Calla's Corner

You were easy to spot the moment he stepped inside the familiar living room. It was the room where you and he would spend hours playing when he wasn’t dragging you outside. It’s the same room where you would show him all the ideas you had about a perfect wedding. You would even go on to play it out with your many stuffies and have him play your groom every so often.

Oh, how he wished he’d known he would come to relive those moments more often later on. He wouldn’t have pushed you away a few times or scrubbed your kisses from his cheeks.

If he could go back, it wouldn’t be to his youngest self but to his teenage self.

The soccer team had gone out to celebrate their hard-won victory. You’d sat next to him at the local diner, wearing the cutest shirt you’d made to cheer him on. At one point, he realized just how close the two of you were. You seemed to do the same. To his complete surprise, you leaned toward him as he dared a longing glance at your lips. He mimicked your movements, getting ever closer to kissing you for the first time. He knew it would change things, but in that moment, he’d known he wanted to. Oh, he really wanted to. Yet, it hadn’t been meant to be as a teammate banged the window near the booth, interrupting and ending the moment between you two.

His trip down memory lane ended the moment you spotted him.

You said something to the man at your side. Your fiancé, no doubt. Then, you were weaving through your friends and family until you stood right in front of him.

“Jakey?” Your voice shook while your hand came up, nearly cupping his cheek. It never made contact though as you launched yourself at him, wrapping yourself around him. “I can’t believe you’re here. They told me you died. Should be so mad at you right now, but I’m just so happy you’re alive.”

His arms tightened around you.

When he pulled back, he tugged a small chain from his pocket. “How could anything ever happen to me when I’ve got my good luck charm?”

You gasped at the little rabbit charm you’d bought him before his first deployment. It’d been one of the last things you’d given to him before the two of you went separate ways. You to university and Jake to boot camp.

“You kept that?”

He nodded. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? You gave it to me.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but the man who’d been at your side before joined the two of you. His arm went around your waist. It wasn’t an act of possession, but it affected Jake in a way he hadn’t been prepared. You were truly not his any longer. Never would he be allowed such liberty with you.

“Oh, Jake, this is Steve, my fiancé. Stevie, this is Jake. He’s been my best friend since forever.”

Jake exchanged a few rather pleasant words with Steve.

As much as he hated it, he couldn’t dislike the man who’d gotten his ring on your finger. Another fellow military guy, Steve left the service a few years before and met you shortly after at a VA event. You’d gotten involved with the VA after Jake joined the military himself. Steve had been the one to help you through your grief over believing Jake was gone.

When Steve’s called away, you hesitate. Your hand does reach up to cup his cheek as you said, “I’m really glad you’re okay. You’re not allowed to ever scare me like that again, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He shot you what he hoped was a cheeky grin.

The way you shook your head while fighting back a smile, he must’ve succeeded.

As much as he wanted to steal you away and catch up, your other friends and family soon dragged you away from him.

He didn’t leave for a little while as some of your family came up to him and chatted with him, happy to see him alive as well.

At one point, your father pulled him to the side and offered him a stiff drink.

“You look like you could use it, son,” your father said by way of explanation.

Your father and Jake shared the quiet moment, sipping at the dark bourbon and watching the party continue without them for the moment.

“Steve’s a good man. He’ll take real good care of my daughter. It’s all I ever wanted for her,” he said, breaking the silence. When your father’s gaze slid toward Jake, he couldn’t help a small chuckle as he added, “But I can’t say that I haven’t thought I’d be giving her away to you over someone else. I would’ve approved if you had ever made a move. Just so you know.”

Unable to form words, Jake tried and failed to think up anything beyond a shocked, “Thank you, sir.”

He couldn’t possibly imagine what he could say to that information.

Your laugh caught his attention as Steve spun you before dipping you in front of your friends and family. The smile you graced Steve with made the bourbon he sipped settle like a hot bolt of lead in his stomach.

That was a smile he hadn’t seen from you in ages. It wouldn’t be a smile meant for him again.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said, handing your father his half-finished glass. “I, um, I should probably get to my sister’s. She’s expecting me. I’m glad she’s happy.”

He bit his tongue to keep himself from rambling further.

Before he left your parents’ home, he dared a final glance in your direction.

Your gaze was on him, and a small frown appeared across your features.

Not wanting you to ever be upset, he gave you the best impression of a smile that he could muster and a half-hearted wave.

The late afternoon sun burned his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace to the truck he’d rented. He needed to get away from you and your parents’ home. The memories would forever haunt him. Taunt him with roads not taken.

He doesn’t see you standing at the front door, watching him drive away. Nor does he see the tears that spring to your eyes that you hastily swipe away before Steve can see them. Your fingers begin to play with the engagement ring on your left hand.

*****

Clay had been generous in the time off he gave Jake.

Pulling up to his sister’s home, he soon found himself wrapped up in a tight hug. His sister around his neck and his niece around his waist. Their love helped ease the sadness lingering in him at seeing you so happy with someone else.

“Uncle JJ, you gonna come to my games since you’re back?”

Jake grinned. “Wouldn’t miss them for the world, squirt.”

His sister granted him some mercy then by shooing his niece off so she could settle him into the guest room of their home.

“Oh, I found a box of your old stuff when I was cleaning up the closet in here the other day. Thought you might want it, so I put it over there.” She pointed to the box that was sitting in the small chair situated in front of an antique writing desk she found at a flea market a few years back. She’d been so proud of the find and the plans she had for it, sending them all over several text messages to him.

“Thanks,” he nodded at the box, then gestured to the room, “for everything.”

She left him to settle in then.

It didn’t take him long to unpack as he’d long since learned to pack light. He had his few belongings either hanging in the closet or put away in the small drawers of the dresser.

With nothing else really to do for the moment, he approached the box and popped the folded flaps. Photos and notebooks filled the interior alongside some of his soccer trophies and other memorabilia from his high school years.

The one thing that stood out the most was the pink notebook he’d thought he lost some years ago. It’d been a special secret between you and him. The two of you would write whatever you had on your minds and share them, so others wouldn’t see them.

He recalled the one time one of his teammates had grabbed the notebook and tried to read it. Thankfully, the two of you had used a special language you two had created in your childhood. The two hadn’t bothered with keeping a code of that language, either.

As he sank down on the edge of the bed, he opened up the notebook. The strange words and their actual meanings came back to him as he started reading. Small smiles and several shakes of his head followed along his reading.

Time quickly sped away as he got lost in the notebook and all the secrets the two of you shared.

It wasn’t until he got to the last page that he nearly dropped the notebook.

The last entry was one he hadn’t seen before. It was in your handwriting, too. The date on it was the same day he shipped out.

He read and reread the words until they were forever ingrained in his mind.

I love you, Jake. I’ve always loved you. Come home to me, okay? I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life, now or ever.

You’d confessed, and he hadn’t seen it until that moment.

His heart twisted while his stomach churned painfully. Burning moisture blurred his vision behind his glasses and soon speckled the lenses.

Did this mean that you thought he hadn’t loved you back?

That thought had him nearly tripping over himself to reach the bathroom. The two bits of finger food he had alongside the bourbon your father had given him came up. That was soon replaced with pure bile that burned his throat. He didn’t have much left before he shifted to dry heaving. It hurt to breathe, and he couldn’t get the vice around his heart to loosen.

He lost track of how long he stayed kneeling over the toilet. His knees shook from their prolonged hold. His hands shook for a different reason, but he didn’t notice as much. He kept clenching and unclenching them to ground himself.

When he could safely say that nothing else would be coming up, he rinsed his mouth out and drenched his face with more water. His skin felt on fire as his thoughts continued to reel with this new piece of information.

Had he really cost himself his greatest dream?

You’d hugged him as though you’d never said the words.

How much had he hurt you when he hadn’t responded to your message all those years ago? How did you not hate him for that?

He didn’t deserve you. He realized that now.

If he’d been a real friend, he would’ve seen your message. He wouldn’t have let you doubt his love for you. Hell, he wouldn’t have let you get there because he would’ve kissed you when he had the chance.

That was all gone now.

He knew then he would spend the rest of his vacation avoiding you. It was only fair to step aside now and let you find your happiness with someone else.

If only fate was so kind to him and his plans…

*****

Over the course of the next few weeks, Jake could count on both hands and feet the number of times he accidentally ran into you.

It wasn’t exactly hard to do in the smallish city you both called home for so long. Yet, it shouldn’t have been so easy, either.

If Jake didn’t know better, he would think someone was orchestrating this whole thing.

More often, Jake would manage to spot you and duck around a corner before you spotted him. He didn’t want to make it awkward for you or himself by actually running into you. Well, more like making it awkward for himself. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t say something stupid. In fact, it was almost a sure thing he would.

His filter never really existed around you.

Yet, you never minded that about him. With you, he could be himself. You never made him feel bad about it, either. Sure, you might tease him every now and then, but you were never mean about it. It’d been one of the reasons he fell so hard for you all those years ago. Why he was still so in love with you.

The times he couldn’t escape without you spotting him, he would offer up a wave and pick up an item. Then, he ducked out of the aisle and out of the store. He’d most often leave his items behind for some poor worker to deal with, but he couldn’t bring himself to go back. He couldn’t until you left, then he would begin his shopping all over again.

By the end of his third week, he was ready to pull out his frosted tips by the roots.

You’d cornered him in one of the shops, spotting him before he even clocked you.

“What gives?” you demanded, crossing your arms over your chest.

He gulped. “Nothing. What’s up?”

Well, so much for playing it cool with the way he stammered.

“You’re avoiding me, and I want to know why.”

“I’m not.”

His gaze couldn’t help scanning the store for signs of your fiancé. The last thing he wanted was to have a confrontation with you and have Steve overhear it.

“Now, you’re lying to me. All those years as best friends really don’t mean that much, do they?”

“That’s not true. You know it’s not. I…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say the words he wanted to say. He couldn’t do that to you or your fiancé. You’d made your choice. He wasn’t it.

He could only hope that you would see the truth in his eyes.

That was if you’d look at him.

No, you stubbornly stared at some spot over his shoulder.

He could see the moment you made up your mind about whatever thoughts crossed it. Your shoulders squared up, and you let out a slow, steadying breath.

“It’s fine, Jake. At least, I can put the past to rest now. I am glad you’re safe and alive. I hope you stay that way. I really do. The world needs you in it.”

You took a step away and turned back to the shopping cart you’d been pushing around. Over your shoulder, you added in the softest voice he’s ever heard from you, “I really hope you have a good life, Jake. You deserve it.”

Jake fought the urge to reach out and pull you back to him. He wanted to tell you everything that’s ever entered his mind about you, but he let you walk away from him again.

In an equally soft voice, he waited for you to leave the aisle to say, “I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

What he didn’t know was his quiet voice wasn’t so quiet. He didn’t know you’d stopped in the next aisle over and rested your head against the shelf. He didn’t know that his words carried to your ears or the way your unshed tears blurred then streaked down your face.

He didn’t see you play with the engagement ring on your finger. It’d become a new habit since he’d walked back into your life. You weren’t even aware of it.

There was someone who did notice and has noticed the change in you since Jake came back into your life. He couldn’t say he liked it, but he couldn’t deny you anything, either. If your heart called out to Jake’s instead of his, then he’d let you off the hook. He’d help you get your guy.

*****

The bright red glow of the clock next to his bed taunted Jake.

He should’ve been asleep hours ago, but he’d been unable to sleep since you cornered him earlier that day. He couldn’t get your sad eyes off his mind or the words you’d said to him. How he wished he could’ve told you the truth.

The words had been on the tip of his tongue, but he’d swallowed them back. Just like every other opportunity he’d had with you over the last couple decades.

No, you deserved to live a happy life with a guy like Steve. Not the hopeless case he was.

Maybe his friends had been right about him. Maybe he did screw things up to the point he’d forever be alone. He probably even deserved it for the way he’d treated you earlier and that fateful day years ago.

Shoving the heels of his hands into his eyes, he tried to shut his thoughts down. He needed sleep if he was going to watch his niece’s first game since he came back home. He wasn’t going to disappoint her like he’d done with you for far too long.

He set his laptop next to him and dropped back into the pillows behind his back. His eyes had just slammed shut with the purpose of falling asleep when his phone dinged.

When he might’ve ignored it, another message dinged. A few more followed until he couldn’t ignore the noise any longer.

His fingers deftly opened the screen to shut down his notifications when he froze.

None of the messages came from his friends.

They came from you.

You awake?

Where are you?

I really need to see you.

Please, Jakey, it’s important.

Jake fumbled his phone as he reread your messages. It took him several tries to even write a reply that resembled some level of comprehension.

Can you meet me on the porch in 5?

I won’t stay long.

Just really need to see you.

He texted back quickly.

In a rush to meet you like you asked, he donned the pants he’d been wearing earlier but forewent the shirt. There wasn’t much need for one in the still-warm night air.

Then again, maybe a small part of him wanted you to see him and be a little impressed with the physique he’d gained from his years in the military.

He ducked out of his room, grateful it was the one closest to the front door. That meant less chance of waking his sister or niece at such a late hour.

You were already waiting in an SUV when he stepped outside. The interior light illuminated your teary face alongside the gentle smile on the man you’d be marrying in less than a month.

Jake had to swallow the bile rising in his throat at seeing Steve cup your cheek. He almost couldn’t when Steve pressed a kiss to your other cheek. You said something to Steve and hugged him for a long moment, then stepped out of the vehicle.

To Jake’s surprise, Steve waited until you stood on the porch under the light with him before Steve started the vehicle up. He shot Jake a single nod before pulling out of the drive and headed down the road.

“Where is he going?” Jake couldn’t help asking, his gaze still following the retreating taillights. “Why is he leaving you here?”

“He seems to think I belong here,” you said in the smallest voice. Your arms came up to wrap around yourself as you met his surprised gaze. “I’m hoping he’s not wrong. Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Jake doesn’t know how to answer that. He couldn’t recall anything he’d said earlier that would’ve given you an inkling of his feelings. As much as he might’ve wanted to tell you, he’d been so careful not to put you in that position. Hadn’t he?

“You said you loved me. I don’t think you meant anyone to hear it,” you finally supplied, “but did you mean it?”

“It doesn’t matter if I did or didn’t. You’re engaged to Steve.” Jake spared a glance at the empty street, a frown forming. “Though, I’m beginning to have my doubts about how good he is for you. Has he done this before? Left you somewhere without any way to get home? Tell me, and I’ll kick his ass for you. I’ll—”

You cut him off then.

Your lips pressed against his in a way he’d never thought to experience with anyone before, least of all you. It wasn’t anything more than a chaste kiss to shut him up, but he could taste the berry lip balm you’ve always favored on your lips. He could feel your breath against his lips when you pulled back the smallest amount.

Your left hand came up. The shimmering diamond ring that had adorned your finger these past weeks was missing.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a breath.

Your breath hitched. “You don’t…”

You let the words hang between the two of you.

It took Jake a moment to catch on to your meaning, but he quickly shook his head. “Oh, no, no. I’m not sorry I said I loved you. I meant that. God, I’ve meant it for years. No, I’m sorry if my saying it cost you your engagement.”

“I never should’ve said yes to Steve. He was a sweet guy who helped me through my grief, and I do love him.” You stop to take a breath. That same steely determination he witnessed in you earlier that day and countless other times settled in you. Your shoulders squared and your gaze met his with a fierceness that had him holding his breath. “But he’s never been the man that held my heart. He was never going to replace the one I’ve loved since we said our first ‘I do’s’ in my parents’ living room all those years ago.”

In the secret language you two came up with, you whispered, “I’m in love with you, Jake. Always have been. Always will be.”

This time, Jake kissed you. It was a lot of smushed lips and knocked teeth, but neither of you cared. Soon, the two of you found the right angles to deepen the kiss until it left you both breathless and aching.

When he pulled away, he ran his thumb over your cheek and whispered, “You’ve always been my dream. If you’ll give me a chance, I’d like to make my dream come ”

"I think I can do that." You grinned at him, then traced a finger down his bare chest to his belly button. Your grin widened at the shiver that your action caused. "First, you must tell me what the military does to make you look this good, Jakey. I'm all for a demonstration."

Beet red, Jake ushered you inside where he was all too happy to show everything your heart desired.

*****

The two of you ended up going slower than your first night intimated.

Neither of you wanted to rush into something, especially with your broken engagement so fresh in everyone’s minds.

Your first date together took place away from all your familiar haunts. In fact, it wasn’t even in the same small city but rather an hour’s drive away. The two of you enjoyed an outdoor concert before sharing an intimate dinner at a hole-in-the-wall place where nobody knew your names.

Jake continued to work missions with the other Losers, all of whom you met almost six months after your first date. While Clay had been warmer in his welcome, you could tell the others had a protective streak where Jake was concerned. Aisha had cornered you at one point to ensure your intentions with him were aboveboard.

You couldn’t say that you fully earned her trust, but you sensed a bit of warming on her part when you assured her Jake was it for you. That you’d only given up when you’d thought he’d died during one of his missions. To know he lived had been one of the best days of your life even though you’d been engaged to someone else at the time. If you could go back and make it so you never hurt either Jake or Steve, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Speaking of Steve, you and Jake did end up running into him almost eight months after that night. While the run-in had been awkward at first, you soon discovered that Steve had used his time away wisely. He looked so much happier, healthier if that were possible. When a beautiful woman joined your group, you soon learned why. He’d found his one, and you couldn’t have been happier for him.

Jake proposed to you almost eighteen months after your first date.

It was actually the date of your first almost kiss. He’d even asked you in the same diner booth where you’d had that almost moment. His fingers had nearly fumbled the ring, but he saved it from a creamy collision with the chocolate pie you two had decided to split.

You’d said yes with tears in your eyes and many kiss to make up for that missed opportunity.

Your father hadn’t hesitated in congratulating the two of you when you told your family. He did, however, make a crack about not paying for another wedding if this one didn’t stick this time, but you knew he was truly happy for you both. He’d even taken Jake aside and handed him a small envelope that Jake wouldn’t show you until later that evening.

Inside, it held your grandmother’s wedding ring set as well as a check for a decent down payment for a starter home.

On your wedding day, you noted how Jake bit back his own emotions at seeing you walking down the aisle toward him. Friends and family surrounded you that day with laughter and love.

Jake’s dream had become your dream, too.

What’s more, it had definitely come true.

Dean notices things. Sure, most people often assume he doesn’t. They saw him as the loudmouth, cocky, smug, pie-loving, flirtatious hunter who looked like he bulldozed his way through life without paying attention to anything– but Dean noticed. He noticed when Sam switched coffee brands, he noticed when Cas was trying extra hard to understand a joke, most importantly: he’d noticed you stopped sleeping.

At first, he thought it was a couple bad nights. That happened, it’s not like hunters were exactly known for healthy sleep schedules. Hell, him and Sam had been surviving on four hours of sleep tops for as long as he could remember. But after a while, he started noticing patterns– the dark circles under your eyes, the way you yawned into your sleeve during breakfast, how you always lingered in the library a little longer even after everyone else had gone to bed. If anyone asked, you'd insist you were fine every single time. "M’okay" Dean knew that sentence was utter bullshit– he’d used it himself to brush off other people’s worries about his wellbeing.

He also noticed something else. One night after a rough hunt, you'd fallen asleep beside him during a movie down in his Dean-cave. One minute? You were awake, quietly curled against his shoulder while he mindlessly flipped through channels. The next? Your breathing had evened out– dead asleep. Huh, that was weird. Anyways, Dean had smiled to himself before carefully draping a blanket over you. No matter what the reason was, he was just happy to see you get some rest.

But then it happened again and again… It kept happening. Soon enough, after a few times of the same thing, he realized something– you only slept when you were close to him. Honestly, he didn't say anything, mainly not to embarrass you. Because he knew you– you were soft around the edges, gentle, a little skittish, always worrying about being a burden, kind where other hunters were harsh. So instead, he let it happen naturally.

Then one night, around two in the morning– he heard a tiny knock at his door. Dean was barely awake and luckily enough he didn’t have his headphones on blasting Metallica, otherwise he wouldn’t have heard the faint knocking. "Yeah?" He calls out, voice gravelly from sleep.

The door opened a crack and you peeked your head inside. His heart melted instantly at the sight– big sweatshirt swallowing your frame, hands tucked into the sleeves, eyes tired and hesitant. "Sorry" You murmured softly, apologizing before even having a full-on interaction.

Dean pushed himself up onto one elbow to look at you. "What's wrong?"

You glanced at the floor. "Couldn't sleep"

He tried not to smile at your quiet admission.  "C'mere" He pats the mattress beside him, already lifting up the covers for you to hop in.

You hesitated briefly, hovering by the doorway. "Only if it’s okay"

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "Sweetheart, if it wasn't okay, I wouldn’t have offered it" Your shoulders relaxed immediately. And there it was– that tiny thing you did, the way your entire body softened whenever he reassured you. You padded across the room quietly before climbing into bed. Quietly, like you were trying your very best not to disturb him. (As if your presence could ever do such thing) The mattress dipped beneath your weight as you settled beside him carefully, too carefully for his liking. Dean snorted softly. "You can get comfortable, y’know?"

"Sorry"

"There it is again" He huffs fondly, shaking his head in amused disbelief.

You blinked up at him. "What?"

"The whole ‘sorry’ thing" The hunter gently reached over, tugging you closer until your back rested against his chest. "Quit apologizing" Your body tightened for a second, caught off guard. But then he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you even more into his warmth– immediately, he felt the difference. The tension he'd grown so used to seeing in your body slowly began to disappear. It was like watching a frightened animal finally realizing it wasn't in danger anymore. Dean's hand gently rests on your side, thumb tracing slow circles over your waist. "There we go" You let out the tiniest sigh, the kind you didn't even realize escaped but made it out anyways. He smiled against your hair, satisfied to see you relax. "Bad dreams?"

You nodded. "Couldn't make my brain stop"

"Yeah" He sighs in agreement, fully understanding what that felt like. Hell, he’d spent countless sleepless nights tossing around with too many thoughts tormenting him.

You were quiet for a moment before carefully speaking up: "Is this annoying?"

Dean scoffed. "Seriously?"

You shrank a little into yourself, not sure how to react. "I mean...I don’t know"

His hand stopped moving for a second– not because he was upset, but because he needed you to hear him. Really hear him. "Sweetheart, look at me" You turned around slightly, peeking at him over your shoulder. Even in the dark, your eyes looked uncertain. Dean softened immediately at the sight. "Listen to me" He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with a softness that was surprising in a roughened hunter like himself. "You are never annoying" Your expression faltered, like hearing those words genuinely surprised you– that alone made his chest tighten. "If you're having a bad night, you come get me"

"Dean—"

"Nope" He cuts off your quiet protest, squeezing your side. "M’serious"

You stared up at him, curious and gentle all at once. "What if I wake you up?"

He snorted. "Sweetheart, I've fought vampires on three hours of sleep" That earned a tiny laugh. "There she is" You half-heartedly ducked away from his gaze at being called out to which Dean grinned. "Besides..." He shifted even closer. (As if that were possible) "Could get used to this"

You turned around to look up at him again, your eyes widening with something close to thankful warmth. "Really?"

"Yeah" He shrugged simply. "Room's would be too empty without you"

Your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. "Dean"

"What?" The hunter smirked. "It's true" You hid your face into the pillow, turning your back to him once more. Still, he felt your smile before he even got to see it. God you were cute, ridiculously, unfairly cute. He pulled the blanket higher around both of you– making sure your shoulders were covered, making sure your feet weren't cold, making sure every inch of you was tucked safely against him… Eventually, his arms found their place around your stomach, thumbs slowly rubbing back and forth over the fabric of your sweatshirt. Your breathing gradually changed into longer, softer– sleepier inhales and exhales. Dean smiled to himself, murmuring a soft: "Attagirl" against your hair. Your fingers gently curled around his forearms. Like you needed to make sure he was really there. Like if you held on, the nightmares couldn't follow you.

And maybe they couldn't– because here in his arms, there were no monsters that could get to you. No overthinking, no scary thoughts waiting around every corner. There was just Dean.

Warm. Solid. Safe.

Sharp lines, blue eyes that could cut you like a diamond. Shoulders that could probably body you to the ground — and you’d thank him for it. “Are you alright, ma’am?” Oh, and that goes straight between your legs. 

You’ve never really been in love before. You’ve never even really dated. Your college life was spent with tearstains on your textbooks and essay papers until each piece of work contained a fat, red ‘A’ and added up to your perfect GPA. Countless hours networking with people to wriggle yourself into your dream job and now those hours are wasted behind a desk with a career that gives you carpal tunnel. 

Point is — when you set your mind on something, you obsess over it until you achieve it.

Your current target? One Sergeant Bucky Barnes from FDNY Engine 205. 

From the moment he stepped in and delivered that question, to the second he looked into your eyes and grinned, those sapphire eyes twinkling as he said — “That dinner looks delicious, what I’d kill for a homecooked meal,” you knew you were done for.

Ask and you shall receive. 

Now, on your work breaks, you find yourself stopping by with a platter of something new you’ve whipped up. Whether it’s a hearty protein-topped salad or a smoked barbecue selection or an array of sweet treats, you bring it as an offering to the local station.

Every. Single. Day. 

The first day, one guy looks at you reluctantly at your foil-covered container and you had to stand there in shame as he told you that they couldn’t accept it due to health and safety concerns. 

Your cheeks were hot as you held the tray closer to your chest, ready to hightail out of there before you can embarrass yourself further, when that familiar voice came.

“Steak alarm.” 

Your gaze lifted to find Bucky standing there. He’s wiping his hands on a dirty dishrag, tight shirt clinging onto his body with the sweat and… general fit of the fabric, as he made his way towards you. 

He lifted the foil and his gaze widened. It felt like you were taking a nosedive straight off a cliff into the Pacific — and you enjoyed every second of it. 

“Now that’s a meal.” 

Then he was summoning the rest of the station to take a gander at what you’ve prepared and suddenly they’re all picking away at it and thanking you for the first proper meal they’ve had in days. 

And when Bucky once again flashed you that charming smile, one that would probably set off all the alarms in this station, it was over for you. 

You should be embarrassed with being so obvious — some of the other firefighters have caught on to your teensy crush. Natasha, who’s probably the most badass person you’ve ever met, shoots you lopsided smiles every time you stare at Bucky. Sam and Steve are a little less subtle as they make comments like “your wife’s here, Barnes!” and you have to flail and panic until Bucky damns them with warning glares.

It’s not as if you talk to him. They’re much too busy for that. One of those days, you walk in and they’re actually gearing up to leave. Bucky had apologized profusely before he hopped in the truck and was on his way. 

Instead, you yearn silently. You tell yourself it’s enough that you can see Bucky smile every day, that you can watch him devour whatever new thing you’ve made. 

But the more you see him, the greedier you get. 

When he does have time, he talks you through the mechanics of his job or describes the truck in great detail — until Sam yells at him, “Nobody wants to hear about your damn truck, Buck!” Then he’s flushing and saying sorry for boring you. You tell him in honesty that he could never bore you. 

Suddenly, your days seem a little brighter. Instead of the humdrum life you’ve crafted for yourself, your pulse skips every time you think of something new to make for the station. You think of them as new friends. All of them know you by name and welcome you in with no hesitation. 

It feels as if you’re making strides in getting to know Bucky, in getting him to actually like you. Not necessarily in a romantic way, just as two people becoming friends. 

However, as you’re approaching the station late one day (your oven was being difficult), you find that the team is already on the upper level of the base having lunch. You reach for the stairway when you hear it. 

“Come on, Buck, you know she’s got a crush on you,” Sam teases. The others titter in agreement. 

Heat floods your cheeks. 

“Quit it, Wilson,” Bucky growls.

“What? She too much for you?” Sam presses with a chuckle. 

“She’s a handful, that’s for sure,” you hear Bucky mutter.

You hear your heart hit the ground. Laughter ripples through the space but there’s a ringing in your ears and your feet are moving before you can think twice. 

Handful. A handful.

All this time, you thought you were doing something nice, but you didn’t realize you were actually bothering them. The street before you blurs as tears prick your eyes. Your breaths come out shallow as you trudge all the way home, the baked goods in your hands suddenly feeling like deadweight. 

It’s only when you’re in the safety of your apartment that you allow yourself to breathe. At least as much as you can. You end up clearing out that tray on your own that evening with a depressing movie on screen.

From that point, you can’t imagine coming in to face them. You can’t bear the thought of pitying looks from the team or how Bucky is probably forced to smile to welcome you. Public servants and all. The last thing you want to do is inconvenience them when they’ve got a lot on their plates.

So you stop coming. You instead bury yourself in work, taking on more responsibility to keep your mind distracted — far away from the thought of being a handful. There are some nights when that melancholy morphs into irritation, how you wish you could spite him for not telling you the truth sooner. And then you realize that it’s not on him; you chose to do this. He was simply being kind.

You had mistaken that kindness for something more. 

It’s been a few days since you last came and none of them have said a thing. It’s not as if you ever traded phone numbers. At least this will be a clean slate. You can forget this fluke ever happened.

You’re trying a new chicken recipe, frowning at your box of butter, when a knock sounds on your door. Your instinct is to sniff the air, wondering if the scent has permeated through the halls and your neighbor Mr. Tilman is here to complain again. 

Wiping your hands on your kitchen towel, you swing the door open to find… not Mr. Tilman.

Instead, Bucky stands at your door. 

He’s still in his fire station t-shirt. 

He still looks delicious.

Those eyes that you’ve grown to adore light up when they see you. He smiles softly, “Hey.”

Your throat is dry. “Uh, hi.”

He looks you up and down and you realize now your disheveled state. Hair a mess, your oversized shirt is ratty and ends at your thighs. You reach up instinctively to try and fix yourself. 

“You open your door to everyone like that?” His gaze flicks to your bare legs before going back up, cheeks a little pinker.

“Um, I thought you were Mr. Tilman. He doesn’t like it when I use too many spices.”

“You open your door to Mr. Tilman like that?” Bucky cocks an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirked up in amusement.

You fight back a smile and shake your head. “No, not usually. I was still distracted with my cooking when you knocked. Can I help you with something?”

Bucky shifts a little nervously then and you finally notice the crinkling plastic bag in his hands. “I haven’t seen you in a while. I thought you were sick so I brought over some chicken soup. I can’t cook for the life of me so I bought it. I can promise it’s safe.” 

Dammit. How are you supposed to get over this man when he does things like this?

“Oh, thank you,” you swallow thickly.

“You don’t look sick though.”

“I’m… not,” you say slowly, unsure of how to approach this situation.

“No, you’re not,” Bucky responds softly, “we missed seeing you around.” 

Your feet shuffle closer together as you look down at them instead of him. “Yeah, it’s been busy.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

You look up and laugh awkwardly. The lie goes straight past your teeth. “No, no. Just work.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow, lips tightening. He knows. You should’ve spent the past few days learning how to fib instead of moping. “Is something wrong?”

“What? No. Why would something be wrong?”

Real smooth. 

Saved by the bell, your fire alarm begins beeping aggressively. You’ve forgotten your chicken. A curse slips past your lips as you hurry back in but Bucky beats you to it. He’s switching off your stove, telling you not to touch the pan, and reaching over to toggle with the alarm. 

And now the two of you are in your kitchen, standing side by side watching as the oil pops in your pan and your chicken is completely burnt to a crisp. 

“Well, guess that recipe didn’t work,” you joke to break the tension. 

Bucky is silent for a moment before he asks quietly, “Did I do something?”

“What?” You whip up to face him. 

“Is work really the reason why you haven’t been coming around?”

Your heart slams against your ribs. “Yeah,” you choke out a laugh again, “of course.”

The smile he gives you is almost sorrowful. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Flinching, you shift your gaze away this time. 

“If I did something, I want to apologize. I’d appreciate it if you told me so I can properly say sorry and so I don’t do it again.” 

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you shake your head, “believe me. It’s fine.”

“Then why?” 

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, teeth sinking into your bottom one. Bucky’s gaze falls briefly again to your mouth before it returns to you. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

His eyes flicker in surprise. “Why would you be a bother?”

“You guys are obviously busy and I don’t want to intrude—”

“You don’t— you could never intrude,” Bucky interjects softly, “what would give you that idea?”

You clear your throat and shrug.

“I lo—” he stops, flushing lightly, “We love having you there. All of us. We look forward to your visits, you know. Sam won’t shut up about everything you make. We might’ve taken you for granted and I am sorry for that, but I want you to know that you could never be a bother.” 

“Thank you,” you murmur softly. “I’ll, um, come by tomorrow maybe.”

“And you don’t have to bring anything all the time. You must be busy with work too. Could just swing by to chat with us. Steve also hosts weekly game nights with Nat and you’re more than welcome to join us.”

Now it’s your turn to be flustered as you wave him off. “No, no, that’s for your team.”

“People bring their plus ones too, it’s very casual.”

“Yeah, but I’m not really anyone’s plus one,” you laugh lightly.

Bucky digs his fingers into his pockets and you see that his neck and ears are stained red. His gaze shifts around the room before they fly back to you. Honest blue eyes. “You could be mine.”

Your heart skips. 

“I mean, you don’t have to— I just, you know, it would be nice. Of course, you don’t have to be my plus one. You could be someone else’s — scratch that, you could be the team’s overall plus one, but I think it would be nice if you were mine…” Bucky trails off and his usually tanned skin flushes a deeper and deeper shade of scarlet. 

You’re not sure how to respond to this. Just days ago, you heard him call you a handful. You thought you were too much. You don’t know what to make of this.

Is he just being kind? Maybe he feels bad that you’ve spent weeks coming around and now he wants to repay the favor.

“You know you don’t have to feel bad and invite me,” you gently say. 

“I don’t—” he looks taken aback, “I’m not inviting you because I feel bad. I’m, shit, I’m inviting you because I want you there.” 

“Why?”

Bucky rubs his face aggressively, groaning silently to himself. “I feel like I’m going about this the wrong way. I… really like you.” Your heart stutters again, your breath hitching in your throat. “I wanted to ask you out properly, but I wasn’t sure if that would cross any professional boundaries, given how we met. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. If I’ve misinterpreted anything you’ve done, please let me know. I just— you were coming around and the team was saying that you came around to see me — and I guess I got my hopes up.”

You’re silent, and your nonresponse makes him squirm. 

Why would he— this doesn’t make any sense. You heard him loud and clear at the station, right? 

“But I thought you thought I was a handful,” you whisper. 

“What?” He blanches, “What would make you think that?”

“I heard you,” you admit shamefully, “last time I came around the station. I thought— I figured I was being a nuisance so I didn’t want to overstep anymore.”

The gears are turning in his mind as he seemingly retraces his steps. You see the moment he remembers. His face pales. “Oh, fuck, oh god. No, shit. No, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay! Look, it’s totally fine. I get it. I can be intense and I don’t want to put that pressure on you.”

Bucky takes a deep breath, his eyes are kind and stern at the same time as he delivers his explanation. “I only said you’re a handful because you do so much and I don’t know if I could ever do enough to return the favor. I’ve been thinking about asking you out and I haven’t really… dated in a while — or ever for that matter — and I wanted to do it right. I wanted to do right by you. Fuck, I didn’t mean handful in that way, I swear.” 

“Oh.”

“God, I’m an idiot,” Bucky moans, “I’m so sorry. Shit, you must’ve thought— I’m sorry. I never want you to think you’re a bother. You’re not. You’re the best part of my day. Every day, I look forward to coming into work knowing I was going to see you in the afternoon. I prayed so that we wouldn’t get called out during those hours.”

Your lips part.

He takes a deep breath, “That first day you didn’t come, I was worried that something happened, but the others thought I would be too much if I stopped by. Not to mention, incredibly inappropriate since I know your address from that first time. But shit, I missed you that day. I didn’t realize how much I loved seeing you every day until that first day. Then you stopped coming and I couldn’t stop worrying so Nat finally unofficially greenlit me to check on you and I came straight here. But then I thought that you were sick so I stopped by to get soup and— now I’m rambling. You didn’t ask for all that. I just need you to know that you could never be a bother to me. Never. Even if you were a handful, I can’t imagine anyone else taking care of you— I don’t want to imagine that.”

“Bucky—”

“And that makes me really selfish right? But I want to be the first person you call if anything happens. If something good or bad happens, I want you to tell me first. Because I like you so, so much. I should’ve made that clear earlier. But, again, if all this makes you uncomfortable, then tell me. I’ll leave. No hard feelings.”

“Bucky!”

“Yes,” he shuts up.

“I—” you realize now that you should’ve prepared what to say, but how are you expected to respond to that? “Thank you, um, for clarifying. I don’t even know what to say. I can confirm that I was coming around mainly to see you,” you say, embarrassment written all over your face at your confession, “you’re the best part of my day too. I should’ve just talked to you instead of jumping to conclusions.” 

His face is marred by a wince as he offers you an apologetic look. “No, I understand why you did. I should’ve phrased it better.”

“Well, at least that’s cleared up,” you smile, “but I do… like you too, that is. Professional code be damned, I would’ve said yes if you asked me on a date.”

The smile he gives you is blinding and you vow then and there that you would spend the rest of your life making sure he keeps that expression on his face. 

“Well, since your dinner is… unsalvagable,” Bucky begins, glancing briefly at the mess on your stove, “how about I take you out for dinner? As a date.”

You smile. “I’d love that.”

bucky is kissing (taglist): @superbassbuck @earthsmightiestbenders @houseofhyde @its-in-the-woods @flockoff-featherface @winterdecember18 @chateaubarnes @54nboo @barnes-babydoll @phoenix-in-writing @tofuonfaiya @avengersfan25 @miraclediviner @averyhotchner @hailmary-yramliah @catclaw1 @blowingbarnes @stanmarvelous @pinksplace @lunexiax @54nboo @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @esunarint @nikkitabarnes @captain-shannon-becker @lunaryoongie @sergeantsebastian @alli0-0 @amoremarveloustime @avgdestitute @natskisses @sarah1barnes @parker-barnes-af @sarah1barnes @onecojg @iamthatonefangirl @wildflowersandvibranium @stegosaurussims @angelryex @evelynstanmarvel @lokisgirlie @mathcat345 @flippedccc @lynnidc @winnichu173 @singulartoast @zhaixiaowen @c3liaaaaa @Buckysdecaflove @epiphanyrogers @larissabarnes @itsmadamehydra @cutttteeee @macbaetwo @blobfishlol @biaswreckedbybuckybarnes @erina00

Frequently Asked Questions:

Q: Where can I find the prompts list?

A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.

Q: How are the prompts divided?

A: Each day has a "title" or a vague theme, followed by two tropes and one dialogue prompt.

Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?

A: Absolutely.

Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?

A: Not at all.

Q: Can I use all the prompts?

A: Absolutely.

Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap days to fit the timeline?

A: Yes, just make sure you tag your days and prompts appropriately. If you're writing for day 6, but you post it on day 12, tag day 6, not day 12.

Q: Can I have early or late entries?

A: Yes. This is a very laid back event, and meant mainly to inspire lots of whumperless whump. It's not a strict writing challenge.

Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?

A: Yes! This year's collection is linked here. The parent collection also includes 2024 and 2025--make sure you select 2026.

Q: Can I write [insert anything here]?

A: Yes. However, this blog will not reblog certain topics (ex. nsfw or suicide), so please tag your works appropriately, so anyone can filter out anything they don't want to see.

Q: Can I use AI?

A: No.

Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?

A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:

A character's drink is spiked at a party. OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering. NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee.

A character is left alone in a storm. OKAY: The character is stranded or lost. NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm.

A character is mugged on the street. OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee. NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.

All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this, but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.

Q: How do I tag my posts?

A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2026 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Make sure to tag the fill type (art, fic, music, etc) with #fic, #art, #et cetera. Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.

Q: How do I get reblogged?

A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)

Q: I disagree with something/have an issue with a prompt/want to address a problem. How should I do it?

A: Send me an ask and we can fix it. I am more than willing to work through any problems--I am human, and not without fault.

I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any other questions that aren't on the list, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!

Plain Text:

Like a Baby Seal to Water: Fishtailing / Near drowning / "I thought I was going to die."

Somebody's Gotta Do It: Unexpected caretaker / Touch starvation / "You don't have to hide from me."

A Lull in the Chaos: Bedside vigil / Checking vitals / "Can you… sing? Until I fall asleep?"

How Are You So Oblivious: Unknowingly feverish / Falling asleep at work / "Can you drink some water for me?"

Wilderness Experts: Poisoned / Caught in a trap / "I don't know where we are."

Down The Wrong Pipe: Choking / Seizures / "Call an ambulance, tell 'em they're not breathing."

Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / "Get me out of here."

Are You Sure This Is Normal: Natural disasters / Scared of thunder / "We're safe in here, okay? I think."

Dropping Like Flies: Multiple whumpees / Caretaking while sick or injured / "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."

A Warm Welcome: Coming home from the hospital / Cuddle piles / "You scared me so badly…"

Bodily Betrayal: Stomach sick / Carried to bed / "…Yeah. I can call in sick for you."

You Make Me Lose My Breath: Wheezing / Altitude sickness / "You're not making sense."

Waking In A Cold Sweat: Midnight hospital visit / Allergic reaction / "I thought you were getting better."

The Final Straw: Grief / Mental breakdown / "You don't need to be okay right now."

Caught Off-Kilter: Earthquake / Claustrophobia / "We're here! Help!"

Listen Very Carefully: Medic whumpee / Coaching through first aid / "I'm going to scream. You have to keep going."

We All Make Mistakes: Injury while cooking / Soft wound tending / "Let me take care of you this time."

Losing Your Sealegs: Too dizzy to stand / Motion sickness / "Can… can we pull over?"

Out of This World: Magical exhaustion / Cursed / "We'll fix this, I promise."

Here Comes Bad News: Scary diagnosis / Distress calls / "I'll be right here the whole time."

Hold Your Tongue: Fighting with a friend / Parting words regret / "I'm sorry, I'm just… not thinking right."

Oh So Inconvenient: Trapped inside by weather / Worsening infection / "I didn't know where else to go."

All Hands On Deck: Multiple caretakers / Travelling while injured / "Hold on a little longer."

Uncharacteristic Behavior: Clinginess / Falling asleep on Caretaker / "Are you… feeling okay?"

Respiratory Distress: Coughing up blood / Sick and injured / "Don't make me laugh, it hurts."

In Hot Water: Hurt while on the run / Bystander caretaker / "You can turn me in. Just help them. Please."

Break the Surface: Coma / Retrograde Amnesia / "You were in an accident."

When The Night's Out To Get You: Nightmares / Chronic insomnia / "I'll stay awake, you can sleep."

Too Hot (Hot Damn): Wildfire / Heatstroke / "This isn't how I thought tonight would go."

Don't Lose Your Head: Inexperienced caretaker / Severe concussion / "I don't know what to do."

With a Little Help (From My Friends): Waking a caretaker for help / Delirious confession / "Why didn't you say something?"

Alternative Prompts:

Last Chances: Scouting for a healer / Field medicine / "You can scream. It's safe now."

Literally Biting You: Animal attack / Venom / "Someone get a medic!"

Tick Tock: Losing track of time / Dissociating / "Look at me, please. There you go."

That's a Lot of Blood: Hypovolemic shock / Nosebleeds / "Please don't pass out on me."