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hey I’m the anon that requested injured!reader, you did a great job so far :) can’t wait to see what else you come up with!

— ♦️

Part two- 🩸How would hunters react seeing their s/o bloody and injured after a match?

🪭Michiko x !injured reader

🎪 Hullabaloo x !injured reader

🎻 Violinist x !injured reader

This literally means so so so much to me so like, tysm!! Here's pt. two of hunters and injured!reader with three more of our dear hunters, hope yall enjoy ^^ (also will prob make a masterlist soon and update the other parts directly on there).

The intro scene is the same you can find in part one.

🪭Michiko You managed to make it back to the manor—somehow. For a moment, you were certain you’d seen death. A blinding five minutes passed before consciousness miraculously returned. You had no strength left, but still, you dragged yourself out past the game-plant gates and stumbled weakly inside the manor, spasms of pain cursing through your muscles. Even actions as easy as pushing the front door open felt impossible. Every movement drained you. You didn’t even notice you were collapsing until your weight landed against something soft—Michiko’s kimono. Shit, shit, shit. Panic rushed through you as she turned sharply, taking in the sight before her. You were pale—too pale. Hands shaking as a fresh scar streaked the right side of your face. Her brows furrowed. The fan in her hand trembled as she slowly reached out, brushing a hand against your back. You couldn't help but hiss in pain as you saw it—the moment her usual calm expression cracked. "My beloved… why are you returning to me like this?" “It was just a rough match, Michiko. Please, don’t worry about me.” She looked almost offended. “How could I not? I told them—begged them—to leave you be. Was my monstrous face not enough to frighten them off?” Even through the pain, your heart ached at the cruelty she turned on herself. How could someone as pure, as gentle as her, think so little of her own worth? “Please, Michiko… your words just add to the pain. Don’t speak about yourself like that.” Her expression softened. She gently took your trembling hands into her own. “Then let me care for you. Let me take all that pain away. I swore I'd never beg again… but please, stay with me”.

🎪 Hullabaloo The match had left scars—plenty of them. But it hadn’t broken you. You’d managed to escape like you always did, just unusually more injured. Far more injured. Still, your bloodied figure moved like a ghost as you drifted down the manor’s hallways. You'd used the first-floor bathroom to clean what you could. That was the only time you’d left your room all day since the match ended. You’d even skipped dinner—too exhausted to eat, too sore to stomach questions. Oddly, your boyfriend hadn’t come looking for you yet. He usually would’ve popped up by now, pestering and dramatic. His silence felt… off. But maybe it was better this way. You were halfway back to your room, eyes half-lidded, steps dragging—when long arms curled around you from behind. Speak of the devil. “Y/N, my love! Why haven’t I—” His voice faltered. You barely had time to react before he gently turned you around to face him. His smile dropped like a stone. “Oh… oh my. What happened here?” His bony thumb brushed along the cracked, bloody corner of your lip. You winced. “Just the usual,” you murmured. “You know how matches can get.” He stared at you. Hard and almost uncomfortably. “I don’t know, darling,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Because I clearly told the others not to lay a single finger on you.” You looked away, unsure what to say. Then he turned back towards you, voice lifting with an eerie cheer. “Guess I’ll have to remind them—harshly! And you, my reckless little troublemaker, sure aren’t making it any easier for me.” That too-bright gleam returned to his eyes. His tone spun into something manic, spring-loaded. “Oh well! Guess I’ll have to show you, too.” Before you could protest, he scooped you up in one swift, springy movement. His arms were wiry and felt almost unsafe, but still gentle enough for you- or rather with you. “Don’t worry, lovely. There are worse things out there to be afraid of.” He added with a smirk, a hint of cockiness strong in his voice. “I’m not one of them. Not for you, at least.”

🎻 Violinist Your teammates began to worry when you didn’t return after the match. It wasn’t long before they found you—unconscious, crumpled in a pool of scarlet. They rushed you back to the manor. Emily worked quickly, patching you up with bandages and painkillers, trying to keep your vitals stable. After hours of rest, the pain dulled. You drifted in and out, then finally—finally—woke fully. Your head throbbed. Your memories were foggy. The last thing you recalled was the cold pavement beneath you in China Town. How come you now laid in your warm bed? A soft melody reached your ears, steady and familiar. It was slow, melancholic… but oddly comforting. You turned toward the source. Antonio. Of course. He sat in the tall-backed chair beside your bed, his posture composed, yet brooding. The bow moved steadily across the strings, coaxing a somber tune from his violin. His eyes were shadowed by his long hair. When he noticed your stirring, the music instantly stopped. In a blink, he was at your side, crouched so he could have a clear look at you. “My beloved… you’re awake.” You groaned, trying to sit up, but he gently stopped you. “No—please. You’re still weak.” “How long have I been out?” you whispered. “Barely a day,” he said. “But it felt eternal. You were in danger. I didn’t even know I could feel so worried.” “It wasn’t my fault—I was just trying to protect my friend—” “Shhh.” His cold hand cupped your cheek. Despite its chill, the touch was grounding, secure. “That’s noble of you. The heart of a caregiver. But please, don’t make my own heart ache like that again.” “I’m sorry, Antonio. I just… I can’t let others get hurt. I would-- could never forgive myself.” He nodded slowly. “I understand. But I feel the same. If anything happened to you… I fear it would be my worst damnation.” He leaned just enough to kiss your temple, careful and tender. “Now rest. Let me be the one to take care of you.”