jules :)

it had started as a passing comment during a monday morning lecture about symbolism in to kill a mockingbird. jesse had been mid-sentence when he said:

"scout reminds me of my daughter, actually—super curious, bit stubborn, and way too clever for her age."

the classroom had gone silent for a beat before half the students—mostly the girls in his third-period honors class—erupted with excited gasps and groans.

“wait, wait, you have a daughter?!”

"mr. kim, you never told us that!”

“what's her name? how old is she?”

jesse had blinked at the sudden barrage of questions, marker still in hand. he chuckled, leaning back against the whiteboard with that easy, charming smile that always made him a favorite among the staff and students. “she’s four. her name’s (d/n).”

“awhhhh,” one girl squealed from the back. “that is the cutest name i’ve ever heard. oh my god.”

“you have to bring her in,” another insisted, practically bouncing in her seat. “please? like for show and tell or something?”

jesse had grinned, amused but used to the chaos. “she’s not a puppy, guys.”

“but you have pictures, right?” someone piped up.

and of course, he did.

he’d reluctantly pulled out his phone, scrolling through with a slightly sheepish look on his face. “okay, okay, one photo. maybe two. she’d kill me if she knew.”

within seconds, a small crowd had gathered around his desk, oohing and gasping over shots of (d/n) in a bumblebee halloween costume, (d/n) holding a giant pancake with a proud grin, and (d/n) fast asleep on his chest while he graded papers on the couch.

"she’s adorable."

“i would die for her.”

“you’re like… hot and a dad? mr. kim, that’s not fair.”

he had flushed at that, laughing as he waved them back to their seats. “okay, that’s enough. back to harper lee, people. let’s keep the thirst in check.”

from that day on, his class had been relentless.

every week: “when are we meeting (d/n)?”

every day: “is she coming tomorrow?”

until finally, on a rainy friday in march, jesse walked into third period with a tiny pink backpack slung over his shoulder and a four-year-old girl holding tightly to his hand.

she was wearing a lavender raincoat with a hood that had little bear ears on it, dark curls peeking out from underneath. her big brown eyes scanned the classroom warily, her lower lip tucked between her teeth as she clung closer to his side.

“alright,” jesse said, pulling the classroom door shut behind him. “you asked for it. this is my daughter—(d/n).”

the classroom exploded.

a collective gasp filled the room, followed by squeals and exclamations of “she’s so small!” and “oh my god she looks just like you!”

(d/n) immediately froze, wide eyes flicking up to jesse in panic.

he crouched beside her, smoothing his hand gently over her curls. “hey, it’s okay, bug. remember? these are daddy’s students. they’re just really excited to meet you.”

she nodded slowly, but didn’t let go of his leg.

“i-it’s loud,” she whispered.

jesse softened, kissing her temple. “i know, sweetheart. let’s sit down for a bit, okay? you can stay with me up here.”

he led her to his desk and lifted her into his chair, handing her a little pink thermos from her backpack. she sipped quietly, eyes flicking from face to face like she was cataloguing every student in the room.

the class, sensing her nerves, quickly dialed back the volume—sort of. several girls had pressed their hands over their mouths, whispering behind cupped palms.

“she’s literally perfect,” one murmured.

“look at her little shoes,” another whispered, visibly tearing up. “they have bunnies on them. i’m gonna cry.”

jesse gave them a warning glance. “you guys promised not to overwhelm her.”

“sorry!” one girl stage-whispered, practically vibrating in her seat. “she’s just so cute i can’t help it!”

(d/n) peeked up at her dad, cheeks still slightly pink.

“are they always like this?”

jesse chuckled. “worse.”

there was a moment of quiet as he went to the whiteboard, trying to resume class, but (d/n)’s sudden question interrupted him mid-sentence.

“daddy?”

he turned. “yeah, bug?”

“can i color?”

“of course.” he walked back to his desk, pulled out a stack of printer paper and a box of crayons he kept in his bottom drawer, and handed them over like it was routine—which, honestly, it was.

while jesse went on with the lesson, (d/n) colored quietly, swinging her feet beneath the desk. every now and then, one of the students would lean a little closer, trying to sneak a peek without spooking her.

eventually, one brave girl raised her hand.

“mr. kim? if (d/n) wants… can she show us what she’s drawing?”

jesse looked over. “do you want to show them, sweetheart?”

(d/n) hesitated, chewing on the crayon wrapper. then, with careful fingers, she turned the paper around and held it up.

it was a slightly wobbly drawing of her family: her in the middle, jesse on one side, and you—drawn with a giant heart next to your head—on the other.

the class melted.

“stop.”

“that’s the cutest thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“she loves her mom so much, oh my god.”

“can we meet your wife too?!”

jesse raised both eyebrows. “i draw the line at dragging my wife into this circus.”

at that moment, his phone buzzed, and he pulled it out with one hand while pointing to the board with the other.

“guys, let’s bring it back to the theme of innocence in—” he glanced at the screen, then smiled softly. “speak of the devil. that’s her.”

the class watched as he texted you back quickly with a small, private smile that made one of the girls whisper: “he’s in love with her, oh my god.”

“you guys are the definition of goals,” someone whispered as (d/n) climbed into jesse’s lap halfway through class.

she yawned and curled against his chest, thumb sneaking toward her mouth before she remembered he didn’t like that in public.

jesse rested his chin on her head and kept teaching like it was the most normal thing in the world.

and maybe it was.

to the students, it was like seeing their teacher in a whole new light. mr. kim, who always made them annotate too much and handed out “surprise” quizzes, was suddenly just a regular guy—a dad. a really sweet, ridiculously in-love husband and girl dad.

by the end of the period, half the class had tried (and failed) to get (d/n) to talk. she gave one-word answers, buried her face in her dad’s chest whenever someone squealed, and eventually passed out cold against him—arms curled around his neck, drool soaking into his shirt.

when the bell rang, no one wanted to leave.

“she has to come back,” one girl begged, half-serious.

“can she sit with me next time?” another asked.

“i’ll give her my snacks. all of them. please.”

jesse shook his head, laughing softly as he packed (d/n)’s things with one hand while carrying her in the other. “you guys are wild.”

he looked at his class, soft-eyed and proud, then down at the sleepy little girl in his arms.

“thanks for being kind. she’s gonna talk about this all week.”

and with that, he left—his daughter snuggled into his shoulder, her bunny shoes dangling midair, her drawing carefully tucked into her backpack.

and every student left third period with one thought:

mr. kim’s life was unfairly wholesome… and they absolutely wanted to be invited to (d/n)’s next birthday party.

the next morning, jesse crouched beside (d/n) as she sat on the edge of the bed, tugging on her socks with a pout pulling at her mouth.

he held out her rain boots—sparkly pink with little rubber duckies on the sides—but she shook her head and turned her face away.

“don’t want to go today,” she mumbled, fingers fussing with the hem of her pajama top.

jesse tilted his head. “you loved going yesterday. what’s going on, bug?”

she hesitated, then looked up at him with wide brown eyes, her voice small and sleepy. “can mommy pick me up today?”

jesse’s expression softened instantly. “you miss her?”

she nodded. “you got to have her at work. i want her at yours.”

jesse blinked. “that’s… fair.”

he leaned in to kiss her cheek, then scooped her into his lap, brushing her curls back as she clutched his shirt.

“i’ll text her, okay? maybe she can come meet us after class.”

(d/n) smiled, just barely. “and she can see my drawing too?”

“of course.”

he texted you as soon as she was dressed and eating her banana oatmeal at the counter. she misses you. asked if you could pick her up today after third period. come if you can—she wants to show you her art.

your reply came seconds later: of course. i’ll be there. tell her i can’t wait.

third period arrived faster than either of them expected, and jesse was in the middle of discussing thesis statements when he felt (d/n) tug on his pant leg. she was sitting in the corner again, crayons scattered around her and a new masterpiece almost complete.

“is it almost time?”

“soon, bug. fifteen more minutes,” he whispered, smoothing a hand over her head. “she’s coming.”

that answer kept her content—for about five more minutes.

the students were halfway through peer reviewing rough drafts when there was a gentle knock on the classroom door.

jesse turned immediately, already smiling.

“alright, hold onto your pens,” he said, heading to the door.

when he opened it, there you stood—hair still slightly damp from the rain, cheeks flushed from the walk through the building, umbrella folded in one hand.

your eyes met his, and he gave you a lopsided smile before stepping aside.

“she’s been counting the minutes.”

as soon as (d/n) saw you, she squealed—an uncharacteristically loud sound for her—and jumped up from her chair, leaving her crayons behind as she ran full speed across the room.

“mommy!!”

you knelt just in time to catch her, her tiny arms wrapping around your neck as she practically bowled you over. you laughed, holding her tight, her damp curls smooshed against your cheek.

“i missed you,” she whispered.

“i missed you too, baby,” you murmured back, kissing her temple.

the class had collectively fallen silent, half-finished peer reviews abandoned as they watched the scene with open hearts and melting expressions.

“she’s so pretty,” one girl whispered, elbowing her friend.

“oh my god, mr. kim married up,” another muttered.

jesse turned toward the class, eyebrows raised. “i heard that.”

“no offense, mr. kim,” one boy said, grinning. “but facts are facts.”

you stood with (d/n) still clinging to your side, your hand rubbing gentle circles on her back as you gave jesse a fond smile. “this is the chaos you deal with every day?”

he grinned. “welcome to third period.”

one of the girls at the front raised her hand eagerly. “hi, mrs. kim—are we allowed to say that? is that what we call you?”

you laughed lightly. “you can just call me (y/n).”

“can we ask you questions?” another piped up. “like how you and mr. kim met? and—”

“and how you made such a cute daughter?!” someone else interrupted.

(d/n) tucked her face into your shoulder at that, her small voice muffled. “too many people…”

jesse stepped in quickly, reaching out to brush his fingers through her curls. “alright, alright, slow your roll. she’s a little shy, remember?”

you gave him a grateful look before shifting (d/n) to your other side.

“i think we’ll just let you finish up class,” you said softly. “we’ll wait in the back.”

“no,” (d/n) said suddenly, her voice firmer. “i want to sit with daddy now. and mommy too.”

there was a beat of silence.

then jesse chuckled, completely helpless to deny her.

“well. you heard her.”

he cleared a spot on his desk, and within moments, (d/n) was perched on one knee, you on the edge of his chair beside her, her drawing proudly displayed across his papers.

you leaned into jesse’s shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your waist, his other balancing (d/n) on his knee while she explained (to no one in particular) how the stick figure with the long hair was you, and the one with the “strong muscles” was daddy.

jesse kissed her cheek. “you’re the best part of my day, bug.”

she beamed. “i know.”

the class stared at the three of you like they were watching a hallmark movie come to life.

someone whispered, “i want that,” and half the room nodded in agreement.

mr. kim—the hot english teacher with the adorable daughter and the even prettier wife—was now officially a legend.

and honestly?

you didn’t mind sharing him with a bunch of lovestruck teens.

not when you got to leave with his hand in yours, your daughter bouncing between you, and that look on his face—the one that said: this is everything i ever wanted.

jesse didn’t want to go to the ice rink that night.

he’d just finished his shift at the bookstore, his hoodie smelled faintly like cinnamon from the café next door, and his legs ached from standing all day. all he wanted was to throw himself onto his couch, scroll aimlessly through his phone, and fall asleep with the tv still playing some documentary he wouldn’t remember.

but ellie had other plans.

“dude,” she said, practically bouncing in the passenger seat. “you’re gonna love this. trust me.”

jesse raised an eyebrow as he drove, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel. “love what? watching you fall on your face again?”

“that was one time,” ellie said, glaring at him. “also, i was drunk.”

dina snorted in the backseat. “you had one spiked hot chocolate and started doing the worm on the ice.”

“it was interpretive,” ellie argued.

jesse just laughed and shook his head. he didn’t really care where they were going. he liked the peace of it, driving them around, windows fogged from the cold outside, the quiet hum of music playing low in the car. still, he didn’t expect much. a seasonal ice rink, probably crowded with kids. maybe a hot chocolate stand if they were lucky.

but the second he stepped inside the building, something shifted.

the air was crisp, clean, lightly perfumed with peppermint and popcorn. soft fairy lights were strung overhead, casting a dreamy glow across the white of the ice. the sound of blades carving gentle arcs into the frozen surface echoed faintly, like something out of a winter movie.

and there you were.

in the middle of it all.

jesse stopped walking.

you weren’t putting on a show, not really. you were just skating, looping in and out of turns, arms stretching out in smooth lines, your sweater fluttering slightly with the motion. you wore earmuffs and warm gloves, and your skates looked well-worn, like they’d carried you through thousands of hours of practice.

he didn’t know what it was, exactly. the way your breath came out in clouds, or the way your eyes stayed focused on the ice like the world around you didn’t even exist. like you didn’t realize anyone was watching. or maybe you did, and you just didn’t care.

either way, he was stunned.

ellie said something beside him. he didn’t catch it. “hello?” dina waved her hand in front of his face. “earth to jesse?” jesse blinked. “who is that?” ellie followed his gaze, then grinned. “ohhh. yeah. her. she’s always here. works part-time at the rink, teaches lessons or something.”

“she’s like... actually good,” dina added. “most people here just goof off, but she’s legit.”

jesse didn’t respond. he just watched as you bent into a spin, arms folding in until you turned into a blur. when you came out of it, breathless, cheeks pink, you smiled to yourself like you were the only person alive.

and it hit him, clear as day.

he wanted to know you.

he came back the next night.

he didn’t tell anyone this time. just showed up quietly, hoodie pulled over his head, hands shoved into his coat pockets. the rink wasn’t crowded. a tuesday evening, mostly a few couples skating awkwardly, some kids clinging to the rails. and you.

same soft sweater. same earmuffs. same quiet intensity. 

jesse leaned against the wall near the rental counter, pretending to scroll through his phone while watching you make lap after lap with effortless grace.

you were mesmerizing.

it wasn’t just the skating. it was the way you carried yourself. gentle. self-contained. you moved like someone who had their own rhythm, their own world. and even though he’d only seen you twice now, he was already curious about everything else.

what music you liked. how you took your coffee. what you looked like when you laughed.

he came back again. and again. each time, telling himself it was just coincidence. just a good place to unwind. but he always arrived right around the same time you skated. and he always stayed until you left.

you didn’t notice him at first. not really. and he didn’t mind. he liked the quiet. liked watching from the sidelines, heart fluttering a little every time you did something that made the staff at the counter cheer. even the smallest movements; a glide, a turn, a pause at center ice. made something in him ache.

and then, on the fifth night, you looked at him.

he didn’t think much of it, just a flicker of eye contact as you coasted by the edge. but then it happened again. and again.

you started skating closer to where he stood. looping by, glancing at him once with the faintest flicker of curiosity. jesse panicked the first time it happened. looked away so fast he nearly dropped his phone.

he showed up the next night with a hot chocolate. it felt stupid. too forward, too much. but you were coming off the ice and he caught you before you made it to the bench. cheeks pink, hands tugging off your gloves.

“hey,” he said, offering the cup out like some kind of peace offering. “you looked cold.”

you blinked at him, surprised, but then smiled. small, shy, and somehow even more beautiful up close. “thank you,” you said softly. your fingers brushed his as you took it. “that’s... really sweet.”

jesse rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “you’re, uh. really good, by the way.”

“thank you,” you said again, this time with a hint of laughter in your voice.

“i mean it,” he added. “it’s like watching a movie or something. you move like you’ve been skating since you were born.”

your smile grew, and you looked down at your cup. “almost,” you murmured. “started when i was five.”

“that explains a lot,” he said, grinning. there was a pause. not awkward, just quiet. jesse swallowed. “i’m jesse, by the way.” you gave him your name, voice soft like a secret. and that was it. something shifted.

a beginning.

after that, things changed.

you started waving to him when you skated by. started lingering a little longer after your sessions. he started bringing two hot chocolates instead of one.

you were quiet, soft-spoken, a little shy, but you asked questions. laughed at his dumb jokes. tugged your sleeves over your hands when he complimented your spins. he learned that your favorite color was lavender, that you liked skating with music in your ears, that you hated skating backwards even though you were good at it.

he started skating with you.

poorly at first. holding the wall, wobbly knees, way too dramatic. but it made you laugh, and that was all he needed. you’d skate backward in front of him, offering your hands, guiding him with gentle encouragement.

“bend your knees,” you’d say. “relax. you’re too stiff.”

“you’re not the first person to tell me that,” he’d mutter.

“jesse.”

“sorry. focus. bending my knees.”

you were patient with him. when he slipped, you helped him up. when he finally made it across the rink without holding the wall, you clapped like he’d won an olympic medal.

he lived for that.

winter crept in slowly.

the town lit up with string lights and wreaths, fake snow piling in department store windows, real snow gathering in powdery piles on street corners. jesse kept coming back to the rink — three, four nights a week, then every night, without fail. he’d never had a routine like this, never had something to look forward to so much it made the whole day softer just thinking about it.

you became his favorite part of the week. of everything.

he didn’t even try to hide it.

he showed up with gloves when you forgot yours. extra warm drinks. little bags of snacks. once he brought you a beanie because your ears were turning red from the cold.

you wore it the next day.

he almost died.

you started skating together more often.

not full lessons. just loops around the rink, quiet conversation in between soft music. jesse was still clumsy. still fell once in a while. but you’d always turn back for him, offering your hands with that familiar little smile. the one that made his stomach turn to mush.

he wanted to hold your hand longer than necessary. he wanted to tell you how he replayed your spins in his head when he got home. how he fell asleep thinking about the way your nose scrunched when you laughed.

but he didn’t. not yet.

you were shy, in your own quiet orbit, and jesse didn’t want to push too fast. he liked the slow, careful way you got close to people. the way you only spoke when you meant it. he felt lucky just to be in your space.

and he could tell you were warming up to him.

you started seeking him out after skating. standing a little closer. leaning into him when he said something dumb. brushing your arm against his, not quite on purpose, not quite by accident.

once, you came up behind him and tugged his beanie down over his eyes. “you’re gonna freeze,” you said, laughing as he shoved it back up. “you never dress warm enough.”

“are you worried about me?” he teased.

you looked away quickly, cheeks pink. “maybe.” he had to skate away before he did something stupid like kiss you on the cheek.

the night it snowed hard for the first time, the rink was almost empty.

you skated alone for nearly an hour, graceful as ever, slow and dreamy under the lights. jesse sat in his usual spot by the railing, sipping coffee, completely enthralled. he didn’t even try to hide it anymore.

when you finally came off the ice, cheeks red, hair damp with melted snow, you gave him the softest smile he’d ever seen. “you’re always here,” you said, voice warm. jesse shrugged. “what can i say? you’re kind of hard to look away from.”

you laughed, shaking your head as you sat beside him on the bench.

there was a long pause. jesse could hear your breathing. could see the way you kept glancing at him from the corner of your eye. he felt his heart flutter, then settle into something steady.

“can i show you something?” you asked suddenly, voice quieter than usual.

jesse blinked. “yeah. of course.”

you led him back onto the ice, the whole place empty now except for you two, and stood at the center, hands fidgeting with the cuffs of your sleeves.

“okay,” you said softly, more to yourself than him. “don’t laugh.”

jesse raised both hands. “i would never.”

and then you took off.

not fast. not dramatic. just... gentle.

you skated to a soft piano song playing over the speakers, every motion fluid, every line of your body calm and thoughtful. it wasn’t flashy, wasn’t showy. but it was beautiful. personal.

like a secret.

jesse stood there with his breath caught in his throat, watching you pour your heart into every movement. a tiny turn of your wrists. the curve of your shoulder. the way you closed your eyes like you were somewhere else entirely.

when you finished, you glided to a stop right in front of him.

you were breathless, flushed, suddenly nervous. “sorry. that was dumb. i—”

“no,” he said immediately. “that was... wow. seriously.” your gaze flicked up to his. “you think so?”

“yeah,” he said, voice softer now. “you skate like you’re telling a story.”

your lips parted slightly. like you hadn’t expected that.

jesse didn’t move. didn’t push. just stood there in the quiet glow of the lights, heart thudding loud enough he was sure you could hear it. “that was my old competition routine,” you said finally. “before i quit.” jesse looked at you. “you quit?” you nodded slowly. “a few years ago. after my last season. too much pressure. not enough joy.”

jesse hesitated, then said, “you looked like you were home out there.” your eyes softened. “i think... i just missed it.” and jesse, without even thinking, reached for your hand. you looked down at it. warm, strong, calloused from work and guitar strings. then slowly slid your fingers into his.

he swore he felt sparks.

neither of you spoke for a while. just stood there on the ice, hand in hand, music drifting in the background, the rest of the world far, far away.

after that night, everything got warmer.

you texted him more. shared playlists. sent him photos of the ice when it was quiet and untouched in the mornings. he started bringing you muffins from the café next to his job. you brought him lucky keychains and drew little doodles on his coffee cups.

he’d never had something like this before. something so tender.

you weren’t loud. you didn’t sweep him off his feet with grand gestures. but you looked at him like he mattered. listened like you meant it. gave him little pieces of yourself until he realized he was carrying them with him wherever he went.

one night, after a snowstorm, he met you at the rink and found you sitting on the bleachers wrapped in two scarves.

“cold?” he asked, hopping over the railing.

you nodded, hugging your knees. “my toes are frozen.”

“wanna borrow mine?” he joked, wiggling one foot out of his boot. you wrinkled your nose. “absolutely not.” jesse laughed and plopped down beside you. “fair.” you were quiet for a moment, then said, “you make everything feel lighter.”

he looked over at you. “i used to skate alone all the time,” you went on. “even when people were around. i always felt... separate. like it was just me and the ice. which was fine, but...” you trailed off. jesse leaned in slightly.

“but what?”

you turned your face toward him. your cheeks red, eyes soft. “now i don’t feel alone.”

jesse’s heart cracked open like a frozen lake in spring. “you’re not,” he said quietly. “not even close.” and then, before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead.

your breath hitched.

you didn’t move for a long moment. then you tilted your head and rested it gently on his shoulder. jesse closed his eyes and smiled.

the first kiss came a few nights later.

the rink had closed early for the night. you texted jesse late, past eleven, a short message that said u awake? and a second that followed with meet me there?

he didn’t even hesitate.

he showed up in sweats and a hoodie, hair messy, breath fogging in the air. the sky was clear, the stars glittering like frost over navy velvet. the town was quiet. not a soul in sight.

you were waiting by the edge of the rink, bundled in a thick coat, beanie pulled low. you smiled when you saw him, soft and sleepy, and his heart immediately did that little flip it always did.

“couldn’t sleep,” you said as he stepped up beside you. “i kept thinking about the ice. it always helps.”

jesse nodded. “yeah. i get that.”

you both climbed the low railing and stepped onto the empty rink together, your blades cutting the first lines into the untouched surface. the overhead lights were dimmed low, casting everything in a soft blue haze.

you moved slowly at first. silent. just gliding in wide circles, hands in your pockets, the two of you coasting around each other in comfortable quiet.

jesse had never known peace like this.

the stars above. your soft breath. the sound of your skates. when you finally slowed to a stop, you turned to face him, eyes catching the faint light. “can i tell you something?” you asked. jesse nodded, heartbeat quickening. “yeah. anything.”

you skated toward him, small, slow steps until you were close enough that he could see the curve of your lips, the way your lashes cast little shadows under your eyes. “i like you,” you said, quiet and steady. “i think... i’ve liked you since the second night you showed up.”

jesse blinked.

and then he smiled. wide, bright, disbelieving. “you’re kidding.”

“i’m not.”

“you noticed me that early?” he said, laughing under his breath. “i thought i was being subtle.”

“jesse,” you said, biting back a smile. “you brought me muffins three nights in a row.”

“okay,” he admitted. “fair.”

you were still holding your hands in your sleeves, fidgeting a little, the nervous energy barely visible under your soft voice. jesse stepped forward, slow, giving you time, and gently reached for your face with cold fingers.

your eyes fluttered closed as he cupped your cheek.

“i like you too,” he whispered.

then, without rushing, he leaned in and kissed you.

your lips were cold. your hands trembled a little when you reached up to hold onto his jacket. and jesse swore he could feel his heart settle into something safe, something whole, as your mouths met softly under the stars.

no urgency. no heat.

just warmth.

and wonder.

he didn’t tell ellie and dina right away.

he wanted to keep you to himself for a little while longer. your little smiles, your early-morning texts, the way you slipped your fingers into his hand when no one was looking. it felt too new and perfect to share.

but dina, of course, knew something was up.

“you’ve been smiling like an idiot for two weeks,” she said one day at the café. “you’re humming, jesse. you don’t hum.” jesse shrugged, trying to play it off. “maybe i’m just in a good mood.”

ellie narrowed her eyes. “hang on. wait. is this about your little figure skater?” jesse tried not to choke on his coffee. “my what?”

“don’t play dumb,” dina said, grinning. “you’ve been obsessed with her since december.”

“obsessed is a strong word—”

“you bought a scarf for her.”

“she was cold!”

ellie leaned in, grinning ear to ear. “so what’s the update? did you finally confess your undying love or what?”

jesse scratched the back of his neck, trying, and failing, not to smile.

dina gasped. “oh my god. you did.”

“you kissed, didn’t you?” ellie added.

jesse gave up. “okay, yes. we kissed.”

ellie slammed her hand on the table. “i knew it. i knew you were whipped.”

“i’m not whipped,” he protested.

“jesse,” dina said, gently touching his arm. “you texted me asking which lip balm girls like best.”

he groaned and dropped his head into his arms.

they were relentless. and loving. and smug. and weirdly invested. dina made him promise to bring you to the next movie night. ellie started calling you “ice princess” just to watch him roll his eyes.

but even through the teasing, they were happy for him. genuinely. and jesse couldn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

he didn’t care how obvious it was.

winter deepened. february rolled in with more snow, more cold, more ice.

jesse learned how to fall less. you taught him how to do a clumsy little turn without wiping out. you started showing up to his job after practice, perched on the counter of the bookstore café with rosy cheeks and frozen fingers, holding out one of your gloves like you wanted him to warm it for you.

he always did.

sometimes, you’d write little notes and tuck them in his coat pocket. folded scraps that said things like i like your stupid hoodie today or your smile makes my knees go weak, actually. he kept every single one in a shoebox under his bed.

he was a goner.

fully, completely.

you kissed him again behind the rink one night, back pressed to the cold brick wall, your fingers in his hair. it was slow, deep, tender. the kind of kiss that lingered like heat in the chest.

jesse walked home that night grinning so hard his face hurt.

valentine’s day came with pink flyers at work and heart-shaped cookies and ellie daring jesse to go full sap mode. “you should write her a love poem,” she said. “actually, no. a skating poem. do something with, like... blades and hearts.”

“i hate you.”

“she’s gonna love it.”

he didn’t write a poem.

instead, he showed up at the rink after hours, waiting at the edge with his hands behind his back. you were mid-skate, practicing something slow and quiet. and when you saw him, your eyes lit up.

jesse held out a single red rose.

“this is so cliché,” he said, laughing as you skated over. “i like cliché,” you replied, smiling as you took it.

“and this,” he added, pulling a small wrapped box from his pocket. you opened it slowly, carefully, and found a little silver skate charm on a chain. delicate. subtle. your fingers trembled just slightly as you picked it up.

“jesse,” you whispered. “this is...”

“do you like it?”

you looked at him with that soft, starry-eyed gaze that still made him forget how to breathe.

“i love it.”

he kissed you again, right there in the middle of the empty rink, snow beginning to fall outside, music humming faintly overhead.

you weren’t just a figure skater to him.

you were softness. grace. the quiet steadiness he hadn’t known he needed. your presence made everything feel a little warmer. a little slower. like he could breathe easier just knowing you existed. and he wasn’t just a boy with a crush anymore. he was yours. completely.

the day had started like most others in jackson, quietly chaotic. morning fog had barely lifted before your youngest came bursting into your bedroom with sticky fingers and a juice box held precariously sideways. jesse had been dead asleep, snoring lightly, one arm draped over your waist. you barely had time to blink before that juice went toppling straight onto the quilt. not even fifteen minutes later, your oldest decided it was a good time to experiment with scissors and your favorite flannel.

by noon, the house was a mess of mismatched toys, half-finished drawings taped to the walls, and what suspiciously looked like mashed potatoes drying into the hardwood near the dining table. jesse had gone out early for a council meeting, something about patrol routes and winter prep, leaving you to run the circus on your own. you loved your kids more than anything, but damn if they didn’t test every limit of your patience.

dinner was a disaster from the get-go. you’d just started peeling carrots when a loud shriek echoed down the hall. thudding footsteps followed. then came the crash of a plastic chair tipping over and a sharp wail of "you took my bear!" followed by a scream of retaliation. you sighed, hands sticky with garlic, the knife halfway through a squash, your shoulders already aching.

you called out for them to knock it off, but they didn’t listen. not the first time. not the fifth. instead, the fight escalated, the two of them storming into the kitchen mid-battle, knocking over the bowl of chopped onions you’d just finished. pieces scattered like confetti across the floor. the younger one burst into tears, clutching his arm dramatically like he'd been mortally wounded. the older one glared defiantly, already building a wall of excuses. you closed your eyes, inhaled deeply through your nose, and tried not to lose it.

it was around that moment that the front door opened and jesse stepped in.

he didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, boots heavy on the wood, eyes scanning the scene. you, mid-chop with a knife in one hand and a tomato in the other. the boys in a tangle of limbs on the floor, onion bits and mashed potato remnants around them like landmines. you didn’t even bother greeting him. just shot him a look like, please, for the love of god.

he took it from there.

jesse’s voice boomed low, sharp. it cut through the chaos like a blade. he didn’t yell, well not really, but his tone turned firm, commanding in a way that froze the kids mid-bicker. their heads snapped toward him like deer catching a predator’s scent. he crossed the room in three strides and stood over them, arms folded across his chest, brow furrowed.

he laid into them. calm, controlled, but in that no-nonsense tone that reminded you he’d once been a patrol captain. that tone that told everyone in earshot: this man is in charge now. he pointed to the mess, told them exactly what they were going to do. clean it. all of it. then they’d apologize. then they’d go to their room. quietly. no toys. no bickering. just sit there and think. he gave them each a chance to speak, but didn’t let them twist or manipulate. when the younger one sniffled, jesse knelt down, gently wiped his cheek, but made it clear the behavior wasn’t acceptable. it was calm discipline. respectful, but immovable. a wall of mature authority.

you didn’t say a word. just stood there, chest rising and falling a little too fast, your mouth suddenly dry. it wasn’t just the fact that he’d stepped in. it was how he stepped in. it was how he took control of the situation like it was second nature. like the house was his to protect, his kids to raise right, his wife to lift the weight off. there was something magnetic about it, something heavy and hot that stirred low in your stomach.

the kids did what he said. they cleaned. they apologized—genuinely. then they shuffled off down the hallway, heads bowed, doors creaking shut behind them.

jesse turned to you, still folding his sleeves up his forearms, revealing the sinewy strength in his arms. his expression softened when his eyes landed on you. he must’ve seen something in your face. the flushed cheeks. the bitten lip. the slow drag of your gaze across his body. he stepped closer, all quiet power and calm energy, and asked if you were alright.

you didn’t answer.

instead, you put the knife down, wiped your hands on a dishtowel, and closed the small distance between you. your fingers found the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric as your other hand traced the edge of his jaw. you leaned in slowly, brushing your lips along the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of pine and leather and sweat that clung to him like a second skin.

he stiffened under your touch for just a second before exhaling a soft chuckle. he knew that look in your eyes. that heat behind it. that tension just beneath your skin that had nothing to do with frustration anymore.

you tugged him toward the bedroom.

dinner could wait.

the moment the door clicked shut behind you, you turned on your heel and grabbed him by the shirtfront, shoving him back until his spine hit the wood with a dull thud. jesse didn’t flinch. he never did but his eyebrows rose slightly, a grin already teasing at the corner of his mouth. that cocky, devastating grin that said he knew exactly what he’d done to you back there in the kitchen.

you didn’t give him the chance to open that mouth. you kissed him hard. no pretense, no restraint. lips colliding, teeth grazing, breath heavy between you as your fingers curled tightly into the front of his shirt and yanked. the buttons popped loose under your grip. you didn’t care. you wanted him out of it. wanted to feel the heat of his skin pressed flush against yours.

jesse’s hands dropped instantly to your hips, big palms spanning the curve of your waist like they were meant to be there. he spun the two of you and guided you backward until the backs of your knees hit the bed. you fell onto the mattress, breath caught in your throat, your pulse drumming wildly in your ears. he stared down at you, chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths, shirt half open, exposing the firm muscle and smooth skin beneath.

you sat up just enough to grab the hem of your own shirt and pulled it over your head. his gaze dropped, hungry, reverent, darkening as it traced every inch of newly exposed skin. he reached out and brushed his knuckles down the center of your chest, slow and deliberate, eyes glued to the way your body arched into the touch.

“you look,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “so fuckin’ good like this.”

he pushed your thighs apart and stepped between them, leaning down to kiss you again. slower this time, deeper, more controlled, his tongue dragging across your bottom lip before dipping into your mouth. he kissed like he had all the time in the world, but his hands told a different story. they were already everywhere, skimming up your ribs, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples between rough calloused fingers until you were gasping softly into his mouth.

you tugged him down with you as you fell back against the bed, legs wrapped around his hips, your hands sliding down his stomach to undo his belt with shaky, impatient fingers. he pulled back just enough to strip out of his shirt, then his pants, kicking them off carelessly. you followed suit, tossing your underwear to the floor before settling back against the pillows, already slick and aching with anticipation.

jesse looked down at you like a man starved.

he crawled over you, slow and purposeful, the muscles in his shoulders flexing as he hovered above. he gives you a heated kiss before making his way down your body, not before sucking on your nipples and kissing you along your stomach.

his hands wrap around your thighs bringing you closer to his face. his hot breath fanning on your pussy making you buck your hips into the air. "jesse please—" you gasp out, "i need you."

jesse licks a strip from your pussy, his tongue circling your clit, before eagerly pushing his tongue into you. your hands find his hair and bring his head closer. “you're so wet for me,” he mumbled into your pussy, voice all smoke and gravel, “was it the yelling? the ‘go to your room’ thing? that really got you, huh?” you couldn’t answer.

his fingers trailed from around your thighs, slipping between your legs. he found your slick heat and groaned under his breath. he teased you first, rubbing slow circles over your clit until your thighs trembled around him. then two fingers slid inside, curling just right, knowing exactly where to press, how to move, how to work you until your breath hitched and your moans turned shameless.

you were already falling apart on his hand, hips grinding down, pleasure building like a firestorm just beneath your skin. he worked you until you were right on the edge, and then he pulled away, dragging his wet fingers up to his lips to suck them clean with a soft groan.

“fuckin’ love how you taste.”

his weight pressed between your thighs but not quite inside you yet. you could feel him—hard, thick, hot—pressed right against your core, and it took everything in you not to buck your hips and beg. but he wanted to take his time now. you had started this, but he was going to finish it how he wanted. jesse always made sure you were taken care of. especially when he had something to prove.

you reached down and grabbed him, wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock and stroking slowly, dragging your thumb over the head. he hissed through his teeth, hips jerking slightly. you guided him to your entrance and he didn’t make you wait anymore. he pushed in slow, letting you feel every inch, every thick stretch until he was buried to the hilt, your walls fluttering around him as your back arched.

the stretch burned in the best possible way, making your nails dig into his shoulders. jesse just groaned and kissed you again, panting softly against your mouth as he started to move—slow thrusts at first, deep and dragging, filling you so completely it knocked the air from your lungs.

you wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, locking him in, urging him faster. he gave in quickly, hips snapping harder, faster, the slap of skin on skin filling the room. the bed creaked beneath your bodies. the headboard thudded lightly against the wall. you didn’t care. let the whole house hear. let the mess in the kitchen sit there a while longer. this was more important.

he was everywhere. his breath hot on your throat, his hands gripping your thighs, his name falling from your lips like a litany. you tilted your hips up just right and he hit that perfect spot deep inside you that made your vision blur.

“right there, baby—fuck—don’t stop.”

he didn’t.

his rhythm turned punishing, relentless, your bodies slick with sweat as the tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter. you were so close, dizzy with it, nails raking down his back as your legs trembled around him. jesse leaned down and took your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand moved between you, his fingers rubbing your clit in fast circles.

the orgasm hit like lightning. sharp, overwhelming, cracking through you so fast it punched a cry out of your throat. your whole body clenched around him, your walls fluttering as wave after wave rolled through you. jesse cursed, his pace stuttering as he buried himself deep and spilled inside you with a groan, his body shaking with the force of it.

he didn’t move for a long moment, just stayed there, pressed close, face buried in the crook of your neck, both of you breathing hard and clinging to each other like lifelines. eventually, he eased out of you and rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until your head rested on his chest.

you lay there in the soft aftermath, skin still tingling, heart still racing. he traced lazy circles on your back with his fingertips. you smiled against his skin.

“told you i just needed to blow off some steam.”

he chuckled low, his arm tightening around you. “i’ll yell at them every day if it gets me that kind of reaction.”

you laughed, warm and sated, your body still humming with love and heat. the mess could wait. the world could wait.

right now, this was everything.

jesse didn’t think anything of it the first few times he saw your tiktoks. they were aesthetic, bright, always filmed in natural light with soft background music and gentle narration. sometimes you did day-in-the-life vlogs, sometimes you showed off new skincare or cooking recipes. it was wholesome content, warm and calm in a way that contrasted the loud chaos of his gaming streams. he’d swipe past and think, oh, she’s cute, before moving on.

but your name kept popping up. mutuals reposting your content. clips on his fyp of your laugh, your smile, the way your voice lilted when you talked about something you loved. jesse never followed you, not at first. but he watched. not in a creepy way—more like… he was curious. you seemed like someone who lived in soft textures and comfort meals, who lit candles before editing a video and tucked a blanket over your lap when journaling. he liked that. he liked how opposite you were from the noisy, neon, adrenaline-rush world he lived in.

meanwhile, you’d seen clips of jesse too. not just through mutuals—he was big enough in the gaming scene that you’d stumbled on a few of his videos by accident. you’d watch for a minute or two, wondering how someone could be so charming while yelling at a group of virtual zombies. you liked his laugh, the way he leaned forward in his chair when things got intense, how his smile lingered even when the game got frustrating. but he was a gamer. you weren’t. you figured you were just in two different corners of the internet.

until one day, jesse’s chat started spamming your name.

@/laufeylauver : “wait have you seen @/yourusername’s tiktok about wanting to try gaming?”

@/gulliblejessfan : “she said she wanted to try a co-op horror game, jesse PLEASE play with her.”

@/totallynotellie : “bro she would SCREAM and it would be the funniest thing ever.”

jesse blinked at chat, brows raised. “wait, what? what tiktok?”

he pulled it up live. you, in your cozy hoodie and barely-there makeup, sitting cross-legged in bed with a mug of tea. "so, i’ve never really played video games, but i kind of want to try? like, maybe a co-op one so someone can carry me because i will definitely suck. but it looks fun. i wanna scream at pixel monsters with a friend."

his chat lost it. jesse tried to hide his grin.

“okay, okay,” he said, laughing. “i’ll dm her. chill.”

it took him an hour after stream ended to actually do it. he paced around his apartment, reread your bio three times, typed and deleted the message twice before finally sending: 

@/jesse : “hey, this is super random, but wanna join a co-op session with me and my friends sometime? no pressure. saw your tiktok and thought it could be fun.”

you stared at the message when it came through. screamed into your pillow. then screamed again when you saw he followed you. and after a full ten minutes of panicking and voice-noting your group chat, you responded: 

@/yourusername : “omg i’d love to!! i might be terrible tho lol.”

jesse sent a smiley face. 

@/jesse : “that’s the point. it’ll be hilarious.”

the first time you joined his discord call, your mic was too quiet and your game audio was too loud. dina walked you through the settings while ellie roasted jesse for being nervous.

“dude’s fidgeting like he’s about to ask her to prom,” she muttered.

“shut up,” jesse hissed.

“i heard that,” you laughed through your headset.

but it went well. you screamed at a jump scare and accidentally shot dina in-game, then got stuck in a closet while the rest of them fended off zombies.

jesse’s chat was obsessed. clips went viral. people shipped you instantly.

and it kept going. once a week turned into twice a week. you started making little recap vlogs of your gaming nights. cutting in clips of your reactions, moments from jesse’s stream, little timestamps labeled with things like “jesse laughed here >.<”, “ellie bullying me for the 100th time T^T” or “dina carried me again lol.”

jesse started watching your vlogs after stream. like, religiously. he left comments under every one. “wow look, u got better at aiming” or “i swear i didn’t scream louder than you that one time.”

you started commenting on his clips too. “the way you flinched was so real” and “i’m still mad you let me die here.”

it got to a point where your followers noticed.

@/imhereforthevibes : “girl why are you smiling at your phone like that in your new vlog”

@/rosesnthorns : “not @/jesse in the comments again T^T just date already.”

@/ynsfangirl : “ok but she’s been GLOWING since they started playing together.”

jesse’s chat wasn’t any better.

@/jesseandynshipper : “jesse blink twice if you have a crush.”

@/dirtydina : “he’s smiling at his monitor again. she’s in the chat, isn’t she?”

@/cosmiccomets “bro just ask her out we’re DYING.”

jesse started inviting you to duo sessions, just the two of you. smaller games, more relaxed ones. he had you play stardew valley once, and you kept planting crops in the wrong place. he didn’t care. he laughed the whole time.

“you’re literally sabotaging our farm,” he teased.

“i’m giving it character,” you replied, giggling.

he downloaded unpacking for you, a quiet game where you unpack boxes into a new apartment. you narrated your choices, putting mugs near the kettle, folding shirts just so. jesse listened quietly, letting you lead.

“you’re weirdly good at this,” he said.

“that’s because this is my entire personality,” you replied. “cozy and controlling.”

he played it with you again a week later.

you tried a spooky co-op game where you had to solve puzzles in a haunted house. jesse screamed at a mannequin and you shrieked when the lights flickered. by the end of the game you were both crying from laughing so hard.

“my stomach hurts,” you wheezed.

“my throat’s gone,” he groaned. “worth it.”

you made a vlog called "jesse made me a gamer pt. 3" and it was mostly you wheezing with laughter while he ran in circles trying to protect you.

soon, your duo streams became a regular weekly thing. jesse made a banner for it: cozy chaos with y/n. he even changed his starting screen to a pixel art version of you holding a controller, blushing while jesse stood behind you with a giant question mark above his head.

you played a cozy restaurant simulator where you ran a kitchen together. you were in charge of chopping vegetables and jesse kept accidentally lighting the stove on fire. you both ended up shrieking with laughter every time your little characters slipped on spills and dropped food.

“you’re the worst chef i’ve ever had the misfortune of working with,” you teased, voice high from giggling.

“excuse me? i’m carrying this restaurant on my back!” jesse argued, right as his character walked into a wall and got stuck.

one night, you streamed from bed with a tiny mic clipped to your hoodie and blue light glasses on. you and jesse tried a multiplayer building game and ended up spending hours just decorating a tiny digital home together. your viewers watched in real-time as the two of you argued over furniture placement and then settled into a rhythm, giggling softly over lamp choices and flower pots.

“can we make a bookshelf corner?” you asked, your voice low and sleepy.

“only if we add a beanbag,” he murmured.

“deal.”

his chat went into meltdown mode.

jesse posted a tiktok the next morning. it was a clip of your voices while you designed the game house overlayed with his caption: never thought building a virtual home would feel like this.

you reposted it with a simple: my favorite stream yet.

one night you were both too tired for a high-energy game, so jesse convinced you to download a story-based visual novel. you took turns doing character voices, laughing so hard you cried at one point when jesse gave the villain the most dramatic british accent possible.

“you’re ruining the vibe,” you laughed, wiping your eyes.

“i’m giving it flavor,” he shot back.

after stream, you stayed in call. just talking. about anything and everything. about your content plans, the things that made you anxious, the dreams you had before you ever picked up a camera or clicked a record button.

“i used to want to open a cafe,” you whispered one night.

“i’d visit every day,” he said.

“would you help me run it?”

“only if i’m allowed to burn the toast and blame customers.”

“deal.”

he didn’t say it, not then, but he already knew he liked you. not just internet-like, not just stream chemistry. like like. the kind that made his heart race when your name popped up. the kind that made him stay up just to see if you’d message him goodnight.

and you? you were already gone. hopeless. the kind of gone where you saved screenshots of your dms just to smile at them later. the kind where you wore his merch and didn’t tell anyone, not even your followers, because it felt like a secret only you deserved to hold.

it all built slowly. softly. sweetly. you started texting outside of streams. sent each other random memes. voice notes. playlists.

jesse posted a story of his morning coffee and you replied with a photo of your tea.

you shared a sunset from your window and he sent back one from his rooftop.

and then twitchcon rolled around.

you weren’t sure if he’d actually show. he’d mentioned it offhandedly but never confirmed. still, you walked into the convention center with butterflies in your chest and hope tucked into your sleeve.

you met dina first, then ellie. both of them gave you tight hugs and smirks that told you they knew something you didn’t.

“he’s inside,” dina said casually.

“jesse?”

“yeah. he’s been checking the entrance every five seconds.”

you found him by the merch booths. he was taller than you expected, wearing a black hoodie and a cap pulled low—but when he looked up, his whole face lit up.

“hey,” he breathed.

you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. “hey.”

he pulled you into a hug. tight. warm. lingering.

everything felt like a blur after that. you spent the day together, posing for selfies, getting stopped by fans who asked, “are you two…?”

you’d just laugh. jesse would blush.

you didn’t post much that weekend. neither did he.

and that’s when jesse’s chat noticed.

@/imjusthereforjesse : “where is she?!”

@/forthememes : “she hasn’t posted in like three days this is suspicious.”

@/ynsluver : “did she ghost us??”

jesse went live that monday. he didn’t mention anything at first. just booted up a game and chatted like normal.

then halfway through the stream, there was a knock on his door.

“yo one sec,” he said, pulling off his headset.

a moment later, you appeared on camera.

wearing one of his hoodies.

holding a mug that clearly wasn’t yours.

“hi,” you said, waving at the chat.

it exploded.

@/ynsgf : “OMGGGGGGG”

@/jesseandynshipper : “NO WAY, I CALLED IT”

@/iwantjess : “YOU’RE TOGETHER????”

@/totallynotellie : “about damn time”

jesse came back, grinning, and sat beside you on camera. his hand brushed yours.

“so, uh,” he said, glancing at you, “we kinda figured we’d stop making y’all guess.”

you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“we’re dating,” you said simply.

chat went feral. hearts and screaming emojis everywhere.

jesse laughed and looked down at you, his voice softer than any stream had ever heard.