do you do darker content?
if so can i request the hunters witnessing their survivor lover after a match all beaten up and bloody?
Part one- π©ΈHow would hunters react seeing their s/o bloody and injured after a match?
πͺ¨ Foolβs gold x !injured reader
πͺοΈ Nightwatch x !injured reader
π₯ The ripper x !injured reader
Yes yes! Iβm thinking of doing this for all hunters, so Iβll probably divide it in multiple parts. Hereβs the first one to apologize for taking time to respond :,) Hope this isnβt too far off what you were thinking! Iβll try to write for the others soon!
(Part two here).
Tw: mentions of blood and injures (obv)
Matches had been particularly intense for you that dayβhunters seemed rougher than usual, their attacks filled with something almost personal. At first, you werenβt sure why. But then it clicked.
Ever since you and your lover had begun your relationship, things had slowly began to change. Almost imperceptibly at firstβbut now? Now it was undeniable. The rumors had spread. The manor was small, and secrets couldnβt stay buried for long.
Youβd both agreed to keep things low profile. You knew how cruel the other hunters could be. It was as if the manor was leeching what little humanity remained from them, leaving only hollow, destructive shells of what they once were.
You were nearly finished decoding the final machine, heart fluttering at the thought of your warm roomβand your loverβs embraceβwhen you felt something, rather someone looming behind you.
You didnβt even get the chance to turn.
All you felt was a sudden wave of pain rushing through your body, blinding and immediate as your vision grew blank.
πͺ¨ Foolβs Gold
Foolβs knew you. Knew your stubbornness, your skill, andβmost of allβyour loyalty. You always came back, like you promised every time before a match. So when you didnβt walk out the gate with your teammates, a cold churn stirred in his gut. Something was wrong.
He went to look for you himself, crossing the gate where the latest game had just taken place. It didnβt take long before he found you crumpled near a bushβbloody, bruised, your clothes torn and your head soaked in a thick layer of red.
βY/n. Fuck.β
He dropped to his knees, scooping you into his arms. Sure, his limbs were jaggedβstone and flesh fused unnaturallyβbut it couldnβt hurt more than what had already been done to you.
βTell me who the hell did this to you. Now.β
Your head ached intensely. You blinked slowly, disoriented. βI... I donβt know. I didnβt seeββ
His arms tightened around you. His furious eyes scanned the treeline, as if to identify an immediate threat before softening as they fell back to your face.
βItβs okay. Weβll figure it out later,β he whispered. βIβll find the bastard that did this to you and pickaxe their bones as if to strike the finest mineral.β
The threat came out like a promise of love.
Because for him, thatβs what it was.
You were the only precious thing he had left. In a life full of violence, grief, and regretβyou were gold. His true treasure.
βWhy are you always so reckless?β he rasped. βYouβre supposed to surviveβfor me. Remember what you promised?β
You barely lifted your hand to cup his jaw. βIβm faithful to my word, you know that. Iβm still here.β
His breath hitched, voice raw. βNo more close calls, baby. I donβt intend to let you go.β
πͺοΈ Nightwatch
Ithaqua had long since given up on trusting others. Living beings were cruel. Humans, especially, were the worst of them allβcorrupted creatures hiding behind normal faces.
Even among the other hunters, he stood apart. Wary. Resented. He was a monster, just like the other killers- but at least they all knew what they were. The survivors were just as dirtyβonly better at pretending. Hiding.
When you first got close to him, it was during a blizzard. The manor had been sealed off, snow piling at the doors. Youβd somehow managed to walk out into the woods that day, ignoring every warning the other survivors gave you.
The air in the manor had grown heavy. You needed space.
And there, in the freezing milky void, youβd found him.
Ithaqua had been born in the cold. It was all he knew, all he was. When he saw youβlost in the same way he was, no sense of belongingβsomething happened. He felt intrigued.
He never said much directly , still wary of you, but something in him softened. Small gestures. Simple genuine tenderness in his acts. His way to show care.
So when he saw you crawling near the gate, clothes torn, a puddle of blood peeking through your shirtβsomething twisted in his chest.
Panic. Memories. The echo of his most painful childhood terror: loss.
Without a word, he swept you into his arms, cradling you against the fur of his coat.
βItβs okay. Iβve got you,β he murmured, tucking your trembling form beneath his jacket to shield you from the rising wind.
He walked, slow and steady, back toward the manor. Back to safety.
His fingers brushed a wound on your forehead.
βWhy did it have to be you?β he whispered, voice tinged with a vulnerability youβd never heard before. βWhy like this?β
βIβm sorry, Itha,β you mumbled, lips trembling slightly, both from the cold and genuine fear for what youβd just been through.
βStay awake. Stay with me,β he repeated almost like a mantra. You could feel his breath quick and ragged under his mask.
βYou must stay with me. I assure you, chewing my heart and spitting it out would be a lot easier than losing you. I mean itβ. π₯The ripper
You managed to make it back to the manorβsomehow, unexpectedly.
The moment Jack saw you stumble through the gates, bruised and disheveled, trying one last effort to drag yourself toward your room, his blood ran cold.
His tall frame moved towards you, hands reaching out carefully as if you were made of glass- like you might shatter at the slightest touch.
βDarling, youβre hurt.β
He stated the obvious as you looked up at him, eyes heavy and tired.
βNo, Iβm good... it just looks worse than it is. Really.β
Jack pulled a cloth from his pocketβhis usual cavalryβand gently dabbed some blood dripping down your temple.
βDonβt lie. I told you to be careful. Why didnβt you listen?β
There was no bitterness in his voiceβonly guilt, and maybe something darker lurking beneath.
βNext time, do anythingβdecode, hideβbut donβt put yourself in danger. Donβt make me risk losing you for people not worth it.β
You looked down silently, almost like a kid punished for some sort of mischief.
βWho did this to you?β he pressed suddenly, eyes piercing through yours.
You couldnβt answer. Not because you didnβt want to, but because the chaos of the chase had practically erased the assailantβs face from your memory.
Jack didnβt care. He didnβt need answers. He already knew everything he needed to know. Or at least- heβd have made sure to find out.
He simply nodded, guiding you to sit in his room so he could tend to your wounds. Gentle, careful, almost worshipping in the care he used with you.
Donβt worry, thoughβnext time, youβll notice a thicker layer of fog creeping around the manor, an edge of silence hanging heavier than before. And sure as hell he could bet, thereβll be one less soul to count, one less person to feed the insatiable bloodthirst of the manor.
ββββββββ-
By the way if you imagine Jack as Tuberose itβs better tbh
Dayum
