jay «

It wasn’t supposed to end like this, truly, it was never supposed to start like this. The outbreak ended years ago, many moons ago, but for some the trauma never left. Naomi moved on, she found a new job and home to keep her and Sarah safer. Though this decision wasn’t made lightly for her, she talked and talked to Teacake about it. While he felt as if a piece of his heart was leaving with her, he still encouraged her to do what she thought was right. Teacake is one of those souls who only wants the best for people. Yes, he may be gullible, and believe it is written on the ceiling, he still has a good heart. That is how he got it here..

It had been about a year or so that you and Travis Meacham had been together, or Teacake as many called him. You met in Topeka, walking through the Mulvane Art Museum. Travis had his headphones in, listening to a self-help book he had bought a while back before the outbreak yet had never finished. After Naomi left, Travis couldn’t take the silence of Atchison anymore, so he headed Southwest to Topeka. He had only lived there a few months before he stumbled into you, quite literally. As he was bookmarking the chapter in his audio book on his phone, he bumped into you, sending you floundering into the wall behind you. You two continued to talk after this, Travis begging you to let him take you out for a beer as an apology.

That night he talked and talked, about anything and everything, except the one thing, or person, he spoke about the most was Naomi. It took you a few more of these nights out together, and many beers shared between you before you finally learned who exactly Naomi was. At first, you couldn’t tell if she was a sister, a cat, or a girlfriend. It turns out, it was the latter, though more so in an “ex” formatting. There is no bad blood between Naomi and Travis, she just wanted to move on to better things for her and her daughter. When she made this decision, it honestly tore Travis up to pieces. It took him a while to get over her, that’s what he told you anyway, but part of you wonders if there is more to his story besides just past love. 

After some time, you found yourself sharing those same emotions Naomi once had with Travis. You find yourself staring at the little things, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. Tracing the ink of his howdy tattoo along his neck and the slithering snake on his forearm when his shirt sleeve rides up. Watching the way his fingers find the hems of his clothing when trying to not overgesture with his hands while talking. Hearing the way he falls over his words when he rambles too anxiously or excitedly. The little things have rapidly become the things you love most about him, and can see yourself loving them harder as you see more and more. 

Those moments are what has brought you both here. Beers turned into dances, dances turned into dinners, and dinners turned into a proper relationship between you two. After months of establishing this newfound connection, strengthening the bridge conjoining you both. Today of all days, had been a long one for Travis, it was always a long one for him. However, coming home to be with you was always so rewarding. Travis spent many days battling with his past skeletons, the ones from before the outbreak. Where his life was turned and twisted, and sent plummeting down a path he never planned to take. Prison wasn’t something he ever planned on experiencing, but the higher beings had other things going for him. Time has been a hop, a skip, and a jump since then, though nothing seemingly changed in Travis’ eyes. 

He still loved being alive, appreciated it more than before it all took a turn. He had lived through the outbreak, and witnessed things he never planned on, like a fungus which turned individuals into zombie-like creatures and ended with them exploding gruesomely. Those weren’t the moments he missed most, not in the slightest. In fact he missed the company more than anything, but he would never tell you that. 

As the smell of cinnamon fills the air, flooding Travis’ nostrils once he stepped inside your apartment. Hanging his keys onto the hook by the lightswitch, he sighs toeing his shoes off by the welcome mat on the floor. A routine that was both bittersweet and sentimental to Travis as time passed, welcoming a new future and life for him.

“Baby?” Travis says, raising his voice slightly so you are able to hear him over the buzzing of the range hood fan, that was currently on above the stove. He smiles softly to himself before he makes his way further into the apartment, looking for you while his socked-feet glide across the floor. 

In the far end of the kitchen, you are sliding fresh snickerdoodle cookies off the baking tray and onto the plate carefully. The cookies were Travis’ favorite, of course they were, you always knew how to make him feel better without knowing it. He chuckles in a low octave to himself as he leans against the open archway, crossing his arms over his chest. This gesture isn’t being used to close himself off, or to portray that, actually quite the opposite since he just wants to steady himself and focus on you. Once the warm pan is sat back down onto its placeholders on the counter, he decides now will be when he speaks up. 

“Cookies?” he begins, letting his arms fall idly to his sides as he saunters into the kitchen completely, wrapping his arms around you from behind once he can get close enough. Kissing the side of your neck lightly, tracing his lips faintly up and down the column until he finds your pulse point, nipping it playfully. 

“What’s the occasion?” Travis adds with a smile that was pressed against your skin. He lets his thumbs rub subconsciously against your abdomen as he awaits your response patiently. With his breathing steady, grounding, against your back as his chest rises and falls, a subtle reminder he is there.

“Nothing, no occasion,” you begin shaking your head slightly. With a tilt of your head for Travis to have better access to your neck. “Okay, so maybe a small occasion, I just wanna spend time with you though.” you add with a shrug.

“You know there is never an occasion for me to spend time with you darlin’, you just have to ask.” Travis hums, leaning back slightly to spin you around, swiping the hair from your forehead and into the space behind your shoulder. 

“I know, I know, buuuuut,” you speak back, draping your arms around his neck loosely and threading your fingers into his hair. “I just also decided to be nice, I figured another day working was hard on you.” 

“Yeah, you always know me better than myself.” Travis murmurs, releasing you while you reach over for the snickerdoodle plate. He plucks one from the plate, chuckling again as he turns on the balls of his feet and heads for the living room with the cookie shoved halfway into his mouth. 

Not long after, you turn off the stove and head into the living room yourself. Holding a glass of milk for Travis, and the cookie plate in the other. You sit the plate onto the coffee table, along with the glass of milk before returning briefly to the kitchen for your own glass. Once you settle into the couch beside Travis, with him already scrolling through the movies category on the first streaming platform he came across. 

“Any suggestions?” Travis asks, draping his left arm over your shoulders to pull you closer into his side. He hands the remote over to you loosely, “Dealer’s choice.” He smiles at you before throwing his head behind him onto the back of the couch. 

“Hmmm, I heard of this new movie, a documentary I think?” you speak, nodding in the television’s direction. Selecting the film, and tossing the remote onto the cushion further down. “I don’t really know what it is about though, but I have seen the reviews are really good.” The movie plays for about ten minutes before Travis tilts his head up to see what it was all about, but what he was met with wasn’t what he was expecting. The green ooze, splurting from the man’s mouth on screen, as his body transformed to look further and further from human. The fungus spread along the wet pavement beneath the actor’s feet in this portrayal. Which, that is all this was right? A movie. A documentary, one they made once the explosion of Atchison Storage Facility took the media by storm. Where the fungus first happened, and changed the trajectory of the world as everyone knew it.

It was fake. Travis, it is fake. He attempts to calm himself. Slowly his heart rate is picking up, his palms are growing sweaty, a slight tremble to the hand which was quickly retracted from your arm. He sits forward, bringing his hands and arms to his own lap, as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. Anxiously he rubs his hands over his thighs, hoping the denim of his jeans can absorb the sweat pooling in his palms.

“Tea? What’s wrong?” you ask, your brows furrowed as you try and sit up on the edge of the couch with him. At your movement he jumps, sudden, like he was trying to leave his skin. He stands, unsteady, as his head feels hot and the room begins to spin. Glancing at the television once more, his mouth going dry while it opens and closes a few times, nothing falling out.

He can’t speak, no matter how many times his mouth moves. His gaze falling onto the screen in front of you once more, watching the scene change into the explosion of the man that was just on the screen, the blood and green growth shooting onto the walls of the replicated storage building. He had been there, Travis lived through this, his life wasn’t supposed to be content or used for entertainment. 

Quickly, exiting the room, Travis dry heaves as the walls close in. The further he makes it into the hallway, the lower he falls to the ground. First his hand falls idle onto the wall, gripping for anything he can. A picture of you both on your first date, tumbling from the nail on the wall with a loud shatter as the glass cracks and the frame breaks. With the fragmented pieces sliding across the floor. 

Falling to the floor entirely, his knees going weak and giving out beneath him. Travis’ palms hit the shattered glass, and that was the first true emotion he had felt in minutes now, pain. The shards sink into his skin as he subconsciously digs the heels of his hands further to the ground, his vision blacking at the edges. His breathing is labored, wheezes slipping from his lips through every exhale. 

Rushing to the hallway, the documentary long forgotten in the living room, your hands are grabbing onto Travis’ wrists gently but firm as you pry them from the glass shards. Sinking down to his level, your knees resting on the hardwood beneath you. Flipping his hands over, you hold them palm up so no more pressure is added to the glass. Your brows are still furrowed, confusion about the situation written in your eyes.

“Tea, talk to me sweetheart.” you say sickening soft, your voice almost as if you were speaking to a frightened puppy. Carefully you pull his hands and rest them in your lap. 

All he can do is shake his head, and repeatedly murmur no over and over again, the only word he seemed to know. Travis’ hands are still shaking in yours, both from panic and adrenaline mixing to create a cocktail in his mind. 

“No, no, no, no, no,” he rambles, trying to fight you, unwillingly, like he needed to continue to make himself smaller by bringing his arms to his body. “This can’t b-be, it isn’t still happening. It’s over, it’s over..” he continues in a strained voice, like a cat had scratched away at his vocal cords. 

“What is over? Travis, I can’t help you if you don’t guide me through what is in your mind.” you whisper again softly, thumbs tracing over the pulse of his wrists.

The speaking of his real name from you, almost stuns him back to the present, like a light pulling him from his own mind. His eyes are glossy, and still distant, blinking a few times. 

“Th-the fungus…” he murmurs, glancing at the blood pooling in his palms from the glass. “I-it was horrible, it almost took me, took Naomi.” he adds, his gaze stuck on the red liquid. 

You shift to hold his wrists with one hand, the other lifting to so gingerly push against his jaw to tilt his eyes in your visual direction. You so lightly run your thumb across his jawline, trying to pull him mentally closer to you. 

“What do you mean the fungus almost took you?” you begin, your voice still gentle. “That happened in Atchison, Travis, not here.” The words are soothing as they fall from your mouth, trying to cover him in a safe balm.

“It-it almost got me, and Naomi.” Travis says with more force this time. “The fungus, I was there, I-I lived it. I was one of the workers in the building that night, I was working the night shift. I had to have a job with my parole, but the Self-Storage Atchison was the only place who would entertain hiring me.” 

“Follow my breathing,” you say steadily, overdramatizing your breaths for him to hear, going in through your nose and out through your mouth. He takes a few seconds before adjusting to your inhale and exhale pattern. 

“I-I was the one who worked there, one of the two. With Naomi alongside me, we were only two of the three who walked into that place normal, and out alive.” Travis nods shyly, his tone timid like a skittish animal once more as he speaks. “Many others like our boss Griffin, and his gang, ended up infected or just overall dead. Ma Rooney, a tenant, she walked out alive, but I’m not sure what ever happened to her.” 

“I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I would’ve never suggested we watch the documentary if I had known. I would’ve even looked deeper into it first.” Listening, you nod along, wanting him to know you were paying full attention. 

“It's alright, it’s not your fault.” He mutters, exhaling firmly from his nose just once. “I never told you, so you couldn’t have known. I didn’t want you to think less of me, or assume I was some scaredy cat over some little green fuzz.” 

Bringing your hand back down from his face, you carefully scan his palms with your gaze briefly before dragging them back to his eyes. Looking deep into them, you see sorrow, anxiousness, even pain. 

“I would never think that Travis, you know that.” beginning the sentence with remorse for bringing these emotions to his surface. “Let’s get you cleaned up okay? We can talk all about it, and I mean the whole thing. I don’t want what you think I want to hear, I want to know it all.” you say, carefully standing from the floor as you release his wrists. Bending over, you grab one of his wrists again gently, not wanting to shove the glass further into his skin. With the other hand you brace him on that same arm’s elbow, pulling him up to standing in front of you.

“Watch your step okay?” you add, watching his feet for him, making sure he doesn’t step on any of the shattered glass. Once guided through the hallway, you bring him into the hallway bathroom. With one hand you push over the shower curtain, exposing the edge of the tub, “Sit, please.” you plead with him, coaxing him closer to the tub’s edge before he sits down and you slide over to the sink cabinet to find the first-aid kit.

“You don’t have to do this, I did it to myself you know..” Travis says, solemnly looking down at his bloodied hands. His eyes trace the lines of the cuts, and the shards buried deep into the once thick skin. Showing him that truly no one is immune to pain, especially not him. He had been shot the same night the fungus came through the storage facility, but that didn’t damage his armor. He had never felt as vulnerable as he once had before prison, that time changed him. 

He wanted to be the man he once was again, but nothing would ever be the same. He had been through Hell, back, and to Hell again, yet all he could focus on now is making his way to Heaven, to you. That’s why he fought everyday, why he stayed alive and lived in a life he felt empty and hollow within. He knew one day he would find happiness and bliss again, to taste the sweetness of nectar of being cared for and adored. Many moons ago that nectar was pressed to his tongue, against his lips, your own. 

“I do have to do this, but it isn’t because of an obligation.” you speak low, soon you walk back to the tub. Then nestling yourself on the floor in front of him, gently setting the first-aid kit onto the closed toilet lid. “I am doing this because I love you, and I will always love you. This is from a place of love, care, not obligation.”

You reach over and grab his wrists, one by one, and pull them to his knees to rest them closer between you. Rummaging in the kit, you pull out the gauze, and healing ointment, placing them next to Travis on the edge of the tub. As you pull the trashcan over to sit beside you, to put it within reach for disposing of the glass. Taking steady hands, you carefully take the tweezers, and begin to pluck the shards of glass from his hands. He hisses a few times, cursing under his breath at the pain, but not at you, never at you.

“I just never want to be anyone’s obligation,” Travis starts weakly. “Especially yours..” he continues as he looks down and watches the fresh blood surface from the pulled out pieces of glass which you were placing in the nearby trashcan. 

“You are never ever my obligation, I just want to show you the love and light you have shown me.” you speak hoarsely. Carefully pulling each and every piece of glass from his hands, you sit down the tweezers and lightly skim your fingers over his palms to check for other shards. When you feel no sharp points in his skin, you cover his hands gingerly with the ointment, and begin to wrap them with the gauze. “You are the only person who has ever deeply and truly loved me, flaws and all, there is no reason I shouldn’t do the same.” 

His breathing stutters at your words, a whimper sliding from his throat as his heart feels as if it is being squeezed tightly with someone’s hands. A faint smile paints his lips, before tucking his bottom one between his teeth briefly.

“I just- I know what it’s like to not be loved, and I never want you to feel that way.” he begins with a slight nod, like he didn’t know what else to do with his body as you finish wrapping his hands, tucking all the items back into their rightful places in the first-aid kit once done. “I went through Hell that night, and I didn’t ever think I would make it out at that moment. Once I had, I just never wanted to look back, so I didn’t. Though clearly, I should've because it affected me more than I thought.” he rambles quietly, more so to himself than to you. His words cause you to sigh softly, not out of annoyance, but of sorrow. He felt such deepened emotions he felt he couldn’t share with you, and that hurt. 

“Travis, Tea, Teacake,” you begin with a soft smile, helping him stand from the edge of the tub. “I will love you, always truly and deeply love you. The kind of love that pains me I cannot properly express because you as a person are held so deep within my bones. Nothing can or will ever stop me from wanting to have you by my side until the end of time.” you continue sweetly, your eyes showing a true look of enamoration. “You are my forever, my eternal love, the one I want my soul to find when we are both away from our bodies. There is a red string which ties me to you, and I mean it. Whether you like it or not you’re stuck with me.” you tilt your head, pressing a light kiss to his jaw. “Now come on, I think we should call it a night.”

Taking his left wrist with your right hand with so much care, you guide him from the bathroom and down the hall to your bedroom, leaving everything to deal with later. Once in your bedroom, you sit him down on the edge of the bed, and walk over to the dresser and rummage for some pajamas for you both. You decide on a loose white t-shirt Tea had bought long ago, and a pair of black and white plaid pajama pants for him, and something for yourself as well. 

“Here, why don’t you change into these, and I’ll go clean up the hallway.” you speak calmly, before reaching out and swiping a few strands of his hair from his forehead. You sit his change of clothes next to him, watching his mouth open and shut a few times briefly, before you immediately step in. “No, no, no arguments. Actually, this isn’t even a choice, you aren’t going to sit here and blame yourself for something that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to live through the fungus, and you didn’t ask for it to take your life and change it. So change, please, and we’ll lay here when I get back.”

Tea just nods, knowing better than to argue with you, especially when it comes to him and his emotions. You never stood for him being hard on himself, or anything of the sorts. Finally you excuse yourself from the room, and begin your way to your tasks.

First grabbing the broom and dustpan from the hall closet, and sliding on your hard-bottomed houseshoes so you didn’t get hurt trying to clean up the sharded frame. Picking up the larger pieces carefully, you discard them in the trashcan in the hall bathroom from earlier. Once the larger pieces are out of the way, you sweep up the shards and the frame splinters, and dispose of those as well. Satisfied with your work, you put up the broom and dustpan, and grab the photo from the floor. As you enter the living room, you sit it onto the coffee table in the living room, swapping it for the cookies which rested on their plate there. Taking on your new task, you put the cookies in a bowl, placing the lid on them gently. You leave the bowl on the counter and grab the glasses of milk from the same place they were left earlier, rinsing them in the sink and resting them carefully in the dishwasher for a later time. 

Lastly, you turn off the television before making your way back to the bedroom. Where you find Travis laying on his side of the bed, fresh pajamas on and work clothes in the hamper next to the closet. Something about the quiet bliss of the moment soothing the sharp sting of emotions from earlier.

“There he is, there’s my boy,” you hum, grabbing your pajamas. “I’m gonna change and then I’ll be right back Tea.” Quickly stepping into the bathroom and changing, you come back and discard your clothes with his in the hamper and glide to the bed quietly. 

“Thank you…” Travis whispered hoarse, his voice straining from lack of use recently. You can see the tear tracks dried on his cheeks from when you were gone, as you slide into bed next to him. Choosing to not say anything, for both his and your sake, you rest your back against the headboard. Silently, peacefully quiet, you take his shoulders and guide his head to your lap. This was Teacake’s favorite place to be, it calmed him, you both knew this. So when you slide your fingers into his hair, it is no surprise he lets out a strangled gasp of relief. 

Minutes pass as you scratch at his scalp, smoothing the blonde locks which were growing to show his roots. Humming a soft melody, you slowly hear Teacake’s breathing begin to weaken and steady, as he drifts off to sleep. You smile faintly, happy he was finally at peace after the emotions he had shown earlier.

“I love you, forever, and always.” you whisper quietly, just looking down at him while he sleeps, making sure he stays that way. As the bedside table clock reads three a.m. you decide it is safe to sleep. Shifting Teacake over, you continue to smile as his face morphs as he stirs. His arm immediately reaches for you, worried you were trying to get up. Instead, he desperately pulls you closer to him. He had always been a light sleeper, a habit he had to learn in prison. Yet, none of that mattered to him now that he had you, you were all he needed, and you proved that to him each and every day.

He presses a groggy, and still half-asleep, kiss to the back of your neck. His thumb rubbing absent patterns on your torso as he begins to drift back off to sleep.

“Home.. you feel like home, you are my home.” Travis mumbles slurred with sleep and emotion. The vulnerable moments were always the ones that brought out the most between you both. The soft-spoken one, silent across the room glances, the middle of the night dreams, each and every one drawing you closer and closer together. Yet, it doesn’t matter if he was, or is, half-asleep, fully-asleep, even fully-awake. In this moment, and every moment, you know he means it. He will always mean it. 

You are everything to him.

A Google Doc of the prompts can be found here for easy copy-and-pasting!

Whumptober 2025 Prompt List

No. 1: “Please don’t cry” Lamb to Slaughter | Ceremony | Beg for Forgiveness

No. 2:  “You’ve got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears.” Prophecy | Sewer | Taking Accountability

No. 3: “I look in people’s windows, transfixed by rose golden glows.” Isolation | Candlelight | Found Family

No. 4: “Don’t be scared, I’ve done this before.” Non-Human Whumper | Iron Rod | Loss of Powers

No. 5: “My panic’s at the ceiling, but I’m face down on the carpet.” Quivering | Dream Journal | Phobia

No. 6: “No grave can hold my body down.” Caught in a Net | Medical Restraints | Pinned to the Wall

No. 7: “Tell me that you’re okay, and I’m fine.” Trapped with the Enemy | Elevator | Pushed Beyond Breaking Point

No. 8: “Oh horror, oh horror, what did you see?” Self-Inflicted Injury | Held at Gunpoint | Dissociation

No. 9: “We’ll make it alright to come undone.” Touch | Flashbacks | Scalding

No. 10: “There’s nothing you can ever say, nothing you can ever do.” Without Consent | Secrets | Lips Sewn Shut

No. 11: “Can you get through all the pain inside you?” Hidden Injury | Laceration | Forced Reveal

No. 12: “It’ll be for nothing.” Cardiac Arrest | Sacred Place | Withholding Medical Treatment

No. 13: “How dull is it to pause, to make an end, to rust unburnished.” Never Enough | Insignia | Forced Retirement

No. 14: “In the end, it’s worthwhile.” Ignoring an Illness | Body Bag | Wounded Caretaker

No. 15: “You can take a break, if you just tell me that it hurts.” Failed Rescue Attempt | Body Part in the Mail | Live-Streamed Torture

No. 16: “I’ve had the rug pulled beneath my feet.” Repressed Trauma | Permanent Marker | Disorientation

No. 17: “Tell me there’s a hope for me.” Internal Bleeding | Coma | Redemption

No. 18: “As the world caves in.” Dystopia | Ruins | Environmental Whump

No. 19: “You’re on your own, lost in the wild.” Dehumanisation | Living Weapon | On Patrol

No. 20: "That's New." Symptomatic | Fancy Event | Resignation

No. 21: “Sold my soul, broke my bones.” Kneeling | Makeshift Splint | Brainwashed

No. 22: “All the battles I want to win, nothing mattress but giving in.” Self-Sacrifice | Collar | Hunted for Sport

No. 23: “How’d I get to this place?” Intubation | ICU | Choking

No. 24: “I must confess that I feel like a monster.” Came Back Wrong | Painful Transformation | Amnesia

No. 25: “Have you earned your stripes?” Lost Faith | Collision Course | Left to Die

No. 26: “Nothing like a relapse to rehash the kid who was scared.” Relapse | Drawn Curtains | Power Cut

No. 27: “Would you even want me, looking like a zombie?” Surgical Scars | X-Ray | Bedside Vigil

No. 28: “I could always see straight through you.” Backstabbing | Constellation | Creative Restraints

No. 29: “I hope you see the sun someday in the darkness.” Fainting | Broken Dishes | Last one Standing

No. 30:  “I’m putting my trust in an entire half-empty glass.” Burn it Down | Mirror | Confrontation

No. 31: “Even with the smallest cuts. You can still lose so much blood.” Bleeding Out | Gunshot Wound | Rescued by the Enemy

Alternatives List:

"A smile so bright, he’s the devil in disguise.”

“I hear you’re alive, how disappointing.”

“If all my days are numbered, why do I keep counting?” 

Concussion

Viral

Suicide

Immortality

Jealousy

Organ Theft

Ziptie

Deal with the Devil

Yearning

Innocent Bystander

Unreality

reference image

TROPE LISTS:

[A-H]

[I-Q]

[R-Z]

QUESTIONS:

Question 1: 'Which tropes would you like to see for Whumptober 2024?' - Here, there is an A-Z list of tropes with checkboxes next to them. Simply choose your favourites!

Question 2: 'Honourable Mentions' - Here you can list any tropes we have forgotten.