Greta Van Fleet | One-Shots

Hate To Love You | SFK | Pt. 3

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (WEAR A CONDOM I JUST HAVE A PROBLEM OK), swearing, love triangle, really fluffy soft sex, general fluff, angst, breakups, sadness in general, depressing themes, sad Danny + Sammy, sorry if i missed any!!

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"The person you are calling isn't available right now, please-"

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, trying to be as quiet as possible despite your emotions being all over the place. You hung up, not willing to leave yet another message, and dialled the number again. You were pacing back and fourth in the barren hallway. "Danny, please pick up." You begged, only being met with the sound of a dial tone. You leaned against a section of wall that held no doors, wiping away the tears that were falling without any sign of stopping. When the voicemail rang again, you threw your phone at the ground, not caring about the repercussions. You took your head in your hands, pulling at your hair. A choked sob fell from your mouth, echoing through the empty air.

Sam was in his room, still standing by the door, not finding the power in himself to move from his position. He could hear every desperate voicemail you'd left his band mate, every cry, every rejected phone call. He wanted so badly to go out, to tell you it was okay, or that he was sorry, but he stood frozen, knowing he couldn't face you after what he'd said to you. He was heartbroken, questioning if the months of love you both shared was real or if he'd made it up in his head. He thought back to the words you shared that night, chest aching at the proclamations of love that he had thrown in the garbage.

There was a part of Sam that hoped you would change your mind, knock on his door and ask to go back to bed with him, but with every ring of your phone, the hope was crushed even more. He regretted not telling you about his interaction with Danny at the venue, thinking maybe it would have changed the nights events.

In the hallway, you were still crying, staring at your phone that you'd tossed to the ground, praying it would light up with his name. The altercation with Sam was breaking your heart more by the second, afraid of genuinely losing him, but you were petrified that you'd lose the only friend you'd ever had, too. You picked your phone up, shoving it back in your pocket. Your eyes scanned the doors, wishing that somehow you could just tell by intuition which room was his, but you didn't want to risk waking up a poor stranger to your current mess of a life. You'd given up, ready to just go out to your car and start the long drive home.

When you turned to make your way to the elevator, a door behind you opened. You whipped your head back around, not bothering to wipe your mess of tears away. Danny stepped into the hallway, looking just as rough as you did. You turned your body towards him, but you didn't move forward, scared that he might turn around. "Pip?" His voice was raspy and his hair was disheveled, red eyes brimming with tears. There was no judgement, knowing you looked no better. You stayed stagnant, still unsure if you should approach. "Come here." He whispered, lifting his arm slightly and holding his hand out.

You sprung to action at the words, running to him and wrapping your arms around his torso. He held you just as tightly, just happy to know you still cared. "I'm so sorry, Danny." You cried into his shirt. "I just- I don't even-" you cut yourself off every time you tried to formulate some kind of narrative.

"Please come inside. Let's just talk, please." You nodded, scared to let go of him. He guided you into his hotel room, closing the door behind him. The room reeked of alcohol, a half-empty whisky bottle decorating the wooden stand by the bed. He sat down on the mattress, patting the spot next to him. You obeyed, taking your shoes off and sitting criss-cross, facing him. "I, uh, I heard you and Sam." He spoke first. You nodded slowly, sniffling. You wiped your cheeks with the sleeves of the sweater you were wearing.