting ready to run but not wanting to draw his attention. You were a good person, decent maybe on a bad day, but she was trying your patience.

Could still feel the way his fingers had desperately twined with yours the moment he’d stood, hiding your joined hands in his coat, tail hooking around your waist as it shivered with tension. And hurt, you’d found that out a few blocks later, finding out that he’d stepped on it to keep it from whipping around and making things worse. What was that address again?

My fault, babe. I promised nothin’ would happen.

Your joke about his being a firebug just to play hero fell flat, and you had kicked yourself so hard mentally a headache had started. Or that could have been how tightly your jaw had been clenched when he offered the most pitiful laugh you’d ever heard, a scathingly poor attempt at sarcasm. So even though he’d been begging, promising to be on his best behaviour, and other more interesting bribes, you were headed back after less than an hour.

Most of which had been watching him knelt down on the ground surrounded by people who whispered terrible thing, just down right mean spirited things that had made you want to throw more than hands. A couple of burning brands would have been nice, a fiery stoning like they deserved honestly. He’d done nothing wrong, bunch of ungrateful, small souled, mealy mouthed-

“Hey.’ Tapping your finger on the door again, your head tilted, trying to catch anything. “You can’t stay in there forever, there’s only the one bathroom.’

Keep it light, keep it playful, ignoring the silence and lightly scratching at the door. Nothing. Scratch again, a really bad meow, like terrible really, trying to make him smile, trying to get him to at least answer you. Nothing. The door didn’t even lock, you could just walk right in, he wasn’t sat in front of the door you could see the light unbroken in the sliver between the bottom and the floor. So in theory, you absolutely could open the door.

In theory.

“My bladder could explode.’

What? Not your finest volley, but you were only a little surprised that it worked, the door knob twisting and the door cracking. The room looked like a sauna, steam so thick it looked like fog on a sunny day as the bathroom light tried to do its job. Well you were in, that was a start. You didn’t actually have to go to the bathroom, did you? Like it’d been a hypothesis, not-

“Thanks for putting the clothes in the hamper.’

Honestly an accomplishment, always six inches away on the floor, always a point of irritation. Which meant it was bad, meant he was trying to avoid a fight. He loved a good fight. Tossing your own clothes into the hamper after undressing, you eyed the shower and the steam billowing out of it. If you got in behind him it should be fine, pulling back the shower curtain to find him in the way.

That was rude, it was his sulky shower, you were the intruder. Still. Using his elbow to balance, you stepped in, staring up at him before leaning in and kissing the corner of his mouth. Really had the broody detective thing going, one arm braced against the shower wall above your head, the other just hanging there. You were going to be watching Humphrey Bogart for a month, you could feel it in your soul.

“Do you want me to call Abe?’

Head shake, well at least communications had opened. A start. Taking in a breath in preparation for what might be a Sisyphean effort. You did wait, for a little bit more, even just for him to open his eyes and look at you. Fuck it, leaning in and wrapping your arms around his middle ignoring the water scalding the skin. Didn’t hurt near as much as the fact you knew that wasn’t water slowly running down his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before resting your cheek there.

“I think I saw an alley cat on our way back. Looked big.’

A nod! Good, good, you were not above adopting yet another cat, even one that had looked suspiciously pregnant. As a matter of fact you hoped it was, he’d be so delighted at a litter. Probably lose his mind but also immediately start negotiating, You brought the cat in babe, and you can’t take her away from her babies. Did you need another cat or ten? No.

Did you need him to smile and forget how terrible humans could be just for a little while? Absolutely.

“Might be pregnant, and it’s getting cold.’

Laying out the bait, very obvious bait, but he still nodded sniffing to clear his nose and it made you irrationally angry. No, not it was rational, there’d been no need to act like that, hugging him tighter and feeling his tail drape across your lower back. Progress! Maybe subconscious but still.

“Think she’s going to be a chicken kind of gal or a beef.’

“Both.’

You hadn’t realized his voice could be so quiet, barely catching it over the sound of the water from the showerhead. Big guy, big heart, ugh. But at least he spoke, even if that was immediately followed by his head turning away from you, your arms reluctantly loosening to let him face the spray. It would have hurt, the silent dismissal, if not for the fact the moment he finished turning his tail sought you out again, coiling loosely around your wrist.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if she just wanted tuna?’

Another volley, fingers lightly skimming his shoulderblade before deciding to get the soap. Why not? You’d even use your soap, that he’d been banned from after the bubble bath incident, and wash his back. Comforting, efficient use of time, and a bit of spoiling. Couldn’t lose. Head turning to look for the bottle you eyed a bit of pink on the wall.

A blink didn’t change it, neither did a second, closing them for a solid five seconds as you reminded yourself that murder didn’t fix everything. … It could probably fix quite a few things, but not this. Addendum to the plan, wash his back then get him to the kitchen. It had the best lighting and he was going to be hungry. He was always hungry.

“A real gas.’ He muttered, and you almost dropped the bottle you’d just picked up.

Delayed, but louder now, watching his shoulders shift as he held his head under the spray. You just bet he was, trying to hide the fact there was blood near at the base of his horns. There hadn’t been the sound of the sander or you’d have went 80’s action hero on that door far sooner. Which meant he’d used a file, that was meant for metal not horns.

“She will probably be gassy from all that trash she’s been eating.’

It wasn’t a rumble, but you’d take the grunt of humor, soaping up his back and realizing that most of it would go to waste as the water rinsed most of it off. Well it was the thought that counted. This one, not the many ways you could think of to murder people. Those didn’t count. But you heard him sniff again, this time followed by his head turning far enough you caught the gleam of gold as he eyed you over his shoulder.

“That’s your good stuff.’ Mm-hmm! “It smells real nice.’

Give him a minute, feeling the mass of muscles shift under the skin before settling again.

“Thank you, I meant thank you.’

There it was, and that wasn’t even your doing. He had a pretty good dad, listening to him clear his throat moments before his stomach growled. Called it! Trying to remember what was in the kitchen outside of the first aid bag under the counter. Could make a quick frito pie? Chips, chili, cheese, toss in the over, and deal with the abraded skin.

“You got a dog in here?’ Another light tease, a common one, watching the last of the suds run down to the shower floor.

“Woof.’

That… was the saddest bark you’d ever heard, but he made the effort so he got a tight squeeze anyway before stepping back as the water was turned off. Despite the fact you hadn’t even gotten that much water on you, he gave you the towel hanging on the rack to dry with. Chivalry, alive and well in New York City. The fact that it was pushed into your face would have irritated you if not for the fact you knew he was just trying to keep you from seeing what he’d done for as long as possible.

Inevitable unless he walked out while you were getting dressed, that thought alone had you moving holding the towel to your chest to find that he’d pulled on the cozy sweats, raggedy things you were pretty sure had been around longer than he’d been alive. It didn’t make sense, you’d been there when he’d bought them, but they just.. The miles…

“Hand me the hoodie?’ You tossed over your shoulder digging through the drawer for underwear.

You didn’t need a mirror to see the way he started to smile. It was The Hoodie, as in the we’re dating and now this is mine not yours hoodie. A little arrogant, but you were pretty sure if the apocalypse came knocking, again, and he was going through it. Capital t and m. You putting on the hoodie could make him smile, even if it was for a moment before yelling at you to get to cover. Fabric just settling over your hips, hands gripped them to pull you back, warm stone settling over your stomach as the hoodie in question was held in front of you.

“This one?’ His sideburn tickled your ear, sinking back against him and the heat that seemed to pour off him.

“That’s the one.’

Feeling water drip onto your cheek, you swiped at it absently before reaching out to take it. Except it wasn’t water that had dripped onto your cheek, staring at the red smeared across your fingers. His chin rested on your shoulder briefly, then gone as he left the room. With the hoodie, which you don’t think he realized, following after him to the kitchen. Already seated, bag on the table, staring down at the hoodie on his lap.

“Sorry ‘bout the-’ he motioned to his own cheek, the one that mirrored yours. “Thought it had stopped bleedin’.’

The lecture was there, rattling around your ribs with each breath you took, but he looked so miserable. … Lecture later, leaning down to take the hoodie from his lap, a kiss grazing the cover of his eye making him chuckle half heartedly as he leaned away. But you’d gotten a quick look now that you were in good lighting, they were definitely shorter, and there were at least three areas that had lost layers of skin.

Hoodie on, you held out your hands, hidden deep in the sleeves, and watched his lips curl slowly. Who knew a nuke could be so cozy, wiggling your fingers as he worked his hand into the cuff to take your hand and use his larger one to work the fabric up to your elbow. Would be more efficient to do it yourself, but he liked to help, wanted to help. That bright smile made your heart flutter, stomach trip and tumble, and it was worth being a little silly.

“Anything else you, uh, want bare?’

Good line, ruined by the blood that slowly trickled down his temple, your eyes following it and almost missing the way his smile faded. Shit. Grabbing his wrists, putting a pin in frito pie, you tugged until he stood then released one to grab the bag. The sofa was plenty well lit by the kitchen light, and there was a lamp. Besides, you weren’t even sure the kitchen chair could handle the combined weight, that one time the two of you… Not the point.

“I’m sorry.’

You didn’t stumble, the rug was out of place, feeling the words like a sucker punch in the gut. It didn’t matter what he was apologizing for, any option you could think of just hurt. For the walk getting interrupted, for reacting rashly and doing something to make the feeling go away. Or maybe it was for bleeding on you, oh no that’d never happened before.

“For?’

Didn’t want to dig the knife in deeper, but you didn’t want to step on a mine trying to avoid another one. Make an assumption on what he meant only to have it be something else and send him spiralling. But he just huffed and shrugged as he dropped onto the very abused sofa, barely getting more than a wheeze of the springs as he landed. Straddling his lap, you dropped the bag by his hip and lightly cupped his face to guide him to tilt his head so you could see better.

“I.. I went too hard on it.’ Noted, did not need an apology. None of it did but it was the knowing that helped. “It was just… the way they looked at me like I was gonna eat that kid. Like I didn’t just save ‘em when no one else could get to ‘em.’

The shirt would need replacing, reaching down to take the disinfectant wipes he pulled from the bag. Hard to tell if it was cute that the two of you had a system in place for his injuries, or down right concerning how smooth the process was. … Not a right now problem, could untangle with Dr. Phil playing in the background or something. Or Hannibal, he was a therapist, better than the Texan anyway.

“And the kid? The kid thought I was cool.’ Yes they did, shifting as he settled his right arm behind you, feeling the small vibrations as his fingers flexed as he rambled. “I would have done like, I dunno, some kind of trick? Kids like tricks, ri- OW!’

“I didn’t touch you yet…’

“Just getting ready.’ If demons could blush, lightly tugging his head back into position as you began to move your hand forward. “Could have done some kind of cowboy thing, y’know? Like tossed up a brick and POW!’

He didn’t even flinch as you wiped at the blood that darkened the root of his horns, big faker, only remembering to hiss in pain far too late. Eyes rolling, you took a new one and tossed the other to the arm of the sofa.

“But they were already looking at me like I was dangerous, they didn’t need to see me pull out a gun about the same size as that kid.’

Yeah no, that would have been bad, pausing when he made another low pained noise, stifling your laughter considering you were touching anything. Big bad demon… Yeah, sure. Big baby to be more accurate, blowing gently over the wound. You weren’t even sure the injury could get infected, cleaning the blood off his face and tossing that wipe aside too.

Taking the antibiotic ointment, you’d only just gotten the cap off the tube before he winced. … Boy. Settling back against his arm, you stared down at the two golden glows that stared up at you from under his brow. It was manipulation is what it was, and wasn’t necessary. Eyes narrowing briefly, a smile tugging your lips you let out a sigh before taking in a deep breath.

“Oh you poor thing!’

Way too dramatic, way too much, his hand flying up to cover your mouth as you practically choked on your laughter. When he lowered your hand your expression was far too innocent.

“Was that not what you wanted?’

“No! Geez…’ He wasn’t as good at hiding his grin. “Just a little sympathy, it was a hard night.’

“You can have sympathy, or Frito pie and beer.’ Smearing the ointment over the abraded areas, you counted to two before he claimed the second option. “Don’t touch.’

Sprawled on top of him later with Howdy Doody, of all things, playing on the TV, you pretended not to notice he was faking being asleep. Right arm handing off the sofa with two cats already curled up like little furry stress balls, purring so loudly you had a concern about noise complaints. The sofa was not ideal, bed would have been better, but it wasn’t like you could tell him no.

To be more accurate, you could, and did try, but he’d oddly gone deaf as he fell over and got comfortable. You would have complained if not for the fact how tightly his arm had held you around the waist. Like you were a comfort stuffy and he’d decided it was bedtime. Your grumbling had done nothing, once you’d gotten your breath back, nose wrinkling as he let out an exaggerated sigh of comfort.

“Hey?’

“Not awake, sleeping.’ He grunted when you elbowed him, as if you’d managed any damage with the bad angle. ”What?’

“Talk to me. Next time I mean.’ When he cracked an eye open you locked in on it. “Not to be a selfish bitch, but you hurting hurts me.’

“Okay, babe. I’ll try to remember.’

Good, ignoring the fact he’d said it before. Sometimes he did, or brought you the sander which you hated but that look in his eyes was worse. Letting out a squawk of surprise, you squirmed as he rolled over, pinning you to the back of the sofa, the cats making their complaints as he carefully slid them off his hand to his thigh.

“I can’t breathe.’

“You’re complain’ so you’re breathin’.’

�� Offended by the implication of that statement, you shoved at his chest which got you no where. … It wasn’t that bad, feeling his lips press against the top of your head and let out another one of those cozy sighs. A quick power nap and then to bed, knowing your luck another spring would come loose and stab you in your sleep.

#choked on my spit /pos #ohhfgjghd my god #hellboy #my beautiful wife..... oughhh #this made me genuinely emotional #I love him so much it hurts #sighhhhh ❤

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