For the ask game, could you maybe combine 3 and 5?
from this ask game
3–bridal carry // 5–protectiveness
—
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Whumper’s taunting voice echoed throughout the room. “I’ve got someone here who’s just dying to see you.”
Caretaker bit back the urge to cuss them out. Whumpee. They had Whumpee with them. So close, right there, and yet Caretaker was crouched in the shadows like a coward. They trembled with sheer rage.
Then they heard the click of the safety being released on a gun. Suddenly they couldn’t breathe. Whumpee’s small noise of terror was as loud as gunshots.
“It goes without saying, I should think, that denial of my requests does lead to consequences.”
A startled, pained yelp was wrenched from Whumpee’s throat. Caretaker’s hands tightened into fists. Not yet. They had to wait for the signal, they had to—
“Who was it you kept saying would come for you, little thing? What was that name?” Whumper’s smile oozed into their mocking words.
They sounded on the verge of tears. “C-caretaker.”
“That’s right! Caretaker. Imagine, Whumpee, you spend so long saying they’ll come for you, go through so much just for the hope of seeing them again, and them finally coming—only to let you get shot right in front of them, while they cower in the shadows.”
Some kind of mangled sob split through the air. Caretaker felt numb with fury.
They spoke again, softer now. “And if you’d just admitted they didn’t really care for you we wouldn’t be in this whole mess, would we, now?”
Caretaker hurtled out of their hiding spot before they had a moment to think, shoulders heaving. “Get away from them,” they spat.
Whumper’s smile was poison. “Ah, our brave hero emerges at last.”
Whumpee kneeled in front of them, hands tied, clothes hanging loosely off of their battered form. Tears soaked their cheeks, and Whumper’s free hand was wound tightly into their hair, tugging their head painfully upright.
“Well, Whumpee? Say hello.”
Whumpee’s eyes slowly flickered up off of the floor, taking Caretaker in through a glassy haze. “Careta—” Whumper tugged their hair harshly and they whimpered. “Hhh, hello.”
“Get your hands off of them, Whumper.” Caretaker’s fingers brushed the handle of their weapon, which didn’t go without Whumper’s notice.
“Ah ah ah, let’s have none of that.” Their tone was infuriatingly playful as they shoved the barrel of their gun against Whumpee’s head. “I’m sure we don’t want things to get nasty. In fact, why don’t you put that lovely little toy on the ground in front of you, and I won’t accidentally do something…drastic.”
Whumper caressed Whumpee’s cheek with the gun, drawing out a hard flinch and chuckling at the gasp of pain it caused.
Caretaker’s jaw flexed, but nonetheless they eased their weapon out of its socket and placed it in front of them, stepping away. “There. Now put the gun away.”
Whumper laughed. “Nah, I don’t think I will. It’s just too fun, seeing the both of you all jumpy like this.” They returned the barrel to rest at Whumpee’s temple. “So. Do you have what I asked for?”
Caretaker swallowed. “Whumpee first.”
“How dumb do you think I am?” Whumper quirked an eyebrow. “No. I’ll take the vial first.”
“How can you expect me to trust you not to kill them after I give it to you?”
Just a little more time.
Please.
There was that damned laugh again. “You’ll just have to trust me that I’m a lot more likely to shoot you than my little Whumpee here once I have what I want. Frankly I’ve grown quite attached to them.”
Caretaker’s skin crawled. They weren’t certain if that was better or far worse than what they’d expected.
Whumper’s finger tightened slightly over the trigger of the gun—they knew how closely Caretaker was watching. Knew that that would be enough of a warning.
“Wai—”
A bang! split the room.
Caretaker lunged forward, practically throwing themselves at Whumpee. Whumper crumpled to the floor before they were even close, dark red pooling around them. Whumpee still knelt there, looking numb, almost empty, as blood seeped around their knees. Caretaker had to hold back a cry of relief when they reached them, finally. They had them safe again.
Caretaker wrapped their arms around Whumpee, sweeping them up in a hug. Whumpee took a shuddering breath that had the sound to it of coming awake out of a dream. Or a nightmare. Trembling hands found Caretaker’s torso, grasped loosely at their shirt.
“You came,” Whumpee breathed. They sounded reverent, like they couldn’t have been sure it would ever happen.
“I came. I will always come to find you, Whumpee.” Caretaker lingered on the name. On the sheer elation of being able to say it while holding them, trembling and traumatized and sitting in a pool of blood but okay now.
And Whumpee suddenly wailed. They abandoned themself completely into Caretaker’s arms, curling against them and sobbing. It was all Caretaker could do not to copy them.
Footsteps clattered down an echoey hallway.
“What the hell was that?” Sniper snapped. Whumpee jerked in a harsh flinch against Caretaker. “I barely finished clearing the location and you had already thrown our plan to the dogs!”
Caretaker stood, leaning Whumpee against them and scooping them up into a bridal carry. They weren’t sure how far they would be able to walk, but they knew for sure they didn’t want to push Whumpee until they found out. Whumpee just readjusted their grip on Caretaker’s shirt, eyes drooping. Some kind of adrenaline crash.
“I didn’t have a choice,” they said firmly. Leader and Fighter had walked up beside Sniper.
“The plan was there so you wouldn’t have to make any choices.” Leader had a makeshift bandage wrapped around one arm. They looked more than a little miffed.
Caretaker grit their teeth, pulling Whumpee in closer to their chest. “It all turned out the way we wanted, didn’t it?”
“That’s not really the point. In order to be part of a team—”
“No,” Caretaker interrupted, furiously. “It was either sacrifice the plan or sacrifice Whumpee. They could have died, and none of you have even asked if they’re okay!” They paused for a moment, but no one filled the silence. Another tear slipped down Whumpee’s cheek.
Caretaker started for the door, but no one moved to follow. They turned around slowly. “What are you all doing? We have to make sure they’re not injured.”
Leader’s jaw flexed. “There’s still work that needs to be done here.”
“Whumper is dead!”
“And there are things we must attend to because of that. You can wait with Whumpee in the transport if it will make you feel better.”
Caretaker looked down at Whumpee again. They hadn’t noticed before how pale their skin was, how their cheeks were more gaunt than they’d seen them before. Even if they weren’t injured, they deserved to be put before everything else.
“No.” Caretaker spat the word, decisive enough to stop the team in its tracks. “I’m not waiting for you. I’m leaving, and I’m taking them back to my house. And if any of you decide to come visit them, it’s on you to explain to them why being ‘part of a team’ means you put dead trash bags above your own hurt members.”
Sniper looked furious. “Caretaker—”
“Don’t. talk to me.” They spun on their heel and left without looking back.
