Hellboy Oneshot Book

Kroenen x (Fem) Human Reader

(A/N): I have to admit this is a strange romance, I'm not even sure if I would call it traditional. But it is Kroenen, so not really surprised.

You'd always found the idea of germs...disgusting. Vile, wretched, impure, the very idea of being contaminated by disgusting bacteria and having it spread through your body; leaving its putrid fingerprint all over you made you sick to your stomach. And the idea of regurgitating digested food and stomach acid on a clean floor made you even sicker. Even as a baby, your mother had always said you weren't like 'normal' babies who splattered their food around their tray and over their faces. A dribble of mashed sweet potatoes on your chin would send you into hysterics. You quickly learned how to eat properly with your spoon and fork, so you could avoid the messes. Oh, don't get mud or dirt on you during playtime, you'd prefer to stay clean and most of your time had been with your nose in a book or solving puzzles. They were clean, good fun. You refused to go to sleepovers because if the girls were picking their noses and dribbling over themselves at school, who'd know what they'd be like in the privacy of their homes!? And your parents could only shrug when visitors were requested to wash their hands and be sprayed with disinfectant before they touched you.

Oh you loathed germs. So much so that at the early age of six, you started wearing gloves all the time, so you would never have to directly touch anything. You truly feared the idea of being contaminated by something, sometimes just even thinking about it made you go into a fit. Of course, being the good and concerned parents they were, they took you to professionals. The doctors had said you were suffering from a severe case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Germaphobia, a very severe case that they rarely saw in children at that age. 'No need to worry, this happens', they said, 'she'll outgrow it'. You never did. And, even though your parents worried over you, they did everything they could to support you.

While most would be uncomfortable living under the conditions needed to make you comfortable, your parents adapted well. Hell, it just made it easier to avoid unwanted relatives'. Your parents were very supportive of you and no condition would change that. Once you reached highschool, your father even took it a step further, by introducing you to 1950's fashion. It wasn't a secret that the kids at school thought you were strange and it broke his heart when he realized some were making fun of you for wearing gloves all the time. Entering that boutique was the beginning of your life changing. You can still remember your breath catching as you eyed the rows of different cut dresses hung up delicately. How you walked down the aisles of glass boxes that carefully displayed gloves made of every type of material imaginable. Your father was relieved when a woman with large red hair in a green dress swept you away, helping you start your collection of outfits and of course matching gloves.

When the next day came for you to go to school, you couldn't take your eyes off the beautiful dark eyed woman, clad in a royal purple sheath dress and a short cape draped over her shoulders staring back at you in the mirror. She stood proud in her black kitten heels and her matching lace trimmed gloves rested on her hips. A smirk appeared on her rouge painted lips as she glanced over herself and you realized, she was you. You waltzed into your school not giving two damns about who gawked and stared, you knew you looked good. It was that day you stopped caring about what people thought of you.

One girl, you honestly couldn't remember her name, but you remembered her being one of those popular girls who everyone tripped themselves over. She decided, your only guess, she was going to make an example of you. Who did you think you were trying to get everyone's attention off of her, she wouldn't have any of that! You were minding your business, trying to do the combination on your locker, when she and her entourage approached you. You didn't even get to give a 'how do you do' before she was bowing her head down and spitting her pink bubblegum right on the tip of your velvet shoes.