jane

jake kiszka enthusiast

[stardustgreta]

— masterlist

smut is indicated! | send a request | taglist

works in progress «

☾ 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐊𝐀

sex on fire ; based on “sex on fire” - kings of leon *

two’s company ; one bed trope *

“i didn’t know you could sing”

“you did what?” “if you die, i’m going to kill you”

UNFORGIVEN 𖤐 | series masterpost

— completed (40k words) | 18+ content | jake kiszka

synopsis: to everyone in town you were the picture perfect catholic daughter that most parents wished for, and this was a reputation you planned on upholding.. until jake kiszka, most peoples definition of the devil reincarnated. you tell yourself you'll do just fine in maintaining your character, until you come face to face with a personified sin.

farewell, andromeda | the masterlist

— work in progress | 18+ content |

synopsis: childhood friends to lovers, but in the hardest possible way.

❊ 𝐉𝐎𝐒𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐊𝐀

happy babbles | dad!josh

☆ 𝐒𝐀𝐌 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐙𝐊𝐀

“i really want to kiss you right now..”

* 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐑

“you need sleep” “sleep is for the weak” ⋆

—

SEASONS OF LOVE | teaser

summer | fall | winter | spring

— coming soon | multi

synopsis: falling in love in a season that consists of only three months is never hard when it’s with the right person.

© 2022 stardustgreta - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify or repost my works! thank you.

[stardustgreta]

oh we are SO back

[stardustgreta]

farewell, andromeda -- chapter one

masterlist | series playlist

series summary: a slow-burn Jake Kiszka x Reader fic about coming home to the people you never stopped loving, and the ones who never stopped haunting you. When childhood history, unspoken heartbreak, and a very real secret resurface, the question isn’t whether you'll fall for him again, it’s just whether you’ll survive it.

chapter summary: After a summer abroad, you return to Michigan and reunite with Josh—only to find out Jake, the boy who broke your heart in silence, is back too… and he didn’t come alone. At a beach bonfire full of familiar faces, you come face-to-face with Jake, his picture-perfect girlfriend, and the lingering ache of everything left unsaid.

word count: 5,350 | warnings: none yet!

a/n: eeeekkk! i wasn't lying, i am so happy to be back and i am moreee than excited to work and finish this series. i apologize for the heartbreak to come :,( hope u all enjoy <3

There was no missing the mess of curls and bright smile that was Josh Kiszka as he stood by the airport exit. He had a sign that read HONEY in big letters like a chauffeur would for a pickup. His smell is no less familiar than it once was as he pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tight into his frame. He pulls back to look at you, like a mother would her child, and takes in your tanned skin, a grace given to you by the harshness of the European sun. 

“My girl looks all grown up!” You push his hands away with a playful roll of your eyes before readjusting the book bag that had slipped down your shoulder, grabbing a hold of the handle on your aging suitcase. 

“I’ve only been gone for a summer, Joshua.” You squint your eyes at him, his arm finding a place around your shoulders as you walk in unison toward the exit. 

“Yeah, but you look different. You’re…glowing.” He emphasizes the word with a flair, one that is unique to Josh and him only. 

He unlocks the car with the key in his pocket, snatching your suitcase to toss in the trunk. You make your way to the passenger seat of his car, settling in and resting your head backward on the headrest as Josh gets in on the other side. The radio turns on as the car starts up, playing a soothing melody that isn’t high enough in volume to make words out of. 

Josh gifts you a few moments of silence before he can’t help himself anymore and speaks to fill the space. 

“We can talk about Italy later because, trust me, I want to know all about it.” He takes a deep breath like he knows his next few words will resurface an old bruise. “But I need to know if you’ll be okay with everything that’ll happen within the next few hours.” 

You lift your head to look at him, and a quirk in your brow. “I don’t know what you mean. What’s going to happen in the next few hours?” You speak nonchalantly, trying to convince not only Josh but yourself – you have an idea as to what he might be referencing, but you let him break the ice.

He turns to look at you for only a second before looking back at the road. “A few friends from high school are having a bonfire down at the beach, and you must come.” He speaks matter-a-factly. “But in turn, that means you’re going to see Jake today, and after you both have been away for so long.” He pauses. 

I just..I don’t want things to be weird.” His features fall just slightly, the weight of an old memory settling behind his eyes.

“We used to be best friends. The three of us.” He reminds, prompting you to place a hand on his knee – a feeble attempt at comfort. 

“Cmon…I’ll be fine,” you tell him, voice steady even if your chest feels anything but. “Really, Josh. I appreciate the concern, but Jake Kiszka isn’t exactly occupying any space in my head these days.”

It’s a lie dressed in politeness and it’s not for your sake, but his. You offer a small smile, just enough to convince him, and when his own returns, you let yourself sink back into the seat like it didn’t take effort to hold yourself upright.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, stealing another glance at you as the car rolls forward.

“You know,” he starts, tone light but edged with something sharper, “you talk about Jake like he committed a felony.”

You don’t answer right away, just reach forward to turn the volume knob a few notches higher. The music fills the space, but it doesn’t drown out what he says next.

“All he did was leave,” he mutters, more to himself. “It’s not like he set the house on fire.”

Your laugh comes out too quick, too bitter. “No, you’re right. He just disappeared. Like I was disposable. Like none of it meant anything.”

Josh side-eyes you then. Really looks.

“Damn,” he says. “You loved him that much?”

You don’t answer. You just stare out the window, your reflection in the glass harder to look at than his face.

Because what could you say? That you gave him everything — heart, body, breath — and he gave you a goodbye you never got to hear?

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Jake Kiszka? Never heard of him.”

There’s silence for another beat.

“Do you still remember how to drive?” He asks, and you laugh before you answer, knowing he’s referring to how long it’s been since you’d driven yourself anywhere. You look over, silently thanking him for dropping the subject. 

“Why would I have to drive if I have you to do it for me?” You grin over at him, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. 

“Oh, but of course.” 

✽

It wasn’t unusual for you to shower at Josh’s, the same vanilla and honey soap bar still sat by the sink, a quiet relic of the day you'd convinced both him and Jake that it was far superior to their tragically basic cucumber and mint. The scent hadn’t changed in years, and stepping into the steam felt like slipping into an old memory.

You rinsed off the weight of an Italian summer and traded your linen clothes for something more fitting for a Michigan sun, skin still warm from the water. When you finally padded downstairs, the air felt lighter as you found your way to where Josh had last been.

He had always had a habit of keeping the windows and doors open in the summer, even when the air was thick. The house smelled like warm wood and laundry detergent, and from where you stood, you could hear the faint hum of Fleetwood Mac bleeding out through the screen door. 

You were half-listening to Josh retell some exaggerated story from high school when his phone buzzed once, then twice. He walked over to the phone without a word, and when you glanced up, his expression had changed.

“Hey man.” He greeted flatly, stepping outside, voice low. You didn’t follow.

You made yourself busy by grabbing a glass out of the cabinet nearest to you, deciding a drink was best in your current state. Focused on the condensation collecting on your glass, you tried anything to ground yourself as you waited anxiously. 

When Josh came back in, all he said was, “Jake’s on his way. Should be here in five.”

You swallowed hard, and nodded once. “Cool.”

Josh studied you for a second like he wanted to say something — maybe offer you an out. But he knew better than to treat you like you were fragile. That was Jake’s job. Once, anyway.

The next five minutes stretched beyond comfort. You tried not to fidget. Tried not to check your reflection in the mirror near the door. It wasn’t until you heard the slow, steady, familiar sound of tires crunching over the gravel that you released the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding. 

You didn’t move. You sat on the arm of the couch and stared straight ahead, your breath hitching again when you heard it. 

That laugh.

You hadn’t heard it in nearly a year and still, somehow, it was the same. Just a little rusted. Just a little tired.

And then there he was, standing in the doorway. Like muscle memory, you felt it before you saw it: the shift in the room when he stepped inside. Like gravity tilted just slightly in his direction.

He hadn’t changed much. Maybe his jaw was sharper, and eyes a little dimmer. But he was still Jake Kiszka. 

Still the boy who used to look at you like he wanted to memorize you.

The boy who touched you like a secret and left before morning came.

His eyes found yours like they always did. Instinctual.

“Hey, Honey,” he said softly, voice low like he knew it should be a whisper.

You wanted to hate that he still said it like that. Like no time had passed. Like it didn’t burn your name into the center of his throat.

“Hey,” you said, barely. Your fingers tightening around the rim of your glass.

Josh, in his blessed obliviousness, clapped Jake on the back and pulled him inside. “Took you long enough!” he laughed.

Jake shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Yeah, man. Missed you too.”

“Where’s Bree?” Josh asked, glancing out the door.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s..uh..parking..I told her I’d go in first.”

You caught that. The way his eyes flicked to you when he said it. Like he wanted to see how it landed.

Jake dropped his bag near the couch, like it belonged there. Like he still belonged here. He didn’t sit. Just stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets, like maybe he didn’t trust himself not to reach for something he shouldn’t.

“Wanna beer?” Josh asked lightly, to which Jake responded with a nod. 

Josh moved to the kitchen, leaving you and Jake alone.

It was then that he decided to move to sit on the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, arms lazy across the sides. So casual. Like this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him since he left.

Like your absence didn’t hollow out an entire piece of him he didn’t even notice was gone.

You felt the air shift again, that strange, uncomfortable pressure that came with pretending you were unaffected. That he didn’t still orbit somewhere in your chest like gravity forgot to let go.

He broke the silence first, but his voice was quieter now. “You look different.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something close to it. ​​His lips parted like he might say something, but nothing came.

You stood, suddenly aware of how small the room had gotten with him in it. “I’m gonna grab another drink.”

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t say your name again.

But as you passed him, you felt the tinge of his fingertips, just for a second. It was then that you knew, you both remembered everything.

It wasn’t until you and Josh were making your way back into the living room that you heard her before you saw her. 

The sound of heels, purposeful and far too crisp for Josh’s slowly wearing wooden porch. Her voice lilted upward like she was trying to sound effortless.

“Babe? You said inside, right?”

Jake shifted. Barely, just a small tilt of the jaw, a pause too long before he answered.

“Yeah. Come in.” He spoke, unmoving from his place in the chair. 

You watched from the edge of the room, spine straight. Calm. Still. But alert in the way only someone with an unspoken history could be.

She stepped through the doorway like she expected to be welcomed.

And she was, of course she was.

Tall, put-together, golden in a cover of a magazine kind of way. A shade too polished for the faded warmth of this house, like she didn’t quite belong to the scene she’d walked into.

“Hi!” she said brightly, gaze locking on you with a practiced smile. “You must be Honey. I have just heard so much about you!”

The nickname in her mouth sounded foreign.

You gave another nod, polite, cool. “Nice to meet you, I wish I could say the same.” Unsure of which emotion you wanted to focus on most in this very moment. 

Bree perched on the arm next to him, draping herself over his shoulder, fingers lightly playing with his curls.

He let her. But he didn’t lean in.

And he didn’t look at you.

Jake didn’t move, and remained stiff in a way most people wouldn’t catch. But you weren’t most people.

You knew him.

You knew how he used to lean into someone when he laughed, how his fingers used to find yours in crowded rooms without a second thought. You knew how he once held you with both hands like he was afraid you’d slip through them. And you knew that right now, he was only holding still because if he moved, something might crack.

“Bree! Glad you could make it.” Josh, once again saving the consuming silence filling the air. 

She lit up, like she had finally be noticed the way she wanted to be. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You watched her take in the house like she was cataloguing it, every framed photo, every lamp, every worn patch of carpet. She was trying, and you didn’t..couldn’t hate her for it. But something about the way she looked at Jake, almost as if he was a prize she’d earned, made something twist in your gut. She didn’t know him. Not really. Not in the ways that mattered.

She didn’t know how quiet he got when he was hurting. Or how he sometimes played the same three chords on guitar over and over when he couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know the way he looked when he was falling in love, and she definitely didn’t know that he hadn’t looked that way in a long, long time.

“Everyone’s been talking about how close you three used to be,” Bree said, eyes flicking between you, Jake, and Josh. “It must be nice. Coming back to all this.”

You smiled up at her this time, tight, and unreadable. “Something like that, yeah.”

Jake was watching you now. Quietly. Carefully. Not like someone in love with the girl next to him. But rather like someone haunted by the one sitting mere inches away from him. 

“So,” Bree chirped up again, eyes darting between everyone like she was hosting a game night. “How long has it been since you guys were all in the same room again? A couple years?”

You swallowed. “A little under one. But I guess time flies when you don’t bother saying goodbye.” You let it slip, angry at yourself that you had broken the seal. 

Jake’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing.

Bree blinked, oblivious. “Well, I think it’s sweet. The three of you were, like, inseparable, right?”

Josh cleared his throat and tossed a bottle cap into the trash. “Bonfire’s still on for tonight. Thinking we should head down soon since the sun’s startin’ to set. Most of the old crew will be there.”

Jake nodded once, his eyes finally leaving you. “Yeah.”

Bree smiled and gave his arm a playful squeeze. “Can’t wait to meet everyone. I love hearing stories about young Jake. He never tells me anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it almost bled.

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t tell her anything?

Because she wasn’t supposed to know him. Not really. She was a placeholder. A distraction. A soft place to land when the silence after you got too loud. She clung because she mistook proximity for love.

And Jake, well, Jake never stopped trying to fill the shape of you with people who didn’t fit.

Josh turned to you. “You still good to come, Honey?”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

And it was true, you wouldn’t. Even if it meant standing in the same circle of sand where everything had changed the last time. 

It wasn’t until Josh disappeared upstairs to grab a sweatshirt, and Bree wandered into the kitchen with questions about the music playing that Jake stood, just slightly, as if he meant to follow her but he hesitated.

You looked up at him, arms crossed loosely, mouth unreadable.

“She seems nice,” you said.

Jake tilted his head. “She is.”

A pause.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

He blinked. “Know what?” You smiled, small and sharp. “Exactly.”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. Just pushed off the couch, brushing past him on your way toward the door.

“Tell Josh I’ll meet him in the car.”

And just like that, the air shifted again, and the night moved forward.

✽

The beach came into view just as the last threads of pink disappeared from the sky, leaving a soft, deep blue that hovered over the water like a held breath. The bonfire’s glow lit the sand in flashes, and you could see the flames from afar, warm and flickering. Its light threw long shadows across the dunes, catching on glass bottles, half-sunk blankets, and throw blankets glittered with sand, and bare feet. Someone strummed a guitar off rhythm, not well enough to be impressive, but with enough familiarity to pull the air into a gentle sort of peace.

You walked beside Josh, your bare feet sinking slightly into the sand with every step, your shoes dangling from one hand. The sound of the fire and the people gathered around it got louder the closer you got. The hum of inside jokes, nostalgia, and cheap beer allowed you to take a breath.

“You okay?” Josh asked, quietly enough that it didn’t need an answer.

You nodded anyway, giving him a half-smile. “It just feels like walking into a time capsule.” 

Josh let out a low chuckle, nudging you with his shoulder. “That’s Frankenmuth. Nothing changes, just gets quieter.”

As the two of you crossed onto the beach, the group turned, some faces lighting up instantly as if no time had passed at all. You were immediately pulled into a familiar rotation of hugs and half-shouted greetings, Erin, a familiar mess of Auburn waves, with her loud laugh and too-tight embrace, Marcus who smelled like weed and bonfire smoke, Dean who lifted you off the ground like it was still junior year. Their affection was genuine, but you felt strangely detached from it, like you were floating just above the moment, smiling and answering questions as if you were still the same girl they remembered, when you knew damn well you weren’t.

And then you saw him. You cursed your body for the way it reacted to him everytime like it was the first. 

Jake was seated at the far end of the fire, one arm slung across his lap, a beer dangling from the fingers of his right hand. Bree was tucked neatly into his side, her legs crossed over his, her body angled toward him like she’d choreographed the pose. She was speaking to someone beside her, smiling in that casually radiant way women do when they’re used to being looked at, her fingers tracing lazy circles against Jake’s thigh.

But he wasn’t looking at her. Not really.

His gaze was fixed on the fire, jaw set, his thumb slowly tearing away the label on his beer bottle. There was distance in his posture, not the kind that came from space, but from thought. It was like watching someone sit inside their own silence.

Josh must’ve noticed you stop walking, because he glanced over and followed your gaze. He hesitated, then asked, “You want a drink?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softer than you meant. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

He nodded and veered toward the coolers, leaving you standing in the orange light of the fire, arms crossed gently over your chest as you took in the sight of the group you used to belong to. You were still technically part of it, and they made room for you, smiled when they spoke your name and everything, but everything had shifted. Time had been kind to some, unkind to others, but it had been cruelest in the way it rearranged your place in this space.

And Bree.

She didn’t look out of place, exactly. In fact, she fit in too well. Too polished. Too perfect. She laughed on cue, knew just when to touch Jake, knew how to toss her hair like it meant nothing. But it wasn’t her beauty that unsettled you, it was her precision. Her performative ease. The way she seemed like she had studied him just long enough to know how to hold him right, without ever actually knowing who he was.

And Jake, he was fucking allowing it. And the worst part? His body barely reacted to her touches. When she leaned in, he didn’t lean back. When she laughed, he didn’t join her. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t pull her closer either.

It was like watching someone wear a jacket they forgot they were supposed to take off.

Someone handed Bree a drink, and she stood, raising it with practiced enthusiasm, her smile gleaming.

“To old friends,” she called out, “and new beginnings!”

The fire popped behind her, and a chorus of cheers rang out, solo cups raised, someone clapping, a few of the guys letting out a loud “woo!” like it was summer camp again.

Jake didn’t raise his drink. He didn’t even glance your way.

But his hand tensed around the bottle just slightly, and enough for you to notice, not enough for anyone else to see.

You turned and made your way to the drink table. You needed a minute. Just one.

You were scanning the options when Marcus came up beside you, already halfway into his second drink.

“Hey,” he said, flashing a grin. “You still know how to make an Irish Goodbye?”

You snorted. “Definitely thinking about it.”

He cracked open a beer and took a sip, then gave you a side glance. “You and Jake still doing the uh…maybe we won’t but maybe we will kind of thing...?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s more like a psychological thriller. No one gets out alive.”

He laughed into his cup. “Still got the sharp tongue. Good.” 

Your response got caught in your throat as you caught sight of Bree stepping away from the fire, her phone in hand, tapping at the screen with perfectly manicured fingers. She headed toward the parking lot, probably searching for signal. Jake watched her go.

The moment she was out of sight, he looked up.

At you. You met his gaze and held it.

He hesitated for a moment, but suddenly like someone had flipped a switch, he made his way towards you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, but Marcus felt differently – clearing his throat, and taking a sip of his freshly opened beer while walking back toward the group.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped his beer, eyes flickering across your face like he was trying to read the parts of you that hadn’t changed. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said after a long pause.

You didn’t look at him when you answered. “Didn’t think you’d bring someone who’d try so hard to look like she belongs here.”

He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, but it was bitter at the edges. “Yeah. I guess I earned that.”

“You think?”

Jake looked down at his bottle. “It’s not like that.”

You tilted your head, just slightly. “Then what’s it like?”

“She wasn’t supposed to be... anything. It just got complicated.”

“No, Jake,” you said, voice steady. “It didn’t get complicated. You made it complicated. That’s kind of your thing.”

His lips parted slightly, but you cut him off before he could speak.

“She loves you, you know.”

Jake blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“She looks at you like you’re already hers. Like it’s done, settled. You let her. But you don’t look back at her like that.”

Jake’s shoulders dropped a little. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You gave him a small, humorless smile. “Don’t I?”

Before he could answer, Bree’s voice cut through the moment, overly bright. It seemed as if every moment with him never lasted long enough to mean anything. 

“There you are!”

She returned with a smile still plastered to her face, sliding back into her place at his side and threading her arm through his like nothing had shifted in the five minutes she was gone.

Jake didn’t flinch, but again he didn’t lean into her either.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she added, eyes briefly cutting to you.

You smiled, slow and clean. “Just catching up.”

Bree’s eyes sharpened behind the shine of her friendliness. “Oh, no worries. Jake and I are pretty open. He tells me everything.”

Your gaze slid to him. “That right?” You grew uncomfortable, no longer welcomed in the environment that was yours to begin with. 

He didn’t answer.

Josh’s voice called from the distance, merciful and loud.

“Honey! Come help me with the speaker..please! It’s being fucking weird again!”

You gave them a final glance, a final swig from your bottle. 

“It was lovely catching up,” you said, eyes still on Jake.

Then you turned and walked toward the sound of Josh’s voice, the weight of Jake’s silence chasing your footsteps. 

✽

The house had gone quiet by the time you returned, the kind of quiet that settles after a long night, when laughter has faded into yawns and everyone’s emotions have slipped into something softer, sleepier, easier to ignore.

Josh unlocked the door with a buzzed sort of laziness, tossing his keys into the bowl by the front entrance with a clatter that sounded louder than it should have. You trailed behind him, arms crossed loosely over your chest, sand still clinging to the cuffs of your jeans.

“I set the guest room up for you,” Josh said, voice low as he nudged the hallway light on with his elbow. “Sheets are clean. Towels in the closet.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thanks. For everything.”

He offered a tired grin in return, his eyes already half-lidded. “Of course, Honey.”

Jake stepped in a beat behind you both, shoulders heavy. He lingered by the door as if he wasn’t quite sure if he belonged here anymore. Josh had already disappeared down the hall with a wave and a yawn, murmuring something about needing to be up early. You had nodded, eyes cast downward, grateful he didn’t linger.

Now the only light in the room came from the lamp over the stove and the soft blue glow of the television, which someone had left on mute.

Jake stood in the entryway like he didn’t know where to put himself. He wasn’t touching anything, but he was still taking up space, the kind that wraps itself around you even from across the room. You felt a slowly succumbing pain that you couldn’t just reach out to him, touch him like you once did. 

“Bree’s not staying?” you asked, not quite looking at him.

“No,” he said after a second. “She’s got an early thing.”

His voice was too casual, and the silence that followed said more than either of you wanted it to.

You turned away and made your way into the kitchen, muscle memory guiding your hand to the cabinet above the sink. The glass felt cool in your palm, grounding, and you filled it slowly under the faucet just to give yourself something to do.

When you turned around, Jake was there, closer than before, leaning against the doorway like his body had moved without asking permission.

For a long second, neither of you spoke.

Then he broke.

“I didn’t know how to say anything, you know before I left.”

The words weren’t practiced, you knew because they tumbled out clumsily, a little raw, like he hadn’t said them aloud before. He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, eyes darting from your face to the counter to the floor, like he wasn’t sure where it was safe to land.

You took a slow sip of water, letting it sit heavy in your mouth before swallowing. “That’s the thing about silence,” you said, quieter than you expected. “Eventually, it says everything for you.”

He winced, not dramatically, but enough to feel real.

You wanted to leave it there. You should have. But something in his posture, and the way he looked smaller now, like he’d been carrying the weight of something he didn’t know how to set down, made you pause.

Jake moved to the living room and sank onto the couch like his limbs were made of sand. He didn’t pat the seat beside him, didn’t make any invitation. But he didn’t have to.

You followed.

Carefully, you settled on the far side of the couch, sitting sideways, legs curled beneath you. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel the space between your bodies shift.

“I thought you were happy,” you said, surprising even yourself. “I figured you left because… because you found something better.”

Jake shook his head slowly. “That’s not—” He stopped, exhaled. “It was never about better. It was about running.”

You hadn’t expected this. Not now, not this early. 

You scoffed, but it didn’t hold. You didn’t have the energy to be bitter anymore. Not fully.

His eyes found you again, and this time they  really found you, and for a moment, neither of you blinked.

“I kept trying to call,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Or I’d start to type something, then I’d convince myself you didn’t want to hear from me. That I’d just make it worse.”

“You probably would have,” you said. This time there was no venom behind it. Just tired truth.

A beat of silence passed, and then: “Did you think about me while you were gone?”

You looked at him, and for the first time that night, you didn’t look away.

“Sometimes,” you said softly. “When I saw something beautiful… and wanted to ruin it.”

His breath caught, not loud, but audible enough in the hush of the room. He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on his knees like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or bury them.

“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he murmured.

You tilted your head, brows drawn faintly together. “I don’t hate you.” 

He blinked, clearly expecting a different answer.

“I want to,” you added. “It would be easier.”

And you meant it. Hating him would be cleaner, safer. But Jake had never been easy to hate, even when he broke you in a way only someone who knows your softest parts could.

“I missed you,” he said, suddenly. “Like hell.”

You inhaled like you’d been hit. Like those words came with hands attached.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered.

He leaned forward slightly. “Why?”

“Because you mean it now, but you didn’t mean it when it mattered.”

The silence between you cracked open, something unspoken curling in the air between your bodies. You didn’t move. Neither did he. But you both could have. That was the dangerous part.

He reached toward the throw blanket at the edge of the couch and gently held it out. His hand brushed yours, warm, familiar, an old ache disguised as kindness. 

You took it. Letting your hand linger for a moment too long. 

“It’s cold in the guest room,” he said, voice rough. “Josh leaves the window cracked.”

You nodded. You stood.

But then you hesitated, right there, in front of him, the blanket clutched in your hands.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, softer now. “But I don’t trust you either.”

Jake looked up at you, guilt plain across his face. “I wouldn’t either.”

You paused in the hallway, just before turning away, and glanced back.

He was still watching you.

Still sitting on the couch, looking like he wanted to say something, or maybe like he wanted you to say something first. But you didn’t. You just held his gaze, let the quiet do what it always did: fill in the spaces where words should’ve been.

When you finally turned away and shut the door to the guest room behind you, your name still clung to the back of his throat like it didn’t want to be let go.

And even in the dark, lying in unfamiliar sheets with your heartbeat in your ears, you could feel him.

Not beside you.

But not gone either.

taglist ^.^

@sacredjake @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @gretavanbitches @sammyslappers @jakeydoesit @jakesgrapejuice @whoreforcaravel @tearsofbri @allieboop @way-to-go-lad @hdkqishrhjfid @kelprisun @almost-a-ladybug @saltydogkiszka @jakeyboiiiiiii @weightofdreams-gvf @zoelle16 @thefleetofdreams @groggyvanfleet @kay-jordan @gretavangrace @godlygreta @screechesincoherently @streamsofstardust @angelbabyivy @mannick @seventieswhore @alphabetsalad @bumblebeeswrite @jakeslovehandles @ascendingtostardust @stardustdanny @gvfrry @age-of-nyahh @doodle417 @gretavanfleas @capturethechaos @chmpgnnlace @basiccortez @jakekiszkaschiropractor @eeeloraaa @swagria @trafficwasabitch @theweightofstardust @thewritingbeforesunrise

[stardustgreta]

reblogging because this took me forever to write and i don’t want it to flop :,(

[stardustgreta]

farewell, andromeda -- chapter one

masterlist | series playlist

series summary: a slow-burn Jake Kiszka x Reader fic about coming home to the people you never stopped loving, and the ones who never stopped haunting you. When childhood history, unspoken heartbreak, and a very real secret resurface, the question isn’t whether you'll fall for him again, it’s just whether you’ll survive it.

chapter summary: After a summer abroad, you return to Michigan and reunite with Josh—only to find out Jake, the boy who broke your heart in silence, is back too… and he didn’t come alone. At a beach bonfire full of familiar faces, you come face-to-face with Jake, his picture-perfect girlfriend, and the lingering ache of everything left unsaid.

word count: 5,350 | warnings: none yet!

a/n: eeeekkk! i wasn't lying, i am so happy to be back and i am moreee than excited to work and finish this series. i apologize for the heartbreak to come :,( hope u all enjoy <3

There was no missing the mess of curls and bright smile that was Josh Kiszka as he stood by the airport exit. He had a sign that read HONEY in big letters like a chauffeur would for a pickup. His smell is no less familiar than it once was as he pulls you into a hug, squeezing you tight into his frame. He pulls back to look at you, like a mother would her child, and takes in your tanned skin, a grace given to you by the harshness of the European sun. 

“My girl looks all grown up!” You push his hands away with a playful roll of your eyes before readjusting the book bag that had slipped down your shoulder, grabbing a hold of the handle on your aging suitcase. 

“I’ve only been gone for a summer, Joshua.” You squint your eyes at him, his arm finding a place around your shoulders as you walk in unison toward the exit. 

“Yeah, but you look different. You’re…glowing.” He emphasizes the word with a flair, one that is unique to Josh and him only. 

He unlocks the car with the key in his pocket, snatching your suitcase to toss in the trunk. You make your way to the passenger seat of his car, settling in and resting your head backward on the headrest as Josh gets in on the other side. The radio turns on as the car starts up, playing a soothing melody that isn’t high enough in volume to make words out of. 

Josh gifts you a few moments of silence before he can’t help himself anymore and speaks to fill the space. 

“We can talk about Italy later because, trust me, I want to know all about it.” He takes a deep breath like he knows his next few words will resurface an old bruise. “But I need to know if you’ll be okay with everything that’ll happen within the next few hours.” 

You lift your head to look at him, and a quirk in your brow. “I don’t know what you mean. What’s going to happen in the next few hours?” You speak nonchalantly, trying to convince not only Josh but yourself – you have an idea as to what he might be referencing, but you let him break the ice.

He turns to look at you for only a second before looking back at the road. “A few friends from high school are having a bonfire down at the beach, and you must come.” He speaks matter-a-factly. “But in turn, that means you’re going to see Jake today, and after you both have been away for so long.” He pauses. 

I just..I don’t want things to be weird.” His features fall just slightly, the weight of an old memory settling behind his eyes.

“We used to be best friends. The three of us.” He reminds, prompting you to place a hand on his knee – a feeble attempt at comfort. 

“Cmon…I’ll be fine,” you tell him, voice steady even if your chest feels anything but. “Really, Josh. I appreciate the concern, but Jake Kiszka isn’t exactly occupying any space in my head these days.”

It’s a lie dressed in politeness and it’s not for your sake, but his. You offer a small smile, just enough to convince him, and when his own returns, you let yourself sink back into the seat like it didn’t take effort to hold yourself upright.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, stealing another glance at you as the car rolls forward.

“You know,” he starts, tone light but edged with something sharper, “you talk about Jake like he committed a felony.”

You don’t answer right away, just reach forward to turn the volume knob a few notches higher. The music fills the space, but it doesn’t drown out what he says next.

“All he did was leave,” he mutters, more to himself. “It’s not like he set the house on fire.”

Your laugh comes out too quick, too bitter. “No, you’re right. He just disappeared. Like I was disposable. Like none of it meant anything.”

Josh side-eyes you then. Really looks.

“Damn,” he says. “You loved him that much?”

You don’t answer. You just stare out the window, your reflection in the glass harder to look at than his face.

Because what could you say? That you gave him everything — heart, body, breath — and he gave you a goodbye you never got to hear?

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Jake Kiszka? Never heard of him.”

There’s silence for another beat.

“Do you still remember how to drive?” He asks, and you laugh before you answer, knowing he’s referring to how long it’s been since you’d driven yourself anywhere. You look over, silently thanking him for dropping the subject. 

“Why would I have to drive if I have you to do it for me?” You grin over at him, your hand coming up to caress his cheek. 

“Oh, but of course.” 

✽

It wasn’t unusual for you to shower at Josh’s, the same vanilla and honey soap bar still sat by the sink, a quiet relic of the day you'd convinced both him and Jake that it was far superior to their tragically basic cucumber and mint. The scent hadn’t changed in years, and stepping into the steam felt like slipping into an old memory.

You rinsed off the weight of an Italian summer and traded your linen clothes for something more fitting for a Michigan sun, skin still warm from the water. When you finally padded downstairs, the air felt lighter as you found your way to where Josh had last been.

He had always had a habit of keeping the windows and doors open in the summer, even when the air was thick. The house smelled like warm wood and laundry detergent, and from where you stood, you could hear the faint hum of Fleetwood Mac bleeding out through the screen door. 

You were half-listening to Josh retell some exaggerated story from high school when his phone buzzed once, then twice. He walked over to the phone without a word, and when you glanced up, his expression had changed.

“Hey man.” He greeted flatly, stepping outside, voice low. You didn’t follow.

You made yourself busy by grabbing a glass out of the cabinet nearest to you, deciding a drink was best in your current state. Focused on the condensation collecting on your glass, you tried anything to ground yourself as you waited anxiously. 

When Josh came back in, all he said was, “Jake’s on his way. Should be here in five.”

You swallowed hard, and nodded once. “Cool.”

Josh studied you for a second like he wanted to say something — maybe offer you an out. But he knew better than to treat you like you were fragile. That was Jake’s job. Once, anyway.

The next five minutes stretched beyond comfort. You tried not to fidget. Tried not to check your reflection in the mirror near the door. It wasn’t until you heard the slow, steady, familiar sound of tires crunching over the gravel that you released the breath you weren’t aware you had been holding. 

You didn’t move. You sat on the arm of the couch and stared straight ahead, your breath hitching again when you heard it. 

That laugh.

You hadn’t heard it in nearly a year and still, somehow, it was the same. Just a little rusted. Just a little tired.

And then there he was, standing in the doorway. Like muscle memory, you felt it before you saw it: the shift in the room when he stepped inside. Like gravity tilted just slightly in his direction.

He hadn’t changed much. Maybe his jaw was sharper, and eyes a little dimmer. But he was still Jake Kiszka. 

Still the boy who used to look at you like he wanted to memorize you.

The boy who touched you like a secret and left before morning came.

His eyes found yours like they always did. Instinctual.

“Hey, Honey,” he said softly, voice low like he knew it should be a whisper.

You wanted to hate that he still said it like that. Like no time had passed. Like it didn’t burn your name into the center of his throat.

“Hey,” you said, barely. Your fingers tightening around the rim of your glass.

Josh, in his blessed obliviousness, clapped Jake on the back and pulled him inside. “Took you long enough!” he laughed.

Jake shrugged, but his eyes didn’t leave yours. “Yeah, man. Missed you too.”

“Where’s Bree?” Josh asked, glancing out the door.

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s..uh..parking..I told her I’d go in first.”

You caught that. The way his eyes flicked to you when he said it. Like he wanted to see how it landed.

Jake dropped his bag near the couch, like it belonged there. Like he still belonged here. He didn’t sit. Just stood there with his hands shoved in his pockets, like maybe he didn’t trust himself not to reach for something he shouldn’t.

“Wanna beer?” Josh asked lightly, to which Jake responded with a nod. 

Josh moved to the kitchen, leaving you and Jake alone.

It was then that he decided to move to sit on the armchair across from you, legs spread wide, arms lazy across the sides. So casual. Like this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him since he left.

Like your absence didn’t hollow out an entire piece of him he didn’t even notice was gone.

You felt the air shift again, that strange, uncomfortable pressure that came with pretending you were unaffected. That he didn’t still orbit somewhere in your chest like gravity forgot to let go.

He broke the silence first, but his voice was quieter now. “You look different.”

Your throat tightened. “You don’t.”

His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something close to it. ​​His lips parted like he might say something, but nothing came.

You stood, suddenly aware of how small the room had gotten with him in it. “I’m gonna grab another drink.”

He didn’t stop you. Didn’t say your name again.

But as you passed him, you felt the tinge of his fingertips, just for a second. It was then that you knew, you both remembered everything.

It wasn’t until you and Josh were making your way back into the living room that you heard her before you saw her. 

The sound of heels, purposeful and far too crisp for Josh’s slowly wearing wooden porch. Her voice lilted upward like she was trying to sound effortless.

“Babe? You said inside, right?”

Jake shifted. Barely, just a small tilt of the jaw, a pause too long before he answered.

“Yeah. Come in.” He spoke, unmoving from his place in the chair. 

You watched from the edge of the room, spine straight. Calm. Still. But alert in the way only someone with an unspoken history could be.

She stepped through the doorway like she expected to be welcomed.

And she was, of course she was.

Tall, put-together, golden in a cover of a magazine kind of way. A shade too polished for the faded warmth of this house, like she didn’t quite belong to the scene she’d walked into.

“Hi!” she said brightly, gaze locking on you with a practiced smile. “You must be Honey. I have just heard so much about you!”

The nickname in her mouth sounded foreign.

You gave another nod, polite, cool. “Nice to meet you, I wish I could say the same.” Unsure of which emotion you wanted to focus on most in this very moment. 

Bree perched on the arm next to him, draping herself over his shoulder, fingers lightly playing with his curls.

He let her. But he didn’t lean in.

And he didn’t look at you.

Jake didn’t move, and remained stiff in a way most people wouldn’t catch. But you weren’t most people.

You knew him.

You knew how he used to lean into someone when he laughed, how his fingers used to find yours in crowded rooms without a second thought. You knew how he once held you with both hands like he was afraid you’d slip through them. And you knew that right now, he was only holding still because if he moved, something might crack.

“Bree! Glad you could make it.” Josh, once again saving the consuming silence filling the air. 

She lit up, like she had finally be noticed the way she wanted to be. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You watched her take in the house like she was cataloguing it, every framed photo, every lamp, every worn patch of carpet. She was trying, and you didn’t..couldn’t hate her for it. But something about the way she looked at Jake, almost as if he was a prize she’d earned, made something twist in your gut. She didn’t know him. Not really. Not in the ways that mattered.

She didn’t know how quiet he got when he was hurting. Or how he sometimes played the same three chords on guitar over and over when he couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know the way he looked when he was falling in love, and she definitely didn’t know that he hadn’t looked that way in a long, long time.

“Everyone’s been talking about how close you three used to be,” Bree said, eyes flicking between you, Jake, and Josh. “It must be nice. Coming back to all this.”

You smiled up at her this time, tight, and unreadable. “Something like that, yeah.”

Jake was watching you now. Quietly. Carefully. Not like someone in love with the girl next to him. But rather like someone haunted by the one sitting mere inches away from him. 

“So,” Bree chirped up again, eyes darting between everyone like she was hosting a game night. “How long has it been since you guys were all in the same room again? A couple years?”

You swallowed. “A little under one. But I guess time flies when you don’t bother saying goodbye.” You let it slip, angry at yourself that you had broken the seal. 

Jake’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing.

Bree blinked, oblivious. “Well, I think it’s sweet. The three of you were, like, inseparable, right?”

Josh cleared his throat and tossed a bottle cap into the trash. “Bonfire’s still on for tonight. Thinking we should head down soon since the sun’s startin’ to set. Most of the old crew will be there.”

Jake nodded once, his eyes finally leaving you. “Yeah.”

Bree smiled and gave his arm a playful squeeze. “Can’t wait to meet everyone. I love hearing stories about young Jake. He never tells me anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek so hard it almost bled.

Because that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t tell her anything?

Because she wasn’t supposed to know him. Not really. She was a placeholder. A distraction. A soft place to land when the silence after you got too loud. She clung because she mistook proximity for love.

And Jake, well, Jake never stopped trying to fill the shape of you with people who didn’t fit.

Josh turned to you. “You still good to come, Honey?”

You nodded, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

And it was true, you wouldn’t. Even if it meant standing in the same circle of sand where everything had changed the last time. 

It wasn’t until Josh disappeared upstairs to grab a sweatshirt, and Bree wandered into the kitchen with questions about the music playing that Jake stood, just slightly, as if he meant to follow her but he hesitated.

You looked up at him, arms crossed loosely, mouth unreadable.

“She seems nice,” you said.

Jake tilted his head. “She is.”

A pause.

“She doesn’t know, does she?”

He blinked. “Know what?” You smiled, small and sharp. “Exactly.”

You didn’t wait for him to answer. Just pushed off the couch, brushing past him on your way toward the door.

“Tell Josh I’ll meet him in the car.”

And just like that, the air shifted again, and the night moved forward.

✽

The beach came into view just as the last threads of pink disappeared from the sky, leaving a soft, deep blue that hovered over the water like a held breath. The bonfire’s glow lit the sand in flashes, and you could see the flames from afar, warm and flickering. Its light threw long shadows across the dunes, catching on glass bottles, half-sunk blankets, and throw blankets glittered with sand, and bare feet. Someone strummed a guitar off rhythm, not well enough to be impressive, but with enough familiarity to pull the air into a gentle sort of peace.

You walked beside Josh, your bare feet sinking slightly into the sand with every step, your shoes dangling from one hand. The sound of the fire and the people gathered around it got louder the closer you got. The hum of inside jokes, nostalgia, and cheap beer allowed you to take a breath.

“You okay?” Josh asked, quietly enough that it didn’t need an answer.

You nodded anyway, giving him a half-smile. “It just feels like walking into a time capsule.” 

Josh let out a low chuckle, nudging you with his shoulder. “That’s Frankenmuth. Nothing changes, just gets quieter.”

As the two of you crossed onto the beach, the group turned, some faces lighting up instantly as if no time had passed at all. You were immediately pulled into a familiar rotation of hugs and half-shouted greetings, Erin, a familiar mess of Auburn waves, with her loud laugh and too-tight embrace, Marcus who smelled like weed and bonfire smoke, Dean who lifted you off the ground like it was still junior year. Their affection was genuine, but you felt strangely detached from it, like you were floating just above the moment, smiling and answering questions as if you were still the same girl they remembered, when you knew damn well you weren’t.

And then you saw him. You cursed your body for the way it reacted to him everytime like it was the first. 

Jake was seated at the far end of the fire, one arm slung across his lap, a beer dangling from the fingers of his right hand. Bree was tucked neatly into his side, her legs crossed over his, her body angled toward him like she’d choreographed the pose. She was speaking to someone beside her, smiling in that casually radiant way women do when they’re used to being looked at, her fingers tracing lazy circles against Jake’s thigh.

But he wasn’t looking at her. Not really.

His gaze was fixed on the fire, jaw set, his thumb slowly tearing away the label on his beer bottle. There was distance in his posture, not the kind that came from space, but from thought. It was like watching someone sit inside their own silence.

Josh must’ve noticed you stop walking, because he glanced over and followed your gaze. He hesitated, then asked, “You want a drink?”

“Yeah,” you said, your voice softer than you meant. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

He nodded and veered toward the coolers, leaving you standing in the orange light of the fire, arms crossed gently over your chest as you took in the sight of the group you used to belong to. You were still technically part of it, and they made room for you, smiled when they spoke your name and everything, but everything had shifted. Time had been kind to some, unkind to others, but it had been cruelest in the way it rearranged your place in this space.

And Bree.

She didn’t look out of place, exactly. In fact, she fit in too well. Too polished. Too perfect. She laughed on cue, knew just when to touch Jake, knew how to toss her hair like it meant nothing. But it wasn’t her beauty that unsettled you, it was her precision. Her performative ease. The way she seemed like she had studied him just long enough to know how to hold him right, without ever actually knowing who he was.

And Jake, he was fucking allowing it. And the worst part? His body barely reacted to her touches. When she leaned in, he didn’t lean back. When she laughed, he didn’t join her. He didn’t push her away, but he didn’t pull her closer either.

It was like watching someone wear a jacket they forgot they were supposed to take off.

Someone handed Bree a drink, and she stood, raising it with practiced enthusiasm, her smile gleaming.

“To old friends,” she called out, “and new beginnings!”

The fire popped behind her, and a chorus of cheers rang out, solo cups raised, someone clapping, a few of the guys letting out a loud “woo!” like it was summer camp again.

Jake didn’t raise his drink. He didn’t even glance your way.

But his hand tensed around the bottle just slightly, and enough for you to notice, not enough for anyone else to see.

You turned and made your way to the drink table. You needed a minute. Just one.

You were scanning the options when Marcus came up beside you, already halfway into his second drink.

“Hey,” he said, flashing a grin. “You still know how to make an Irish Goodbye?”

You snorted. “Definitely thinking about it.”

He cracked open a beer and took a sip, then gave you a side glance. “You and Jake still doing the uh…maybe we won’t but maybe we will kind of thing...?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s more like a psychological thriller. No one gets out alive.”

He laughed into his cup. “Still got the sharp tongue. Good.” 

Your response got caught in your throat as you caught sight of Bree stepping away from the fire, her phone in hand, tapping at the screen with perfectly manicured fingers. She headed toward the parking lot, probably searching for signal. Jake watched her go.

The moment she was out of sight, he looked up.

At you. You met his gaze and held it.

He hesitated for a moment, but suddenly like someone had flipped a switch, he made his way towards you. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, but Marcus felt differently – clearing his throat, and taking a sip of his freshly opened beer while walking back toward the group.

Jake didn’t say anything at first. Just sipped his beer, eyes flickering across your face like he was trying to read the parts of you that hadn’t changed. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said after a long pause.

You didn’t look at him when you answered. “Didn’t think you’d bring someone who’d try so hard to look like she belongs here.”

He huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh, but it was bitter at the edges. “Yeah. I guess I earned that.”

“You think?”

Jake looked down at his bottle. “It’s not like that.”

You tilted your head, just slightly. “Then what’s it like?”

“She wasn’t supposed to be... anything. It just got complicated.”

“No, Jake,” you said, voice steady. “It didn’t get complicated. You made it complicated. That’s kind of your thing.”

His lips parted slightly, but you cut him off before he could speak.

“She loves you, you know.”

Jake blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“She looks at you like you’re already hers. Like it’s done, settled. You let her. But you don’t look back at her like that.”

Jake’s shoulders dropped a little. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You gave him a small, humorless smile. “Don’t I?”

Before he could answer, Bree’s voice cut through the moment, overly bright. It seemed as if every moment with him never lasted long enough to mean anything. 

“There you are!”

She returned with a smile still plastered to her face, sliding back into her place at his side and threading her arm through his like nothing had shifted in the five minutes she was gone.

Jake didn’t flinch, but again he didn’t lean into her either.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” she added, eyes briefly cutting to you.

You smiled, slow and clean. “Just catching up.”

Bree’s eyes sharpened behind the shine of her friendliness. “Oh, no worries. Jake and I are pretty open. He tells me everything.”

Your gaze slid to him. “That right?” You grew uncomfortable, no longer welcomed in the environment that was yours to begin with. 

He didn’t answer.

Josh’s voice called from the distance, merciful and loud.

“Honey! Come help me with the speaker..please! It’s being fucking weird again!”

You gave them a final glance, a final swig from your bottle. 

“It was lovely catching up,” you said, eyes still on Jake.

Then you turned and walked toward the sound of Josh’s voice, the weight of Jake’s silence chasing your footsteps. 

✽

The house had gone quiet by the time you returned, the kind of quiet that settles after a long night, when laughter has faded into yawns and everyone’s emotions have slipped into something softer, sleepier, easier to ignore.

Josh unlocked the door with a buzzed sort of laziness, tossing his keys into the bowl by the front entrance with a clatter that sounded louder than it should have. You trailed behind him, arms crossed loosely over your chest, sand still clinging to the cuffs of your jeans.

“I set the guest room up for you,” Josh said, voice low as he nudged the hallway light on with his elbow. “Sheets are clean. Towels in the closet.”

You nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thanks. For everything.”

He offered a tired grin in return, his eyes already half-lidded. “Of course, Honey.”

Jake stepped in a beat behind you both, shoulders heavy. He lingered by the door as if he wasn’t quite sure if he belonged here anymore. Josh had already disappeared down the hall with a wave and a yawn, murmuring something about needing to be up early. You had nodded, eyes cast downward, grateful he didn’t linger.

Now the only light in the room came from the lamp over the stove and the soft blue glow of the television, which someone had left on mute.

Jake stood in the entryway like he didn’t know where to put himself. He wasn’t touching anything, but he was still taking up space, the kind that wraps itself around you even from across the room. You felt a slowly succumbing pain that you couldn’t just reach out to him, touch him like you once did. 

“Bree’s not staying?” you asked, not quite looking at him.

“No,” he said after a second. “She’s got an early thing.”

His voice was too casual, and the silence that followed said more than either of you wanted it to.

You turned away and made your way into the kitchen, muscle memory guiding your hand to the cabinet above the sink. The glass felt cool in your palm, grounding, and you filled it slowly under the faucet just to give yourself something to do.

When you turned around, Jake was there, closer than before, leaning against the doorway like his body had moved without asking permission.

For a long second, neither of you spoke.

Then he broke.

“I didn’t know how to say anything, you know before I left.”

The words weren’t practiced, you knew because they tumbled out clumsily, a little raw, like he hadn’t said them aloud before. He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, eyes darting from your face to the counter to the floor, like he wasn’t sure where it was safe to land.

You took a slow sip of water, letting it sit heavy in your mouth before swallowing. “That’s the thing about silence,” you said, quieter than you expected. “Eventually, it says everything for you.”

He winced, not dramatically, but enough to feel real.

You wanted to leave it there. You should have. But something in his posture, and the way he looked smaller now, like he’d been carrying the weight of something he didn’t know how to set down, made you pause.

Jake moved to the living room and sank onto the couch like his limbs were made of sand. He didn’t pat the seat beside him, didn’t make any invitation. But he didn’t have to.

You followed.

Carefully, you settled on the far side of the couch, sitting sideways, legs curled beneath you. You didn’t look at him, but you could feel the space between your bodies shift.

“I thought you were happy,” you said, surprising even yourself. “I figured you left because… because you found something better.”

Jake shook his head slowly. “That’s not—” He stopped, exhaled. “It was never about better. It was about running.”

You hadn’t expected this. Not now, not this early. 

You scoffed, but it didn’t hold. You didn’t have the energy to be bitter anymore. Not fully.

His eyes found you again, and this time they  really found you, and for a moment, neither of you blinked.

“I kept trying to call,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Or I’d start to type something, then I’d convince myself you didn’t want to hear from me. That I’d just make it worse.”

“You probably would have,” you said. This time there was no venom behind it. Just tired truth.

A beat of silence passed, and then: “Did you think about me while you were gone?”

You looked at him, and for the first time that night, you didn’t look away.

“Sometimes,” you said softly. “When I saw something beautiful… and wanted to ruin it.”

His breath caught, not loud, but audible enough in the hush of the room. He leaned back slightly, his hands resting on his knees like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for you or bury them.

“I don’t blame you for hating me,” he murmured.

You tilted your head, brows drawn faintly together. “I don’t hate you.” 

He blinked, clearly expecting a different answer.

“I want to,” you added. “It would be easier.”

And you meant it. Hating him would be cleaner, safer. But Jake had never been easy to hate, even when he broke you in a way only someone who knows your softest parts could.

“I missed you,” he said, suddenly. “Like hell.”

You inhaled like you’d been hit. Like those words came with hands attached.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered.

He leaned forward slightly. “Why?”

“Because you mean it now, but you didn’t mean it when it mattered.”

The silence between you cracked open, something unspoken curling in the air between your bodies. You didn’t move. Neither did he. But you both could have. That was the dangerous part.

He reached toward the throw blanket at the edge of the couch and gently held it out. His hand brushed yours, warm, familiar, an old ache disguised as kindness. 

You took it. Letting your hand linger for a moment too long. 

“It’s cold in the guest room,” he said, voice rough. “Josh leaves the window cracked.”

You nodded. You stood.

But then you hesitated, right there, in front of him, the blanket clutched in your hands.

“I don’t hate you,” you repeated, softer now. “But I don’t trust you either.”

Jake looked up at you, guilt plain across his face. “I wouldn’t either.”

You paused in the hallway, just before turning away, and glanced back.

He was still watching you.

Still sitting on the couch, looking like he wanted to say something, or maybe like he wanted you to say something first. But you didn’t. You just held his gaze, let the quiet do what it always did: fill in the spaces where words should’ve been.

When you finally turned away and shut the door to the guest room behind you, your name still clung to the back of his throat like it didn’t want to be let go.

And even in the dark, lying in unfamiliar sheets with your heartbeat in your ears, you could feel him.

Not beside you.

But not gone either.

taglist ^.^

@sacredjake @shutupdevvie @myownparadise96 @gretavanbitches @sammyslappers @jakeydoesit @jakesgrapejuice @whoreforcaravel @tearsofbri @allieboop @way-to-go-lad @hdkqishrhjfid @kelprisun @almost-a-ladybug @saltydogkiszka @jakeyboiiiiiii @weightofdreams-gvf @zoelle16 @thefleetofdreams @groggyvanfleet @kay-jordan @gretavangrace @godlygreta @screechesincoherently @streamsofstardust @angelbabyivy @mannick @seventieswhore @alphabetsalad @bumblebeeswrite @jakeslovehandles @ascendingtostardust @stardustdanny @gvfrry @age-of-nyahh @doodle417 @gretavanfleas @capturethechaos @chmpgnnlace @basiccortez @jakekiszkaschiropractor @eeeloraaa @swagria @trafficwasabitch @theweightofstardust @thewritingbeforesunrise

[stardustgreta]

so excited to finally create new content!!!! but what do we think?

publish a remastered version of forgiven? (i am now college educated and plan to elevate the writing)

or

continue farewell, andromeda? (the plot lines i have had brewing for basically two years and am so excited to bring to fruition)

what do we think!?!?

[stardustgreta]

garbagevanfleets sudden departure has yes made me sad because those were some of the first fics that got me into the fandom!! but also, kinda motivated to come back ?¿ i have so many unpublished/have written works that i’m picking back up again.

i know i said it before but…i’m actually back! look out for something soon…

[s0livagant]

Do the gresties these days even know about Abaddon

[stardustgreta]

Tbhhhhh

[stardustgreta]

— CANYON RIVER ࿓ | jake kiszka

“I cross my heart and promise to give all I've got to give to make all your dreams come true. In all the world, you'll never find a love as true as mine.” ⭒

━━━━━━━ ☆ ━━━━━━━

“i never imagined a love like this, not with someone like you.”

→ synopsis: leaving texas was the right decision when it came to going away for college, but coming back might have just been an even better one. jake kiszka is the cliche cowboy you had only ever seen in movies, but now he’s standing right in front of you — at a texas line dancing bar.

coming soon ┈⋆

taglist | masterlist

[stardustgreta]

officially back in 2024 don’t care if i’m too late because i’ve rediscovered my love for writing so yes!!!! i will be finish farewell andromeda, and decided i’d be spinning the block on this one!!

p.s i worked on an entire remastering of unforgiven … so might share that with u guys :p

[stardustgreta]

uh hi i’m back did anyone miss me? 😅

[stardustgreta]

new suit jake cut his hair i’m overwhelmed i’m so overwhelmed

[stardustgreta]

SOMEBODY WRITE A FIC ABOUT THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

[stardustgreta]

no one speak to me i’m in the electric tomb rn

[stardustgreta]

farewell, andromeda — jake kiszka

masterlist | taglist | series playlist

warnings: none for now!

synopsis: life is different now after having not seen jake for so long, it just so happens you’re both coming home.

prologue

“Sometimes, you find the right person at the wrong time. Sometimes, it’s the wrong person at the right time. But when you find the right person, at the right time, in the right situation, it’s because you’re meant to be together. Fate has grabbed both of your hands. Don’t let go.”

“Just jump! What’s the worst that could happen?” A culmination of laughs, and cheers came from below you.

You stood over the stray figures in the water who had already made the 60 foot jump off of Blackrocks cliff, a frequent summer hideaway. With your face hidden in your hands, you shook your head, silently refusing to make the jump. “I can’t! Seriously, guys I can’t do it!”

They continued to shriek and holler, feeble attempts at trying to convince you to take the risk and make the jump. It wasn’t anywhere near your first time cliff-jumping, but it was your first time this high up. In retrospect, it probably wasn’t all that much bigger but the fear brought about by the unknown made you hesitate.

“Come on Honey! You can do it, just close your eyes and jump.” Josh was always the one who brought about the spontaneity in your group, daring you to do the most outrageous things. Things you often did because he was so very persuasive.

There was no such thing as using your first name for the Kiszka family, primarily Josh nor Jake. As far as anyone else knew, your first name was Honey and that was that. The nickname came about in the first grade, when the three of you had first met. You had just moved to Frankenmuth, a bizarre change in scenery for your juxtaposed hometown, and they were the first two kids to approach you. Josh, the sun and Jake, the moon–them being twins that was how you deciphered them until you were old enough to just know–had made it their personal mission to make you feel no less at home than the other Michigan natives. You felt you had to do something to return the favor, so you scavenged your entire kitchen and the only thing remotely intriguing to you as a first grader, was a clear, glass bottle of honey.

The next day, you had brought it into school and shoved it out toward them as your offering. They glanced at each other, and shared a laugh. “Honey!” They’d say in unison before the three of you took turns digging into the jar, and finishing it entirely.

You could hear Jake’s distinct laugh come from below you, splashing water upward as if it would reach. “Oh Honey! We’re waiting..” He’d say sing-songy, antagonizing you as he always did.

You couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous you were being, peeking down below you once more. “Jesus fuck! Just do it.” Your best attempt at a pep talk seemed to have prevailed, without time to regret it or back out, you shut your eyes and jumped off.

The world seemed to go completely still on your way down, silent enough to hear a pin drop before the rushing of water consumed you. Breaking the surface, you inhaled a big breath–the sound of cheering and the suffocation of arms around you, made you break out into laughter. Jake had wrapped his frame around yours, lifting you up with a holler of adoration.

Everything seemed to have lessened its pace, slow motion. You couldn’t remember the last time you were so infinitely happy, so free, so forgiving.

—-

That was the memory that had replayed in your head before Josh reminded you of the phone call you two were sharing.

“Honey? Are you there?” He spoke softly, like he knew the news he had just delivered was a major blow. Your eyelids fluttered, burning slightly from having not blinked.

“Yes. Yes, sorry.. I’m here.” You faked a smile, despite him not being able to see it you hoped it would make your tone more convincing. It was only mere seconds ago that he’d told you Jake would be coming back home, conveniently at the same time you were. Not only would he be coming home, but to Josh’s knowledge he had intended on coming back home with company. A girlfriend.

“Are you okay? Are you going to be okay?” He spoke with an urgency that left a bad taste in your mouth. Like your sole emotions relied on Jake, and whatever it was that he was occupying himself with nowadays.

“Josh, I’m just fine.” You even let out a laugh, one that sounded half manic, half on the verge of a breakdown. “My flight lands at 4 tomorrow, I’ll see you then, ok?” The connection was growing shotty, international calls never having been made to last longer than 5 minutes.

“I’ll be there, look for the guy with a huge smile on his face. I love you, Honey.” His brightness was evident in the way he spoke. Josh and Jake had both been your bestfriends since you could remember, but Josh stuck around.

“Ditto.” The phone call ended, prompting you to chuck your phone across the room. (Which you didn’t.)

Tomorrow you’d be faced with a man you loved, love and probably always will love. But for now, you’d settle for a bottle of red on your last night in Italy.

tagged: (just ask!!) @gretavanbitches @sammyslappers @jakeydoesit @jakesgrapejuice @whoreforcaravel @tearsofbri @allieboop @myownparadise96 @way-to-go-lad

[stardustgreta]

hii i love your writing sm i was wondering if your jake fic “unforgiven” will ever be reposted again? i loved that fic so much <33

hi anon!! thank you so much for the support, completely my fault.. after changing my username i totally forgot to fix the links! everything is all fixed and clickable :) happy reading 💐

[stardustgreta]

i saw mac saturn tonight in nyc and i am a changed woman, carson in real life has changed me. i will never be the same.

[stardustgreta]

don’t mind me.. just rereading lazarus and abbadon for the sixth time this year.

[stardustgreta]

sticky, sweet [e. munson]

song: "art deco" - lana del rey

summary: stiffling summer heat in hawkins, your bestfriends trailer.

warnings: smut!! 18+ only.. talk of drugs, and getting high. high sex, jealous eddie, brat reader (not for long), unprotected sex, creampie, name calling (like once), kind of sweet sex, soft eddie, praising, dirty talk, unestablished relationship.

word count: 3.2k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

note:  im sorry if this is like, not up to my usual standards i tried to throw something together because i havent posted in like god knows how long. forgive me if its like blah.. reblogs/likes and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

when i write for eddie munson, it will always be with THIS eddie munson in mind… i love him here

masterlist | taglist

the loud, prying sound of your thighs sticking and unsticking together through dried and newly forming sweat made you groan in constant uncomfort. the windows, doors and all possible fans had been opened and whirring throughout eddie’s stuffy trailer, the summer heat had been beating down especially hard on hawkins this summer. there was a comfortable silence between you both, eddie splayed across the couch in only his boxers and a cropped hellfire shirt, with you taking a spot on the floor with your limbs stretched out in an attempt to ease the pain of the succumbing heat, in nothing but a pair of the shortest denim shorts you could find and a top that could barely be classified as one. the tv had been playing some rerun of street hawk, a show eddie insisted was canceled far too early. 

“can you change this? we’ve seen this episode twice already..” you spoke in a soft but blatantly annoyed voice, eddie unbothered as usual. he decided that ignoring you would be his best bet, instead opting for taking another drag of the blunt you had been passing back and forth. 

with an eyebrow quirk, and a knowing smirk from eddie you lifted yourself up onto your elbows. eddie remained glued to the small, antenna run television in an attempt to feign ignorance. 

there was an unspoken unconventional relationship between you and eddie, something not even the two of you were able to explicitly explain to anyone who asked if you two were more than friends. you and eddie had both been friends for years, and it was known amongst pretty much the entirety of the school the you were both exclusively “non-exclusive”. unfortunately, because of your identical, exponentially enormous egos – neither of you had built up enough courage to be outward about any of it. so instead, you both wordlessly decided that figuratively tangible sexual tension, longing looks, and almost too obvious touches would do for now. 

maybe it was the almost suffocating heat, or maybe it was all of the pent up sexual frustation–but whatever it was, you weren’t going to let him off without a bit of teasing this time. pushing yourself up onto your palms, and bend your legs at the knees you turned to him again with a small grin. 

“do you think steve harrington is a good fuck?” 

and bingo, that is what finally gets him to look at you. is he..jealous? you don’t want to jump the gun just yet, so you’ll push him just a bit further to be sure. 

“he just seems so manly, y’know? he must be good in bed..” stretching your legs out again to elongate your figure, you lift yourself up and over toward where eddie was on the couch, snatching the blunt from his hands and bringing it to your own mouth.

“you’re hogging.” you spoke between the spilling of smoke that fell from your lips. 

“what do you think eds? do you think i should ask steve harrington to rock my world?” you spoke again after radio silence. with a neutral face and a sharp breath he sat up, letting his elbows indent his knees. 

“i know what you’re doing, slut.” with a new fond look on his face and a shade of cloudy dark in his eyes, you knew you had struck a nerve.

“language, munson.” you inched closer this time, tossing one of your legs over his and waving a finger in his face, an act mimicking a teacher discipling a child. “that is no way to speak to a lady.” 

“didn’t know i was in the presence of such importance.” you let your leg swing fully over him now, your thighs straddling his – trapping him where he sat. you let out a soft breath at the pressing feeling of him through his boxers, suddenly very aware of the situation you had both found yourselves in. 

“eddie munson, are you..hard?” you stifled a chuckle, feeling the pads of his calloused fingers pressing tighter into your hips, the contrasting roughness of his fingers and the softness of your sheened skin making you dizzy. 

“stop that.” he spoke breathlessly, your lips now mere centimeters apart. the room seemingly growing hotter, the stifling sticky feeling of your thighs on his and the small strands of hair sticking to his forehead. your hand moved to caress his cheek, sweeping some of said hair out of the way to get a clearer view of his face. 

“are you turned on right now?” your lips sweeping together after every few words at your closeness, his chest expanding further out at his heavy breath. 

“eddie-” finally deciding to shut you up, he smashed his lips to yours in a messy, sloppy kiss that perfectly mimicked your current situation. pulling away, embarrassingly leaving you in a heaving fit before you realized he had silently, wordlessly flipped the dynamic of your current state of affairs. 

“do you really wanna know how good steve harrington is in bed.” he spoke between love bites to your chest, your hands finding solace behind his neck and entangled in his hair. “no,” you said with a breathy laugh, tilting your head to press another soft kiss to his lips, both of you knew that isn’t at all why you brought it up. “but i got the reaction i wanted, didn’t i?”

“you’re mean, sugar.” his teeth bit hard into your collarbone this time, eliciting a low strangled whimper. the blunt you had been sharing was thrown haphazardly onto the ground, and the buzz had only just begun to kick in for the both of you. finding his lips again–this time on your own accord–you let your tongue slip from your mouth to his, being hospitably welcomed by his own. 

it would be harder to explain if this was yours and eddies first time having sex, but it wasn’t. with eddie it was simply too easy to fall back into each other at every possible chance you got, whether it was after he picked you up from cheer practice, or after you had been waiting hours for him to finish with hellfire–it always ended up the same, panting and heaving as you worked hard to regain a normal pattern of breathing. location never mattered, not to eddie anyway. 

“mean to you?” you smirked, pressing your lips to his again in a soft, chaste kiss. “only when you’re bad.”

 the two of you knew very well that eddie was and always would be the dominant one in whatever it is the two of you had classified yourselves as, but it was always fun for you to think you had a smidge of authority here and then. 

with a squeal and a rapid change of position, eddie had you on your back, hitched between your now spread legs. the couch you had found yourselves on allowed little to no support so you sunk as soon as the pressing weight of both of you was applied to the cushions. 

“fuck me on the floor, would you eds?” a shared laugh between you two as you wrapped your legs around his waist, bracing for the move. he lifted you up off the couch before easing you onto the floor, your skin still sticking together from the thin layer of sweat. the sudden harshness of the carpet made you wince only slightly. 

he lowers himself toward your thighs, leaving wet kisses in a path from your mid inner thigh and up, approaching dangerously close to where you need him most. the high had begun to really set in now, his touch alone set your skin aflame on top of the sickening weather that filled the room. 

“are you going to take my clothes off?” you say innocently, letting your hands roam freely around his back and shoulders, grasping for any area of skin you could. 

“you’re a big girl, i think you can undress yourself.” he teased, he finally gave in after you pleaded with your usual, ‘please eds’ and inflating his ego more than you should’ve. eventually he would use his hands to undo the button of your shorts, but switching over to using his teeth to pull down the fabric far enough for you to kick them off yourself. your hands finding them hem of his shirt and pushing up, his arms shooting straight to aid in the removing of his shirt. 

“nice panties.” eddie remarked with his index finger pulling forth the hem of the white cloth, decorated with a small pink bow and letting it snap against your skin. you let your hands cover his eyes while you both shared another soft, grounding laugh–reminding you both that despite everything, you were friends first. slowly, teasingly, he dipped both of his index fingers on either side of the cotton underwear and slipped them slowly down your thighs, his lips following them down to your ankles. just before you open your mouth to whine and complain, he lets his textured fingers find your swollen, desperate clit in a slow, thought out motion that sends you reeling. 

“oh–eddie that feels..that feels so good.” to you it sounds elaborate and pronunciated, but in actuality it comes out as incoherent mumbles. 

“i’ve hardly touched you, you think you’ll be okay?” he speaks half teasingly and half concerned. the still looming high that made your brain hazy and half functioning, mixed with the attentive, deliberate touch of eddies hands made you hardly coherent. but there was nothing more that you wanted then to go all the way, despite the inability to express it–so you offered a sweet toothless smile and a nod, your hands grasping onto his biceps with hope that he got the sign. 

“should i take care of you first. how’s that sound?” he moved to pay close attention to your now screaming, aching pussy but you couldn’t stand waiting another minute for him to fill you the way you needed him to. 

“nuh uh..not there” suddenly you find your voice, using both of your hands on either sides of his face to pull him up and into a deep, open mouthed kiss. “then where.. here?” he bites the skin at the side of your stomach, knowing that’s not what you mean.

 “i need you, please honey.” the pet name rolling off of your tongue, eliciting a low groan from his chest, his head falling between the crook of your neck in a weak attempt to stop him from cumming in his pants at the word alone. 

“so pretty..” he fawns, kissing the salty, sticky skin at your neck and letting his tongue soothe it over. 

you helped push down his boxers with your hands at either side of his hips, pushing down the fabric as far as you could before pulling him further into your widened thighs. there was no need for further foreplay on his part, his cock painfully hard and leaking precum from his seemingly swollen tip. using this very part of him to stroke at your entrance, his cock in one hand and the other pressed just beside your forehead for balance. 

“i’ll go slow, alright?” he spoke in your ear, his warm breath sending chills up and down your neck before meeting them with a soft kiss to your neck. 

you can feel yourself take in a deep breath, anticipating the stretch. when he finally slips in just the head, you can feel your hands grasp at his bicep, gasps coming from both of you in unison. no matter how many times you find yourselves here, neither of you get used to the intoxicating feel. his eyes are screwed closed and his eyebrows knit together as he tries to hold himself together. you careen your hand toward his cheek, the other still digging into the meat of his arm as he sinks in further, inch by inch and you can’t help it when you let out another lengthy, drawn out moan and toss your head to the side. 

“please eddie, please..” you press your lips to the shell of his ear, nibbling softly on his earlobe as you plead for god knows what. soon enough, he lifts his hips from where they stood indented into the bones of your own hips, and slowly but surely he begins pulling himself out just a bit, and pushing back into you with deliberate, slow thrusts that trigger your eyes to roll toward the back of your head. it isn’t until he lifts your hips just slightly to angle himself just perfectly toward your g spot that you’re able to make any coherent noises. but still, eddie is struggling to contain himself--his eyebrows knit together, and his jaw still slack above you as he lets go of one, two, three moans that make the pit in your stomach sink further and further, pulling on the two ends of the knot you feel burn hotter and hotter as he picks up his pace. 

“eddie, eddie..” you babble, every exhale mixed with a whine or a moan as your hands grasp onto any possible inch of skin. his biceps, his neck, his hips, your hands are everywhere at once and it is the only thing that is tethering you to this earth and the one above you, you’re sure. “i’m here baby, i’m here.” his sweet, sultry voice makes your heart swell and you aren’t sure if there are real tears forming at the waterline of your eyes or if it’s just the high that is making you imagine it. either way you feel one of his hands lift your left leg, making it possible to fit every inch of him inside of you. the slightest but showing bulge grows in your lower stomach, eddies hand reaching down to press into it and this makes you grasp onto his wrist, your brain slowly turning to mush. “fuck–can you feel me all the way up here? in your stomach..” he questions rhetorically, not expecting an answer (thankfully because you are hardly able to give him one). 

he tries as hard as he can to praise and keep you sentient, but the heaviness of his breath and the impending climax he feels disables him from getting out fully thought out sentences, or any words for that matter. you swear you see stars as the white hot peak of your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your ankles meeting around his waist as you push him further down into you, your nails painting small crescent shapes into his back so hard you think you draw blood and your moans and screams loud enough for the entirety of your town to be clued in on what it is the two of you are doing. “ohgod, eddie fuck!” you get out as you feel yourself squeeze down hard on him, causing him to push down on your hips, stopping you from moving. 

you hear him speak through the end of your orgasm, his face nestled into the crook of your neck and his hands holding firms on your hips. “please, baby–you’re so tight” he pleads, “don’t squeeze so hard, i..i’ve gotta relax or i’m going to finish inside of you.” you wrap your legs and arms around him like a koala bear, unwillingly to let him go. 

“s’okay eds.. i want you to, please.” you squeeze again, evoking a strangled, caught moan from his throat that makes you let one out yourself. the sounds he makes are enough to make your head reel, the mere thought of him wordlessly telling you how good you feel is enough to make you wanna touch yourself, and sometimes you do. 

“fuck, i want to–i want to but s’not smart baby.” he careens his hand over your face, your limbs still unwillingly to detangle as you splay kisses everywhere on his face. you shake your head no, still holding him tight to your chest with your arms wrapped around your neck. “come on honey,” your sweet voice entices him. “give it to me eddie baby, i’ve been good–don’t you think i deserve it?” and with one final squeeze and push of your hips, he’s crying out into your neck and you can feel the hot, warm ropes of his cum spill into you and at that you’re letting out a long, shaky sigh. he twitches inside of you, still panting and heaving into your skin and his hands have found comfort at your sides and he squeezes the soft skin at your hips and waist to ground himself. 

together your breathing slows in tandem, and you lay there silently with the unimportant background hum of the low whirring fans, your hands softly stroking his head and face as he lay with his chin stationed at your collarbone. “i want this.. you–all the time.” he confesses, not exactly sure how to lucidly express himself. 

“you already have me all the time, where else would i be?” you answer, not fully grasping what it is he’s trying to get across. so for now, he’ll lean his cheek against your chest and sigh in content–because every moment with you is far more than nothing at all. 

a/n: thank you for reading!! i promise i have way more thought out one shots to come for my dear boy eddie munson but i wanted to throw this together for today.