Hey! What about a scenario where the reader is attacked by a random villain and comes home injuried, what would Dabi and Shiggy do (separately please)? Thank you, keep up with the good work 💛💛
YES! I LOVE this trope!! Trope? Is that the right word? Thank you!
Dabi and Tomura reacting to their s/o coming home injured scenario!
Warnings: injury mention, foul language, slight angst? idk
Dabi:
It was a late night. A peaceful one. You were off doing whatever you were doing, and Dabi was at your home eating your food and using your shower like he did every free weekend he had. It was a good night.
That is, until you pull yourself through the door, battered and bruised and a little bit bloody.
His mind goes blank with black when he bolts from his seat to you to aid your walking as you latter into your bathroom. You mutter something about staining the floor of your home all the while. Of course that’s what you were worried about. It looked like your injuries were all pretty minor, although the gash in your leg looked too deep to be sated with bandages.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, and while his volume is not deafening, the anger and contempt you can pick up certainly is. “I swear, I’m gonna-“
“Just,” you groan as he eases you onto the tile floor to lean against the wall beside the bath, “help me get patched up. We’ll get to that later.” You take the first aid kit he retrieved from your cabinet and open it up before setting it on the floor next to you as you peel your clothes off.
“No, we’ll get to that now,” he insists, his tone dark and voice deep as he kneels in front of you. The look in his eye is nothing less than murderous and blood-thirsty. “Who the fuck thought they could do this to you and get away with it?”
You grab the front of his shirt and tug his torso toward you, your noses almost touching. “I swear to all that you hold dear,” you snarl, “if you don’t fucking help me stop bleeding, you’re gonna end up like the other guy.”
With a pissy huff, Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks it from his shirt while you begin cleaning the wounds you can see that don’t need major attention. The staples fiend sharing the floor with you sits next to you and works on the gash in your leg silently. You know you’ve pissed him off, but you also know you’re in the right; he needs to be here before he needs to be out looking for a half-dead villain with no chance against him. You don’t expect him to apologize - it’s not his style, so the chance of him doing so is low. He might suck up and give you a little pampering, though.
But that’ll be after he burns alive the fucker who did this to you.
Tomura:
You haven’t text in while. You haven’t called at all. You had a hankering for Hi-Chew, and went off to buy some. A simple trip, a mediocre one, really. You had insisted on walking and refused to rely on Kurogiri’s warp. Yet, as Tomura sat there at the bar, hands wringing and alone save for Kurogiri, he watched the clock tick away. You’d been gone far longer than was needed, and you were essentially radio silent.
He stood up from his stool and almost began pacing when you bust through the door, covered in dirt, bruises, and cuts, whilst holding up your spoils of war in a white plastic bag triumphantly.
“Remind me to never buy out Hi-Chews from a convenient store again,” you snark, limping through the doorway.
“What the fuck?” Tomura finds himself muttering as he bolts toward you.
You wave a hand and limp past him, knowing he won’t offer a helpful hand due to his quirk, to the couch and plop down onto the cold leather cushions.
“Kurogiri, a kit!” he demands, flicking his finger Kurogiri’s way before he sits next to you. “What happened to you? Who did this?”
You shrug. “Some rando, nothing big.” You peel your jacket off and wince a little before giving the leader a smirk. “Don’t worry about him. He’s happily swinging from a light pole pantsless above the street right now.” Your wink earns a scowl from your boyfriend, though.
Kurogiri returns with a first aid kit, but before he can leave, Tomura orders him to “track the son of a bitch down like the rat he is.” Tomura is nothing short of pissed, and he has no intention of hiding it. “You’re not going anywhere alone anymore,” he growls, watching you take care of the wounds you’d obtained. He’s really pissed, sure, but he’s even more worried about you, that rare protective drive of his kicking in.
“I can take care of myself,” you object with a huff.
“You got lucky. It could’ve been worse than bickering over Hi-Chew.”
You huff at him and your hand holding an alcohol swab freezes over the cut in your other arm. “Hey, I got around and made it just fine before I met you, ya know!”
Tomura blinks. Ouch, maybe that sounded worse than you meant it to. He breaks eye contact.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” seems to be all he can say.
