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whumpflash · 1 year ago

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Acacia Aneura: On and Up

cw: noncon drugging, beating aftermath, slavery/captivity, branding, briefly mentioned noncon

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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Most scavs were loners at heart, and Judd was no exception. He had friends back at the camp, sure. They'd swap tips, share tools, maybe even split a haul if someone came up empty handed. But not a single one would stick their neck out for him. Judd didn't expect them to. He sure as hell wouldn't do it for them, not if he could get away scott-free.

So why the fuck had Skye come back for him?

The thought burned away at his skull, dancing the fucking two-step with the bitter dismay of his failure to escape.

Judd and Skye were each fitted with heavy restraints, courtesy of the slaver's market; an apology to the buyer for the hassle the pair had caused. The man saw fit to drug them both for the ride as well, pinching Judd's nose and forcing his jaw apart when he tried to fight it. Not Compliance, but something thick and bitter that leadened his limbs and made him drowsy. The two captives were tossed into a storage compartment in the back of the buyer's transport, and locked inside.

Judd tried to reposition himself in a way that didn't put too much pressure on his bound arms, grimacing as the compartment began to rumble with the start of the vehicle's motor. This was it, then. He was about to disappear from the wastes, maybe forever.

As shitty and brutal as the desert could be, it was still his home, and the fear of leaving it all behind overpowered the heavy pull of the drug, keeping him from slipping under.

Beside him, he could feel Skye struggling into a better position. There was hardly any room to move between the two of them, and by the time he stopped his squirming, he was leaning heavy on Judd. Any other circumstance, he would've shoved the other man away. Cussed him out. But the drug and his throbbing head and the feeling that he owed the older man something, kept him silent.

For some reason, he was caught by surprise when Skye spoke.

"Listen close, bully," he mumbled, his words coming out half-slurred. "Man who has us is very rich, and he came down to the market himself. Hand-picked you." He paused, taking a shaky breath. "Means he has a purpose already in mind for you. Likely either as a pit fighter or a pet."

"Pet?" Judd repeated.

"Bedslave," Skye replied, confirming what Judd already knew, and intensifying the sinking feeling in his stomach.

He clenched his jaw, willing the feeling away. It didn't have to happen. He could still escape.

But even as he thought it, he knew how pointless that hope was.

"What about you?" he asked.

The older man shrugged against him. "I'm an afterthought. Pits or labor. Doesn't matter." His voice sharpened. "You need to get him to make you a fighter. Don't know if that's what he's already got planned, but if it's not, you need to change his mind."

Judd scowled, despite knowing Skye couldn't see it. "What difference does it make? Still a slave either way."

"Fighters need to put on a show," Skye said, suppressing a wince as he shifted again. "They escape the drugs, the Compliance, at least when they're getting ready for a match. They get to train. It's your best chance at escape."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The better your chances, the less I have to worry about you."

Judd grunted, pressing his cheek against the metal inner wall of the transport. "You should've just fucking ran," he said in a near-whisper.

"That's where you're wrong," Skye replied. "I couldn't be responsible for a fellow scav losing his freedom."

"Now you're responsible for two."

Skye had no response for that. Judd pushed further into the wall, until the pressure on his face built to something almost painful, biting past the dragging effects of the drug. He was going about this wrong, he knew. He was shackled, in the hands of a man who thought he could own him, on the way to a city that might as well be alien. He needed all the allies he could get.

"What about the kid?" Judd said, changing the subject. "Is he—?"

"She is miles away at our camp. Safe." The way he said it sounded almost sad. Resigned.

"What's going to happen to her if you're…" Judd bit the inside of his cheek. "With me?"

A sigh from Skye. "She… I told her not to come after me. Said if I was gone more than a week, to just move on."

"Just move on?"

"Hell knows if she'll listen or not." Affectionate. "Evyr'll be okay. She's a tough kid. She knows I wouldn't just leave her. That if I don't come back it's… it's because I can't."

Judd swallowed. "You said becoming a fighter's the best chance at escape. You think there is a chance then?"

"There's always a chance. Tough one, but scavs are tough. We can make it, but we gotta stick together best we can."

"Thought you said you don't wanna have to worry about me?"

"Doesn't mean I'm gonna leave you high and dry. Faster alone, further together, ever hear that saying?"

The transport suddenly stopped, metal shuddering and creaking. Judd flinched as an odd feeling spread over him, a drop in his stomach. Were they..?

"Don't panic," Skye mumbled. "It's the lifting mechanism. Moves transports up to the floating cities. Kind of like a… shit, y'don't know what an elevator is, do you?" He sighed. "It's taking us up. That's what's important."

"What about getting back down?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

Judd grunted in response. How the fuck did Skye know so much, anyway? How could he be so sure about any of this?

The odd drop in his stomach stopped before long, and soon after, the transport slowed. A pair of burly men, neither of them the buyer, threw open the door to the storage compartment and hefted its occupants out. Judd's legs gave out the moment he tried to put any weight on them, the drug's lingering effects rearing their ugly head.

They were in a small concrete bay, empty aside from the transport, and cold. They had air cooling units at Judd's camp, but they didn't offer much against the heat of the wastes, and were nothing compared to the chill of the room.

In the light, Skye was looking worse for the wear; blood drying on his lips, in his hair, one eye swelling shut. With the hits Judd had taken, he doubted he looked much better, and the pain and the cool air and the drug all combined to leave him shivering. No doubt the picture of a pathetic mess.

The buyer was climbing down from the passenger compartment of the transport, and it gave Judd some meager comfort to see that he was sporting a black eye.

"Where do you want them, Mr. Burke?" One of the burly men hefted him to his knees by the collar, and he winced as it dug into his already-bruised throat, adjusting his position so he could still fucking breathe.

"Have them processed and put in a holding cell," Burke responded, adjusting his shirt collar. "I still need to decide on a sufficient punishment." He disappeared through a shiny white door as soon as he finished spouting the instructions, and his goons hauled Judd and Skye roughly to their feet, pulling them to a second, significantly less shiny door.

It opened on a staircase that was somehow even colder than the bay room. Getting down it while chained and dizzy was no easy feat, but both men managed to reach the bottom without falling.

There was a hall, then another door, and another, and then they seemed to have reached their destination; yet another fucking concrete room.

Rubber tubes dangled from the ceiling, and below them, rows of metal drawers lined the walls. In one corner sat a squat furnace. If not for the absence of any parts, it'd look like the kind of repair bays Judd had seen in the grounded cities. A pretty well-equipped one at that.

The man holding Judd dragged him toward one of the hanging tubes, pulling the chain around his neck taut and attaching it to a hook above his head. Burke's goon grabbed the nearest tube and took a step back, angling it at Judd, who let out a strangled gasp as a jet of cold water came spurting out.

Somewhere behind him, he could hear the sound of tearing fabric, followed by protesting curses. Skye was getting the same treatment.

The stream of water soaked into his hair, drenched his skin, worsened his shivering. He watched as the red dust of the wastes washed off him, trickled into the drain.

So much water. A city luxury stealing what little he had left of his home. How stupid was he, to mourn for dust?

The man unhooked his collar and dragged him closer to the furnace. If nothing else, Judd was grateful for the slight heat coming from it, lessening the chill that gripped him. He felt the goon reach behind him, fastening his wrists to the wall.

"Don't move, or this will be a lot worse."

The other goon was hauling Skye over, attaching his restraints to another point in the wall to keep him in place as he reached towards the furnace, pulling out a long metal rod.

A choked, almost fearful sound escaped Skye, and only then did Judd realize what was about to happen. He thrashed, as if he were capable of breaking metal with something as weak as fear. The restraints dug painfully into his wrists.

"Shit— shit, no, don't—!"

"Hold him."

A hand closed around the back of his collar, yanking his head back, better exposing his chest.

Judd cursed as the red-hot iron came closer to him, too panicked to make out the outline of whatever it was they were about to brand him with. He tried again to jerk away, but the man holding him gripped the collar tighter, cutting off his air.

The metal seared into his skin, right below his collarbone, and his scream came out strangled, warped by the pressure on his throat.

Vision white, dizzy from the drug and the pain and the lack of air, Judd's legs buckled. The goon holding his collar caught him, wrapping an arm around his waist and propping him up.

The smell of his own burning flesh was like cooking meat, and it sickened him that it made him feel almost hungry, of all things.

Judd blinked away tears, breathing through clenched teeth as he waited for the pain to ebb, even just a little.

Across from him, Skye's head was hung as the man with the iron approached him, the burning brand in his grip.

The older man didn't try to struggle or curse. He didn't even look up.

But he still let out a blood-curdling scream as the iron pressed into his skin.

When it came away, leaving Skye panting, though still upright, it left behind a bright red circle with a pair of B's in it, mirroring each other, as if to form the outline of a butterfly.

They did Skye's on the right side, not over his heart like Judd's, and when he squinted through blurry vision he could see why.

Over Skye's heart, below his collarbone, was a different mark. An encircled pair of X's, one overlapping the other.

Another brand.

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@kira-the-whump-enthusiast @kixngiggles

#dun dun dunnn #acacia aneura #whump writing #judd harlow #post apocalyptic #apocalypse whump #slavery tw #branding #tw noncon drugging #manhandling #collar whump #tw choking #noncon strip #older whumpee #multiple whumpees #carewhumpee

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deviant-doughnut · 3 months ago

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Augusnippets Day Eighteen

Chosen Prompt: Apocalypse

CW: Dubcon; trans guy MC having unprotected vaginal sex; non-consensual bareback orgasm; dubcon orgasm denial; starvation; spoiled food.

There’s little need for privacy these days, so the stranger leads him into the tall grass and gestures without words to the ground. Klaus’s stomach aches badly with hunger.

If his mental calendar remains correct, he’s been on this road for four days — walking in desperate search of a village he’s starting to think isn’t real. A place, he was told by the last group he encountered, where food and drink remain readily available, and upon which the dead things have yet to descend. The news gripped him like a fever dream — a community so small that the creatures have missed it, too focussed on cities and towns to have ventured out this far. But Klaus has waded through three frigid nights to be met with yet more barren landscape. His phone is long dead, the internet defunct. He’s slowly losing track of the date, and his body is weak and groaning with hunger.

He flicks his eyes to the stranger’s bag, mind caught on the offering hidden inside. One loaf of bread for an ounce of his time, for whatever brief entertainment his body can offer. He hasn’t been fucked since the dead things descended, since the world began its sudden unravelling. The stranger’s pale eyes are fixed to him, unblinking, his mouth a thin line of impatience. His stomach emits an audible groan, a type of plea, of crying out. He hasn’t had something as good as bread in seventy days — or maybe seventy one.

Klaus drops his rucksack into the rustling grass, and lowers himself onto his back.

“Take your clothes off,” the stranger tells him. “All of them.”

“It’s cold,” Klaus protests. He’s met with a stare that sends tremors through him — not fear, but something not far from it.

“You’re hungry,” says the stranger, “and I haven’t had a good fuck in a long time. I’m not giving you this bread for nothing.”

“Sure,” says Klaus, already unbuttoning his shirt. “Okay, okay.”

Part of him expects the stranger to follow suit, but all he does is watch. His eyes roam over Klaus’s rakish frame, painfully thin from the scarcity of sustenance. When Klaus kicks his threadbare jeans from his ankles, the stranger kneels between them and squeezes his knees like a warning. He digs his nails in, a featherlight threat, and Klaus’s heart thunders as he swallows a sigh. Annoyance sparks through him at the man’s callous nature, but the hunger feels like a miserable sickness, and he spreads his legs for him anyway.

The stranger pulls himself out of sweats, and fucks him with all of his clothes on. It takes Klaus a while to get wet. The stretch is sudden and the intrusion burns. Klaus gasps and hears himself whining.

“Not so fast,” he says, squirming in the dirt, fingertips coming to the stranger’s broad chest, pressing to tentatively halt him.

“Shh,” says the stranger. “This is perfect.”

Klaus turns his head to the side and shuts his eyes, listens to the breeze and the man’s ragged grunts. He ruts into him roughly and fast, Klaus but a rag doll beneath him. He keeps his legs splayed, feels his heart in his throat when the stranger takes his teeth to it. He fucks him until Klaus’s body responds, rutting into him until his wetness is audible. Beneath the stranger’s loveless thrusts, a pleasure ghosts softly in tendrils. The stranger rolls his hips and Klaus keens with the pulsing of his g-spot. His body shakes, his breath trembles. He reaches down to touch himself and the stranger takes his wrist in a vice grip. He pins it high above Klaus’s head, the bones aching sharp in the dirt.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” He asks, voice ragged and low.

“N-no,” Klaus whimpers, body rocked roughly beneath him. “But it’s been so long.”

“I’ll get you off when I’m ready,” he tells him, pushing so deeply into him that Klaus’s mouth falls open wide, yet all that emerges is a squeak. “You’re mine to play with, remember?”

“Yes, sir,” Klaus whispers, and the stranger cuts his own moan short with a sudden bruising kiss. His tongue plunges into Klaus’s mouth. The pain deep inside him scrapes at the edges of his pleasure. The stranger slows and quickens more times than Klaus can count, drawing out his own pleasure and denying Klaus the bulk of his own. His clit throbs keenly between them, his slick inviting the stranger to be rougher.

“Oh god,” he breathes, thrusting passionately. “Oh fuck. Good boy. You’re taking it so well.”

“Thank you,” Klaus murmurs, his eyes wet, his insides aching, his stomach warm with the pleasure, the heat of it spreading to his thighs. His eyes roll back as the stranger’s breaths grow suddenly shorter, as if panicked.

“I’ve missed this,” he gasps.

“M-me too,” says Klaus, though a large part of him wants it to be over already.

“I’m gonna come inside you,” the stranger announces, voice strained with the grip of his pleasure. His hips stutter badly out of their rhythm. The pain and the pleasure persist. Klaus’s thoughts never turned to protection, too fixed on the promise of food.

“Wait,” he whispers, barely audible under the sounds of their sex, of the stranger’s desperate gasping.

The stranger comes inside of him, muffles his yell by sinking his teeth into him. He bites into the space between Klaus’s shoulder and neck, his desperate cry muted immediately.

Klaus, on the other hand, wails.

The stranger’s release spills quickly inside him, a rush of sudden hot wetness. Klaus’s heart pounds like a fist, each heartbeat jolting wildly through him. The pain in his neck gets worse when the stranger withdraws, an open wound exposed to the night — the harsh air of what should, he thinks, have been October. He lies in the grass beneath the stranger, waits as he catches his breath.

“That was incredible,” says the stranger, rolls his hips, still half hard deep inside him and fucking him lazily. “Did I hurt you?”

Klaus considers this, a flickering light in the back of his mind that warns him to be careful how he answers.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, not sure which response the stranger would prefer. He feels his eyes fixed on the wound on his neck, the proof that the dead things might not yet have reached him, but that something else sank its teeth in.

The stranger pulls out of then, makes him gasp at the drag of his cock against his sensitive walls. The stranger chuckles, tucks himself away. He reaches into his bag, tosses the loaf of bread onto the ground beside Klaus.

“Found it in a freezer,” he shrugs. “Kept going by a generator. Pretty cool, I guess. After all this time.”

“Yeah,” Klaus says, not wanting to engage with this man much further. He still feels him deep inside him, swollen and throbbing from the fervour with which he had fucked him. Klaus forces a smile, one that portrays his desire to cease their brief and hollow relationship. The stranger adjusts himself in his pants, then spits crudely onto the ground.

“Thanks,” he says, and turns away from him.

“You too,” Klaus mumbles. He watches the stranger retreat, waits until he’s far enough away not to see him when he tears into the plastic wrapping, undignified in his hunger, made only worse by the exertion he was put through. Klaus’s mouth waters, his stomach groan loudly. He’s naked still, and almost laughing by the time he frees the first slice, near hysterical at the thought of eating it.

And then he halts.

The bread is soggy. Freshly defrosted, Klaus reminds himself, and nowhere for the moisture to air out of. He holds it at eye level and examines it closely. There’s too much mould on this slice to eat, globs of hairy green clinging to its edges, spreading like bruises in its middle. He sets this slice aside for a moment, atop his discarded clothes as he pulls out the next one, heart thudding in dread.

He finds the next slice the same, wet and turning slowly green. He sighs. His shoulders slump, and he’s struck with such a sudden lurch of homesickness — not only for a place he misses, but for a reality that has been lost to man — that his eyes well with stinging tears.

Klaus lets some of them fall, lets himself sob quietly in the tall grass as the breeze ripples around his naked frame. He mourns the past. He’d give anything to go back to that time, to freeze himself somewhere deep in the middle of his most inconvenient day of normality. He’d give anything now, for any of it. Klaus cries until his sobs come dry. He wipes the wetness from his face, pushes one slice of bread back into the bag and takes the other in a trembling hand.

His stomach rumbles so hard that it hurts. He gets to work picking the mould off.

Thanks to @augusnippets for this event!

#augusnippets #augusnippets day 18 #whump #cw dubcon #Apocalypse whump #trans whumpee

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generic-whumperz · 8 months ago

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This show is so underrated 😭

z nation - 1x3 philly feast

#z nation #znationedit #cassandra z nation #horrorgifs #Whumpy gifs #taser #electrocution #tw electrocution #apocalypse whump

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questions-about-blorbos · 2 months ago

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This request was sent to us and we made a poll in response to it. Send any Blorbo-related question you want to our inbox and we’ll make a poll on which people can vote with their own Blorbos in minds

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generic-whumperz · 1 year ago

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Two unlikely strangers collide and learn to put aside their differences to work together for a chance to survive the dual threats of red room internet stardom and the apocalypse.

(This story takes place within the Apocamerica AU)

Writing: A03 | Backstory | Progressing Storyline

Playlists (story and characters, Spotify & YouTube Music links)

General Content Warnings (18+)

Character Info

(Tentative) Timeline

(Amateur) Art:

Bad Procreate Portrait! +Backstory

Basement Dayz

SPD Basement Haunting

OC Week Day 5: Powers

Other:

"Life Before" Backstory ask

OC in 3 (Aid vibe pics, visual references)

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urlocalwhumper · 1 year ago

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whumpee and carewhumper in a cruel, harsh world. (maybe post-apocalypse, maybe wartime, maybe it just sucks)

carewhumper doesn't hurt whumpee because they enjoy it. in fact, it pains them to do so. but they learned the hard way that might makes right in this world, and whumpee is certainly lacking in might.

whumpee is small, weak, and frail, with a kind, gentle heart. all things that drew carewhumper to them back before the world hardened them into what they are now. now, they can only see those attributes as weaknesses, things to potentially be exploited by others.

carewhumper firmly believes that whumpee would've died years ago if it weren't for them. maybe they're right.

whumpee doesn't hate carewhumper for any of this. they remember the person they used to be, the curious child who used to think whumpee was something special. they know carewhumper still loves them deep down. that they only want them safe, as twisted as their methods are.

the same hands that punched a tooth out of their mouth also carried them back home ever-so gently, pressed gauze to the gum until it stopped bleeding, and fed them painkillers and ice cream to help with the lingering soreness.

"i'm sorry." carewhumper had said, brushing whumpee's hair away from their eyes. "i went too far. i didn't mean to knock your tooth out." they sighed. "but you need to learn, alright? it's dangerous out there, you can't make yourself so vulnerable."

"i'm sorry." whumpee rasped. "i won't do it again."

carewhumper huffed drily. "you better not."

they nudged whumpee until they were leaning their head against carewhumper's shoulder, carewhumper's arm resting around their shoulders.

"but it's okay. i forgive you."

#whump #whump prompts #abusive relationship whump #whumpee x whumper #you can read their relationship however you like tbh #apocalypse whump #doesn't have to be but yk might as well #carewhumper #mine

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redd956 · 1 year ago

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Mini Whump Prompt 124

"It's just you and me.", Whumper announced cheerily to the open nothingness for miles, while whumpee listened.

Whumper wasn't lying. Whumper simply had the resources during the apocalypse. They simply happened to be the only other person for weeks of travel that whumpee knew truly existed.

It was risk their life to see no one ever again, with nothing to eat and drink, or stay with whumper. At least then they were fed half of the time.

#apocalypse whump #whump #whumper #whumpee #whump ideas #whump prompts #mini whump prompts #mini whump prompt #whump promt #cw food insecurity #cw apocalypse

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curiositysavesthecat · 3 months ago

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*This poll was submitted to us and we simply posted it so people could vote and discuss their opinions on the matter. If you’d like for us to ask the internet a question for you, feel free to drop the poll of your choice in our inbox and we’ll post them anonymously (for more info, please check our pinned post).

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whumpflash · 2 years ago

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More Judd (and Skye) ///// Acacia Aneura Masterlist

#dramatization of chapter five lol #whump art #acacia aneura #multiple whumpees #older whumpee #defiant whumpee #tw choking #tw blood #bruising tw #apocalypse whump #beaten #Evyr is about to be out for BLOOD

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whumpster-dumpster · 1 month ago

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Whump Community at large, I got an exciting show rec for you! On October Eighteenth there's a show coming out called Edge of Sleep and It's based on a podcast that is just a whump fest and a half. It's set in an apocalypse where anyone who falls asleep dies, so this little band of desperate fighters has to figure out what's going on before they get too exhausted and fall asleep too. Sleep deprivation is one of my fave tropes and I know a lot of other people like it too so I thought I'd put it out there if anyone's interested 👏

Ooo, that does sound like fun 👀 I'll have to check it out!

#whump #recommendation #sleep deprivation #apocalypse #answered ask #anonymous

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 month ago

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Drink With Me (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 6. self-sacrifice Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, Vampire Apocalypse AU Summary: Two years after Jake was forced to watch you ripped apart by the creatures that now terrorize the world, he is a shell of the man he once was. However, a familiar voice calling to him in the dark may give him a second chance. Word Count: 5911 TW: Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Vampires, Character Death, Murder, Grief, Biting, Mention of Suicidal Thoughts, Drinking (alcohol and blood), Language Notes: Not beta read so sorry for any mistakes! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event! 💗

Series Masterlist

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

“No….No!”

He tries to race to your side, to stop the torment playing out before his eyes, but he is held back by hundreds of hands wrapping around him, pulling him away. Fighting against them with every ounce of his strength, he screams, “Get the fuck off of me! We need to help her! No! What the fuck are you doing?”

“She’s gone, Hangman,” dozens of disembodied voices whisper in unison from the darkness behind him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s nothing else anyone can do for her now. It’s over. It’s been over for years. You failed. Just as you continue to fail every night.”

“No! I can save her! Please, let me save her this time!” Jake sobs as he continues to struggle against whatever is holding him back. “Please!”

But it’s no use. He’s not strong enough. As he is dragged farther and farther away, he sees you lift your head one last time, panic and pain etched across your face. You lock eyes with him and just have time to scream a terrified, “Jake!” before one of the creatures rips your throat out with its teeth—

Jake bolts upright with a deep gasp, only to immediately collapse back onto his mattress with a pitiful moan. He grabs his head as it throbs painfully with every beat of his racing heart and he squeezes his eyes together tightly in an attempt to stop the world from spinning around him. But it does little to help. His nearly naked body feels sticky and gross tangled in his soiled sheet and he wonders if it’s just sweat from the nightmare, or if he vomited in his sleep again. Maybe both…probably both.

At least he is fairly certain he hadn’t pissed himself this time if the intense pressure in his bladder is any indication. However, he doesn’t have the faintest desire to crawl to the bathroom so he’ll worry about those consequences later. Instead, he rolls over and tries to push your final agonized scream from his mind so he can go back to some semblance of sleep.

Just as he begins to pass out again, he hears the curtain hanging around his small space being pushed back and the toe of a boot digs into his side. Without opening his eyes, he swats at the foot, trying to shove it away. “‘uck off, Phe,” he mumbles somewhat coherently. “‘s too early.”

“Tell that to the rest of us who have already been awake for several hours,” Phoenix snaps, driving her boot deeper into Jake’s ribs. When he tries to roll away, she sighs, “Do we really have to do this every morning? I’m not your fucking babysitter. Get up! Bob and I need your help setting up the trap while the light’s in the right position.”

There is nothing in the world that Jake wants to do more than ignore her and go back to sleep. However, she’s right. They do go through this every morning and by now he has accepted the fact that he can not win this argument. So, reluctantly, he peels open his eyes and squints up at her.

Seeing that some progress is being made, Phoenix removes her boot from his side and takes a few steps back. In doing so, she almost slips on the drink Jake had spilled the night before. Looking around his small space, she shakes her head.

“Jesus, Hangman,” she grumbles as she kicks a few empty wine bottles out of the way, sending them clinking across the floor only to crash into piles of more. “How the hell are you still consistently finding this much alcohol? We’re barely finding enough food.”

Heaving himself up until he’s sitting on the edge of his mattress, Jake rests his head heavily in his hands as the world continues to spin around him. Still slurring slightly, he mutters, “‘s not enough. Two bottles a night aren’t helpin’ anymore. Nightmare’s back.”

“Yeah, well, we’ve all got our own nightmares that haunt us and you don’t see the rest of us pickling our livers to deal with it.” She hurls a half-empty backpack at him which smacks into the side of his head, nearly knocking over his unsteady form. “Now get your shit together and meet us out front in thirty minutes. We’ve got work to do.” She stomps out of his little alcove to give him some privacy but then pivots to add, “And for fuck’s sake, take a shower.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jake steps out of the shower stall, a thread-bare towel wrapped low on his hips. He shivers slightly as he pads across the cold tile floor towards the sinks. The water heater broke a few months ago and with no one left in their dwindling group who knew how to fix it, freezing showers had become the norm. While they should be grateful they even had any water at all, Jake can’t help but recall a time when a hot shower was the best part of his day.

A soft gasp leaves your lips as he presses his bare body against yours, pinning you to the cool tile wall. Your eyes sparkle in the muted light filtered through the shower curtain as you gaze hungrily at him. Warm water flows over his back as he sinks into you—

No. No memories. Not now. Not when he doesn’t have the luxury of going back to his “room” and drowning them in booze.

Instead, Jake quickly dresses, trying his best not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Half the time—when there is still enough lingering alcohol in his system—he sees your mangled corpse standing behind his reflection. The other half, he left staring at the shell of the man he had become. In some ways, that’s worse because he knows it would break your heart to see what losing you has done to him.

Even though sanitation supplies had only really become a scarcity in the last few months, Jake had given up the will for self-grooming long before that. The tangled beard covering his sunken cheeks is a clear indication of that as is the long greasy strands of hair hanging limply in front of the dark circles surrounding his bloodshot eyes. You had always preferred him clean-shaven and with shorter hair. But you were gone so he didn’t give a fuck.

Exiting the bathroom, Jake heads toward the front of the church. He averts his eyes as he passes the bulletin board that had been converted into a memorial shrine for those they had lost. He remembers the days when there had only been a few names and pictures up there. Now, the fallen takes up every inch of the board and spills out across the wall. Jake used to use the board as his motivation to keep fighting, to not let more names be added to the list. But now that it contains so many faces of the people he cared deeply for or respected—you, Coyote, Iceman, Cyclone, Payback—it has become a constant reminder of all the ways he failed.

Once, this rag-tag group of survivors who had dubbed themselves The Daggers had numbered in the dozens. But now, there are only a handful left. And with supplies and food dwindling quickly, there is no telling how long it’ll be before the rest of them earn a place on the board.

As he pushes his way through the church doors, Jake recoils as he is hit with the full brightness of the sunny day. His headache which had previously dulled slightly in the cold shower came rushing back with a vengeance. Groaning, he digs his sunglasses out of the backpack Phoenix had thrown him earlier and places them on his face. They were a cheap plastic pair Coyote had picked up for him on one of his runs to the pharmacy over a year ago, but they at least cut out some of the glare.

Phoenix is leaning against the fence with her arms folded across her chest, a scowl carved deep into her face. Now that most of those originally in charge were no longer with them, the title of leader had fallen on her shoulders. For the past few months, she had done everything in her power to hold the group together despite the increasingly dire conditions—and one jackass of a drunk who makes her life that much more difficult.

Next to her, Bob scans the area just beyond the fence, his blue eyes alert behind his cracked glasses. With his unusual prescription, it’s been impossible to find a replacement after they slipped off his face running from a pack of creatures. He made it safely to the church in one piece—one of his lenses did not. Yet, he has never once complained or made excuses for his impaired vision.

They were the best of the remaining survivors and had become the only real hope the Daggers had left. Yet they spent most of their days dragging Jake’s sorry ass around to ensure he didn’t drink himself to death.

Jake had been like them once: always stepping up when volunteers were needed, doing what he could to fix what was broken, protecting the people within their group. But he hadn’t been that person for the past two years. Not since he had watched you devoured before his eyes as he stood on these very steps.

It was that moment he tried desperately to avoid every night in his dreams. Reliving that day over and over again. Knowing all the moments he could have done something differently or acted faster that would have saved you yet being unable to change anything. Just forced to hear your agonizing final screams before catching his last glimpse of you whispering his name…

He needs to find more alcohol.

“About fucking time,” Phoenix mutters under her breath, pushing herself off the fence.

Bob shoots her a stern look, one that softens as he turns his attention to the new arrival. “Thanks for helping us out, Jake. We appreciate the extra hands.”

“Not like she gave me much of a choice,” Jake mutters under his breath. But seeing the way Bob’s shoulders slump at his words, he does his best to smile at him. “But I’m here now so let’s do this.”

Bob’s smile returns and he nods happily at the other man. As he turns to exit the churchyard, Phoenix shoots Jake another dirty look. He knows despite Bob’s insistence that she keeps dragging Jake along with them, she’s afraid Jake’ll screw up and cost her or Bob their lives. And it’s a fair concern. After all, it’s his fault Bob was almost killed the time his glasses were damaged. Jake had been drunk on patrol and hadn’t seen the creatures until it was almost too late to warn the rest of the team. While Bob never blamed him, Phoenix did. She tried to be as supportive as possible when Jake first began to spiral, but after the incident with Bob, she only tolerated his antics for the sake of her partner. Though not even she despised this version of Jake as much as Jake despised himself.

Jake knew what a failure and a screwup he had become. Yet as much as he wished he could pull himself together and become the man he used to be, he also knew that there was only one person who could help him do that.

But you were never coming back.

It’s amazing how much the world can change in such a short amount of time. In the three short years since the creatures first appeared, the center of town is now virtually unrecognizable. Vines and various foliage scale the sides of all the buildings. Cars are abandoned in the middle of the street, some with their doors still open as their passengers fled from them. Every window has been dark since the power grid failed. And without the constant upkeep, everything is starting to decay.

The warehouse is no exception. Once bustling and full of life, it has now is a shadow of its former self. With very few windows save those by the entrance and no interior lights left to brighten the space, the interior becomes a black hole after walking just a few feet into it. However due to a collapse in the roof, at certain times of the day, a single shaft of light shines all the way down to the ground floor creating a small illuminated circle on the floor.

It is in this small safe haven that Jake finds himself. Echos bounce off the walls of the cavernous space as he puts the finishing touches on the trap in front of him. Four months ago, a few survivors passing through had shared what they had discovered with The Daggers—a way to kill the creatures. Jake still doesn’t understand how it works, something to do with converting normal light into an artificial sunlight of sorts, but luckily there were those smarter than him around who understood and harnessed this knowledge into weapons. Since then, The Daggers had managed to take out a few of the creatures. However, they quickly learned that attacking the creatures in the large packs they usually hunted in resulted in costly casualties on both sides.

It was Phoenix’s brilliant idea to take the stealth approach instead of the head-on one. They began setting traps in the area using motion lights in the hopes of eliminating some of the creatures stalking near their hideout in the middle of the night when they were at their most active. So far, they have had promising results.

Jake is almost done setting this trap. Then he can test it and use his flashlight to get himself from this shaft of light back outside. Hopefully, he’ll then have time to sneak off to try to find more alcohol before Phoenix and Bob return for him. He hasn’t checked the houses a few blocks to the east yet and maybe—

“Jake…”

Jake’s head snaps up as his heart freezes in his chest, the trap instantly forgotten. His eyes dart around the room searching for the source of the sound. But there’s no one else there. He’s alone…he’s always alone.

Yet, just as he begins to return to his job at hand, he sees something. Squinting, he peers deeper into the heart of the building and just makes out the faint outline of a single figure within the darkness.

Instincts kicking in, Jake draws his knife from his boot and drops into a defensive stance in the center of the beam of light, waiting for the attack he knows is coming. His eyes flicker around the space, searching the darkness for signs of the rest of the swarm, yet for now all he can see is the one in front of him. But he knows that can’t be it. The creatures hunt in groups, using their numbers to overwhelm and incapacitate their victims so escape is nigh on impossible. The only few loners they had come across over the years were ones that had been injured or were too malnourished to contribute to the next hunt.

But the figure standing before Jake doesn’t seem injured or blood-crazed. It stands straight and still, completely unmoving. For several moments, nothing happens. Though still cautious, Jake begins to relax his stance a little, wondering if his eyes or mind is just playing tricks on him.

But then, a voice cuts through the silence. “I was three blocks away when I caught your scent. I don’t know how, but I immediately knew it was you.”

The knife slips from Jake’s fingers, the clatter of metal on tile echoing around the cavernous room. The voice that he had not heard outside of his dreams for the past two years punches him in the chest, nearly bringing him to his knees as tears welled up in his eyes. “B-baby?”

There is a pause before the voice continues, unemotional and flat. “I should have bolted in any other direction, put as much space between us as possible but…I couldn’t. I’m selfish enough that I had to risk seeing you one last time.”

“Oh my god,” Jake breathes. “It’s really you.”

He takes a few stumbling steps towards the figure—towards you—but you draw back further into the shadows. “No! Stop! Stay in the light.” There is a panicked edge in your tone, the first sign of emotion you have let slip in, and it is enough to make Jake listen.

As much as he longs to launch himself into your arms, he reluctantly does what you ask. He lingers just shy of the darkness, the toes of his boots resting at the point where the last of the sunbeams fade on the tiles.

“How are you here?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“You know how.”

He did. It was a fear that had nestled in the back of his mind these past two years that he didn’t dare consider. Whether that was out of the fear of falling into despair or building up false hope, he didn’t know. But he had never let himself imagine this moment and, now that it was happening, he didn’t know what to do.

Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, he says, “You said you caught my scent…Do I smell as sexy as you remember?”

A surprised snort of laughter echoes throughout the room as you are taken aback by his question. But when you speak, he hears tears in your voice, “Yeah, Jake. As sexy as always.”

Whatever cold, distant shell you had put in place when you first arrived crumbled and Jake can now hear the real you behind the words. Swallowing, he murmurs, “Please…let me see you.”

Your outline shifts in the darkness. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Please, baby. For the last two years, all I could see was that last memory of you. I need this.”

“No. Seeing me like this is not going to be any better than seeing me like that. I’ve changed.”

“So have I. But I love you and I’ll still love you no matter what.”

For a moment, there is only silence. Then you whisper, “Step to the other side of the light.”

Jake immediately scrambles backward, almost falling as he stumbles over the long-forgotten trap. But he makes it to the outer rim of the circle of light and waits.

Slowly, your shape edges closer to the light. At first, Jake still can’t make out any details of the person in front of him. But when he does, his heart clenches in his chest.

There is no denying that it is the woman he loves standing before him but yet it’s not the you he remembers. Your skin has been drained of its color and now resembles that of a corpse, cold and lifeless. Sharp, pointed teeth jut out your mouth over bloodless lips and your fingers end in claw-like talons. You are still wearing the same clothes you had on the day you were attacked but they are shredded and stiff with dried blood in various colors ranging from bright red to rusty-brown. Jake wonders how much of it is yours and how much is your victims.

Any lingering doubt he had about how you are here, any sliver of hope you had escaped your fate, is shattered instantly. This isn’t a miracle. It is a nightmare, a curse.

But based on the gasp that escapes your trembling lips, you must be thinking the same thing as you get a good look at the man he has become.

“Oh, Jake…” Your hands fly up to cover your mouth as your eyes continue to roam over his body. Yet even covered, he can see your jaw trembling as you cry, “Baby, what…We promised if something ever happened to the other, we wouldn’t give up. We would keep fighting.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jake snaps. But then he wilts under the weight of your gaze. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he whispers, “I almost ended it—a few times. Drugs, booze, even thought I’d take my nickname literally. Made a noose and everything. But the thing that always stopped me was that promise. So, yeah, I–I’ve been a bit of a mess since you—” he gestures at your transformed self “—and I’m sorry. I tried to be strong but losing you was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. We were supposed to face this hellscape together and I didn’t know how to cope without you so I let myself become someone that I hate. But now that you’re back—”

“I’m not back, Jake. That’s not why—” You shake your head, letting your hands drop. “I shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake and I never should have come. I should have just let you think I was dead. I-I have to go.”

“No! Please–�� As Jake takes a few steps across the circle of light, you cower back, retreating further into the darkness.

“Stop!” There is a pained quiver in your voice. “I’m barely controlling myself as it is. If you get closer…I can’t hurt you, Jake. I can’t. But I know if you get any closer, I will and there’ll be nothing I can do to stop it.”

Jake shakes his head. “No. I don’t believe it. You would never hurt me.”

“You don’t get it. It’s not a choice, it’s an undeniable force. It’s hard enough to control myself when I’m fully satiated, but I haven’t fed in almost a week. Your blood—” You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. When you open them again, they have darkened significantly. There is still some color in them, not the pitch-black orbs Jake is used to seeing when the creatures were attacking, but the change still makes him inhale sharply. “The venom doesn’t just turn us into these…these things. It drives us to hunt, to kill. And that need is neverending.”

It breaks Jake’s heart to hear the pain in your voice and he can’t imagine what you’ve been dealing with the past two years. However, as much as it horrifies him, he also wants to know more. “Wh-what does it feel like?”

You turn to gaze into the darkness surrounding you. “It’s like acid in my veins, a constant burning fire in my gut that only grows stronger if it’s not satisfied. Blood’s the only thing that soothes the pain for even a few hours, but it’s never enough. I’ve tried to stop myself, I have, but each time I drink it gets hard to fight. And with every life I take, I feel a little more of myself slip away. I’m not the woman you loved anymore, Jake. I’m just a monster with her face.”

Jake shakes his head with a firm set in his jaw. “No. I don't believe that. It's still you. Why else would you have looked for me? The woman I love is still here and she needed to see me just as much as I needed to see her.”

“Jake–”

“And I don’t care what you think.” Without hesitation, Jake crosses the remainder of his little haven of sunlight and steps forward to join you in the inky darkness. You cower back again but he takes another step to maintain the same distance between you. “You're not going to hurt me. I know that. Because you're so strong and brave and you can fight this–”

“It’s not that simple—”

“Yes, it is.”

“Jake, stop—”

“No. Not until you believe that—”

“I've killed Daggers.”

Your admission hangs like a dense fog between you. Obviously, Jake had realized what being turned into a creature meant for your feeding habits, but he had been trying not to focus on that. However, now faced with the truth, Jake suddenly connects a few horrifying dots in his head.

He swallows before asking, “Coyote?”

Last year, he had gotten there just a moment too late. There was nothing he could do but watch as what was left of his best friend was ripped apart by a mass of creatures. But then, just for a second before Fanboy grabbed his arm and pulled him away, he caught a flash of one of the creatures and he could have sworn…

Your eyes widen, clearly not expecting him to know that, but you nod slightly. Then, in a small voice, say, “And Rooster.”

“Roo….Rooster?” The truth about Coyote had been painful, yet regardless of who killed him, Jake had come to terms with his best friend’s death months ago. But Rooster…

He had left the group a few weeks ago after hearing a rumor of someone sounding suspiciously similar to his godfather leading another group out in the desert. They all knew it was dangerous but if anyone could make it, it would have been Rooster. Yet if what you said was true…

“I never wanted you to find out.” Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, thick, black goo that leaves streaks in their wake. “I tried to stop myself but I couldn't. Coyote was already being attacked when I found him and the blood…this thing took over. And the worst part was he…he recognized me just before I tore his throat out. There was this mix of elation I was ‘alive’ and horror at what I had become. I still see it when I close my eyes. With Rooster it was different. I was alone when I found him. We’ve been starving since you found a way to destroy us and I needed blood so badly. He was dead before he even knew I was there.”

This newest revelation is the last straw for Jake. A man can only process so much trauma at once before he reaches his breaking point. Falling to his knees, he hangs his head, tears dripping off his face onto the dusty tile beneath him as his shoulders shake with stifled sobs.

“Jake…I…” Your voice is brimming with tears as Jake sees your feet take one hesitant step closer to him. But then, you stop.

For a moment, there is only the sound of his soft cries echoing through the empty space. However, when you finally speak again, your voice has more of the defiance and strength he loves most about you. “You don’t understand what it’s like. When I slip into a frenzy, nothing in this world exists except for blood. Faces…names…past relationships…none of it means anything at that moment. All that’s left is the pure animalistic need to feed. It’s only after I’ve been sated that I come back, that I can remember what happened or what I did. Standing over what’s left of a person, realizing I’m to blame, knowing I’ve murdered them or I’ve forced them to become a monster just like me. I couldn’t stop myself from killing Coyote and Rooster, but I made sure neither of them could turn. They may not have deserved their deaths, but more than that, they didn’t deserve this afterlife. It was the least I could do for them. And I’m sorry it wasn’t more.”

You fall silent again, but Jake just continues to cry with no acknowledgment of what you said. After a moment of this, you plead, “Jake, talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking. If you want me to go—”

“Please…” Jake breathes, the weight of the past two years pressing down on him. “Please let me hold you.”

“W-what?” Based on the utter shock in your voice, that is not what you were expecting him to say.

It takes everything in him, but Jake lifts his eyes so they meet yours. “Baby, I need you in my arms again. To feel you, touch you, prove this is real. I have dreamed about you every night for two years. Horrible, bloody nightmares that have destroyed my life. I need you to chase those nightmares away.”

“Jake, have you not heard a word I’ve said? I’ve killed our friends and I’ll kill you too. Or worse, I’ll turn you.”

“I want you to,” he whispers.

“Jake!” Normally when discussions became this heated between you and you resorted to that sharp tone, your chest would be heaving as you became worked up. Yet this time, your heart isn’t beating and your lungs aren’t huffing air so it remains deathly still. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t condemn you to this life.”

“Please…” Jake sobs loudly, too emotionally and mentally drained to get to his feet and walk to you. “I can’t live without you anymore. I need us to be together, whatever that looks like.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear. But I’m willing to bear the pain, the…the consequences of this choice if it means I can be with you. So, please, don’t make me spend one more second without you. Either kill me or turn me, but I can’t do this anymore.”

You stare at him for a long time, your darkened eyes not giving any hint as to what you are thinking. Then, slowly, you nod. “I don’t want to kill you or turn you, but I need you too. I think…I think I always knew when I came here that this is how it would go and I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to stay away.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t.” Jake opens his arms, still kneeling on the floor. “Come here, baby.”

With stilted, hesitant steps, you begin to walk towards him. You balk a little as you get closer, fighting against the instinct to avoid the sunlight, but Jake is far enough in the shadows that you can reach him without crossing into the light. Slowly, you lower yourself to your knees in front of him and reach out.

Jake can’t wait any longer. He grabs your hand and pulls you into his chest, squeezing you as tightly as he possibly can. Your skin is icy beneath his touch, but he doesn’t care. He’s holding you in his arms again and nothing else in the world matters.

However, you apparently don’t share the same outlook. Your entire body goes rigid beneath him, every muscle tensing as he draws you in. He can feel you begin to tremble as an animalistic growl rumbles in your chest.

“Ja—I can’t—Let me go. Don’t wanna hurt—” You manage to choke the words out through a clamped-shut jaw. As your eyes turn completely black, your teeth begin to grow longer until they resemble true fangs. Several poke through your lips as you press your mouth firmly closed. You are still trying to save him despite everything.

Squeezing you tighter, Jake mutters, “No. It’s okay, baby. I want this. Just let go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, black tears falling on his chest. “I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

And you sink your fangs into his neck.

Living up to your promise, there is only a small sting as your teeth break his skin. However, in seconds, your venom enters his bloodstream and Jake tries to jerk away from the searing pain. However, your clawed hand clamps firmly on his shoulder, forcing him to remain in place. The venom spreads throughout his system until every cell in his body is screaming out in agony. He wants to black out but his body won’t let him. The change is already occurring and he is being forced to be conscious for every last second of his human life.

As you drink, small sounds begin slipping out between your lips, reverberating against Jake’s skin. Soft moans and gasps that have Jake flashing back to all those times you were beneath him as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. And for just a second, he can bear the pain knowing he is giving you some semblance of pleasure.

However as a vice of white-hot agony squeezes around his lungs and heart, Jake begins to jerk in your grasp as he begins to suffocate. Feeling his distress, you slide your teeth out of his neck and press your blood-soaked lips to the wound. Running your hand through his hair, you coo, “It’s okay, baby. It’s almost over now. I can already taste the change beginning in your blood. But this next part is the worst. Fighting it just makes it harder. Try to relax and let it happen. And I’m right here, my love, forever.” Then you sink your teeth back into his neck.

The choking suffocating feeling only intensifies, but against every self-preservation instinct in Jake’s body, he tries to listen to your advice and just gives in. Closing his eyes, he begins to slip into a sort of meditative state. While the pain or pressure doesn’t lessen, the panic and tension ease slightly. And even once he feels his heart take its last beat and his lungs go still, he tries to remain in this headspace until you are finished.

He isn’t sure how long he is kneeling there before—

“No…”

Jake picks up the soft sound as it is breathed across the empty warehouse, his ears already tuning into sounds humans shouldn’t be able to hear. His eyes flutter open and just over your shoulder, he can see Bob and Phoenix bathed in sunlight standing at the entrance to the building. Bob has tears in his eyes, his lips whispering your name in horror as he watches the growing gory mess you are making of Jake’s neck. He glances back and forth between Jake and Phoenix, silently pleading with her to find a way to fix this.

But Phoenix just stares at the pair of reunited lovers, her jaw set tightly. And Jake knows she understands. Phoenix always understands.

Jake is weak from blood loss and pain, but he manages the slightest of nods. Lifting two fingers to her forehead, Phoenix gives Jake a small salute in return.

Then she raises her flashlight.

As the beam of light strikes your shoulder, your mouth instantly disappears from Jake’s throat with an agonized hiss as you try to flee from the pain. But using what strength he has left, Jake holds you in place.

The betrayal on your face as you turn to look at him almost outweighs the pain. Jake knows you must think this was a trick, that he must have been stalling you all along just for this moment. Yet, he had meant every word he said.

Smiling as every cell in his body begins to burn differently from before, he whispers, “Together.” And he holds up his hand which is cracking and disintegrating in the light just like yours.

Though still pained, your face softens as you realize what he is doing. Transformation or death, those had been his choices. However, it turns out it wasn’t an “or” but an “and”.

Reaching out, you link your fingers with his, your skin flaky and fragile in his grasp. You snuggle your head against the unbitten crook of his neck, whimpering slightly as the light does its job, and you whisper back, “Together.”

Jake wraps his other arm around you and holds you close, silently vowing to never let go again.

The last thing he sees before his world slips away is the strangely beautiful swirl of particles of your two disintegrating bodies intermingling in the beam of sunlight.

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