Hellboy×OC fanfic (THE AFTER MATH)

(THE AFTER MATH)

Scene:
Terra's dim apartment kitchen, Terra seated on the counter, first aid supplies surrounding her as Hellboy treats her wounds, his hips between her knees.

Description:
Terra, a new recruit, and Hellboy had been out on a mission to right another one of the universes wrongs, defending the world against the newest supernatural creature that was destined to reak havock against its lands. Everything had been going smoothly, Terra setting the traps and containment while Hellboy guided the entity into her clutches. Though, when one of the components for her trap exploded, not only startling the creature and letting it escape, it blew up the side of a building, debris and cement collapsed on Terra.

THE AFTER MATH:

"I told you not to use that damb crystal, yet you did it anyway."

Hellboy scolded, his jaw clenching as his eyes scanned over her wound once more. He'd warned her countless times, trying to get it through her thick skull.

"look, I thought I finally had it under control, okay? Everything was set up, the crystal was stable. I..I just thought-"

She was interrupted by a sharp pain in her forearm, the cleansing alcohol causing her to hiss. Her foot spasmed in the air as the clear liquid ran down her dirt filled wound, sterilizing it. She bit back a few curses, her body tencing with the stinging sensation. Cuts and gashes littered her body, blood staining her clothes, though she refused to sit still. Her leg continued to bounce lightly, worsening the pain and blood loss from the wound on her calf, the pebble covered scraps on her knee only opening once more with the anxious movement. And just when he thought she was done being a burden to him for the day...

"..Fuck..." she groaned

"..A warning, Hellboy...that shit hurts..."

She murmured, an irritated growl seaping through her tone. She was frustrated, with herself more than anything. She just didn't understand how the mission went wrong. She was sure she had everything ready...so, how? Was it her own fault? —likely, though seemingly improbable on this instance. She'd spent months working and studying, training just for this. Yet, she failed...and got horribly injured none the less. He could say when she fucks shit up she is quite thorough in doing so.

"Just shut it, kid. And sit still dammit."

Hellboy growled, his brow furrowed in focus as he attempted to open another gaz pad. He was to irritated to talk with her right now and her constant restlessness really wasn't helping.

She was wearing her original baggy light blue jean cargo pants with a loose-fitting band-t and black converses, two utility belts around her hips, gun holsters on her thighs, and black fingerless gloves. Blood and tried mud clinging to patches of the tattered fabric. She was thick with a curvy hourglass body, slim waist and softly toned arms. Her long, wavy hair fell over her shoulder, parted to the side to give him space to work on her mangled arm. She had a small tooth gap, light freckles covering her nose and cheeks, skin smeared with dirt and dried blood. Yet, her fierce deep green-blue eyes still shone bright with determination.

He knew all to well that she wouldn't give up.