jessesluvr

[jessesluvr]

can I request a Jesse x Reader fluff or smut where they’re married with two kids and having a bit of a rough day maybe the reader is running around trying to get dinner ready but the two kids keep fighting and making a mess in the kitchen and Jesse walks in and goes all tough and stern and disciplines the kids and puts his foot down telling them to clean up their mess apologise and go to their room and sit quietly and the reader is just so hot and bothered seeing Jesse be the man of the house and they go “blow off some steam” if you know what I mean.

man of the house | jesse x reader

✧.* author's note : hey there my lovelies, sorry it took me so long to get this one out, wanted it to be perfect. thank you for your patience, please enjoy.

✧.* summary : after a chaotic day wrangling two unruly kids and trying to get dinner on the table, you watch jesse step in with calm authority, disciplining the boys with a firm hand that leaves you hot under the collar. what starts as frustration quickly turns into raw desire, and you find yourselves blowing off steam behind the bedroom door in the most satisfying way.

✧.* tags/warnings : mdni ! 18+ ! smut !!

✧.* word count : 2.2k

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.

and you’d never felt more at home.

[jessesluvr]

hey loves !! i’ll let you guys choose the next fic that goes out !!

thank you ! eat well and stay hydrated !!

[jessesluvr]

pixels and daydreams | streamer!jesse x vlogger!reader

✧.* author's note : guys this was sooo cute to write ! i'm having daydreams of wishing it was real life. i love him soo much !! he deserves more lovin' ! but yay first fic out in a WHILE !! tysm + eat well, stay hydrated ! i love you ALL SO VERY MUCH.

✧.* summary : streamer jesse and vlogger reader orbit each other online for months before a chance chat mention leads to an invite into jesse’s gaming squad. as they play late into the night and share glimpses of their worlds, their followers catch on to the sparks—and soon, twitchcon brings them face to face, turning online crushes into something real and sweet.

✧.* word count : 1.9k

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.

“yeah,” he said, “and i’m really, really happy about it.”

[jessesluvr]

hoping to be done by tonight !! 🙂‍↕️

let me know if you guys want to be in a taglist for it !

[jessesluvr]

hey sweetpeas !

i need your guys' help on a new fic so please vote !!

thank you !! <3

[jessesluvr]

redoing what the fics look like, who was gonna tell me i wrote so much !?

[jessesluvr]

i feel like i need to make my oneshots look pretty in terms of the photos/gifs used, how the title/summary/author’s note is created all cutesy !? i’m about to revamp ALL my oneshots

[jessesluvr]

heyyyy … !!! i’m BACK !? finally done with my summer semester, remember when i said i would work on stuff during hiatus? i LIED. sorry >.< ! but i’m a free soul now, and i will get to workin !!

[jessesluvr]

hi everyone! i hope you all are well. currently i have turned off my asks! if you guys need an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on my personal inbox is open! thank you so much, i will try my best to work on the requests i have now so that way i can open it back up. take care of yourselves, drink water and eat well!! love you all bunches xx

[jessesluvr]

Hi luv. What do you think about Jesse x reader but they get terribly dirty or bloody on patrol so now they have to undress and bath the best they can in a small river behind one of the patrol cabins (they are safe enough to not be caught by infected but still need to keep the guard up so now they are glued to each other, in sheer underwear and all wet)

🫶

soaked in silence | jesse x reader

✧.* author's note : i am SO sorry it took me forever to even put this out :( i've lost all motivation to write, so i am trying to get back into it :). love you bunches, please take care of yourselves !

✧.* warnings : 18+ mdni !!!

✧.* summary : after a brutal patrol leaves them bloody and dirty, jesse and you find refuge in a secluded river where vulnerability and desire blur the line between survival and something more. wrapped in damp clothes and guarded whispers, a slow-burning connection finally ignites into something undeniable.

✧.* word count : 5k

it starts the way patrols always do — early, groggy, and cold enough that you hate every breath that escapes your mouth.

dina’s up ahead with ellie, half-wrapped around each other as they joke about something you can’t hear. jesse walks next to you, rifle slung loose over his shoulder, jacket stained with a smear of dried blood that isn’t his. he’s got that easy pace he always keeps — steady, watchful, too calm for the world you live in.

“you good?” he asks, voice low.

you nod. “just tired.”

“no kidding. ellie made me haul her ass over that fence back there like she’s five-foot-twelve.”

you crack a smile, barely. “she’s five-three.”

“and dense,” jesse mutters, loud enough for ellie to catch. she flips him off over her shoulder without looking back.

the terrain’s rougher than usual. spring melted most of the snow, but now the forest is thick with mud and half-frozen puddles. your boots are soaked, pants clinging to your skin, and your backpack’s heavier than it should be with all the wet gear weighing it down.

at some point, the patrol splits. dina and ellie take the west loop, heading toward the ridge line. you and jesse are on the eastern loop, checking the old outposts near the river.

it’s quiet once they’re gone. quieter than you like.

jesse keeps close, eyes scanning. his shoulder brushes yours now and then, just enough to make your heart jump stupidly. you’ve had a crush on him longer than you’d ever admit. it’s one of those things you tuck down somewhere deep, behind the routine, behind the safety of distance. he’s funny, sure. dependable. warm. maddeningly charming in that irritating, understated way. and he flirts with everyone, so anything he says to you feels like part of the script.

but it still hits.

especially now, when it’s just the two of you, soaked and mud-streaked, trying not to slip as you pick your way downhill toward the river trail.

“think we’ll make it to the cabin before dark?” you ask.

“if we don’t get stuck in another fucking bog,” he mutters, hopping over a tree root. “you okay back there?”

you’re not okay. your legs ache, you’re covered in god knows what, and something warm has been slowly soaking through the side of your shirt since that scrape with the infected earlier. but you nod anyway.

jesse frowns. “you’re bleeding.”

“i’m fine,” you lie.

he doesn’t buy it. he never does. a few minutes later, you’re sitting on a moss-covered rock with your jacket off, and jesse’s crouched in front of you with his brow furrowed, gently tugging the fabric of your shirt up to inspect your side.

“jesus,” he mutters. “it’s not deep, but you’re soaked through. you’ll get sick like this.”

you shiver, partly from the cold, partly from the heat that flushes up your spine as his fingers brush your waist. they’re calloused. careful. frustratingly tender.

“we’re not far from that old cabin by the river,” he says, looking up at you. “you remember the one?”

you nod, swallowing.

“we’ll hole up there. warm up. clean this up.”

“yeah,” you say softly, not quite meeting his eyes. “okay.”

you walk the rest of the trail in silence.

it’s nearly dusk when you reach the cabin — a one-room thing tucked back into the trees, just sturdy enough to be safe, just isolated enough to feel like the rest of the world is somewhere else entirely.

you step inside, dripping, shivering, filthy. jesse checks the place quick, sets up the small heater, and grabs the emergency med kit from the box near the door. by the time you drop your pack, your hands are shaking too hard to unclip your vest.

jesse sees. he doesn’t say anything, just moves toward you and starts undoing the straps with gentle fingers.

“you always play hero until your teeth are chattering,” he says, not unkindly.

you shrug, throat tight. “you’d do the same.”

“yeah, but i look good doing it.”

you let out a quiet laugh.

jesse pulls back slightly, eyes tracing your face. “you want to warm up before we clean that cut?”

you hesitate. then glance out the back window — where the narrow river runs past, glinting silver-blue in the low light. it’s not deep, but it’s wide enough. slow enough. and clean.

“we’re covered in mud and god knows what,” you say. “if we’re gonna wash the wound, we might as well wash everything.”

jesse arches a brow, but there’s no teasing in it. just agreement. quiet understanding.

“you sure?” he asks. “we’ll stay close. keep watch. but the water’s gonna be freezing.”

“i know.”

your pulse drums loud as you both gather towels from the supply bin, grab the little lantern, and head out the back.

the river is colder than you expected. of course it is. the sun’s almost gone, and you’re waist-deep in spring runoff, holding your breath as you splash water over your arms, your chest, your stomach.

jesse’s maybe ten feet away, turned mostly away from you, standing in soaked boxers and a tank that’s clinging to his skin. every inch of him is dripping — his hair slicked back, jaw tight, muscles flexing each time he moves.

you try not to stare.

you fail.

“you okay?” he calls.

“fine,” you manage.

your shirt’s off, pressed against a rock behind you. your bra and underwear are soaked, thin and clinging to every curve. there’s no privacy, not really — not when the world is so still and your breath fogs the air between you like smoke.

jesse glances over his shoulder. pauses. you see it happen, the split-second where his eyes catch on the way your bra clings to your chest, where your hips break the surface of the water, how your fingers tremble as you scrub at a bloodstain that won’t come out.

he turns fully then. still watching you.

you don’t say anything.

you don’t have to.

because something is shifting — slow and deep, like the current under your feet. something that’s been there for months, maybe years, winding tighter and tighter until the moment breaks and neither of you can pretend anymore.

you don’t breathe right for a second. not when his eyes find you like that — low, heavy, unreadable.

jesse’s been your friend for too long to mistake that look.

that’s not friendship.

that’s not even patience.

that’s hunger held behind his teeth.

the river’s freezing, but your skin burns.

you turn slightly away, not out of modesty — not really — but because you’re not sure you’ll be able to look him in the eye if you keep standing there like this, chest heaving, barely covered, heart galloping against wet skin.

“sorry,” he says suddenly. low. rough. “didn’t mean to—”

you shake your head fast. “don’t.”

he stops. silence settles again. the river hushes around your legs.

“you’re not doing anything wrong,” you say quietly. “i just…” you don’t know how to finish that sentence. not without peeling yourself all the way open.

jesse moves closer, slow through the current. you feel it — the ripple against your thighs, the weight of him closing in. he doesn’t touch you. not yet. but he’s near enough now that your nerves spark under your skin.

“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.

“it’s cold.”

he tilts his head. “is that all?”

you look at him. really look.

his chest rises and falls a little faster now. his arms are slick with water and streaked in mud and blood, and his dark eyes are locked to yours like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

and then, softly, “can i help?”

you blink. “with what?”

his voice is warm. low. too honest. “whatever you’re fighting in there.”

your breath hitches. you don’t know how to answer that.

so instead, you whisper, “come here.”

jesse closes the space between you.

your fingers reach for him like they’ve wanted to for months. maybe longer. they skim the side of his jaw, trail down the curve of his throat, rest on the dip of his collarbone where his tank clings, see-through and soaked.

you look up. he doesn’t move.

you press your hand flat over his chest — slow, careful. his heart hammers against your palm. he’s not so calm now.

his eyes fall to your mouth. then down, where your soaked bra clings tight and your skin peeks through lace, and you’re suddenly very aware of how sheer everything feels in this half-light.

jesse takes a slow, steadying breath. then his voice comes rough — like he’s not sure if he should say it at all.

“i’ve wanted you like this,” he says, “for longer than i should admit.”

you stare at him.

he keeps going. almost breathless now. “i didn’t know if you ever thought about me that way. you’re… careful. and i didn’t wanna fuck up what we already had.”

you don’t know whether to laugh or cry. because you’d been doing the same damn thing. pretending the way he made you feel didn’t gnaw at your bones every time he looked at you a certain way.

so you whisper, “you didn’t fuck anything up.”

then, before you can second-guess it, before you lose your nerve, you lean in and kiss him.

his mouth is warm, wet from the river, and he tastes like salt and heat and something deep and familiar. he exhales like he’s been waiting for it — like it knocks the air out of him.

his hands slide up your sides slowly, gently, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you.

you’re still half-dressed. soaked, trembling, river water dripping down your spine, but none of that matters.

your fingers find his waist, then his back, dragging his soaked tank higher as you press into him.

he groans softly into your mouth, hips tightening against yours. you feel every inch of him — firm, tense, solid. when you pull back just enough to breathe, your forehead rests against his. jesse looks at you like he’s never going to let you go.

“you still cold?” he asks, voice hoarse.

you shake your head. “no.”

he huffs a soft laugh, then kisses you again. slower this time, deeper.

you stumble out of the water together not long after.

you don’t talk about it, not right away. you just grab the towels, moving fast, shivering as the chill sets in.

jesse turns his back as you strip off the rest of your wet clothes, but you catch the way his eyes flick over his shoulder once. you don’t stop him.

you change into a spare long-sleeve shirt and fresh underwear — no pants — wrapping yourself in one of the towels. jesse does the same.

you move into the cabin, breathless, wet hair dripping, trying not to slip.

he lights the heater and spreads both sleeping bags near it, unzipping them fully to make a shared bedroll. it’s not subtle. but neither of you cares anymore.

you crawl into it together, bodies barely apart, damp and warm and burning beneath the surface.

jesse brushes hair from your cheek, searching your face in the flickering light.

“still sure?” he murmurs.

you nod, breath caught. “yeah. are you?”

“i’ve never been more sure.”

and then his mouth is on yours again — deeper this time. hungrier.

he kisses you like he’s starved for it, like he’s spent months keeping his hands off you and finally, finally gets to give in.

you roll to your back as he climbs over you slowly, weight settling between your thighs. his hand slides up your leg, finding your waist beneath the thin shirt you threw on.

his voice breaks against your neck.

“tell me if you want me to stop.”

you nod, nails curling into his back.

“i don’t want you to stop.”

his lips drag down your throat, wet and warm, until he finds the spot just beneath your jaw that makes you gasp. he lingers there, sucking softly, tasting skin and salt and the hint of the river still clinging to your collarbone.

your fingers twist in his shirt, pulling at it until he gets the hint. he sits up, breath shaky, and tugs the wet thing off over his head.

he’s beautiful.

you’ve seen him shirtless before. changing during patrols, sun-soaked and sweat-drenched.  but not like this. not lit by soft firelight, skin still dewy from the river, with muscles shifting as he hovers over you like he’s desperate to taste more.

his eyes roam your face. then lower. you know what he’s thinking. you sit up, slowly, fingers sliding under the hem of your shirt. jesse doesn’t help. he watches. lets you move at your own pace.

his breath catches when you lift the fabric over your head. “fuck,” he murmurs. low. reverent. “you’re so—” he doesn’t finish. just leans in and kisses you, softer than before, hands moving slow as they trace your waist.

his mouth drops to your chest, to the top curve of your breasts, his tongue flicking along your skin with delicate care.

then, gently, “can i take this off?”

you nod.

his hands ease the straps of your bra down your arms, one at a time. when he slides it off fully, he still doesn’t rush. doesn’t grope or grab. he looks.

takes you in like he’s never seen anything more perfect.

his lips press over your breast — first one, then the other — and when his mouth wraps around your nipple, you gasp, arching into him.

he hums against you.

his hands cradle your ribs, mouth working you with slow, deliberate licks.

“jesse,” you whisper. “please.”

he lifts his head, eyes dark and steady. “tell me what you want.”

your cheeks are flushed, chest heaving. “you. i want you.”

“you have me,” he says. “all of me.”

his hands slide down to your thighs, then higher, finding the edge of your underwear. he hesitates. “can i?”

you nod, voice thick. “yes.”

he pulls them down slowly. watches your face the whole time. when you’re bare for him, his breath shudders.

“jesus,” he murmurs. “you’re perfect.”

he kisses down your stomach, tongue dipping into your navel, then lower —

you gasp when his mouth finds the inside of your thigh. your legs tremble, but he holds you gently, pressing kisses along the crease of your hip.

and then, finally, his mouth finds you.

you cry out, hands flying to his hair.

he groans, low and deep, like the taste of you does something to him. his tongue moves slow, then firm, licking long, deliberate strokes that make your thighs shake. his hands spread you gently, opening you up, his thumbs anchoring on your hips. his tongue flicks over your clit, then circles it. steady, slow. until you can’t stop the sounds from spilling.

you’re not used to this, to someone taking their time.

jesse is worshiping you. every movement is careful. focused. like he’s memorizing the taste of you.

your hips buck, and he holds you down, murmuring against you, “that’s it, baby. let me make you feel good.”

you whimper his name, already so close.

he groans again, like your voice alone is enough to undo him. his tongue moves faster, and your body tenses.

you come hard, gasping, legs shaking around his head. he doesn’t stop just eases you through it, licking you gently, soft and slow, until your thighs stop twitching and your body melts back into the sleeping bag.

jesse kisses the inside of your knee once, then crawls up over you.

you grab his face and kiss him hard. tasting yourself on his tongue and he groans, grinding against you, his cock hard through the soft fabric of his underwear.

“need you,” you breathe. “now.”

“you sure?”

“yes.”

he slides out of the last of his clothes. slow, deliberate. you reach for him, pulling him into you.

he lines himself up, hands trembling slightly.

“breathe with me,” he murmurs. “just like this.”

he pushes in slowly. you gasp, fingernails digging into his back, and he stills, forehead pressed to yours. “you okay?” you nod, breathless. “yeah. yeah. keep going.”

he sinks deeper, filling you inch by inch, until he’s buried all the way inside.

“fuck,” he whispers. “you feel—god.”

his hips start to move — slow, gentle thrusts, rocking into you like he’s scared he might hurt you, like this moment is holy.

you moan, legs wrapping around his waist. he picks up the pace, just enough, rolling his hips in steady waves. your hands trail down his back, feeling every muscle shift, every inch of tension in his body.

“look at me,” he says, voice hoarse.

you do.

his eyes are wild. dark, reverent, full of something deeper than lust.

his thrusts grow rougher, rhythm faltering, and your moans spill freely now, no need to hold anything back. he reaches between you, thumb brushing your clit, and you gasp, body arching.

“jesse—fuck—”

you come again, shuddering around him, and he groans your name like a prayer. his hips stutter once, twice, then he spills into you with a deep, ragged moan, face buried in your neck.

you hold him through it, both of you trembling, wrapped around each other like you’ll never let go.

you stay tangled like that for a while, the kind of silence that doesn’t ask for anything. his breath is warm where it slips against your shoulder, chest still rising a little too fast from everything he just gave you. your fingers are twisted in his damp hair, anchored there like if you let go, the moment might end.

outside, the river hums softly behind the patrol cabin. the fire inside has dwindled to nothing but glowing embers, painting the walls in soft red-orange flickers. the worst of the chill is gone, but his body is still your favorite kind of heat.

when he finally pulls out, it’s slow, careful. he murmurs a soft apology when you wince at the shift, but you don’t let him go far. your arms wrap around his shoulders without thinking, holding him close even as he shifts to reach for the blanket.

he tugs it over both of you and you nestle into him again, your head resting on his chest, the thump of his heartbeat steady under your ear. one of your legs remains draped over his, the weight of him grounding you in the quiet. he’s still slightly damp from the river, and he smells like pine and smoke and sweat and you.

his fingers start to trace slow, lazy shapes along your spine. the touch makes you hum, eyes slipping closed for a second as you melt further into his chest.

“you okay?” his voice is hoarse, wrecked from groaning your name, but there’s concern threaded into it.

you nod against him. “yeah. just…” your breath hitches a little. “overwhelmed.”

“me too,” he says, barely louder than the fire crackling in the corner.

you lie in silence again, your fingers brushing small circles into his bicep, his hand steady on the small of your back. then, eventually, he shifts slightly, just enough to look down at you.

“so,” he says, lips curving. “that happened.”

you let out a soft laugh against his skin. “that definitely happened.”

he hums, like he’s still trying to wrap his head around it. “been wanting to do that for a long time.”

you pull back a little, just enough to see his face. your heart flips. “really?”

he gives you a look, part amused, part exasperated. “you seriously didn’t know?”

you shrug. “i figured you flirted with everyone.”

“yeah, maybe,” he murmurs, voice a little quieter now. “but i don’t stay up late thinking about everyone. don’t make excuses to switch patrol routes. don’t spend months losing my mind every time someone else talks to you.”

your lips part. something tender and raw unfurls in your chest, fluttering right under your ribs.

“jesse…” you whisper.

he shrugs again, sheepish this time. “just being honest.”

you reach up and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing the edge of his jaw. “you could’ve said something.”

“you could’ve too,” he says, smile teasing now.

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too. “guess we’re both idiots.”

“maybe,” he murmurs, and then his hand slides up to rest over yours. he leans into your touch like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his voice drops, low and a little hoarse. “but if it brought me here with you, in this bed, in this moment…” he trails off. “i don’t regret a damn second of it.”

your throat tightens. you lean in and kiss him, slow and soft this time, just your lips brushing his like you’re still trying to memorize the taste. he pulls you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist as he deepens it just a little.

you stay like that for a long time. kissing, breathing, tangled beneath the thin blanket as the fire dims.

eventually, when your lips part again, he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “we should probably clean up. again.”

you groan into his neck. “don’t make me go back in the river.”

“nah,” he laughs. “i’ll use the last of the clean water and a rag. just let me take care of you.”

and he does.

he cleans you up gently, like it means something — and it does. he murmurs soft apologies when your hips flinch from how sensitive you still are, kisses the inside of your thigh after every careful wipe. when he’s done, you do the same for him, warm cloth against his chest, his stomach, brushing over the soft patch of hair trailing below his navel.

you both get dressed after that, reluctantly pulling back on your underlayers and loose shirts just in case someone stumbles across the cabin in the morning.

but neither of you moves far from the sleeping bag.

you curl into his side again, this time with your head tucked under his chin, his fingers combing through your damp hair.

it’s quiet for a while.

then jesse breaks the silence. “you think they know?”

you blink sleepily. “who?”

“ellie. dina. the rest of them.”

you snort. “they’ve probably been placing bets on when we’d finally snap and fuck in a cabin.”

jesse groans. “i hope they never find out.”

you grin. “you’ll crack in like three days.”

he laughs. “you underestimate my ability to deflect.”

you prop your chin on his chest, watching him through the dim light. “you think this is just a one-time thing?”

his expression sobers immediately. “no. not even close.”

your heart trips.

“me either,” you whisper.

he leans up and kisses you again — slow, with the promise of something more behind it. something lasting.

you fall asleep like that, his arms around you, your face pressed into the crook of his neck, both of you warm and worn and finally, finally on the same page.

you wake slowly, tucked into the crook of jesse’s arm, your cheek pressed against his bare chest. the air is cooler than last night, but he’s warm around you, and the low rise and fall of his breathing is steady, grounding. the fire in the corner has long since burned to ash, leaving only a faint red glow in its place, barely enough light to paint the outline of his collarbone.

you don’t move. not yet.

it all rushes back in pieces. the river. the soaked clothes. his hands. your mouth. the weight of him inside you and the way he said your name like it meant something permanent. there’s still a soft, aching soreness between your thighs — not painful, just a memory. proof. your fingers curl against his chest, instinctive, like if you hold onto him long enough, none of this will disappear when the sun comes up.

he stirs just slightly, and his hand finds your waist, brushing gently across the hem of your shirt. “you awake?” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

you nod, your lips grazing his skin. “yeah.”

his grip on you tightens just a little, and he hums low in his chest. “you still okay?”

you pull back just enough to meet his eyes. there’s no hesitation when you say, “better than okay.”

his mouth curves into a tired smile, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “good,” he murmurs. “real good.”

you both fall quiet again. outside, a breeze rustles through the pine trees behind the cabin, and a few birds chirp, faint and far off. jackson won’t expect you until later in the day, but still — the illusion of time is starting to slip away, and you know the patrol’s almost over. the world is waiting.

eventually, you shift beneath the blanket and sit up, wincing slightly as the cold air hits your legs. your underwear and pants are still damp where they’d been left drying near the hearth, but you start pulling them on anyway. the mood shifts just a little — not because of anything said, but because neither of you wants to say it.

jesse stays quiet for a moment before he sits up too, his hair tousled, one side flattened from your fingers. he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you move. “don’t go yet,” he says softly.

“i’m not,” you promise, and you mean it. you aren’t running. not now, not from him. “we just have to move eventually.”

“yeah,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “figured.”

you both clean up in silence. fold the blanket. stuff gear into your packs. weapons checked, ammo counted, boots tightened. it’s second nature, the familiar rhythm of routine after patrol, but everything feels different now. heavier. lighter. more intimate.

jesse stands at the cabin door when you're done, hand on the latch, his eyes on the early morning light spilling across the forest. “ready?”

you glance back once more, at the fire pit, the makeshift bedroll, the imprint of your night still soft in the air. then you nod. “yeah.”

the walk back is quiet.

not uncomfortable — just thoughtful. he stays close, occasionally brushing your knuckles with his own like he needs the contact. there’s a tension there, but not the bad kind. more like the wires between you are buzzing too loud now to ignore, and both of you are too lost in your heads to speak just yet.

you reach the gates of jackson by early afternoon, a light layer of sweat on your brow and dirt smudged across your cheeks. a few guards nod in greeting, none of them looking long enough to notice how close you walk beside him now, how your fingers hover near his like they’re missing something.

but dina notices.

you make it halfway down the main road before you hear her voice — loud, familiar, teasing.

“well, well, well. if it isn’t the golden patrol team.”

you glance over and spot her perched on the porch railing outside the greenhouse, boots kicked up, an apple half-eaten in one hand. ellie’s beside her, arms crossed, brow lifted.

jesse groans under his breath. “shit.”

“you’re late,” dina points out, sliding off the railing. she eyes the both of you like she’s scanning for clues. “you run into trouble?”

“just the usual,” jesse says casually, but his hand flexes on the strap of his pack.

“mm-hmm.” ellie steps forward, narrowing her eyes at you. “you two look… refreshed.”

jesse coughs. you shoot ellie a look.

“refreshed?” you echo, arching a brow.

“yeah,” she says. “like you had a life-changing moment in the woods.”

“or in a cabin,” dina adds, grinning.

you feel your face flush instantly. jesse shifts beside you, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“jesus christ,” he mutters.

“we’re fine,” you say, trying not to sound like you’re lying. “it was just a long patrol.”

“uh-huh,” dina sings, giving you a pointed once-over. “you’re wearing jesse’s shirt.”

you glance down.

fuck. you hadn’t noticed. your flannel must’ve gotten mixed up when you were folding things — the one you have on is definitely his, a size too big, sleeves rolled sloppily at the wrist.

“shit,” you whisper.

ellie actually snorts. “subtle.”

jesse steps in before you can respond. “look, are we getting grilled or can we go eat?”

dina raises her hands, mock-innocent. “sure, sure. you do your thing.”

but as you walk past, she whispers, “you owe me details later.”

you glare. “in your dreams.”

jesse leans in close as you walk away, lips near your ear. “you really did take my shirt.”

“shut up,” you mumble.

but you’re smiling.

later that night, you find yourself on your porch steps, clean and full and a little too wired to sleep. the moon hangs low over jackson, the stars above just beginning to peek through. people are settling down for the night. porch lights click off one by one.

you hear the soft crunch of boots before you see him.

jesse appears at the bottom of your steps, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, hair damp from a recent shower.

“hey,” he says.

your heart does that thing again — the gentle trip, the quiet ache.

“hey.”

he steps up beside you, nodding toward the stars. “can i sit?”

you nod, scooting over. he drops down beside you, his shoulder brushing yours.

you sit in silence for a minute.

then, softly, he says, “so… what now?”

you don’t answer right away. you feel him looking at you, patient but open, waiting for whatever you’re willing to give.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” you say quietly.

“good,” he replies, voice warm. “’cause i wasn’t planning on letting you go.”

you glance over at him. “you sure?”

“have been for a while,” he says. “just took me too damn long to do something about it.”

you reach for his hand. his fingers slot into yours without hesitation.

“i’m yours, if you still want me,” you say, the words soft but steady.

he turns fully, cups your face in his hand, and kisses you — slow, deep, full of the kind of certainty that doesn’t ask questions.

when you break apart, breathless and smiling, he rests his forehead against yours.

“always,” he whispers.

[jessesluvr]

you are my light in a cruel jesse-less world 😭💕 also i feel that my english is improving after your fics, so, yeah, i love you

um hello?! i love YOU !! im so happy my writings are helping you improve !!

[jessesluvr]

soft drug dealer jesse x reader au when

like cinnamon & safety | jesse x reader

✧.* author's note : nothing much to say! i just hope you all are taking care of yourselves !! <33

✧.* summary : you meet jesse on a sleepy wednesday night in your best friend’s apartment, wrapped in a hoodie that isn’t yours and smelling like popcorn and soft comfort. you don’t expect the quiet, sweet weed dealer with warm eyes and cedarwood skin to become the person who builds you shelves, bakes you cookies, and kisses you like you’re the whole world—but he does, and he’s everything.

✧.* word count : 1.1k

you meet jesse for the first time when he delivers to ellie and dina’s apartment on a wednesday night.

you’re curled up on their couch, wearing fuzzy socks and an oversized hoodie you “borrowed” from ellie a month ago and never gave back. the air smells like popcorn and clean laundry. you’re flipping through netflix with dina when the knock comes.

“that’s him,” ellie says, pushing off the arm of the couch where she’s been pretending to nap. “the dealer. try not to look like a narc.”

“i don’t—”

“don’t say you don’t know what a narc looks like. you radiate law-abiding citizen.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re curious. ellie and dina have mentioned jesse before—usually in a half-teasing, half-weirdly affectionate way. ellie says he’s chill. dina calls him a golden retriever with rolling papers.

you weren’t expecting this, though.

he walks in with a paper bag in one hand and a gentle smile that makes something in your stomach flutter. black hair tied into a messy little bun, hoodie sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a little tattoo peeking out from under one. he looks more like a barista at a cozy bookstore than someone delivering weed.

“yo,” ellie says, dapping him up like he’s an old friend. “this is my roommate-slash-adopted-sibling, y/n. don’t give her anything too strong or she’ll end up writing poetry on the ceiling.”

jesse laughs. it’s soft, warm. “good to know.” then he turns to you. “hey. i’m jesse.”

you smile. “hey. i’m not a narc.”

he grins wider. “well, that’s a relief.”

after that, he starts showing up more.

not just for deliveries, though ellie and dina start ordering more suspiciously often, but also just… around. he starts coming over to hang out. he brings snacks. he texts ellie dumb memes and asks if you’re there too. he learns how you take your tea. he helps you set up your new bookshelf without being asked.

he always smells like cedarwood and something sweet and warm, like cinnamon. you kind of hate how safe he makes you feel.

and yeah, he still sells, but he’s weirdly responsible about it. never pushes anything. only carries a little on him. gives the best recommendations, especially when you tell him you need something to help you sleep.

“try this one,” he says one night, handing you a tiny joint he rolled just for you. “it’s like… a warm bath. but in your brain.”

“what if i get weird?” you ask.

he tilts his head. “weird how?”

“like, start saying dumb stuff. or get all clingy.”

“clingy’s fine,” he says with a shrug. “you’re cute when you ramble anyway.”

you freeze. ellie, sitting beside you on the floor, chokes on her drink.

jesse just smiles, pretending like he didn’t just drop a bomb.

it gets worse after that.

you start looking forward to seeing him. like, really looking forward. you wear your good hoodie when you know he’s coming over. you put on lip balm. you sit a little closer on the couch. he never says anything about it, but he doesn’t move away either.

he always makes you laugh. always listens when you talk. always treats you like you’re someone important.

“he’s obsessed with you,” dina says one night while brushing her teeth. “like, fully obsessed. he rolled you a heart-shaped joint last week. that’s not normal.”

you press your face into your pillow. “i can’t like him.”

“why not?”

“he’s… you know. him.”

“a soft-hearted weed fairy who’d probably carry you through a rainstorm if your shoes got wet?”

you groan.

“babe,” dina says, dead serious now. “jesse would never break your heart. i’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

he invites you over to his place a week later.

“i made too many cookies,” he says over text. “come help me fix my poor life choices.”

his apartment is small but cozy. string lights. plants in every corner. a record player with a half-scratched fleetwood mac album spinning quietly. it smells like brown sugar and weed and something warm, like him.

you sit on his couch and eat cookies and talk for hours. he shows you his sketchbook. you show him your favorite playlist. at some point, you end up curled against his side, blanket over both of you, laughing at something dumb on tv.

he doesn’t make a move. doesn’t try anything. just wraps an arm around you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“you’re really warm,” you mumble.

he hums. “you can stay.”

you think he means just for the night.

he doesn’t.

you start spending more and more time at his place. you learn the way his tea cupboard is organized. you leave a pair of socks in his laundry by accident. you start texting him good morning without even thinking about it.

he brings you your favorite snacks without asking. he lets you wear his hoodie. he calls you sweetheart one night and you nearly combust.

“you okay?” he asks, smiling, clearly knowing exactly what he did.

“i’m gonna pass out.”

“you’re cute.”

you punch his shoulder lightly. “stop saying that.”

“can’t. it’s true.”

he kisses you for the first time after a movie night.

ellie and dina left hours ago. you stayed behind to help clean up. you’re both half-asleep, curled on the couch under a shared blanket.

you’re watching some random baking show. he’s watching you.

“hey,” he says quietly.

you turn. “yeah?”

his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it. “can i kiss you?”

you nod.

he kisses you like you’re something precious. like he’s been waiting forever. like he’s afraid to wake up and find it’s all a dream.

you kiss him back like your heart’s on fire.

after that, it’s just… easy.

he still rolls his dumb little joints. you still tease him about how he over-waters his plants. he holds your hand when you walk down the street. he brings you flowers he picked from the corner market. he texts you goodnight every night, even when you’re already lying next to him.

you fall asleep on his chest more times than you can count. you wake up to his hands in your hair, his voice all sleepy and gravelly as he murmurs, “good morning, baby.”

ellie pretends to gag every time she sees you together. dina just smiles and makes heart hands when you’re not looking.

jesse builds you a tiny shelf for your books. you make him banana bread on sundays. he tells you he loves you during a thunderstorm, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

and maybe it is.

because loving jesse feels like breathing.

feels like safety.

feels like home.

[jessesluvr]

Jesse sparring with someone for practice and getting hurt superficially and reader decides to help him out like taking shifts so he can heal, making him dinner, etc etc.

helping hands | jesse x reader

✧.* author's note : heyy !! it's me.. posting again after like a few days.. please enjoy ! i thought this ask was suuuper cute !! be sure to stay hydrated and eat well loves !! <33

✧.* summary : jesse gets a small injury during sparring, and you take it upon yourself to care for him with tender attention and homemade meals. as you spend time together, a quiet, sweet romance slowly blossoms, leading to heartfelt confessions and adorably flustered moments.

✧.* word count : 2.2k

the training yard was bathed in golden light as jesse faced off against his sparring partner. the sounds of clashing wooden swords and heavy breaths filled the air, mixing with the faint rustle of leaves from nearby trees. you stood just off to the side, arms crossed, watching quietly. there was a rhythm to their movements. measured, intense, familiar. yet today, your eyes caught something different in jesse’s expression.

he moved with his usual strength and skill, but there was a subtle tightness in his shoulders, a shadow behind his eyes you hadn’t seen before. every so often, his jaw clenched for just a moment before relaxing, as if trying to push something down.

jesse’s partner feinted left, then swung right in a quick strike. jesse parried, but the loose dirt betrayed him — his footing slipped. time seemed to slow as he stumbled forward, and the wooden sword grazed the outside of his forearm.

you gasped, and jesse’s usual confident grin faltered, replaced by a sharp wince. he dropped his weapon and rubbed at the shallow scrape, bright red blood staining his sleeve.

the sparring partner immediately lowered his sword, concern etched into his features. jesse shook his head and flashed a crooked smile. “i’m good. it’s just a scratch.”

but the cut was more than just a scrape. it was raw, irritated, and angry-looking. you stepped forward, voice gentle but firm.

“let me see.”

jesse hesitated. there was pride in his stance, a stubbornness that refused to show weakness, but the pain was obvious. slowly, reluctantly, he extended his arm.

you pulled a clean rag from your bag and dipped it in the small canteen of water you always carried. carefully, you wiped away the blood, mindful not to press too hard. your fingers brushed over the tender skin, and jesse’s breath hitched.

“sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said softly, though the truth was you didn’t want to stop.

jesse chuckled, the sound low and a bit rough. “it’s fine. really.”

but you could tell he wasn’t fine.

“c’mon,” you said, taking his arm gently and leading him toward the first aid tent nearby. “we’re patching you up, no arguments.”

jesse’s protests died in his throat as you guided him to a cot. you sat down, motioning for him to lean back. the afternoon light filtered through the canvas walls, casting warm shadows.

you pulled out a small first aid kit. bandages, ointments, antiseptic wipes, and got to work cleaning the wound more thoroughly. jesse watched you, his usual spark softened by fatigue.

when the scrape was clean, you applied a soothing ointment, careful not to irritate the skin, and wrapped a fresh bandage around his arm.

“there,” you said, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “good as new.”

jesse reached out, fingers brushing your hand. the touch was brief, hesitant, but it sent a flutter through your chest.

“thanks,” he murmured.

you smiled. “don’t mention it. now, you rest. i’ll be around.”

the next few days settled into a quiet routine. jesse kept the bandage on religiously, and though the cut was superficial, he’d been pushing himself too hard at practice, the ache settling deep in his muscles.

you volunteered to watch over him — taking shifts with ellie and dina so someone was always nearby. you brought food you’d cooked yourself, warm meals that filled the chilly evenings with comfort. jesse was a surprisingly good patient, even if he protested less than half the time.

on the second night, you found him sitting outside the infirmary, the sunset painting the sky in shades of orange and purple.

“hey,” you said softly, sitting beside him.

he glanced your way, tired but grateful. “hey.”

you handed him a bowl of stew, the aroma rich with herbs and spices. “made this earlier. thought you might want some.”

jesse took the bowl, smiling a little. “you always make good food.”

your cheeks warmed. “only the best for you.”

he looked down at the stew, then back at you, eyes lingering longer than usual.

“it’s nice,” he said. “having someone care like this.”

you shrugged, feeling shy under his gaze. “guess i just don’t like seeing you hurt.”

jesse’s smile softened into something almost vulnerable.

“thanks,” he said again. “for everything.”

the sunset faded, but the warmth between you stayed.

the rhythm of your days soon settled into a quiet cadence — one of gentle care, soft smiles, and stolen moments that neither of you quite knew how to name yet.

jesse still tried to hide his aches and fatigue, but you saw through the act easily. he was stubborn, of course, always pushing himself to be better, stronger. but now, with the bandaged scrape on his forearm and a dull ache lingering in his shoulder, he had no choice but to slow down.

you made it your mission to make that easier for him.

mornings were your favorite time together. the world was still waking up, and the soft light spilled through the windows of the infirmary, casting warm pools of gold across the floor. you’d find jesse sitting quietly on the cot, lost in thought or running his fingers absentmindedly along the bandage.

“good morning,” you’d say, voice soft but steady.

he’d look up, surprise flickering behind his tired eyes. “morning.”

you’d bring the tray of breakfast you’d prepared: steaming mugs of coffee, fresh bread toasted just right, eggs cooked with herbs from the garden.

“it smells amazing,” jesse would say, eyes lighting up despite the soreness still lurking beneath his skin.

“you have to eat,” you’d remind gently. “healing takes energy.”

he’d grin, a slow, grateful smile that made your heart skip. “you’re bossy.”

“someone’s gotta be,” you teased.

sometimes jesse’s teasing was sharper, a way to deflect the vulnerability you knew he felt. but beneath the bravado, there was something tender, raw, and utterly human.

one afternoon, after a light rain had cooled the air, you found him sitting outside under a tree, the bandage on his arm slightly stained with sweat.

“you’re not supposed to be out here,” you said, coming up beside him.

he shrugged, eyes tracing the dark clouds rolling away in the distance. “i needed some air.”

you sat close, careful not to crowd him but close enough to offer quiet comfort. your fingers found his hand, lacing with his in a tentative but sure way.

jesse looked down, then back at you, and for a moment, the usual mask slipped. his voice dropped low. “i hate feeling weak.”

you squeezed his hand. “you’re not weak. you’re healing. and i’m here.”

that was all it took — a breath shared, a connection forged in the space between words. jesse leaned his head against your shoulder, the weight light but meaningful.

nights were quieter but no less intimate. you’d sit beside him as he rested, brushing hair back from his damp forehead, or pressing a cool cloth to his cheek. sometimes he’d reach out, fingers curling around your wrist in the dark.

“stay with me?” he’d whisper.

and you would.

dinner became a ritual. you experimented with recipes, hearty stews, roasted vegetables, fresh fruit from the gardens. always with a careful eye toward what might help him heal faster.

jesse watched you cook with a mixture of awe and amusement. “you’ve got serious skills.”

you laughed. “only for you.”

sometimes he’d sneak into the kitchen while you were preparing a meal, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“can’t get enough of me, huh?” you teased.

he chuckled, voice warm and low. “not a chance.”

each day, the scrape on his arm faded, but the closeness between you grew stronger. you found yourself looking forward to the quiet moments — the small smiles, the soft touches, the easy laughter that filled the spaces between.

one evening, as you sat together watching the firelight dance, jesse reached out and took your hand, fingers threading through yours.

“i don’t want this to end,” he said quietly.

your heart thudded. “it doesn’t have to.”

he smiled then, full and real, the kind of smile that reaches the eyes and stays there.

and in that moment, all the pain and worry seemed to melt away, replaced by something warmer, brighter, and utterly new.

the days drifted by in a gentle blur — mornings spent sharing warm coffee and soft smiles, afternoons filled with quiet companionship, and evenings wrapped in the amber glow of firelight. you and jesse found a rhythm, one that didn’t need words to feel right.

he was getting stronger, the scrape on his arm nearly healed, but there was something deeper mending too. something quiet and slow, like the gentle unfolding of a flower after a long winter.

you noticed the small things first. how jesse would glance your way when he thought you weren’t looking, the way his hand lingered just a second longer when you passed a cup or wiped a stray crumb from his mouth. his usual easy teasing softened into warm laughter that felt like a secret shared only between the two of you.

one afternoon, you were sitting side by side on the porch steps, watching the sun dip low over the trees. the air smelled of earth and pine, the world holding its breath in the soft hush of twilight.

jesse shifted closer, the warmth of his body just barely brushing against yours.

“you know,” he said, voice low and hesitant, “i didn’t expect any of this.”

you looked at him, curiosity threading through your calm.

“being hurt, i mean. and then… all this,” he gestured vaguely between you, the care, the company.

he cleared his throat, eyes searching yours like he was trying to find the right words in the quiet space between heartbeats.

“i guess what i’m trying to say is… i’m really glad you’re here.”

your chest tightened in a way that was both nerve-wracking and thrilling. you reached out, fingers brushing against his hand, fingers weaving together naturally.

“i’m glad too,” you whispered.

the moment stretched, delicate and shimmering, and then jesse’s eyes dropped to your joined hands.

“i think,” he started, voice barely above a whisper, “that i’ve been feeling this way for a while now. but i didn’t want to say it because… well, it’s easier to keep things simple, you know?”

you smiled softly, heart full.

“me too,” you admitted. “i was scared it would change everything.”

jesse’s grin was shy but full of hope. “maybe it changes everything. but maybe that’s a good thing.”

you leaned your forehead against his, breaths mingling in the cooling evening air.

“maybe it is.”

and just like that, the unspoken became spoken. a promise woven from quiet confessions and tender glances, the start of something new and beautiful.

the days after that quiet confession seemed to hum with an electric undercurrent, subtle but unmistakable. jesse was no longer just the confident, easygoing guy you’d known, he was a little different. softer around the edges, more cautious, as if every word and touch held new meaning.

you noticed it first in the way he looked at you, a little longer than usual, eyes wide and a bit unsure, like he was measuring how much you’d let him in.

one evening, you caught him standing in the kitchen doorway while you prepared dinner. the soft light caught the edge of his face, highlighting a slight flush on his cheeks.

“hey,” you said, smiling.

jesse cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “hey. uh… i was thinking maybe i could help?”

you raised an eyebrow, teasing. “since when do you cook?”

he chuckled, but there was a nervous edge to it. “not often. but maybe i can learn.”

you handed him a wooden spoon, and jesse’s fingers closed around it a little too tightly, betraying his nervousness. he watched you carefully as you showed him how to stir the stew without splashing.

“i’m serious,” he said, voice a little breathless. “i want to do something for you.”

you smiled warmly, touched by the gesture. “you’re already doing plenty.”

jesse looked down, scratching his neck. “yeah, well… i want you to know how much i appreciate you.”

his words hung in the air, simple but heavy with meaning.

later, as you sat together on the porch steps, jesse shifted closer, his usual confident grin replaced by a bashful smile.

“you know,” he said quietly, “i’m kind of terrible at this.”

you laughed softly. “at what?”

“at… saying how i feel.”

you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“well, you’re doing okay.”

he squeezed your hand, face coloring again.

“i’m glad you’re patient with me.”

“always.”

and in that quiet moment, jesse’s flustered smile told you everything — that beneath the tough exterior was a heart opening up, slowly but surely, just for you.

[jessesluvr]

I would do a request but I gave done a request already but what's more Important how are you doing Jules? I hope you are alright and doing the best you can remember to always take good care of yourself and rest if you need to! Im very proud of you for pulling stories together for everyone ❤️

stoppp you’re gonna make me sob in the middle of class !! i’m doing okay, just really really tired !! how are you doing?? please send in any requests you have !!

[jessesluvr]

I'm innocent

yea OK.

[jessesluvr]

hey so no angst! there must be a way to ask for the reqs without the feared angst! we had enough of angst! jesse said no angst! (im joking of course!)

okok, angst is forbidden. but i will work on requests..

[jessesluvr]

ILL DO IT... i swear

i’ll just let them marinate !!! unless they’re good…