Here you go!

Warnings: Aftermath, magic whump, magic healing. -> From this ask game <-

The worst part about the after wasn’t the pain. It wasn’t even the smell of blood and magic in the air — thick, acrid, suffocating. It was the silence that followed it. The kind of silence that didn’t feel like relief, but like the world holding its breath, waiting to see who made it out.

Leader staggered over broken ground, each step a harder than the former. Their side ached like it had caved in, ribs cracked or worse, but that didn’t matter. Not right now. Not when the dust was still settling, not when the wreckage of the ambush sprawled around them in smoking ruin.

“Healer,” they called. They had to get back before Healer decided to do something stupid.

No answer.

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Hii! Oh well, maybe I should have used emojis. In case people wanted less or more prompts/dialogues or doesn’t want any whumper/caretaker etc. This is not efficient at all, with either me or the asker have to write what the number is for. I guess I’ll figure it out as we go lol. Anyway, please enjoy!

Warnings: Captivity, torture, drowning.

Right Hand whumpee, Leader caretaker, Villain whumper, team dynamics, drowning, “Don’t move” from -> this ask game <-

Leader sat between Right Hand and Villain, chains weighting them down. This wasn’t what they intended when they tried to bait Villain. Right Hand wasn’t supposed to get caught. But they were too loyal and too selfless for that. Leader didn’t deserve this devotion.

Villain stared at them. Leader didn’t like it at all.

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Hii! It’s not taken. And oh I love this too much. Please enjoy.

Warnings: inexplicit injury.

“Roll call,” Leader forced out to the earpiece. They couldn’t hear anything else than their heartbeat. They had to get a hold of themselves, but their breath weren’t enough, their arms shaking as they took support from the closest surface. They were drained, but at least they had managed to be the distraction, even if that wasn’t the plan. Whumper had fled, but Leader had bigger concerns. Like their team. Dragging main forces didn’t guarantee their team a safe spot.

“Right Hand here. Still standing.”

Relief flooded onto Leader. They dropped down to the floor. Adrenaline crush, they thought bitterly. But it was worth it if they got to know the team was fine.

“Youngest here. I’m fine. Leader—?”

“Medic. No injuries.”

“Tech. System’s a mess, but we’re operational. Others are here too. Leader, your status?”

Leader exhaled slowly, pressing to the wall as they evened their breaths.

“All good. Took a hit, but nothing major. Just need a mokent.” They made sure their voice was level, steady. “You all regroup and hold position. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous in a few.”

“You sure?” Right Hand again, and Leader could practically hear the try to sound measured.

“Positive,” Leader lied smoothly. “Stay put. If Whumper doubles back, I need you ready.”

For a moment, the silence was too long. Then, grudgingly, “Copy that.”

It was a temporary victory. Leader knew Right Hand wasn’t convinced. They knew Medic would follow up. But it bought them time. Time to get their legs under them, to push forward before their body made the decision for them.

One foot forward. Then another. They could make it. Just a little further.

By the time they reached the rendezvous point, the team was already scanning the area. Leader slowed their steps and forced their posture straight despite the ache settling deep in their bones. They had to look put together. They had to make this convincing.

Right Hand was the first to spot them, eyes narrowing. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to be sure I wasn’t being followed,” Leader replied easily, keeping their breathing controlled. The pain on their side screamed with every step, but they ignored it. “What’s the situation?”

“Clear for now,” Tech answered. “But we should move. You sure you’re good?”

Leader ignored. “Let’s go.”

Medic shot them a few sidelong glances, and Youngest, frowning, stepped a little closer than usual.

“You’re walking weird,” Youngest muttered. “You sure you’re—”

“Tired,” Leader cut in smoothly. “Like the rest of you. Let’s just get home.”

The team exchanged glances but didn’t push further. That was good. They could hold it together until they got back. They had to.

The return to base was quiet, the weight of the mission settling over them. But as they stepped into the safety of home, Leader felt their body beginning to betray them. The dull ache in their ribs had sharpened. Their breaths came just a little too short. They fought to keep their posture straight, to keep their steps steady, but every movement sent another wave of pain rolling through them.

“Leader?” Right Hand’s voice cut through the quiet. Too sharp. Too perceptive. Sometimes their willingness to attend was too much for Leader.

“What?” Leader asked anyway, keeping their voice level.

“You’re pale,” Tech observed. “Like, really pale.”

“We just got out of a fight,” Leader deflected, rolling their shoulders as if they weren’t stiff with pain. “I’ll be back in shape for the debrief in the morning.”

They turned toward their quarters, already willing their body to hold out just a little longer. They could make it that far. Just a few more steps.

Then the pain flared, sudden and brutal. Their stomach twisted, their breath caught—and before they could stop themselves, they staggered.

“Leader!” Right Hand was at their side in an instant, hands hovering as if unsure whether to reach out.

“Just—” Leader swallowed against the rising nausea, forcing a weak smirk. “Guess I overdid it.”

Leader didn’t realise that they were being surrounded by the team. Their vision blurred again, but this time they clung to Right Hand.

“That’s not overdoing it,” Medic said sharply. “That’s ignoring yourself.”

“I’m fine,” Leader started, but their voice wavered, and their legs followed suit. The room tilted, and before they could brace themselves, Right Hand lowered them to the ground.

“You’re not fine,” Right Hand said, voice tight with frustration. “Sit before you fall.”

Leader wanted to argue, but the ground was already slipping away. They were guided to lay down before they could hit the floor.

“I just need—” Leader started, but Medic was already crouching beside them, pressing fingers to their wrist, checking vitals.

“You need medical attention,” Medic corrected. “Your heart rate’s off. Something’s wrong. How long were you going to keep this up?”

“Enough for it to pass,” Leader muttered. They tried to offer a smile, but it fell away as another wave of dizziness hit.

“Idiot,” Youngest muttered, running a hand through their hair in frustration. “You could’ve just said something, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Their body felt heavier by the second, exhaustion hitting harder than they wanted to admit.

“Yeah, hilarious,” Right Hand said, voice tight. “Just keep your eyes open.”

“I’m trying,” Leader admitted, blinking. “No promises.”

Youngest shifted closer, watching them with something too close to fear. “You scared me,” they muttered. “You scared all of us.”

Leader exhaled slowly, trying to ease the weight pressing against their ribs. “Didn’t mean to.”

“Too late.”

Right Hand adjusted their grip to keep Leader upright. “Stop pushing yourself. We’ve got you.”

Leader wanted to respond, wanted to brush it off with one last joke, but the fatigue was too much. They let their eyes close, just for a moment. Their team had them.

Oh well. I can give you werewolf and vampire whumpees, but I don’t write romance well. Sorry if that’s what you wanted.

Warning: Werewolf whumpee, vampire whumpee, blood, murder.

Vampire didn’t feel guilty about feeding from humans. They didn’t feel guilty as long as they didn’t kill them. They didn’t feel guilty about killing them, too, if the humans attacked them. Werewolf, on the other hand, despised it. They hated spilling blood, even if it cost them.

Vampire wondered if anything would change with a little more persuasion as they ran behind Werewolf, not flying just because their companion couldn’t. Werewolf ran beside them, limping but keeping up. Both of them were hurt, but Vampire could keep their head up. The arrow only grazed their arm while Werewolf was shot in their tight and back.

Another arrow buzzed past Vampire’s ear, making them stumble. It was enough. They turned back and didn’t remember the rest, until they were standing between the only hunter remaining aiming at them and Werewolf on the ground.

Vampire barely registered the blur of movement between then and now—the rush of instinct taking over, the sheer rage clouding their mind. All they knew was the scent of fresh blood thick in the air, the trembling hunter before them, and Werewolf’s ragged breathing behind them.

The hunter’s hands shook around the crossbow, their confidence cracking now that their prey had turned predator. Vampire tilted their head, baring sharp teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You should’ve taken the shot when you had the chance.”

The hunter’s finger twitched on the trigger.

Faster than a breath, Vampire lunged.

The crossbow fired—too slow. The bolt barely nicked Vampire’s shoulder before they wrenched the weapon from the hunter’s grasp, snapping it like kindling. Their other hand shot forward, gripping the hunter’s throat and slamming them against a tree.

“Vampire.” Werewolf’s voice was hoarse, strained with pain. A warning. A plea.

Vampire’s grip tightened. They could feel the frantic pulse beneath their fingers, the warmth of life so easy to snuff out. The hunger curled in their stomach, an insidious whisper in their mind. The hunter had tried to kill them. Had hurt Werewolf. Would do it again, given the chance.

“Vampire.” This time, Werewolf’s voice was weaker.

Vampire didn’t listen. They snapped the neck like a toothpick. Paid the sins of their ancestors just like the hunters tried to make Vampire and Werewolf do.

Werewolf stared. Vampire stiffened.

Vampire crouched down beside them, arms already reaching to lift Werewolf. “I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” Vampire muttered. They would have to pull the arrows later, when they had the necessary supplies so Werewolf wouldn’t bleed out.

Werewolf eyed arounf for a moment, not talking. They opened their mouth and then closed again, before sighing. “I don’t have the energy for one.”

Vampire huffed nervously and didn’t push their luck as they carried Werewolf to their home.

Warning for drowning.

Whumpee knew how to dive. They knew how to fall. But apparently, knowing didn’t equal being able to do it. And for something that was a source of life, water hurt. It hurt as if Whumpee was thrown into concrete, their breath knocking out of them. It overrode the cold invading their body, the sudden weight on their skin.

For a moment, Whumpee failed to grasp where was up and where was down. Bubbles covered their vision, their eyes hurting with salt getting into them. They trashed where they were, their lungs burning. Whumpe wanted to breathe. They had to breathe.

Water filled their lungs as they ran out of strength. They stilled themselves with one last effort. They were done for.

Whumpee didn’t know if they hallucinate a rescue. They didn’t know if they had surfaced somehow. They didn’t know if water shredded their lungs or if they coughed their lungs out to get the water off. They only surrendered to the dark, be it the embrace of water or arms of Caretaker.