#it’s fine I don’t even like GVF anyways

[llightmyllovee]

It’s fine I didn’t want a mailed mystery gift anyways 🙄

[wildbluesorbit]

Wounded || JTK

…a continuation of London

18+MDNI

Paring: [drunk]asshole! Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: Howdy, back with more asshole Jake today! I know the last part took a very sharp turn but I promise I am telling a story. It's darkest just before dawn and all that. might have even wrote in a little surprise This piece is inspired by this little diddy, please give it a listen as there are so many lyrical references. Everyone say thank you @tommie-gvf for editing! I hope y’all enjoy this chapter; I am very open to criticism so pretty please let me know what you think!

Summary || Time heals all wounds, yet a year’s passing begs the question if Jake and you are just too broken to ever put the pieces back together.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, mentions of nightmares, alcoholic consumption and inebriation, anger, brief mentions of physical aggression and bodily harm, verbal aggression, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive episodes, allusions to sexual assault, [non-aggressive] attempted forced entry into readers bedroom

*disclaimer: I am in no way a mental health expert and google research can only get me so far*

Word Count || 4.8k+

You swear if the door could speak, it would mock you as you swarm around it. Like an impending predator ready to pounce on its victim; except that you aren’t and it isn’t. You simply stare at the ominous mass on hinges intent on boring a hole through the wood. For just maybe tonight, life would pour in through a glare-induced breach. For once, maybe the world would be kind and come to you.

You are drawn from your reverie by Jake calling your name, “It's okay, we don’t have to go.”

Already aware of the panic-induced rushing heat, you pull your insulative hair back from your flushing face.

You foolishly attempt to speak your courage-feasting fear out of existence, “Oh no, we’re going and we’re going to have a great time!” 

Jake, unconvinced, sleepily rubs his eyes and begins to slip off his well-loved vans at their perpetual displacement by the door.

“Really, it's fine, I’d rather stay in tonight anyways,” he huffs. 

You’re fidgeting alternates from your hair to the cold metal locks of the door, “Why are you taking off your shoes? Let's go!” 

He rests his tenacious hands on your shoulders as he starts to help you shimmy your coat off, “There’s no deadline, angel. It’s okay to not be ready. Don’t push.”

“I want to go out, I promise you,” childish pules make their way through your chest. 

You restrain yourself from stomping your feet like a restive toddler and blink away the unwelcome tears piercing the back of your eyes. 

“I know,” Jake’s voice echoes throughout the empty foyer as he hangs up your jacket, “but there’s no rush, I promise you too.”

It has been a year since London and Jake invited you to live in Nashville with him and Josh. At first, you had agreed only if you could help around the house just until you got back on your feet, but after a few weeks it had become prodigiously clear nothing beyond this point would be that painless. 

As soon as you made home in Nashville, you found yourself struggling to keep up with the world booming just beyond your bedroom. The look on Jake’s face when you were diagnosed with mild cases of haphephobia and agoraphobia almost made you dread you hadn’t stayed to wither away in London. On good days you managed a hug or even a car ride to the store but it was seldom, and only ever accompanied by Jake. You remained constant with your therapy and enervated yourself trying to break through life’s new barricades, but it proved a cheap fuel to get you through most days. 

You have lost count of the amount of nights you got ready for an evening out with Jake, in which he had to go on without you because you could not bring yourself to step beyond that petrifying threshold. So just like the many lost evenings before, you insist he go without you and, like always, you’d be waiting for him when he comes back.

“Fine, but not because you told me so,” you tease, “and put your shoes back on. You know the rules!”

If you couldn’t go out, you made certain you didn’t drag anyone else down with you. And if you are trapped inside, you make sure your weight is being pulled within.

As soon as it was clear you wouldn’t be leaving the house for a while you hunted for work you could perform from the comfort of your bed as a means to not sit idly with the demons trapped inside with you. Since you already had a business degree you landed on being a virtual accountant. But when you had free time you kept the Kiszka residence running smoothly.

Of course, they already had assistants and maids for domestic upkeep of the house and mostly everything was paid for, but you took initiative in commandeering any duties that slipped through those cracks. From taking care of plants and pets to ordering groceries, and even cooking some nights; responsibilities the twins claimed they wanted for themselves in an effort to stay grounded. Yet whether they accept it or not, they are rockstars with no time for such mundane tasks. 

The twins always make sure you know how much they appreciate you. You’d never admit it, but sometimes flowers or a cheesy note here and there is a small token that pulls you through the day. 

Danny and Sam also visit you when they have a chance. The boys always set aside a few minutes to catch up when they were at the house on a work call. Sometimes they’d take turns stopping by with lunch, checking in on your progress. They’d always tell you they miss you and encourage you to go out. Although, constantly being abraded by the same words can be challenging at times you never objected; you found their strategy endearing. It makes you feel like a princess; except for the days it made you sorely feel like a prisoner. 

Yet no matter what the other boys do, Jake is still the pinnacle of it all. The only one who understands the gravity of your experience, as he was there to witness it. He is the only one you feel you can talk to on the rare occasion you do want to talk about it. The only one who recognizes why you are the way you are and knows the tracks your mind runs on. The only one who truly knows how to take care of you when you don’t. Which means he is also aware you hadn’t found the mental capacity to figure out how the two of you fit into each other's lives.

Before the arrival of any real contemplation or diagnostics, you had tried a few times to rekindle the embers of your once-raging flame, but somehow everything always got put on hold or fizzled out. Some nights would consume you two. You’d imagine his pink plush pout everywhere and your touch seemed to send electricity through the man, but you always tapped out, neither of you addressing it. A few times you clung to the concept of Jake and you, charging through the strain of wanting to pull back and he was the one who would call it, consoling you when you hadn’t even registered you had started to cry or hyperventilate. That’s when you noticed Jake redirecting his time and energy into being your friend first and foremost. 

However, he never holds it against you as most nights are spent in your bed anyway. Sometimes he comes in to watch TV, read, listen to music, or just talk until he falls asleep next to you. Seldom do you pursue Jake’s touch, but there is an unbounded stillness about these nights; a safeness enabled by his giggles even breathing so close. These nights are your favorite, submitted to memory as long as fate will allow.

But more often than not, Jake’s nights start in his bed and journey to yours, pursuing his self-assigned task of soothing you back to sleep after a nasty nightmare would goad you awake.

You once asked him how he always knows; to which you immediately regretted as he responded sometimes he intuitively felt compelled to check on you. While other times you could be heard from down the hall; yet you secretly suspect he sometimes sneaks into your room to avoid nightmares of his own. Nevertheless, the last thing you ever wanted to become was Jake’s babysitting project, so you always make an effort to stay away from the phone when he is on the road. 

Days Jake was away proved bearable as many tasks around the house demanded your undivided attention. Yet evenings, when you stalled your mind long enough to fall asleep became excruciating. He’d usually check in after a show or drinks but the prowling monsters always came out of hiding as soon as he hung up. You almost always ended up sneaking into Jake’s bed, seeking comfort in the little strands of him living in his bedroom. You’d never confessed this though. 

Jake reels you from where you had been tucked away in your thoughts, “Danny’s here! Last chance to rescue me from this trainwreck and hog me all to yourself?”

He bats his long eyelashes at you and nods optimistically. 

“Have fun,” you giggle, shutting his whole pleading puppy dog act down. 

He grants you a bashful wave goodbye as you implore him to carry on his evening, as you would feel terrible if he stayed home just because you couldn’t leave. He agrees while perusing your eyes like he does every time before he parts from you. 

You had learned to read this signature appraisal as Jake’s silent survey as to whether he should actually leave or not. He never wanted to see you struggle to ask for something you needed if he found he could anticipate it. Though, It is always accompanied by one other departing look that you could never decipher.

That is until one day, compelled by your confusion that always follows, he told you he was fighting the urge to kiss you goodbye. He said it not to pressure you or coerce you into reciprocation, but just to be honest with you about what place you hold in his eyes. 

Jake whines one more time before you assure him he has no choice, “Do I have to go?!” 

You throw your hands in the air in an exaggerated dusting motion and feign a pestered grunt, “Shoo! Shoo!”

He notifies you he will be right back and his ringer is on if you need anything. You almost envy how gracefully Jake parts from you and vanishes through the door frame with no trouble at all.

— JAKE —

The music is too loud. The lights are too bright. The bar is far too crowded. The company your brothers force on you is nauseatingly obnoxious. You are decidedly miserable. You want nothing more than to crawl inside a cab that hauls you back to her bed. You’ve wanted nothing more for the past year. 

Instead, you endure it. Lead by example and don’t be an enabler. Your only comforting thought is that you don’t have to do it sober. You wash down your despair with the rest of your numbing elixir.

Reluctantly, you are pulled from your dissociation, “Jake?!”

You look up from your empty glass, flocking eyes of anticipation indicating they’ve reached a part of the conversation that requires your participation. You simply apologize and signal the waitress for a refill.

You feel your brother’s elbow gently prod against your rib cage, “What’s up?”

Josh means well, asking the question discreetly, but it still brings the pre-existing conversation to a halt. You wave him off, poorly portraying placidity. He doesn’t buy it, along with everyone else.

A girl you had met maybe a handful of times, you just can’t seem to recall her name at the moment, sat across the table from you. She had been tagging along recently and was particularly fond of Sam. You are clueless as to what purpose her next words serve or why they find you the way they do, just that she is illogically brazen as you don’t really know a thing about her and vice versa.

The nameless girl snickers unprompted, “Still couldn’t get your little puppy out of her cage, huh?”

The startling amount of intimate knowledge this stranger possesses is nearly paralyzing. Your eyes narrow in on a wide-eyed Sam.

Sam’s hands flail about as if he is looking to materialize a shield out of thin air to hide behind and panickedly begins to babble, “Wait- I didn’t tell- She wasn’t supposed to- She was eavesdropping!”

“I heard she won’t even let you pet her,” she smugly clicks her tongue.

All at once, the same raging fire that blazed within you that night in London lends itself to you once again. Painfully flickering in and out every so often, it never returns this lucid. 

That same destructive flame that scorched any and all sense of restraint to a crisp that night, roaring louder in your ears than any other voice of reason. The same seething blind red that found Hunter beaten beyond recognition, the only identifiable weapon being your hands bloodied and bruised and split. 

Like clouds catch the dancing auburn flare of a beaming bonfire, you question whether your face is a glowing ember reflecting your own raging flame. You aren’t certain you could say or do anything without completely losing your shit in this very bar.

Instead of fuming, you only finish your drink in an eerily serene manner. The only indication of rage being your knuckles wrapped white around your glass, your control alarmingly intact by a quickly unraveling thread.

You walk over to the bar to close out your tab. You refuse to give into the red haze as your brothers call after you, thoughtlessly beseeching for you to remain present and what that would mean for you. 

The bell above the door rings through your ears and the crisp chill breeze of night hits your face as you step through the exit, half extinguishing the fire lit by some loose-tongued stranger. 

You know you should go home but the last thing you want to do is further burden her in your short-fused state. You had been diligently adamant in keeping this monster carefully caged in her presence and weren’t about to let your hard work be tossed aside by some prick with a loud mouth. You can pretend to play it off, act like there is nothing wrong but that wouldn’t be fair to the both of you. She would see right through you. 

You decide you don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here. You nuzzle into the warmth of your jacket as you wait for your noble rescue, via Uber.  

— YOU —

You vacillate between consciousness and void as your phone begins buzzing. Half asleep, you let it ring until the din resumes, fully pulling you from slumber. The unnaturally bright screen pierces through the dark room and Danny’s contact photo stings your adjusting eyes.

You force your slumber-frozen vocal cords to rasp out, “Hello?”

Danny’s tender voice sounds through the line, “Hey, sorry to wake you, hun. I just wanted to make sure Jake made it home okay?”

Still groggy from sleep, the question riddles you, “What? I haven’t heard him come through. He’s not with you?”

“Shit- He’s not at the house and he’s not answering his phone,” he mutters to someone on the other end.

Panic sets in and forces you to spring upwards, “Danny? What’s going on? Where’s Jake?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” his uneasy tone and evasion of your question do little to console you. 

“Daniel-,” you don’t get the chance to finish before you hear Jake stomping up the staircase.

“He’s right here, Danny, goodnight,” you rashly exhale the update before hanging up the phone and tossing it on the bed, of which you’ve already vacated and are headed for the stairs. 

You rush out of your room to see a sloppily inebriated Jake oozing up the steps. You swiftly plod down the incline till you reach the same level as the teetering drunk, intent on assisting him in his expedition to bed.  

You frantically begin to ramble off questions, “What happened? Where were you? Are you okay?”

You pet the frizzy hair away from his face and into a ponytail. Taking care of Jake suffocates any hesitation from his heavy touch as you throw his arm closest to you over your shoulder and place your hands around his waist for balance, eliciting a lazy giggle from him.

“They cut me’off,” he slurs, “can you b’lieve that?”

You roll your eyes and mutter under your breath, “I can actually.”

Once he makes it atop the staircase he dwells there. You keep moving forward to allude him to follow but he instead crumbles into you.

Jake plops his head heavy onto your shoulder and nuzzles into your neck. His hands follow, wrapping around the dip of your waist to keep balance. It has been nearly a year since you last felt the weight of his warm skin press into you. The pungent smell of liquor offends your nostrils as his warm, heavy, drunk breaths tickling your neck become one of irrational remorse.  

Your first instinct to peel him off of you roars throughout every nerve ending of your body, but you don’t. After all he's done, Jake needs you now. Even if it's only to help get him to bed, you don’t mind being wildly uncomfortable for a few minutes. 

“I’m sor- I’m sorry, I just- then she said- I didn’t wanna ‘pset you- I’m so sorry- I just miss you, princess,” he babbles whined apologies into your clavicle, beginning to unnerve you.

You grunt trying to pull his limbs back into motion, “What are you talking about, Jake? Are you okay? What happened?” 

He resumes staggering forward on his own accord, even wasted he is much stronger than you. 

He giggles at your question, completely amnesic to his previous mystery guilt, “Am I O-kay? I’m doing… great! It’s you- Are ya’ O-kay?”

You answer the question simply to appease Jake and keep him mobile, “I’m doing just fine, let’s get you to bed.”

Together the two of you pad down the dark hallway. You make it in front of his bedroom door just before his fluctuating footsteps cease yet again.

He yanks his arms from your grasp in indignation, “Don’t lie to me! You aren’t- I know you aren’t!”

Frustration creeps in, and you take a deep breath. You return his hands to your own and soothingly run your thumbs along his knuckles. You patiently explain that he has had too much to drink and will feel better after water, pain relievers, and sleep. All you want is to help him get some rest. Yet he still refuses to move, a swaying brick wall.

“You know the guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me,” he aimlessly blurts out. 

You wince, throwing your head up to the ceiling. This is the last thing you want to discuss, especially with an intoxicated toddler of a man.

You and Jake rarely talk about what happened that night. You’ve addressed it maybe once or twice when he approached you about seeing a therapist or when you seldom tell him what happens in your nightmare.

You drop his hands to mask your face with your own, struggling to remain in place and not flee from his sight, “Jake-”

The fast manner in which Jake summons sobriety in his next words is almost unsettling, still inebriated but much less so. Enough to have a coherent conversation now. Just enough to wage war with a cleverly choreographed army of words without any real contemplation or inhibition.

He curtly hiccups, “Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?”

He speaks as if you have any say in the matter. As if you are choosing to remain prisoner to the shadows in your mind. As if choking on paralytic terror and trauma day and night is the path of least resistance. You draw back from Jake in one large clarifying step and place your hands under your arms to conceal their tremors. 

You do your very best to plant your rising tone, “I don’t know what you want from me, Jake?”

“I want you,” he begins to storm, his hands sloppily flailing about to gesture his points, “I want your laugh and I want your smile. I want to knock ‘em down like we used to, you know? I want to kiss you and touch you. God only knows how much I would love you if you’d let me!” 

You know he is only drunkenly rambling but it doesn’t dull the gashes his words leave. How could he insult you to think you couldn’t possibly feel the same? That you don’t ache for times the two of you used to parade through the night, wading through trouble and chaos, spontaneity as your only navigation. How you tear yourself apart knowing you’re the reason it's all recollection and not an existing reality?

You routinely dwell on the former enamoring parts of you. You are a phantom. A mere fragment. A poor cover of an adored original. The waste of a girl everyone antecedently loved, including you. Only a spectator stuck behind a glass, forced to look in on your life being fucked up by some imposterous variation of you. Every element you loved about yourself had been stolen from you.

You raise your defenses, “You don’t think I want that too?! I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this! It's never been this complicated, Jake.”

Your appeal to his empathy goes void as he further scrutinizes you, “So what? You’re the only one who is recovering from that night?! And I'm just supposed to be cool with you doing nothing? You want me to be okay with you neglecting yourself? Let you walk around like you’re some wounded thing?!”

He dissects you, rendering you raw and helpless. You aren’t sure how to reason with him so you remain still, renouncing the idea of a clever rebuttal. He, a hostile beast, you don't want to spook. Yet it only seems to reload his fire. 

Almost repulsed by your lack of refutation, he reboots his one-sided yelling match, “You used to speak so easy, and now it’s like you're afraid to talk to me! When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this and face your demons?! When are you going to come around again? You used to be this surge of energy- We all miss you- I miss you!” 

His words prick tears from your eyes but you fight them, swallowing the lump of self-pity in your throat. 

You poorly return fire with volume in an attempt to conceive a sob, “You just- you don’t get it, Jake!” 

Jake thrusts his head back in a growl. The sudden shift in his weight causes him to fumble backward, your hands automatically gravitating to his rescue in fear he might trip over his own footing. But you cross your hands back into your sides as soon as he catches himself, not even aware of his staggering he proceeds in his reprimand. 

“I don’t need to get it,” he mimics your weak excuse of a defense, “I just need you to be okay! I don’t expect you to be fine right now or even the same. I just want to know that you will be okay and I have yet to see any indication. You won’t leave this house and the only people you socialize with are my brothers and I. I’m convinced you don't want to grow! I mean- as soon as you start doing well again you shut yourself in your room, is this going to be the rest of our fucking lives?”

You let your mouth hurl words without any ideation of consequence, “I’m not one of your screaming fuck-dumb fan girls, Jake. I don't owe you a thing and you don’t get to speak to me this way. And I don’t expect you to understand but don’t worry, I won’t crowd you anymore. You’ve made it clear I’ve overstayed my welcome so I’ll be out the door.”

You press into the balls of your feet now, completely committed to bolting from any further confrontation but his next words make it nearly impossible to ignore.

His impudence is a cruel dagger, “Yeah, you know you have to actually leave the house first?”

“A colossal fuck you, Jacob,” you snarl.

“Just another thing you have yet to do,” he ruthlessly twists the knife yet again.

All emotion drains from your face completely paralyzed by his venom. You're convinced all the oxygen in your lungs has deserted your body, leaving you gasping and choking for any response. Not even able to make eye contact with him, your eyes swirl around the room; half an attempt to search for some indication this is all a dream, half an attempt to roll back the oncoming tears.

You are sick and tired of crying.

The one person you have trusted with your tears is now the one pouring them back into your crying eyes. Weaponizing your drops, he now trains the blade to your throat.

You hum a tune of uncertainty to cover the lump in your throat as you subconsciously slide your feet backward against the hardwood floor, “Um- Ja- I- You’re drunk, Jake, get some rest, okay?”

You can’t possibly stomach being angry with him any longer. You’ve had enough rage and hate for a lifetime. You don’t want to vilify or associate any of it with the man in front of you.

Though he’s not perfect, you couldn’t imagine asking for more. Jake has been so good to you in a season full of so many tears, panic attacks, mood swings, outbursts, meltdowns, isolation episodes, sleepless and nightmare-ridden nights. He is always there to make sure you are eating, and getting out of bed, and showering, and taking proper care of yourself. He is the one to organize your ground on days you’ve been so numb and dissociated you nearly forgot how to speak. He’s been there to take care of you when the day is so overwhelmingly amplified and intrusive it makes you physically ill.

Jake had placed his heart in being attentive to the little things. He knows when you are holding your breath. He sees when you are avoiding your reflection. He can sense when you are fighting to complete basic tasks. He recognizes when you put effort into something you have been struggling with. Jake makes sure to nurture signs of growth as they come but is always there to gather you when you relapse. He’s always been there to remind you of who you are and how much you are loved. 

This is the first time he’s lost his patience with you and he isn’t even in his right mind.

More than earned your forgiveness, Jake is the reason you can still forgive. The reason you aren’t as bitter and angry at the world as you’re justified to be. 

Yes, you decide that he more than deserves exoneration. Because even though it feels as if it’s millennia away, when you’re one day reunited with your smile, it will be Jake who brings it back to you. A sculptor slowly chiseling away at stone until his piece is restored to the beauty that lives in his memory. 

And though you let his trespasses go you can’t save yourself from the wounds his words have reopened. You scrunch your lips to the side to conceal their quiver. 

“Goodnight, Jake, sleep well,”  your words come out a whisper in an effort to not let your voice break.

Grief commandeers your limbs, immediately puppetting you on your heels and towards your bedroom. 

“Where are you going? Wait- no- I’m sorry- I didn’t- fuck,” Jake’s aggression seems to wilt away as he is swallowed whole by his own words, still thick in the air.

Jake’s pity would be the final nail in your coffin.

The padding of your feet against the cold floor hastens as you hear Jake pursuing behind you. You gracefully gap your door open just enough to float through the sliver and lock it behind you in time to hear Jake's foot and forehead clumsily thud against the wood. You step away from the door as he jiggles the rigid knob to realize it is no use. 

“I’m sorry that was-,” you can hear him running his fingers along the ridges of the door as he is trying to compose himself, “I’m sorry- I didn’t mean it- I just- please open the door?”

You only ever want to tell Jake yes, but what you need now is space. Denial of his plea nearly shatters you across the floor. 

“Please- I’m just- I’m so sorry,” you’d never heard him sound so small.

He never begs like this so you know he is still drunk. You lazily crawl into your bed deciding it is not a good idea to open the door. More mumbled apologies beg their way through the wood and you bury your head under your blanket to drown out the temptation. 

Jake turns his back to the barricade and slides down against it till he reaches the floor, a subtle plop as he takes a seat. His prayers and repentance flicker out until you realize he’s talked himself to sleep against your door. 

You finally let your feverish tears fall till they rinse you of your consciousness.

pretty please let me know what you think <3

taglist❤️‍🩹 -

@ageofbajabule @alwaysonthemend @anythingforjtk @becinabubblegvf @carbondancingthroughtime @dannys-dream @dont-go-home-without-me @edgingthedarkness @gretasfallingsky @gretavanglimmers @gvf23 @heckingfrick @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @jakeysbuttsheeks @lipstickitty @lyndz2names @mindastreamofcolours @mountain-in-springtime @mrbrownstne @nina-23-45 @sacredjake @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @smoking-jakelane @sparrowofthedawnsworld @styles-canvas @takenbythemadness @dancingcarbon @thewritingbeforesunrise @tommie-gvf @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @violet-hayes @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

[danakin-skywalker]

Marked (Danny Wagner Smut)

Warning: NSFW 18+ content, choking

Taglist: @flowervanfleet @weightofdreams-gvf @sierraahhhh @jakekiszska @amourleger @theweightofstardust @samkiszkabreakmyback @prettyintopeerpressure @greta-flanveet @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw @the-chaotic-cow @ghostly-luck @mywaysooon @tlexx @screechesincoherently @garagebandvanfleet​ @gretavanhoney​ @stardustdanny​ @joshysgf​ @cowboysamkiszka​ and potentially you, just lmk!!

(A/N): GUESS WHO FINALLY BUCKLED DOWN AND WROTE A DANNY SMUT!!! YOUR FAVORITE DANNY GIRL THATS WHO

I know I literally just put out a Danny fic but I felt this was called for because I’ve been seeing entirely too much Danny slander on my social media platforms so I would like to aid the situation in the only way I know how- by writing an elaborate sex scene. Also this Y/N is kind of coded to be demisexual, which is something I’ve personally been looking into for myself but I figured I’d just drop little hints in case anyone has been looking for that kind of rep in fics. Not that that’s really the focal point in this fic, I just figured it’d be nice to get that kind of representation in a fic that’s not like ALL about it ya know? Does that make sense?

Anyway please enjoy this porn (with a small side of plot)

******************************************

Marked

Once you started dating Danny, it wasn’t often you thought about all the time you spent waiting for someone like him to come along. 

You hadn’t really gotten around much before him, for little reason beyond the fact that you were really only attracted to very few people. You liked to form a connection first, feel some actual chemistry before getting down and dirty. Otherwise it was hard for you to find pleasure in the act.

That was certainly not a problem anymore as you and Danny were downright electric together. Even his bandmates noticed, dropping little comments about the way Danny’s demeanor changes when you’re around. You felt very lucky to have him in your life, and felt very loved by him at every turn.

But there were certain things you felt like you missed out on during your lonely adolescence. Some more embarrassing to admit than others.

You don’t know what it is about hickies. You’ve always seen them on your friends and other people in passing by, and noted to yourself how lucky they are that they’ve found someone willing to mark them in the heat of passion. It’s juvenile, quite literally, but you always found yourself wistfully hoping that one day it would be you parading around with marks on your neck from someone who loved you.

You certainly didn’t doubt that Danny loved you. He made sure to tell you regularly, made sure you felt it regularly. But, as a public figure, he always had to be mindful of appearances. Sure, sometimes he would grip your hips so tightly he’d leave little fingerprint-shaped bruises. And sometimes you wouldn’t be able to help yourself in raking your nails down his back (or even his front) as he rammed into you relentlessly.

But that didn’t stop your breath from hitching in anticipation every time his lips ghosted across your neck, peppering open-mouthed kisses all around. And it didn’t stop the slight twinge in disappointment you felt as he quickly moved on from the area.

One night, you must have been a bit too obvious in your feelings as you let out a sigh that made Danny’s head snap up to face you. “What?” You asked, confused by his sudden change of pace.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You sighed.”

You smirked, trying frantically to conceal your thoughts. “How unusual for me in this situation.” You responded sarcastically, making Danny shake his head and prop himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

“No, that wasn’t one of those sighs. Trust me, I know those ones. You sounded... Disappointed?” He knit his brows together as his eyes darted around your face for an indication in how you were feeling.

“It’s... It’s stupid, Danny. You did nothing wrong. It’s fine. Just keep going.” You reached a hand up to brush some of his hair behind his ears as he peered down at you.

He tilted his head at you, “Would you want to continue if I made a noise like that and didn’t offer explanation?”

Okay, fair.

You let out another sigh and ran your hands through your own hair, searching for the words. Finally, you landed on, “I just... I wish you felt like you could mark me, that’s all.” It came out as a mumble as you turned away from Danny’s gaze, cheeks flushing red. It felt ridiculous to say. Who asks for love bites?

You were pulled out of the pit of self pity you were quickly descending into by Danny’s hand pulling your chin back so that you were facing him. His eyes were considerably softened and he had a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I... I didn’t know you were into that. I just figured since you can’t give me any it wouldn’t be fair to give you hickies.”

You shrugged your shoulders (as best you could, given your current position back-down on the bed), “I don’t know, I guess I’ve just never had someone I cared about enough to want to... you know... walk around marked as theirs. It sounds childish, I know. You don’t have to.”

Danny smiled warmly down at you, elbows slowly faltering to allow him to brush noses with you. “Sweetheart, there is absolutely nothing I’d like more than for you to walk around marked as mine. All you had to do was ask.”

His lips softly slotted against yours once again and you wrapped your hands around his neck to pull him all the way against you, feeling his weight on top of yours and humming in content. 

Danny started kissing his way across your cheek and onto your jawline and you felt your heart rate pick up. 

“Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell me what you want.” He murmured between kisses as he made his way down to your neck, hands following suit as they snaked their way down your body. “My baby deserves everything she wants. And if what my baby wants is some love bites, well...” He paused to lick a slow, sinful stripe up the side of your neck, making you shudder under his touch. 

“Then love bites are what she’s gonna get.” He finished, whispering in your ear before plunging back down to your neck. 

You let out a gasp as you felt his teeth scrape gently against the sensitive skin, instinctively reaching up to grab the back of his head and hold it into place. You could feel him chuckle for just a moment against your neck, but before you had any opportunity to feel self-conscious he latched himself further onto you, alternating between harsh sucking, gentle nips, and soothing brushes of the tongue. 

He readjusted his body to fit between your legs and he lowered himself back down onto you, making you whimper at the feeling of him pressing down where you needed him. His hand, which had come up to brace the other side of your neck, snaked down to cup your breast. He massaged you, flicking and twisting at your nipple while he continued his assault on your neck. You couldn’t help but buck your hips up slightly at the sensation, which only made him sink his teeth further into you and rut his own hips back. 

You felt him pull back slightly for a moment, probably admiring his own handiwork, before he inched down a little further and got to work on another, this time closer to your collarbone. His hips started forming a steady rhythm as both of you got more and more worked up. You used your free hands to undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt and slide it off his shoulders. You had been waiting for him to come home from the studio tonight, dressed in nothing but an already-discarded bathrobe after you had exited your shower. He, on the other hand, was still dressed, and it wasn’t lost on you in the slightest how absolutely delicious the denim of his jeans felt against your soaking wet core. 

But you needed more. 

“Danny please,” You whined, tugging on his hair to make him emerge from your neck with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh, baby, I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

He used his nose to nudge your face to the side slightly to plant his lips on the other side of your neck. You opened your mouth to protest, tell him he didn’t have to make a whole night out of your request, but you were quickly met by his fingertips grazing your lips. You watched as his relaxed fingers turned into two pointed ones and your eyes darkened as you realized what he was doing.

Tentatively (and blindly, from deep within your neck) he pressed the two fingers past your lips and you took them enthusiastically into your mouth. You swirled your tongue around them and hollowed your cheeks to suction them deeper, making Danny moan against you before slipping them back out.

Danny readjusted himself slightly so that he was straddling just your left leg as his fingers trailed down your body, inching closer and closer to your heat as he continued to suckle on the sensitive skin on your neck.

As his finger finally made contact with your core, you let out a breathy moan and pulled his hair in your hands slightly, making him heave a heavy breath out his nose across the back of your neck. It was all so stimulating, you couldn’t keep your eyes open as you drank in his touch.

He started swirling the tips of his fingers around your clit, careful not to add too much pressure too early. You writhed your hips against him, inadvertently moving your thigh from under his groin and making him sigh against you. He bit down on your neck before lifting his head up to press his lips against your ear. “Does that feel good, baby?” He grunted, pressing his hips further down onto your thigh as his fingers worked against you.

You can only nod in response as you whine through the sensation, hand reaching up to stroke Danny’s arm encouragingly. He pressed several kisses down your sternum, gently lowering himself a bit before sinking his teeth into the soft swell of your left breast. You let out a sigh only to be followed by a sharp intake of breath as his fingers slid through your entrance. “Oh, Danny that feels so good.” You finally answered, looking down to meet his gaze as he left mark after mark on your chest. His eyes bore into yours and you felt your heart (and your core) flutter in response as he wiggled and stretched his digits inside of you.

His fingers moved faster with each little noise you made and although you were on cloud nine, you couldn’t help but notice the bulging tent in his pants. You reached your hand that was interlaced in his hair down to his crotch, palming him heavily. He stopped his work on your chest, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against you as he reveled in the sensation of just your hand on him. You moved your other hand down to undo his pants and free his throbbing cock into your hand, stroking it gently. “Baby...” He whispered, voice raspy with desire. 

You reached another hand up to the crown of his head, pulling his hair slightly to draw his eyes up to yours. You wordlessly beckoned him back up to your lips and he obliged, his stiff member now slotting against your folds haphazardly at the change in position as his lips crash landed onto yours. You wrestled with his tongue as his hips ground into yours, making you mewl into his mouth. You dug your fingernails into his scalp and pulled him closer. But after a few moments, he pulled back to line himself up with your entrance and gently press himself in. 

He was only a few inches in when he leaned back down to be right up against you, pressing his lips against the underside of your jaw. You let out a loud moan as he slowly filled you to the brim, adjusting to his size as his lips continued working on your neck once more. You could only imagine how many blood vessels of yours he had burst by now. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care, because if this was how enthusiastic he was gonna be when you asked him for something, it certainly bode well for your future. 

He pulled back after a few moments of stillness before reaching up behind your head and grabbing the headboard. You gulped as you realized he was about to fuck you to shreds. He looked down at you and smirked for a moment before driving his hips back and slamming into you. You hardly recognized the almost-scream that came out of you, a hand moving to fly over your mouth in surprise. This only widened Danny’s smirk as he reached his other hand out and ripped yours away from your face.

“No no no, baby. Let me hear it. Tell me exactly how I make you feel.” He breathed out before moving his hand from yours to your hip. With a firm grip set, he started thrusting into you with a quick and breathtaking pace. Your mouth quickly fell open in pleasure, breath caught in your chest at the feeling.

You reached your hands up to rest where his neck met his shoulders, gripping him firmly in search of some sort of grounding. “Fuck, Danny, just like that. You fill me up so good.” You moaned, struggling to keep your eyes open as he met your words with contorted faces of pleasure, his eyes even briefly rolling back into his head. It was worth the struggle, seeing those faces. He wasn’t always the most vocal but he absolutely was expressive, it was worth the conscious effort to keep your eyes open. Especially when he was on top of you, and his hair cascaded around your field of vision like a canopy on a bed, encapsulating you and him in your own little world closed off from the rest of it all. You lived for the struggle. 

You watched his eyes fall onto your neck, biting his lip at the sight. “Oh you should see yourself right now. All marked up. Guys on the street are gonna wonder what lucky son of a bitch gets to mark up this gorgeous girl.” He groaned. He picked his hand off the bedframe and leaned in closer so his nose was touching yours, newly freed hand snaking up your torso to wrap lightly around your throat, relishing in the toothy smile that crosses your face at the sensation. 

“Who do you belong to? Who’s the only person who gets to mark you up like this? Who makes you feel this good?” His voice raised slightly with each question, only drawing the knot in your stomach tighter with each word. 

“You,” You gasped out. “Only you, Danny. Fuck, I’m all yours.” You bit your lip as you felt the beginnings of an orgasm come over your system, heaving heavy breaths almost directly into his mouth as he hovered over you. “Baby, I’m so close.” You whimpered against his lips.

Danny’s mouth dropped open in satisfaction at your words, hand closing tighter around your windpipe. “Good. You’re such a good girl for me. You wanna cum all over this cock for me, baby?”

You struggled to nod against the force of his hand as you reached your own hand down to play with your clit. Danny followed your hand with his eyes, leaning back again to stare in wonder at the sight of him thrusting into you while you touched yourself. 

“Fuck, you drive me wild, Y/N.” He murmured, left hand stroking up your leg to the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. “No one takes me like you, baby.”

You finally allowed your eyes to roll back as his words caused your orgasm to crash into you full-force. You cried out at the sensation, hands flying up to Danny’s hand around your neck as he fucked you through your climax. After a few moments, his hold loosened as you felt him pull out of you and finish on your stomach with a few particularly heavy breaths and a yelp of your name, his hand still firmly clutching your inner thigh.

You sat still for a moment, stars in your eyes from the mind-shattering orgasm you just experienced. You hardly noticed Danny get up until you felt the bed dip again with his weight as he approached with a T-shirt to clean you up. He kissed your stomach in the spot where he came after he had cleaned it up, before clambering up to the top of the bed to pull you into his arms. 

“Feeling better?” He asked, in an almost teasing voice. “Fulfilled?”

You pulled back a bit to smirk at him, “Well, you tell me. It’s not like I can exactly see.”

He reached over to the bedstand next to his bed and grabbed his phone, swiping on the camera button and handing it to you. You held the phone a few inches away from yourself and couldn’t fight the smile on your face as you got a full view of your neck and chest. He certainly marked you up alright, there were over a dozen bright red marks all along your collarbones and pulse points and the tops and sides of your breasts. You turned your head to each side to get a good view of the ones he left behind your ears, before settling on a centered view for a few moments. You beamed at the sight. “I’m yours.” You mumbled to yourself, reaching a hand up to trace lightly on the tender skin. 

Before you knew it, Danny’s finger was darting over to the phone and pressing the “capture” button on the camera screen, taking a picture of your current state. Your head whipped over at him accusatorily. “Hey!”

He chuckled and put his phone back on the nightstand, “What? It’s just my phone, and maybe sometimes I’d like a little reminder of what’s mine too. Since I can’t walk around marked as yours.” He reasoned, snuggling his face into your neck and pressing soft kisses over the bruises he’d left. 

You wrapped your arms around him and reached up to stroke his hair. “You’re mine anyway. Even if the marks aren’t visible.” You whispered. 

You could feel him smile against your neck.

“That’s right. I’m all yours, and you’re all mine.” He mumbled, fatigue heavy in his voice as he pulled you closer into him.

You let your eyes flutter closed as your body felt the weight of your previous activities. 

You couldn’t wait to wake up tomorrow and assess the damage on your neck.

[hyperfixated-gvf]

No Homo

(This is actually a fic, there’s just a long intro!!)

Hi everyone, this is a break from our regular programming to advertise the slash server on Discord (https://discord.gg/Ef4WXpRBUT) where all of us who like GVF slash pairings (aka, Danny x any Kiszka) gather round to talk and share ideas and fics. A lot of the ideas are dirty, so the server is 18+ and there is no incest nor speculation of real life. We just like the fictional pairings.

Anyways, we're trying to get the interaction and engagement up, and more people makes more opportunities for conversation to spark! This is an open community - we talk about more than slash, but it's a place where it is accepted commonplace and you can definitely find more content for your favorite Danny x Kiska pairing.

Even if you've never participated in a Discord server before, we'd love for you to check it out if you're interested! Our little community is very kind, supportive, and open-minded. If you're not interested, that's fine as well! And if you think Danny x Kiszka fanfiction is gross or wrong, well - 1) that's a conversation for another time and 2) we can just leave each in peace!

If you'd like to join but don't know how, simply copy and paste that link from above into the Discord app - it'll tell you how to join once you download it - wave hello, fill out an intro, and start participating!

Not sure if slash fic is your thing (and this fandom has a surprising lack of it, so I don't blame you)? Well, here's a fic you can use as a exploration! A friends to lovers trope - fluff and smut, but not all-the-way smut! Without further ado, 'No Homo' has been published on my AO3 account for about a week now, so I figured it was time I post it here, too. Enjoy! (And also, if you want to be on my slash taglist, as always, shoot me a message/ask/request form and make sure you specify it's for the slash taglist!)

...

Summary: 5 times Sam and Danny kissed platonically and 1 time they didn't.

Warnings: Language, masturbation, mentions of certain rumors during a fight, voyeurism

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner

Words: 8.9k

Disclaimer: This is not speculation. This is fiction. Please keep in mind that these are characters that I write, not the real people.

...

1.

The low rumble of wheels on asphalt was strange.

Not strange as in unusual – they’d been touring long enough now that it integrated seamlessly into their dreams and conversation and their music and the TV – but strange as in…weird. At least, for Sam, it was. It acted as a heavy lull, pulling him into a state of tonic immobility while also stirring up all the manic energy he had pent up in his body.

And that feeling was what made it strange.

So, lounging on the couch in the common area at what his phone said was 3 am but his body wasn’t sure of, one foot bouncing on the vibrating floor and the other propped up on the other stiff couch-arm, he felt like falling asleep and squirming right out of his skin at the same time.

His eyes flicked to the bunk-area entrance when a lanky figure appeared in the frame. Danny had his eyes shut as he reached up in a stretch, fingertips brushing the top of the bus. But when he blearily blinked them open afterwards, his gaze immediately fell on Sam and he smiled, moving sleepily over towards him.

“Hey, what are you doing up?”

Sam huffed, partly in amusement and partly due to frustration. “Feel like I’m about to throw myself off this bus if we don’t stop soon.” Not to mention that he still felt jetlagged from the first flight - not quite over it after playing a show and then loading onto the bus.

Danny cocked his head and then walked the short ways to the driver’s seat, exchanging quiet words, and then turned back towards Sam. “He said that it’s still another couple hours until we’re gonna need gas,” he relayed apologetically, and Sam sighed.

He knew this was going to be the worst of the tour – right at the beginning, when he wasn’t used to being cooped up; not to mention that venues out West were always further away from each other than on the East Coast. But still, it sucked.

Sam rolled his head toward Danny and lazily reached an arm out to him. Danny knew it was his summons, and his lips quirked up in a soft, amused smile, but he went to Sam all the same. “Yes?” he asked once he was perched on the edge of the couch by Sam’s tummy, Sam having scooted his skinny body to the side to make room for him.

Sam didn’t answer – he didn’t have to. Once he tugged Danny’s arm towards his head, Danny leaned down voluntarily, letting Sam crane his head up to meet his lips halfway. Sam hummed into the kiss, slowly moving his mouth in a dance both he and Danny knew well.

This, though - this wasn’t strange at all. 

Sometimes they kissed – out of affection and awe and boredom and platonic love. Neither of them thought much of it – nor did Jake and Josh, who knew that it happened at times – and neither of them really cared to. It just was .

And they were aware that maybe it was weird neither of them claimed to have anything going on with the other, considering they’d kissed on multiple occasions. That it was weird neither of them felt the need to examine the interactions. That two straight guys who kissed usually weren’t considered straight (except sexuality was another one of those things that they’d both rejected labels to, so whether they were straight or not was rather a nonfactor), even if they’d never done anything more than given a couple of closed-mouth kisses when they felt the desire to do so.

To each other, it was home. It was comfort. It was an anchor in their constantly moving world.

So yeah, sometimes they kissed when it was what they needed.

Sam pulled away, foot having stopped tapping finally when his mind wandered off the concept of the strange feeling, and he grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “No homo, bro, right?”

Some people might become tired of the same joke, repeated time after time after time, but Sam and Danny - in this particular situation - were not those people. Every time they kissed, without fail - and they blamed the humor they grew up on and the environment they participated in - it manifested in grins and teases and laughs and mocking tones.

Danny snickered, poking Sam in the stomach. “Yeah, no homo.”

…

2.

The chaos of post-show was something else.

Invigorating, tumultuous, exhausting, adrenaline-extending, fun, stressful – it had it all. And with the high still lingering from the show, emotions were often running volatile and it was easy to get overwhelmed. And in the madness, it was also easy to get lost.

Sometimes on purpose, other times, not.

Sam could have sworn Danny had been right behind him – he was always right behind him on stage exit. That’s just the way it was. So, when he turned around to make a comment about how incredible he’d sounded during the show once they neared the green room and found only a gap between Josh and himself, he was appropriately surprised.

“Hey,” he said, eyebrows furrowed as he nudged Josh when he got close enough, “did you see where Danny went off to?”

Josh opened his mouth to answer but stopped, looking around comically. “Uhh…no. I thought he was right here. I wasn’t paying attention, though.”

Sam rolled his eyes, slipping past him to find where his best friend had dropped off. Any other night, Sam would have let him be – they were all big boys, they could do what they wanted, and lord knew they spent enough time with each other that none of them missed the others at any particular point in their day.

But Danny had been shooting him a look during the last song, and Sam wondered if he was just imagining it or if Danny was trying to tell him something. He retraced their steps, scratching his head when the crowd of venue workers got thicker and the lingering shout of the crowd got louder – he was nearing stage exit, but where was Danny?

He turned to head back towards the dressing rooms and started laughing when he caught sight of Danny’s crooked smile and fluffy hair peeking out of a bathroom door about 10 feet down the hallway.

“Are you hiding from me?” Sam asked with a smile on his face, and Danny’s soft, chuffed amusement was only heard once he was within distance.

“Pfft, no,” Danny scoffed playfully. “It’s not my fault no one in this band is aware of their surroundings at any given moment.” He sighed, exaggeratedly sniffling and wiping a fake tear away from his eye. “I see how much I mean to you guys.”

Sam stuck his tongue out, but as Danny opened the door so that Sam could step into the room, he walked in, wrinkling his nose when the bathroom smell hit him. “Bleh,” he gagged, “why the fuck didn’t you piss back in the green room? At least they clean that one.”

Danny shrugged. “I really had to go. I was about to go back to the rooms when you came looking for me.”

Sam reached for the doorknob, eager to get out of the stage bathroom – too many accounts of rushed, misplaced, mid-show streams to really rid the smell, no matter how many times Sam was sure the venue had tried. “Well, what were you trying to—”

“Hey, no homo, but—“ Danny cut him off, stepping into his space and cupping his face with one hand. His lips gently pressed against Sam’s in a series of short kisses and Sam smiled. He’d wanted to tell Danny how great he’d been, wanted to ask what he’d been trying to tell him, but, well, this would work.

…

3.

The weird thing about touring – about being in a band with your brothers and your best friends and being in such close contact so many days out of the year was that distance and space lost its meaning until it was there.

And even then, it was such a reprieve that the concept of missing each other wasn’t even considered until Sam looked over to make a dirty joke about an ad on one of his social media pages to one of them once they’d arranged to meet back up and found only emptiness in the backseat of the car.

(Sam always said that he liked the backseat because he saw his brothers as his personal chauffeurs, but in all actuality, he just knew they preferred sitting where they could hear the other.)

The break had been necessary, though.

Jake’s callouses could only help his fingers so much – much the same with Danny’s and Sam’s. And Josh’s vocal cords needed rest like no other with his range and the nature of their songs.

So they’d all gone their separate ways – as separate as they could with their proximity to each others’ homes and their familial bonds. And Sam did miss them, but he’d been so preoccupied doing his own thing that it didn’t really hit him until Josh had grinned his toothy grin at him from the car’s window and told him that Jake was next, and after making it to the airport, they had a little Kiszka reunion there in the car. 

But they each felt the absence of their other member – which is why the cheer was just that much louder when Danny threw himself sideways through the door and into the seats, knocking Sam into the window with an oof while they cackled together.

Sam felt like his smile might never go away. This was where they belonged.

Danny turned his head to glance at Sam from where he’d been tuned into the conversation up into the front, saying something to Jake, and smiled in a way that scrunched his nose up. There was nothing Sam could do except lurch towards him to press a peck to his smile.

The twins were already engrossed in another conversation with each other, and when Danny leaned back in to respond with a peck of his own, Sam pulled back to find Jake turned around in his seat, waiting to say something. Except when Sam stared at him, perhaps with too much an expression of expectation, he scoffed.

“What? You can platonically kiss Danny all you want, but don’t expect me to pucker up.”

Sam made a gagging noise, pushing Jake’s cheek away from him. “I’ll stick to giving you wet willies, actually.” As quickly as he could, he drenched his finger in saliva and fought with Jake around the headrest to get to his ear, but ultimately failed, wiping his hand on his shorts.

Danny sighed dramatically, and Sam turned to see what he was doing. “Jakey, did you want a kiss too? Is that why you said something?”

He made fish lips and leaned across Sam to get to where Jake was turned around, goofy smile in place. “Oh, Danny – how’d you know?” he exclaimed in a theatrical accent, pushing against his seatbelt to reach.

“Wait, wait!” Sam interjected suddenly. “Is this still no homo, Danny? You’re not trying to steal Jake away from Jita, are you?”

Danny nodded with a pfft. “Oh no it’s super homo - Jake, you wanna fuck?”

“Come and get me, big boy,” Jake faux-flirted, making Danny put his lips to Jake’s with an exaggerated MWAH noise, and Jake just as quickly wiped his mouth with a grin as Josh yelled, “I’M THE ONLY ONE ALLOWED TO CANOODLE IN THE JUCK!” while the other three laughed.

…

4.

Growing up with the Kiszkas, Danny knew that as long as he was in the band and/or their friend – aka, hopefully for a very, very long while – he’d always be the mediator. He didn’t resent this fact, but sometimes it did test his patience. They tested his patience.

Which was exactly Sam’s intention as he planted his bass on its stand and whipped around to confront Danny. “Damnit, Danny – you can’t just walk away when you get angry!” Sam snapped, and Danny paused on his way out of the studio, the sound guy having taken a very strategic break. And Danny was grateful for it – no one needed to see them like this.

He turned around, grinding his teeth in a way that would have his dentist cringing. Jake and Josh stood off to the sides, Jake sulking and Josh pouting – tensions were running high, for sure. “Actually, Sam,” he started off in a patronizing tone that had Sam rolling his eyes, “that’s what adults do. I wouldn’t expect any of you to understand that because apparently nothing can be fucking solved without you costing us hundreds of fucking dollars in damages!”

Still worked up from the previous argument that had put them all in this boiling pot of volatile emotions, Sam snatched Danny’s drumsticks off his set and chucked one of them in Danny’s direction. It thwacked right into his stomach and Danny brought his leg up to protect his groin once he realized the projectile was heading in that direction. Having his own stuff thrown at him had Danny’s temper flaring and he narrowed his eyes, seriously contemplating giving into his baser instincts for once.

“And it comes out of my paycheck, so why the fuck do you care? No one asked you to be our fucking mother when we fight!” Sam eyed Danny from where he was standing, anger and frustration driving his words instead of actual logic. “You do this all the time – you try to fix things and then get angry when you do. Oh, poor, poor Danny – fuck your self-pity and fuck you.”

Contemplation became fruition. 

Danny picked the drumstick up from where it had fallen and batted its twin away when Sam threw it at him, too; mostly in defense once he realized Danny was coming back for him instead of letting it go. Sam tried to escape behind the drum kit, but Danny chased him around the studio, the entertainment making the twins forget their woes in favor of watching the interaction in amused fascination.

Danny finally caught the edge of Sam’s shirt and pulled him back, landing a solid hit with the stick in his hand to Sam’s back. Even at his yelp – which normally, if Danny were involved in the roughhousing or on the rare occasion he turned to physicality during arguments, would be where he took a step back – Danny kept beating Sam wherever he could reach. But with Sam struggling as he was, quickly drawing Danny into a mini wrestling match to escape the drumstick, really wasn’t a whole lot – just a couple hits on his arms and chest (although one did graze his cheek). 

The twins eventually stepped in and pulled Danny off their little brother, and the curses and insults that had been thrown in the heat of the altercation shifted into weapons instead of just words.

“If I wasn’t here, you guys wouldn’t be either!” Danny spit. “And if I didn’t care as much as I do, I would have left and formed my own band by now because you guys are fucking insufferable sometimes!”

Sam rubbed at a red welt that would almost certainly form a bruise within the next day. “I’d like to see you make it without us, you pretentious bastard, you’d have been too fucking scared to leave your parents’ house if it weren’t for us!” he shot back. And internally, Danny knew Sam was speaking from a place of exhaustion and frustration and burn-out, but the sentiment still hurt.

So he tried to hurt him back. “At least I don’t have rumors about—”

“Oh, fuck you! Out of us all, you’re the one who—”

“Not about being emotionally abusive,” Danny interrupted spitefully, and Sam reeled back, hiding his hurt behind a sarcastic laugh.

“Fuck you, dude.”

And then Sam was the one to turn and leave, jerking his arm out of Josh’s grip. And even though Danny felt like Sam kinda deserved it, he’d started cooling off after he’d been brought back to Earth by Sam’s betrayed expression. The continued emotional attacks on both of their sides were unnecessary, and Danny, being a tad more level-headed, realized that he’d poked at a raw wound.

“Sam,” he tried, taking a couple of long strides to catch up to Sam at the door and catching him gently by the sleeve, “hey I—”

“Let me go.”

Sam had closed himself off, both his expression and his tone deadpanned. He refused to look at Danny, and a flair of resistance born of pettiness and pride lit up inside of Danny’s chest - if Sam wanted to be like this, then that was Sam’s problem. 

But still, he took a deep breath and refused to let go of him. “No. I’m sorry. Sam,” he insisted, tugging at him to get him face-to-face, “I’m sorry.” Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek, and they’d fought plenty of times over the years so Danny knew that by now, Sam was cooling down as well. He sighed and wrapped him in a bear hug. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

Still a little stiff in Danny’s arms, Sam took a breath and started to relax, eventually slapping him on the back. Maybe with a little too much force, but Danny was willing to look past it. He pulled back, and Sam once again had a small smirk on his lips. “I guess I’m sorry too. But only a little bit.” After a moment, Sam sighed and met Danny’s eyes. “No homo?”

And Danny nodded, gently leaned in to give Sam a quick, light kiss, and when he pulled away, Sam was smiling once again.

“No homo.”

They turned back towards the twins and their instruments, Danny scouring the room for his sticks again, and the twins just shook their heads.

“Your fights are the weirdest ever.”

…

5.

Danny had been lying in his bunk for the past four hours and forty eight minutes – Sam had been keeping track.

They’d stopped for gas about three hours ago, and Danny hadn’t even come off the bus. Then about an hour ago, he’d stepped in to ask if he wanted to watch “School of Rock” with them in the common area, and he’d given a soft, “No, thanks.”

So now, halfway through the movie, Sam slipped back to the bunk area, softly knocking on the wooden post outside Danny’s closed curtain.

Sam only barely heard the hum that came from inside the bunk, but he took it as permission to draw the curtain back, revealing Danny lying rather listlessly in his bunk. He didn’t look at Sam when Sam crawled into the small space with him, but he did shift over so that Sam could octopus-wrap himself around his best friend.

“What’s a matta, Daniel Wagna?”

Sam hoped that a humorous opening would crack a smile. But Danny just shrugged and swallowed harshly, refusing to meet Sam’s gaze, and Sam furrowed his brows because that sounded like he was holding back tears. He propped himself up and forced Danny’s face to his, even as Danny pushed him away.

“Stop, Sam. I’m fine.” But even as he said it, his voice sounded rough and he was forced to clear his throat.

Needless to say, it wasn’t a very convincing statement, and Sam frowned. “No, you’re not.” If Danny didn’t want to tell him anything, then he wouldn’t - Sam knew he was good at keeping things in - but that didn’t mean Sam couldn’t get it out of him eventually. “But I guess if you don’t want to tell me…” And then he snuggled further into Danny, accepting his silence but not his pursuit to exacerbate whatever he was feeling with loneliness.

They both stayed there, stubborn to the blood and bone that their bodies were made of – except it was a different kind of stubborn.

Sam wasn’t about to object and say that he wasn’t being outright defiant. Danny had said he was fine, and if it were someone else, Sam might let it slide. But not Danny.

And Danny wasn’t really trying to be stubborn - it was just Sam’s perception and reaction to not getting what he wanted out of him. But Danny didn’t feel the need to rectify Sam’s skewed desires to know every single thing that was going on inside his brain at every single moment he thought to ask.

So that was that, and they laid in the relative darkness of the curtain, listening closely to the sounds of Jack Black and a bunch of kids playing instruments coming from the common area in silence.

Eventually, when Danny’s stomach rumbled and growled, he nudged Sam, not knowing if he’d drifted off or not. “Hey, I’m going to go grab a snack, you’re gonna have to move.”

“No.”

Danny stilled for a moment - debating if he was hungry enough to deal with Sam or if he wanted to waste away. His stomach grumbled at him again and decided for him.

He tried to pry Sam away first – arms and legs and torso and even those fucking long-ass toes – but couldn’t keep up with Sam’s gorilla grip and pure will to stick to him. “Sam,” Danny said exasperatedly, “I’ll be right back.”

And in some regard, Danny did feel emotionally-warmed up due to Sam’s clingy cuddling, but hangriness was a thing.

But Sam didn’t relent, gripping tighter to him. “You’ll just have to take me with you, then.”

“Fine,” Danny answered shortly. He rolled over Sam, unconcerned about the way he was crushing him (he’d given him a chance to move and Sam hadn’t taken it - it was no longer a problem for his conscience) and got up, pitching forward as Sam clambered onto his back immediately after, cursing as he bumped his head on the wooden beam of the top bunk.

Danny snickered at his misfortune, letting Sam struggle to keep his hold as he made his way to where the snacks were kept in the common area. In order to do so, they had to pass by Jake and Josh, who looked up from their movie (and phones, and guitar) with expressions that weren’t at all surprised, but curious.

“...No homo?” Josh ventured good-naturedly, trying to contain a smile at Danny’s grunt as he rummaged through the various food items with a grown-ass man on his back.

Danny came up with a package of crackers and then grabbed an apple from off the counter, ignoring Sam’s watchful eyes and, “Oooo, healthy boi,” comment. “No. Your brother’s just being a nosy asshole.”

Jake snorted, continuing to pluck the guitar strings in time with the movie, figuring out the chords and strum pattern as he went. “And you’re surprised?”

“Hey!”

Sam’s indignant protest was also ignored, and Danny scoffed out an, “Absolutely not,” before he made his (their) way back to his bunk, shrugging Sam off once they arrived.

It was frustrating - this closed off-ness that Danny was giving Sam. If it was something he’d done - and it wouldn’t have been the first time Sam had unintentionally pissed Danny off - he wanted to know, not be kept in this dark uncertainty that he’d accidentally made his best friend cry in his bunk.

So he climbed right back into the bunk with Danny, letting him eat his crackers before pestering again. Danny had hoped Sam would have let him be until he was all the way finished, but before he could take a bite of his apple, Sam asked, “Seriously, man, what’s going on?” Danny just continued in his bite as Sam went on. “You’ve been acting weird all day. And you haven’t left your bunk since we got the bus.”

Danny rolled his eyes and swallowed. “Yes I have.”

“Bathroom doesn’t count.”

“We literally had breakfast together at that truck stop.”

Sam paused, glaring at Danny in a way that conveyed he wasn’t happy with the avoidance and ignorance tactic he was employing, but Danny just shrugged. “I’ve just been paying a little too much attention to social media, is all. It’s nothing, honestly.”

Sam made a face, and Danny felt justified for the eye-roll he gave in return - he could deny it all he wanted, but Sam lurked on his socials just as much as the next person. “Why?”

“Well, for one - there’s not much to do on the bus at any given time and social media is an easy fix. Two, I think it’s a great way to get to know our fans and interact and everything. Three–”

“Okay, I wasn’t actually asking for a comprehensive list, dumbass.”

Danny snorted and took another bite of his apple. “You should work on your bedside manner. This is the worst comfort I’ve ever received.”

But not really.

Danny did appreciate what Sam was attempting to do, and it was charming in a way that could only be seen from his perspective as Sam’s almost-lifelong best friend. This Sam was the one he knew best, and even though carefully crafted words weren’t always his strong-suit, Danny loved Sam’s specific brand of love and kindness more than anything else.

Sam flicked Danny in the arm. “Fuck bedside manner. I wanna know what made you upset.”

Because even though their publicist and manager would kill him for it, Sam would log back on to those stupid sites and heads would roll . He wasn’t completely unaware of what Danny went through. He knew that for some backwards reason, people singled him out - for not being a brother (the fuck?), for things he said as a kid (and had apologized for), for how he looked and how he acted and it was just…not great at all.

But Sam had thought Danny knew better.

Danny put his apple core on a little shelf all the bunks had. “Sammy?”

Sam blinked at the nickname. “What?” That nickname was reserved for teasing and joking and everything else, but not now.

Danny shifted around so that he could swing his leg over Sam, settling above him with a soft, amused gaze as Sam’s eyes widened.

His damn heart was about to beat out his chest and what the actual fuck.

“No homo,” Danny began with a smile, “but thanks.”

No homo, no homo, no homo, no homo no–

“Uh…you’re welcome? For what? You haven’t even told me what–”

Danny laughed and cut him off with a kiss, longer perhaps than usual, but just as simple and just as sweet. 

And if Sam ended up chasing his lips as Danny pulled away, well, no one could blame Danny for letting another one soothe the frayed edges of his mind and the jagged emotions it had him feeling. 

…

+1

The hotel hallway was quiet and still - except for Sam, who was padding down the carpet, barefoot.

He stopped in front of a door and glanced at the number next to what he was 99% certain was Danny’s hotel room, making sure he had the right one (it could only be one of their other three members, but he didn’t want to face the twins’ wrath if he accidentally let himself into one of their rooms). He’d gone down to charm an extra key out of the front desk when he’d gotten bored a good fifteen minutes ago, knowing that Danny could solve his boredom.

Could he have just knocked on Danny’s door? Of course. But where was the fun in that?

And this way, Danny couldn’t stop him. 

Well, he probably could, but it would be much more difficult this way and Sam was counting on him not having the energy to wrestle him out of the room. Especially now that it was nearing midnight – which, on any given night for them wouldn’t really be considered late. But in a hotel, with a bed and a TV and privacy – well…all four boys usually turned in early to be left to their own devices.

But now Sam was bored with his own devices.

So he’d made the decision to amble down the hallway, past his own room to Danny’s and then slipped the key card in, opening the door with an affectionate disregard to the noise he made, knowing Danny would probably appreciate the announcement of his presence (once he got past the ingratitude of Sam being there at all). There were no lights on in the room, and Sam’s eyes were forced into pitch darkness once the door clicked shut, but he heard the rustling of sheets as Danny moved around on the bed.

“Hello?”

Sam suppressed a smile and stayed quiet for a second until he heard Danny move a bit more violently – assumedly toward the lamp. Sam took a few rushed, blind steps, hitting the bed with a curse before he threw himself onto it, scrambling up to tackle Danny.

“What the fu—”

Sam let his barely-contained laughter burst out, finally, pushing the still-confused Danny back down on the bed before he could finish fumbling for the lamp-switch. “You’re such a fucking dweeb!” he giggled. “'Hello?' What if I was a murderer? Did you think I was gonna answer you?” A new round of giggles escaped from Sam’s mouth and he ruffled Danny’s hair. “You need to watch more horror movies.”

Danny had recognized Sam’s laugh from the moment it’d left his lips, and he relaxed at the familiar sound, grumbling his dissent as Sam settled into the pillows next to him, mocking him for his response. “What are you doing? How did you get a key to my room? And why’d you—”

“Are we playing twenty questions?” Sam teased. “I got bored and used my charismatic powers of persuasion to charm an extra key outta the front desk worker.” Sam’s eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and he saw a big, Danny-shape shifting next to him.

Shifting just a little too much.

“What were you doing?” Sam’s voice took on a shark-like quality, smelling blood and latching on to what he perceived would be an opportunity to embarrass Danny.

But instead of giving him what he wanted, Danny just refused to bleed.

“Jerking off.”

The silence that followed his answer was deafening. And then Sam’s laugh that followed the moment of silence was actually deafening.

Danny slapped his hand over to Sam’s face, groping for his mouth. “Shhhh! You’re gonna get a noise complaint called on me!”

But it only made Sam laugh harder. “What’d you expect after you say that?!” Sam pushed at Danny, and it was only then that he noticed his chest was bare. “Wait…are you naked?”

The sigh Danny let out was long-suffering and held more ire than he wanted to express in what was supposed to be a night away from the other guys. “Well, what did you expect me to say? And yes. I am naked.”

“I dunno, but not that,” Sam chuckled, still in not-quite disbelief but extraordinarily amused at the mood Danny seemed to be in.

Danny scoffed and pulled the blankets up over himself a little more. “I was supposed to be alone and I’m in a hotel, with an actual bed and what I thought was gonna be privacy, finally.” Everyone knew that a private wank was so much better than the quiet, (not so much anymore) embarrassing ones you had to make do with on the bus that everyone else just pretended not to hear. Unless one of them had a secret exhibitionism kink – but to Danny’s knowledge, none of them did. “Maybe if you’d just knocked like a normal person—”

“I refuse to be normal.”

“—then I’d have had time to pull on some pants.”

More silence. Danny struggled not to pout at the unsatisfying end to his pleasure, but for Sam, he’d suffer through it until he left. Or fell asleep – then he’d just have to do it in the bathroom.

“…Are you still hard?”

Should it have been a little weird that Danny didn’t feel at all uncomfortable in this situation or about the topic on hand? (Or out of hand, unfortunately for Danny.)

Maybe. But it was already established that they were both a little weird.

Danny snuck a hand down to palm at himself, unable to tell where he was on a scale of one to ten without feeling or seeing it, and shrugged, tensing a little bit at the pressure. “Semi. But like, on the low side. Not really. You kinda ruined it.” The devolution of statements regarding the state of his dick was humorous in some lights - Sam was just lucky Danny saw it that way.

“Sorry.” Sam actually had the mind to sound rightfully contrite about his interruption – lord knew he hated interrupted jerk-offs. “Did you wanna finish?”

Danny hoped Sam could feel the weight of his vacant stare. “What do you think, Sherlock?” Being cock-blocked from himself was not fun. Danny could appreciate kinks - edging and knowingly risking getting caught and the sort - but this was not that.

“Damn, a little touchy, are we, Daniel?” Regardless of Danny’s dry disgruntlement, Sam couldn’t help but make the joke - it was staring him in the face, and he laughed at himself, even when Danny didn’t.

“You suck.”

“Not right now, I’m not.” And he laughed at his own joke again - it was just so easy sometimes with Danny.

Danny only sighed, grateful that the darkness was hiding his small smile. He tried to settle down, pushing the small amount of lingering arousal out of his head and hoping his body would follow suit. “You literally have your own room for the first time in weeks - why aren’t you there?” Danny spoke quietly - his earlier worry of having to answer a disturbance phone call dissipated when he remembered that they were the only ones on the floor but still keeping in mind the twins and crew that surrounded them.

Sam picked at the comforter, not wanting to intrude so much as to get underneath it. “No good shows were on and I can’t sleep - my schedule’s so fucked by now I’d need a week of consistent sleep to get back on track.” He tried not to think about Danny underneath the blankets.

“And you didn’t want to…you know–” In the dark, Danny must have been bolder, because he mimed the action in the air, fist jerking up and down. Sam let out another laugh, but this one was more strained than the last.

Because fuck, there went that concept. Now Danny naked under the sheets was all Sam could think about. In all actuality, Sam had jerked himself off. To the memory of Danny hovering over him in the bunks, nonetheless, amongst other things.

And that made him want Danny’s company; so his quest for an extra key had begun.

“I did.” Sam let the statement hang in the air for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to dispel the sudden onset of nerves that he was unused to experiencing with Danny. He wanted to…well, he wanted to do a lot of things, but what he wanted to ask Danny at this particular moment in time terrified him a bit. But still - “You can, you know.”

Danny cocked his head. “Can what?” 

Sam rolled his eyes and lazily pointed in the direction of Danny’s dick, feigning indifference. “Jerk off. You can.”

“Yes, I know that, dickwad. I’m actually painfully aware of that fact.” He was playing ignorant. As soon as the words had come out of Sam’s mouth, he knew what Sam was offering. What he was suggesting. And it terrified him, too, along with the twitch of arousal he struggled to ignore for the time being. Sam stuck his tongue out at Danny, and Danny responded by wiggling the fingers of his right hand near Sam’s mouth. Satisfied when he turned away, Danny said, “After you leave I will. Again. Want me to pinky promise or something?”

That wasn’t what he really wanted. But again, fear.

“Shut up.” Sam fiddled with the blanket hem again, worried that Danny’s clarification of ‘after you leave’ was some sort of indicator that he actually didn’t want what Sam did. That Sam was just trying to convince himself that Danny said it because he wanted Sam to say it explicitly and suffer and not because Sam was crossing a boundary Danny wasn’t willing to. “Can I stay?”

There. That was as explicit as it was gonna get outside of Sam looking Danny in the face and actually saying the words, ‘hey, I wanna watch you masturbate.’

Danny swallowed audibly, shifting under the blankets again. What to do, what to say, should I be serious, should I joke back, what the fuck – “Sure. We can have a sleepover. Maybe paint each other’s nails and have pillow fights in our underwear.” 

Sam tried to laugh the tension off, thinking if he did, and Danny really didn’t know what he meant and was just joking around, he’d let it lie. “Don’t be stupid, you’re making it weird.” Maybe it would have been more painless to have actually asked for what he wanted instead of dancing around each other with these weird, ambiguous riddles.

But the snort that came from Danny’s direction was violent and funny and it reset the mood between them back to their usual back-and-forth bantering and teasing. “I’m making it weird? You’re the one who’s asking to watch me fap. Voyeur.”

This was infuriating. Was that a yes? Was that a no? Should Sam be hard right now or would Danny still perceive that as inappropriate? “Are you kink-shaming me now?” he asked instead. Damn him and his inability to not use humor as a defensive mechanism.

Danny huffed quietly, contemplating his next moves carefully before deciding fuck it, and slipped his hand down underneath the blankets once again, his attempt at suppressing his erection having failed. If Sam wanted to stay and watch, he wasn’t going to ignore the dull pulse and ache coming from between his legs anymore. “No, I guess not. Just, try not to cock-block me again, alright?”

Sam lit up internally, excitement sparking through him before sinking in and adding to his arousal. He silently wet his lips, watching the dark silhouette of Danny’s hand move the blanket resting on his crotch. He could tell he was stroking himself, but not much else. Why the hell hadn’t he let Danny turn on the lamp? “Yeah, okay,” Sam whispered.

Danny moved his left hand towards Sam, and Sam was momentarily bewildered at what he wanted and what he was trying to do, but Danny never touched him. Instead, he fished around underneath the pillow Sam was reclining on and retrieved a travel-size bottle of lube, adding some to his other hand before it disappeared once more.

Sam didn’t want to break whatever thin hold on normalcy they were clinging to, so he tried not to make any noise - didn’t shift too much, didn’t breathe too loudly, didn’t even move his line of sight, trained on where the blanket was being moved up and down with Danny’s hand (although that was due more to other factors). 

The bunks weren’t private. The curtains may have provided respite from prying eyes, but Sam was right above Danny’s bunk - he’d still heard Danny take his pleasure, so late at night that it was technically early. And putting this visual to it, vague and shapeless underneath the covers as it was, loosened some tightly-wound knot that existed somewhere inside Sam. It satisfied something that was feeling more and more like a necessity than a desire; like something Sam needed to be complete than something that would bring him to completion. 

Danny started off slow, going about his business as usual, as if Sam wasn’t there. Except he was painfully aware of Sam’s presence. He could tell that Sam was controlling his breath and his movements, likely trying not to spook Danny. But Danny wasn’t spooked at all - in fact, this was the hardest he’d felt without other stimulation in a while. Eventually, he sped up, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as the sensations started zinging through his body, heating him up.

It was a weird sort of limbo - not hiding his expressions but being keenly cognizant of them, so as not to exaggerate them by accident. His movements drew Sam’s gaze back to his face, and emphasized or not, the expressions he gave continued adding to the puzzle Sam was getting desperate to put together. 

On a particularly nice tug, Danny’s thumb caught the ridge of his tip, and he let out a soft grunt in response. Sam’s body reacted unconsciously, his own dick twitching and his hips trying to flex against the movement - trying to find contact with something to soothe the ache. 

God, he wanted to touch himself so bad. He wanted Danny to touch him and he wanted to touch Danny and see Danny and taste Danny and fuck this was frustrating. He scraped his bottom lip between his teeth just to feel something, to bring the spotlight of feeling away from the way his dick throbbed and tried to demand his attention.

Danny began panting, then - soft and labored and in time with the faster pump of his hand. Sam couldn’t tell what exactly his strategy and method was when it came to jerking himself off  - whether he liked to twist, how firm his grip was, if he liked his balls stroked and cradled and tugged every so often like Sam did - but he wanted to know. Even if just to compare it to his own technique (that was a lie).

Sam swallowed and made sure there was enough saliva in his mouth to where his words would actually come out and finally asked Danny, quiet enough that he could pretend that he never heard anything and that Sam never spoke if he wanted to, “Can we turn the lamp on?” 

Those blackout curtains were useful for sleeping, not for peeping.

Danny never stopped stroking himself, and the idea of stopping now, right as his orgasm was building, felt exactly like the cock-blocking he’d specifically asked Sam not to do before he started. “Kinda busy. But you can if you’d like, I don’t mind. No homo and all that.”

The sentiment would have garnered a reaction from Sam - a laugh or a snort - had Sam not been busy deciding which route he would take to the lamp switch. It was an easy decision, but still - boundaries had never been established here and he and Danny had both been toeing lines since Sam broke into the room. He wasn’t scared of overstepping, though. 

Well, he was, but not in a serious way. He’d be embarrassed and a little guilty, but that was the extent of the consequences - there was no threat to his and Danny’s relationship, not even in a situation like this.

So he got up on his hands and knees, closing in on Danny as Danny’s dark eyes tracked his movements all the way until Sam was right above him, hovering perpendicularly with one hand planted on the edge of the bed and the other reaching and feeling for the little twisting handle.

Once he’d found it, Sam extracted himself from the position and flopped back to his spot, taking Danny in now that he had light. Details that had been hidden in the darkness were on display for his hungry, wandering eyes - and for Danny’s too.

Danny could see just how much this was affecting Sam in the tent he made in his little shorts, in his blown pupils, in the way his mouth hung open just a little bit to get more air. He was so fucking pretty. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed before, but he wasn’t sure how seriously Sam took this ‘no homo’ gag they had running. 

Apparently, not that seriously at all (which was a relief and not particularly a surprise).

There was shine to Danny’s forehead, Sam noticed, from a few small beads of sweat that dotted his hairline. Was it the same pink flush from arousal that adorned Sam’s face? Or was it that Danny was actually hot? Even above the blankets, Sam felt flushed and overheated and he couldn’t imagine how Danny felt, trapped underneath the blankets with the covers up to right below his chest, both of his arms sequestered under it, as well. He didn’t think it was just in his head again, the justification of finding a way to get rid of those blankets in light of his desire to see everything. Afterall, he was the intruder in Danny’s space - Danny shouldn’t be suffering because of him, that wasn’t very sexy.

Without permission and without crossing any unspoken boundaries, Sam tugged the edge of the blankets down until they were pooled around Danny’s forearms and waist, the shifting of his hand agitating the blankets even more now that it was closer to the hem, displaced in a manner that threatened to expose Danny with every stroke. 

“Fuck, that’s good - it was getting really warm under there,” Danny sighed, face screwing up in pleasure. He tightened his hold on every upstroke, taking time to tease the head of his cock with his thumb, sliding it over the slit and spreading the wetness there back down to mix with the lube. 

When he opened his eyes again, he found Sam lingering close, tongue peeking out between his lips as his hooded eyes flickered - meeting Danny’s own gaze before flicking down to his groin and then returning, a question ringing in his eyes that he couldn’t bring himself to voice out loud. 

With the waves of pleasure, amplified by the feeling of being watched, being desired - specifically by Sam - inciting the nerves in his body to sing for more more more, he was left struggling to function, mind muddy with lust and want and a selfish longing that gave him little reason to stop Sam from doing whatever the hell he wanted.

“Yeah,” he keened, hips bucking to make up for his slowed pace now that he was distracted, “okay, yeah.”

Sam wasted no time, ripping the blankets away to the foot of the bed, and Danny kicked what snagged on his feet off so that he was completely bare. It all clicked into place for Sam, who drank in the unobscured movement of Danny’s hand across his skin.

“Shit, dude,” Sam murmured, his voyeuristic streak completely satisfied now that he could see everything. It was no longer just the hint under the blankets, the slick sound behind a curtain, a facial expression or the flex of the muscles in Danny’s stomach. 

He didn’t know where to look. From the scratch of Danny’s heels against the sheets, the bend and stretch of his knees, the hand toying with his happy trail or his heaving chest, his fluttering eyelids or bitten lips that were opening to let choked moans escape. But he was always drawn back to what he’d not seen before.

He’d seen Danny shirtless countless times. Naked, too - but not in this context. And it put some kind of rose-colored filter over everything, making everything new and hot and sucking Sam in. But fuck…Sam couldn’t over the sight of Danny working himself over, hand flying up and down his shaft (he totally did slip a hand down to fiddle with his balls - Sam knew he was a masturbation master). 

His appetite for the feeling of Danny’s skin under his touch didn’t go away, even with this new development. He wanted to feel how soft Danny was, but how hard he could get at the same time. Wanted to feel how hot he got, how long he would last in Sam’s fist or with Sam’s mouth wrapped around him. 

Danny’s breath deepened and stuttered, his legs shifted, and he let out a sound that if Sam hadn’t been actively watching Danny get himself off, he would have mistaken for pain. Danny shot his left hand out, gripping Sam’s thigh just above his knee, and tugged, drawing Sam towards him. 

Sam went willingly, holding himself back so as not to sob at the simple stimulation of his dick shifting against the material of his shorts. He was so fucking close and he hadn’t even touched himself. That hadn’t been part of the deal. “Danny?” he inquired, a slightly shaky hand lifting off the bed as if he was going to touch Danny, but stopped mid-way. 

“Kiss me,” Danny demanded, still trying to get Sam closer. 

Sam didn’t have to be told twice, lunging for Danny’s mouth as soon as he processed the words.

‘No homo’ had been thrown out the window, because this was decidedly not that . Teeth and tongue, moans and whines - they were all the culmination of something that was past platonic. Sam kissed Danny as if he would never again have the chance to - which, somewhere in his mind, Sam acknowledged that perhaps Danny wouldn’t want to be kissed like this again, that it was a heat of the moment type thing (not that he really believed that).

“Sam - Sammy, Sammy - bab-FUCK,” he murmured against Sam’s mouth, even as Sam continued to kiss whatever breath he had left out of his lungs and flick his tongue against the seam of his lips.

Danny’s hand had moved to Sam’s hip once they’d started kissing, and he gripped tighter, pulled Sam harder into him as he came all over his own hand, grunting as his come spilled over his knuckles, into his pubic hair, down to where he was still stroking himself slowly to wring every ounce of pleasure out.

What he didn’t realize was that he’d jerked Sam into his side as he came, unintentionally forcing him to grind his neglected erection into Danny’s warm body and that was all it took - he was gone. It was only from Sam’s whines and whimpers and little rolls of his hips into Danny that he realized what had happened. 

They both laid there, panting and a little bit uncomfortable - only physically, though. After all, dried come anywhere wasn’t fun, much less in your pants or your pubes. And Danny’s hand and forearm were still wedged awkwardly under Sam, pinned to his hip. But neither of them made any effort to move, either. 

Eventually, Danny broke the silence. “Did you –”

“Yeah.” Sam answered, not letting Danny finish his question. Was he a little bit embarrassed? Yes. Yes he was.

Danny blew out a controlled breath, and his dick twitched valiantly from where it was lying soft against his thigh, but it was too soon. Still - the fact that Sam had come just from watching Danny touch himself with minimal stimulation to his own cock was hot as fuck. Unable to help himself, he dug further - not with the intention to embarrass Sam - but it was his turn to be a nosy bastard. He tried to craft his tone into something soft and curious, instead of brash and teasing, and carefully asked, husky with the lust the idea sparked in him, “Even though you came earlier? In your room?”

Sam colored anyways, and he groaned and bristled, turning away from Danny. “Damn dude, you just had to bring that up?”

“I’m just curious, I swear! I’m not…judging you or anything.”

Sam hesitated, but grumbled out, “Yes , okay? But in my defense, the…” Sam trailed off, mumbling words that Danny didn’t catch.

“What?” Danny felt Sam squirm against him, and he wondered if it was because he was getting uncomfortable with the position or because of what he wanted to say.

“I said,” Sam emphasized as if he hadn’t just spoken like he was underwater, “in my defense, it was a lot more…intense than how I’d imagined it.”

Danny’s heart skipped a beat, and he wondered if Sam felt it through his skin, even though he wasn’t touching his chest. “Im-imagined it?” he croaked out, body struggling to keep up with the wave of arousal his brain sent out at that little tidbit of information. 

It felt like his synapses were short-circuiting. Imagining it . If the images of Sam, alone in his hotel room and moaning - perhaps even his name - to thoughts of him, of them, weren’t enough to bring his cock back to life, then he was well and truly spent.

But he could get there again, he thought.

“You’re incredible,” Danny breathed, finally turning over to face Sam fully, pulling his hand from underneath him to put a thumb on his chin, dragging it down until Sam’s full bottom lip followed it. “Unreal.”

Sam would have responded with some snarky reply, but Danny was set on proving his unvoiced apprehensions about them and the future of their kissing endeavors wrong. Danny instigated, again and again, and left no doubt as to whether he wanted to kiss Sam as a lover once the heat of the moment had passed. And once Sam’s lips had been sufficiently kissed, he moved to his neck, mouthing his appreciation and subtle (not so subtle) adoration into the slightly salty skin there. Now that the barrier had been broken, there was no putting it back.

Sam saw his opportunity and took it. “No homo, bro, right?” he asked, breathless from the attention Danny was giving him that he had no clue he wanted so fucking bad.

Danny snorted and didn’t answer; he only pulled Sam further underneath him, capturing his lips and silencing him once again.

‘No homo’ had always been optional with them anyways.

...

Taglist: @greta-van-yeet @razorbladekiszka

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 1

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader.

Genre : College AU

Prologue : here

Masterlist : here

AN: It’s my first GVF fanfiction, based on a dream I had a couple weeks ago. It’s heavily inspired of my art school experience. As I don’t personally know them, I hope you’ll like my portrayal of them. I know I wrote the prologue in second person but I decided to change that to avoid repetitions. Let me know what you think of it! I also take prompt commissions.

The first chapter is mostly about Josh even though he’s not romantically involved with any character of the story.

Also, sorry for any english mistakes as it’s not my mother tongue. I hope it’s still readable. Enjoy.

Chapter One : Do you know this guy ?

It all happened in Art History class.

A little ball of paper crashed into our table, more precisely on Mandy's notes, startling us both.

- What the fuck ?, she whispered while I raised my eyebrows.

Our first reaction was to look for the source of that attack, so we moved our heads to the left in unision, only to find that Josh Kiszka was grinning at us. Now that was weird. He was all smiles and carefree as always and motionned for us to take a look at what he just threw at us. If we were really honest, we were only playing pissed, because Art History, as for all lectures in amphitheaters, was the most boring class of them all. Any distraction was good enough to escape these two hours, at least mentally. That was the reason why we were sitting in the back anyway. So if Kiszka number 1 wanted to play silly games with us, we'd thank him for the distraction. Mandy unfolded the crumpled sheet carefully, trying not to bring the teacher's attention to us.

Are you a parking ticket? ‘Cause you’ve got fine written all over you.

There was a second of silence before we exchanged glances and then snorted really loud, trying to camouflage it by faking a coughing fit. It was so lame ! And cheesy, I couldn't believe it. And it was the first time ever the dude talked to both of us.

- Do you know him ?, I whispered to my friend with surprise in my voice.

- No, I thought you did !

I shook my head no.

- The only thing I know is his name and bad rep.

- Yeah, heard that too.

Okay so it was not as bad as it sounded like. To put it simply, everyone knew he was a flirt. School had started for only three months now and he was already labeled as a manwhore. Althought we were in the same promotion, we rarely got the chance to interact with him or his brother because both of them were in the music department. As Mandy was in fashion, and I was studying illustration, the only classes we had together were the lectures. Did he even have a room on campus ? I didn't know either. I shot a glance at his proud face. Maybe he was a manwhore, but I knew how rumours started out of nowhere so I always made my best to not believe in them. Sure he doesn't have a girlfriend, nor boyfriend, and he was friendly with everyone (overly so) and seemed like a bit of a flirt, but it could easily be his normal self. Apart from his brother, no one knew him so they could tell anything about him. Mandy shook my arm as I frowned.

- I'm talking to you, dude.

- Sorry what ?

- What do we reply ?

I blinked, unsure of what I just heard.

- Why would you want to do that ?

- He's obviously a flirt, she stated like she didn't understand why she had to explain it to me, let's have some fun. Show him two can play this game. We don't even know which one of us he's hitting on, and I bet it's both of us. Plus we're bored anyway.

As much as I was a good girl who never meant any harm, I couldn't refuse picking fun at someone. When it wasn't too harsh of course, we made sure to keep the mean things for the people we couldn't stand. After we wrote something equaly shameful, Mandy threw the ball of paper, and Josh gave us a smirk and a glance. We kept exchanging cheesy notes like that, the pick up lines being more and more hilarious. We couldn't help but giggle at the silliness of it all.

Mama, you’re pretty and I’m cute. Together we’d be Pretty Pretty Cute (because you're two).

We completely lost it when he jiggled his eyebrows at us in a suggestive way, a big toothy grin plastered on his face, with his knees facing our direction and his cheek resting in his palm, completely uninterested by the lecture. I couldn't contain my laugh anymore and tried to cover it by smacking a hand on my mouth. Our best attempt at calming ourselves wasn't a success, as a few students had turned around to look at us idiots, and the teacher was fuming.

- Is the Vase of Soissons a joke to you ?!

- N-No ma'am, I replied while miserably trying to calm down.

Next to me Mandy was shaking with laughter and I stabbed her on the ribs with my elbow. She really wasn't being of any help right now. I honestly don't know why she didn't give us a detention, but we were glad. I shot a glance at Josh who was hiding his smile behind the palm of his hand and when he looked at me I just knew something new had started between the three of us.

[sunshinevanfleet]

summer ‘78

c h a p t e r  t w o - the after party

[disclaimer: none of the images in the banner/any graphics belong to me, all credits go to the respective owners; all i’ve done is edit the images. please excuse me in advance for any historical inaccuracies/discrepancies, i was not alive in the 1970′s. i’m doing my best to research, but i’m not checking every minuscule detail. all events and characters in this series are fictional, or used in a fictional manner.]

a/n: i know things are going a little slow at the moment, but the action will pick up later! i’m also planning to have longer chapters as the series goes on. hope you loves enjoy!

word count: 2.5k

summary: y/n runs into a familiar face at the gvf afterparty.

warnings: swearing

Saturday night came faster than you expected. Your shift had been dead, presumably because the whole town had run off to the Greta concert, while you were stuck working. The day before, you begged your father for hours to let you off for one night. Hours of groveling later, you still ended up bored in the shop, selling absolutely no records. In fact, the only thing you sold all day was a single magazine to some little boy who’d come in at about five.

Closing at nine couldn't come fast enough, and your head was pounding by the time you finally got home. Heather said that she and Jackie would meet you behind the concert venue at 11, so you had a couple hours to get ready and nurse your headache before you went to the party.

You downed a couple of painkillers when you got home, then made a dash for the shower. The steaming hot water soothed your muscles, and you hummed along to the thrum of your brother’s music playing on the other side of the wall. Once out, you raked a brush through your tangled hair and then wrapped a towel around yourself.

Staring into your closet, you couldn’t decide what to wear. You eyed your favorite pair of bell-bottoms, but decided you would probably get too hot. With a huff, you flopped onto your bed and eyed the ceiling. Why were you even going to this party? You really didn’t mind staying in…

As if on cue, the phone on your nightstand starting ringing off the hook. You jumped, then rolled over and grabbed it off the receiver, twisting the cord around your finger as you brought it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!” Heather’s voice was high and excited on the other end. You could practically see her disheveled appearance, all smeared makeup and dark hair in sweaty tangles. The energy of the concert carried through in her voice. “When are you coming?”

You glanced at your clock. It was 10:37.

“I don’t know. I can’t find anything to wear,” you sighed in frustration.

“Just put something on!” came Jackie’s voice. “You’ll probably take it off by the end of the night, anyway!”

You wrinkled your nose at her suggestion. “Absolutely not.”

“Wear something sexy!” shouted Heather, her voice muffled from being away from the receiver. You grumbled under your breath; how were you going to deal with your drunk friends coupled with your headache all night?

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few.”

You hung up and stared at your closet. It looked barren, like all of your decent clothes had gotten up and walked away. It felt like the universe was telling you to stay home, but you had no choice but to go and make sure your friends didn’t get into any trouble.

Finally, you settled on a simple t-shirt and jean shorts. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, anyway. You fluffed your hair, tucked a bit of money and your house key into your back pocket, then slipped downstairs and out of the house without making a sound.

-

You squinted in the darkness as you approached the back alley of the venue. You spotted your friends instantly—Jackie’s electric blonde hair was hard to miss anywhere, glowing white in the dark. You saw Heather, leaned over a guardrail batting her eyelashes at a security guard. Pushing through the other people crowded outside, you joined both of them.

“I’m sorry, but the name Heather Navarro is not on this list,” the security guard was saying. You blinked curiously, catching sight of Heather’s exasperated expression. The defeat on her face told you that she wasn’t used to security guards doing their jobs correctly.

“What about Jackie Mitchell?” Jackie asked.

The guard shook his head. “Sorry ladies.” He shrugged at both of them, then glanced at you. “What’s your name?”

You blinked. “Uhh, Y/N Y/L/N. I doubt I’m on there either.”

The guard flipped through his list, then glanced back up at you. “You said Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yeah.”

The guard scribbled on the list, then nodded. “You’re right here. Says you’re VIP. Come on in.” He flicked open the little metal gate, then stepped out of the way.

You stared at him in disbelief. You were VIP? “What? It must be—”

“It must be really decent in there,” Jackie cut you off. “Are we allowed to come in with her?”

The guard eyed you, “Do you know these girls?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “They’re with me.” You offered a half-hearted smile, and sighed in relief as the three of you walked past the guard and headed for the back door of the venue.

“I can’t believe it! I never thought someone would have the same name as you,” laughed Heather. “That’s kinda freaky.”

“Kinda? That’s really freaky,” replied Jackie.

“Yeah,” you agreed, leading the way down a dim hallway toward a room where you could hear music thumping steadily. Already, you noticed the pungent smell of weed, and the odor of dozens of people drinking alcohol. You were searching for the bathroom, while Heather and Jackie were gushing about being able to get in so easily.  

“Can we stop at the bathroom?” you asked, your hand stopping against the bathroom door knob.

“Can’t we just meet back up when you’re done?” Heather asked innocently.

You huffed, brushing your hair behind your ear. You glanced from the pleading face of Jackie to the clueless face of Heather, then you conceded. “Fine, but if you guys ditch me…”

“We would never,” Heather breathed, slinging her arms around you and planting a kiss on your cheek.

“Come find us when you’re done,” Jackie gave you a quick hug, then they were off.

You were hoping to find silence in the bathroom; your head was pounding furiously. It felt like your skull was shrinking with every sound, but you were unlucky enough to find out that the bathroom was just as busy as the party down the hall.

Girls crowded in the mirror, layering on lipstick and fluffing their hair carefully. Others were sat on the counter, smoking while gesticulating animatedly. You could see bare legs beneath the stall doors, hear heels clacking against the floor, and smell cigarettes mixed with floral perfumes. All of this worsened your headache, and your skull was screaming at you by the time you finally got into a stall to do your business.

Once finished, you trudged down the hall and into the party to find your friends.

The foggy haze of smoke clouded your vision as you waded through the mess of people in the room, searching for either Heather or Jackie in the crowd. Knowing the two of them, you probably wouldn’t see them for a couple of hours. They’d be off smoking pot, or hitting on the band, or taking body shots.

Sighing, you pushed past a couple of drunken people and found a lonely couch in the corner, occupied by no one. Relief flooded your senses instantly, and you took a seat while you played with the hem of your shirt and cradled your head in your hand, closing your eyes. The last thing you wanted to look like was a total loser at this after party, but your head was killing you. Tuning out the buzz around you, you took a deep breath and massaged your temples. If you just let yourself relax, you’d feel better. You would be fine, find your friends, and have a good time. Or at least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

As you nursed your aching skull, you didn’t even notice the palpable silence that had fallen over the room. Even the drunks had stopped their slurred blabbering, and you glanced up to see Jackie running at you, her shocking blonde hair mussed and her eyes an irritated shade of red. Her face was bright and open, her mouth wide in an expression of disbelief as she grabbed your hands and sat on the couch next to you.

“They’re here!” she hissed, her voice cutting through the thick layer of silence that had fallen over the room like a blanket. She grabbed your chin, directing your face to the other side of the room, where you could see the crowd shifting slightly.

The first one to catch your eye was the lead singer; you could recognize that from his very demeanor—that smile and his tufts of curly hair coupled with the way he gathered the attention of everyone. The room felt his energy instantly, like a spark that ignited the very souls of everyone in his vicinity. You felt short of breath as you stared at him, even the glimmering of his sequined shirt in the royal blue light of the room not enough to pull your eyes away from his face. At first, you had questioned Jackie and Heather’s obsession over the band, but already you could feel their hypnotizing vibe, just from one look.

He looked vaguely familiar, like you’d seen him in a dream. Something like deja vu.

“Who’s he?” you asked, quirking an eyebrow as you glanced at Jackie. She was as enamored by him as everyone else in the room, and you couldn’t blame her. He was mesmerizing.

Jackie’s voice fell to a whisper, “That’s Josh.”

She said nothing else as Josh blended into the rest of the crowd, effectively disappearing in the ghostly light of the room. Plumes of smoke clouded your vision slightly, but you waved your hand in search of the rest of the band. You could see a bit of a crowd forming by the door, probably waiting for the rest of the band to show up.

Still, you could feel the electricity in the room; the excitement felt by friends, roadies, groupies, and randoms alike. The hairs on the back of your neck stood erect in anticipation—if Josh could have this effect on you, how would it feel to see the entire band? You wished desperately that you would’ve been able to see them in concert. Even for one song.

“God, I can’t believe we’re here,” whispered Jackie. You met her dreamy-eyed gaze, her brown eyes looking hazier than they had a couple minutes ago. The atmosphere of the room had even become intoxicating enough to drown out your headache.

Another moment passed, and in came the rest of the band. Jackie filled you in quickly. The first in the succession was Sam, the bassist of the band. He was stunning, glowing in an almost ethereal manner as the blue light haloed around him. He crossed the room gracefully, moving out of the way for the next member of the band.

He was Danny, all sweet smiles and dark curly hair. He greeted everyone with the warmth of a close friend, offering hugs and small-talk to everyone that turned to him. He brought a certain warmth to the room, something that made you feel like you were in a familiar place. He felt like an old friend, even from across the room.

You pulled your eyes away from the doorway for a split second to say something to Jackie, and when you looked back you had to do a double take. You recognized the fourth member from work the other day—Jake!

You couldn’t believe it; your eyes bulged out of your head as you stared at him. No wonder he was in town, he was on tour with his band! You could’ve laughed at yourself. He did say he had a pretty awesome job, and you hadn’t believed it at the time.

“Earth to Y/N?” Jackie waved her hand in front of your face, trying to catch your attention.

You glanced at her, “What?”

“That’s Jake. He’s the guitarist.”

“I know who he is.”

“What? How?”

You shook your head, still in disbelief. “He came into the shop the other day.”

Jackie’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god! No wonder your name was on the list!”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “What? How could he know my full name?”

“Are you joking?” Jackie stared at you as if you’d just grown wings. “The shop is literally called Y/L/N’s.”

A shocked laugh fell from your lips as you realized she was right. But what was the chance that Jake had even remembered you, much less decided to make you one of his VIP guests? It was one in a million, if that.

“I’m sure it was just a coincidence,” you waved it off, your face brightening as you caught sight of Heather approaching. She fell onto the couch, on Jackie’s other side with a wide smile and glassy eyes.

“Did you see them? Amazing…” she relaxed into the cushions, crossing her legs as she lit a cigarette and stared out into the crowd. She was blissed out, her eyes empty, eyeliner smudged softly around her eyes, and her mouth slightly ajar as she sat there. She was hauntingly beautiful, and you knew how she could get her way so easily.

Jackie turned to speak to Heather, but she was cut off by the sound of a voice familiar to you. “Y/N!”

Your head turned so quickly that you thought you’d get whiplash as you caught sight of Jake approaching. You practically jumped out of your seat, your face heating up as Jake opened his arms for a hug, like you two were a couple of old friends. His embrace was warm, and he grinned brightly at you as he pulled away.

“I was hoping to see you here.”

“Really?” you wondered, unable to stop the smile that came to your lips.

“Yeah,” Jake laughed sheepishly. “I had you on the list just in case. Told you my job was decent.”

You began to reply, but Heather felt the need to interrupt. “How do you two know each other?” She blinked at the two of you, looking suspicious.

“We met—”

“A few years ago,” Jake cut you off, winking discreetly at you as Heather glared daggers at you. You gaped at him for a second, and he looked amused.

You rolled your eyes, then turned to Heather with a sweet smile. “Yeah,” you said casually. “Never knew you were in a band, though,” you said sharply, watching the amusement dance in Jake’s eyes.

“Wasn’t that important at the time.” He shrugged. “Why don’t you introduce your friends, Y/N?” His tone was facetious, and you forced a false smile at him.

“This is Heather,” she offered her hand, but Jake pulled her into a hug. “And Jackie.” He shook Jackie’s hand, then watched as Jackie scrutinized you.

“I thought you two just met the other day,” she frowned.

“We did,” you caved, giggling at the look on Heather’s face. “Jake was pulling Heather’s leg.” You threw an arm around Heather’s shoulders, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Love you, H.”

She wrinkled her nose at you, and took a long drag of her cigarette as she pouted.

“Now, where’s the rest of your band, Jake?”

tags: @mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank @gretavanfic @chocolatealmondmilkshake @mountainofthesunn