Greta Van Fleet // Oneshots

Cross My Heart & Hope To Die // Sam Kiszka *SMUT*

At the sound of the door actually opening, you jolted into sudden full-consciousness, shooting up from the couch. Sam laughed; he wasn't in dazzling white and silver anymore. He looked almost ordinary, but just almost. You knew you'd hit the jackpot by getting with one of the most beautiful and fawned over rising musicians. Rock gods. That's what they all were. And Sam was an enigma–so many facets to his personality. So much that went on in his head that almost no one knew about.

That rough, raw laugh echoed in your ears and made your skin tingle. "You're back," you said, wobbling slightly on your feet. It really was late and you really were tired, but energy was steadily streaming back into your veins at the sight of him.

Sam strode over to you with ease, like he didn't just spend two and a half hours in front of 35,000 people. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close, sighing into your hair. "Sorry it took so long, kitten. Everyone wanted to go out for drinks."

Then you could smell the lingering scent of beer on him. You looked up to ask, "You went out?"

Sam released his hold, suddenly putting nearly a foot of space between the two of you. "Just for a couple beers. I couldn't get myself out of it."

That was definitely a lie. You now were doubting that Josh, Danny and Jake even knew you had been waiting at the hotel–if they'd known, there was no way they wouldn't have gotten you to go out too. You tried not to let the hurt show on your face but it definitely did, because Sam let out a huff and raised his eyebrows at you. You hated when he did that. It made you feel like a child.

"I would've gone out with all of you too," you said, literally and figuratively standing your ground. You weren't in the mood to argue but you also weren't in the mood to feel like a doormat again. Being left out felt worse than anything. "If you'd just asked me."

Sam's mouth twitched as you saw a flicker of frustration move over his face, but then he sighed again. He pulled you back into his arms and said, "You're right. I'm sorry, Y/N. I was an asshole."

You could have just let it go but the pent up energy from waiting around–and it not being the first time–wouldn't allow that. Anger bubbled up in your chest and tears broke through, streaming down your temples which made you feel even worse. Pathetic and stupid. "Sometimes it's like you don't even like me, Sam," you said, pushing him away, hastily wiping the tears away. Your makeup was already ruined and you just wanted the stupid outfit you'd put on off your body now. Who even cared?

"How can you say that?" Sam asked when you sat down on the couch and looked down at your feet, still struggling to stop the tears. "I chose you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Yeah, of course you did. Like that means anything." It was too late–the torrent of resentment was running wild now. "I saw you with that girl in New York. I saw you with that waitress in Detroit." You lifted your hips and pulled down your tights. If you were going to argue, you could at least be comfortable.

"Jesus, Y/N, where is all this coming from?" Sam asked, still standing, running a hand through his hair like this was exhausting for HIM.

You stood up, fumbling with the zipper on your dress for a minute; Sam approached and tried to help but you scooted away. "You used to make me feel like I was the only one in the room with you," you told him, managing to get unzipped on your own, sliding the stupid dress down to kick aside. At least if you were busy changing, you didn't have to make eye contact. "Now I just feel so stupid. You just got some groupie to sleep with whenever you want. And I bet I'm not the only one."

"That's not true," Sam replied heatedly. You still weren't looking at him, resigned to rifle through your suitcase for pajamas. It was going to be a long night and you didn't even want to sleep in the same bed as him right now but you couldn't ask to bunk with anyone else. Only Danny was riding solo, but that was definitely not an option. He grabbed your arm, stopping you from retrieving your favorite sleep t-shirt–a weathered and worn From the Fires t-shirt that you'd had since the early days, before you even knew Sam as a real person. "You need to believe that. I've never cheated on you."