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awingedinsect · 7 days

Text

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 11

Full series

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: TRAUMA. Processing grief. De@th and loss of loved ones. Descriptions of g0re. This one was a bit difficult to write but it’s an important addition, and something you’ve all been waiting for MIGHT just be at the end! enjoy :)

He remembers that moment.

The way the beach got suddenly so quiet.

How when he looked up from his notebook, he couldn’t see a little head playing in the shallow waves.

He remembers how he ran. The way the wet sand churned under his feet as he called her name, running down the shore.

How the dark waves felt enveloping him, fighting his body off, like it wasn’t welcome in the water; trying to break his bones as his voice got hoarse from screaming.

He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t believe it…

“I don’t believe it.” II Whispers, eyes dilated and hollow. He sits on the end of his bed, not even looking up at Vessel in the doorway.

“I don’t believe it…”

“II? Can I come in?” Vessel speaks softly, though his lanky frame is a bit stiff. His hands fidget in the front of his hoodie.

II’s wet eyes flick up at him, red lips parting in a tragic shape. He nods.

Vessel steps quietly inside, closing the door till it’s open just a sliver like he found it.

II’s room is plain. Mainly a grey palette, with a few posters and cassette tapes littered around. Clothes are piled up on top of the dresser and the bed is unmade.

He’s been locked up in here, since last night when he saw the news. III and IV had both initially followed him in, trying to console him behind the closed door as Vessel stood outside, helpless.

II was crying.

And he knew he wasn’t supposed to help.

Now, Vessel settles down on the bed next to him, not saying a word. His head is bowed, eyes staring into space for a few beats before nervously flitting over at the drummer.

“…How you holding up?”

II sniffles, wiping his face. He sighs. “I dunno, Vess. I’m fine. I just can’t…” he looks up at him now, those big red eyes almost pleading. “Did you see what he looked like?”

Vessel did.

How could he forget? The image is now burned into his head as permanently as the symbol behind his bangs. Matt’s body, stretched out on the rotten floor of the house. The candles surrounding him, melted into puddles that seeped up around his blue skin and mingled with the blood dripping from the marks on his chest.

Patterns that lace Vessel’s own body.

Venus is dead.

He had to tell himself that over and over again, all night and all morning. She’s dead.

…isn’t she?

Vessel’s hand slips out of his pocket, tentatively moving to II’s knee.

“I know what you’re going through.” He says. “…grief is the toughest pill there is, I think. I wish I could fix it, II.” There’s a desperation in his voice, a little crack that he tries to hide. “…You don’t deserve it.”

“Who could’ve done that to him?” II’s voice is choked again. “Fuckin carved him like an animal.” His eyes meet Vessel’s, and go hollow. “…Did someone try to do that to you?”

Vessel swallows.

He still hasn’t told any of them the story. About Venus, about what happened that night. But he knows they’ve all been thinking about it since the photograph flashed on the tv.

It’s about time he told someone.

“…I dunno if it’s connected.” His voice is low, threatening to get bumpy. “But… you remember that girl who walked up at the bar? At the Blacklit room?”

II nods, confusion in his face. But he lets him continue. “Well, she texted me, about a week after the accident. Had me meet her at the sight. And she… well, she drugged me.”

II’s eyes go wide. “You telling me she did all that to you?” II looks horrified.

“…when I woke up she and her friends had me tied down.” Vessel’s lashes flutter, blinking away a bit of dew that’s gathering. “And then she… got on me. Told me I was some kind of offering, then got her knife out.”

II is silent. They both are for some time.

“…I think she’s dead, II.” Vessel says. “I dunno all that happened, I blacked out again. But she was gone and I… could just feel it.”

He wasn’t about to launch into the whole story. To be honest, he’d kick him out of the house too if he brought up Sleep. Though maybe one day they’ll be able to understand.

“I could be wrong.” He says. “She might still be out there. But no matter what, we’ll get justice for Matthew… I promise.”

Vessel almost thinks he hears the floorboards creak outside the door. He turns his head only for a moment, but II stays still. The drummer bows his head.

“…I loved him, I think.” He whispers. So quiet that it’s barely heard. So soft that Vessel knows it’s only halfway meant to be said; a confession for himself.

“Did you?”

“…maybe. I don’t know. I’ve known him since we were kids, on and off… never was able to shake the feeling that maybe I wanted him more than I had him. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? He’s fuckin dead.”

The words drill straight into Vessel’s chest like a knife. Oh, II…

The water choked him, salt burning his eyes as he swam out into the deep. He couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything but the water. It dragged on his clothes, trying to swallow him just so it could spit him out.

Vessel’s eyes glaze over, wondering off to a different plane. “…I had a sister, once.”

II looks up at him, blinking. “…not anymore?”

The words come out of his mouth like breathing. Like breathing with lungs full of water and a head full of so many memories it’s about to overflow.

“…I was sixteen.” He continues. “Wasn't supposed to happen, you know?” His voice breaks on the last word, and his throat ties in a knot. He hasn’t talked about it in years. “Just one day and… I lost her. I was supposed to watch her, to make sure she stayed close. I looked away for only a minute.”

II’s face is even paler as he listens, hands knotted in his lap. His eyes are wide as saucers and more intense than Vessel has ever seen them, though he barely dares to take his own off the opposite wall.

He clears his throat, swiping his cheek with a sigh. “…the point is, she gave me a keyboard for my birthday. That same day. She got to hear me play it, said she loved it… she always loved to listen. I was just teaching her how to play the piano that month… She was a natural.” His eyes are full now, lips quivering. But there’s a point to all of this, and he’s gotta see it through.

“Matt was a drummer, yeah?”

II nods, scrunching his hands in his jeans.

“Means he’s not all gone. He’ll be with you now, when you play. In the music and the sound. Just like she’s in the keyboard, and in every the piano. We keep playing for them.”

His hand climbs to II’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “To keep their sound alive.”

II sniffles, nodding. “…thank you.” he says, hunching into Vessel. He wraps his arms around his waist, disappearing into his side like a little shadow. Vessel isn’t sure what to do at first, wet eyes blinking away the fog now that he’s being held. His arms wrap slowly around his friend, hugging him like he hasn’t hugged anyone in awhile.

They sit like that for a few minutes. Neither of them say a word, and neither of them cry anymore. It’s a sacred moment suspended in time and memory that Vessel makes sure to lock away and not forget.

After awhile they part, and Vessel leaves for the door.

“Vess?” II’s voice follows after him. He turns, raising his brows.

“What ever happened to your keyboard?”

The drummer asks. “You still got it somewhere, right?”

Vessel shuffles his feet, fingers gripping the brass doorknob.

“…It was in the motel I was staying in before everything.” He says, swallowing hard. “Probably confiscated, by now. But it’s alright. Maybe it’ll turn up in a pawnshop one of these days, huh?” He tries to smile, for II’s sake. But they both know it’s forced.

II nods, knotting his hand in the bedspread. “Yeah, probably, mate.”

As Vessel walks out, his head turns down the hallway just in time to see III’s door close softly shut.

He hadn’t even heard him.

•••

The house is quiet.

More quiet than usual.

Vessel stands in the kitchen, hand splayed on the counter as he downs a glass of water. His eyes are unfocused, flitting lazily out the window at the pitch darkness and the kitchen reflected in it, trying to gather his thoughts.

Where had he gone?

IV and II are both in their rooms still, having gone to bed hours ago. The sun will be up in an hour or two. But Vessel only managed to grab a bit of sleep before getting up to pace the night away, mind turning sluggishly over the events of the past few days and how they might correlate to III’s sudden disappearance.

“Does he do this often?” He had asked IV as the sun was setting and the bassist was still nowhere to be seen. He hadn’t said he was going anywhere, or even that he had something he needed to do. IV shrugged. “Sometimes… not a lot. But don’t sweat it, I’m sure he’s fine. If he’s not here for breakfast I’ll try calling him again.”

Vessel rubs his eyes, blinking hard. His head still hurts from that bit of an emotional display with II earlier since, honestly, he hasn’t cried in a good long while. And even then, it was hardly a sob fest.

But it certainly could have been.

”If you’ve gotta be sad, why don’t you write about it?” He can hear her say. “Make a song about being sad. That way, when people hear it, maybe it’ll make them happy they’re not alone!”

He closes his eyes, dropping his head back as his fingers tap slowly over the edge of the cold counter. Back and forth… Hands arched… If he listens carefully, he can hear the notes.

A tear slides down his cheek.

Suddenly he hears something down the hall. His eyes flick open, turning around as his fingers go still.

He sets his glass down.

“II?” He whispers, passing by the drummer's door and going straight to the sliver of light pouring out of III’s. He doesn’t remember it being open.

Reaching for the knob, he pushes it quietly and peers inside.

III’s not here.

Nothing is out of the ordinary, the stained glass lamp casting a soft glow over the aesthetically pleasing mess. And yet his heart drops to the floor the second his eyes land on the middle of the bed.

There’s no fucking way. That’s not possible, is it?

An unmanageable frown starts growing on his mouth as he steps inside, hands reaching shakily for the familiar row of pearly white keys. They’re a little scratched, the black surface aged and feeling oddly bare of a white bow.

But it’s perfect.

He presses down a single note, the delicate sound settling into his bones.

“-it’s tuned.”

He turns around, eyes blinking hazily at III in the doorway.

“What?” His voice is half stolen. “How did you- where did you…”

III steps inside, doc martins and a long suit jacket not detracting from the bags under his eyes. He looks exhausted. He wanders closer to Vessel, looking down into his eyes and not stopping, finally. Those long lashes flutter as he looks over him, casting shadows down his cheeks.

His lips part. “…It’s tuned.”

Vessel’s arms are around him before he can stop himself, and III returns the gesture like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like holding him was something he was always meant to do, and that all he needed was the proper time.

“Thank you.” Vessel chokes into his shoulder, hands clawing up the back of the jacket. “T-thank you.”

III’s hands spreads in the back of the singer's hair, holding him tight enough to suffocate him and not showing any sign of letting go.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes.

And that’s it.

…And that’s more than Vessel ever needed to hear from him.

He was spat out. Left on the shore, rejected by the sea and all that it contained. He was desperate. Alone. Made to wander and wonder why he wasn't fit for the same tomb as her, after all.

He waited on the beach, praying to the water. Spreading his hands in the foam and asking it, simply, why.

But it had no answer, and neither did anything else. Not his mother, not one of the flyers in the waiting room a month later. Not a god.

Though he had this insatiable desire; To claw down his mothers heaven, and make sure that the girl was in there. If there was ever a reason for heaven to be real, it was so that she’d be put in it and sheltered forever. Whether or not it was best. Whether or not he’d ever be able to reach her, in the end.

“Let the tide carry you…” his hands draw the sounds out of the freshly tuned keyboard, nodding his head slowly to the music. It’s alive again.

“…back to me.”

Tags: @thevenomousseprent @moonlit-valkyrie @mmendez0124 @yourviscera @rain-down-on-me @xzero01

#vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii #sleep token #sleep token ii #sleep token iv #iii sleep token #jennifers body #jennifer’s body au #sleep token vessel

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97keanu · 9 months

Text

"ᵒʰ ᵐᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ⁱ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒⁱˡ

ᶠᵃˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ

ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᵃ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵐᵉ

ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁿⁱᶠᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵗ ᵐᵉ

ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵐᵉ﹖

ⁱ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᵗˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳ

ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ⁱ ᶜˡⁱⁿᵍ

ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵉˡˢᵉ ⁱ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵍᵒ..."

Sandbox Love Never Dies

Dave Lizewski x Demonic!Reader (Jennifer's Body AU)

Premise: In this chapter, reader becomes the god she was always destined to be. She does something she shouldn't, and ends up on Dave's doorstep, the only place she has ever known to go to for help. Dave is completely horrified from the night events, but still cares for reader. Some cannon from JB divergence, maybe this way we can find a happy ending. Either way, the horror is starting to settle in with this chapter, please mind the tags and authors note!

Words: 4.5k

Read chapter one here // be added to the tag list for this fic here

Tags/CW: reader death(and rebirth), side character death implied but spared the gorey details, blood, gore, angst, drama, shared trauma, hurt/comfort, nurse Dave, bath scene, Dave helps reader bathe, Dave and reader end up in some pretty good fluff at the end.

Author's Note: this chapter was really interesting to write as the horror part of this au starts to become more prevelant, but if you are squimish to any of the above CW's the please be mindful when reading. As mentioned, there is a character death in this chapter, but I opted to skip an in depth scene of what happens, but if you've seen JB you should get what's going on. If any of that is confusing, let me know! This chapter is under the cut <3 P.S. this song really fits this chapter, so give it a listen ʚ♥︎ɞ

The sky looms, limitless, an endless expanse of stars over this world. A cruel world where girls too young are tied, roped, adjusted as such to the top of a natural stone used as a sacrificial table. The sky has a million eyes and they're all on you tonight, Snowflake Queen, as your heavy breathing remains still human just yet. The omnipresent dark that covers the earth nightly is just as restrained as you are, helpless to stop what will soon happen.

You can almost feel the same pit of darkness as the sky open up in your stomach, blood running out as stupid men play stupid games with ritualistic consequences. All you can do is scream, the sound falling on deaf ears of the woods that envelope the scene.

You find yourself as cold and limitless as the sky as your human body is ruined. The assailants laugh, crack jokes, and sing songs as their blood pumps to the idea of fame and fortune being theirs. As you go still, they figure the job is over, throwing away any evidence into Devil's Kettle, the rushing, hungry mouth of the waterfall that eats all it's given, never to return. They don't even bother to give you a second look as they leave. You can feel the chill of death take you, your breath leaving, leaving, leaving. Never to return as yours.

Then, you feel something else.

You feel something move inside your broken body, breathing life into your lungs that had just barely stopped its function. You can feel it, black, slimey, crawling down your throat and slipping into that pit of your stomach, but not filling it. No, it sits there like a creature, a parasite, that only adds to the emptiness, that begs as much hunger as the rushing waterfall, it growls with animalistic hunger, the sound rushing out of your mouth as you try to scream.

You aren't even sure what happened next, your eyes focused on all the little pinpricks of light in the sky that disappear if you look directly at them for too long. What you do remember is the crunching of bone as you escape your restraints, then the sound of it going back into place, your wounds closing, your body changing, a darkness filling your veins.

You're different, maybe even better, than before.

The next thing you come to realize is how your body finds itself breaking into a run, stumbling through the tree line and seeing the still smoldering Melody Lane Tavern. The fire seems vague and so far away to you now, like another life. The corpse of the building is still illuminated in red and blue, so you decide to walk away from there. As you do, on your path you see someone.

The shape in the dark is walking with hunched shoulders, holding itself, and shivering. You watch, curious. As you approach, the familiar face begins to connect in your fuzzy brain.

"Marty?" Your voice croaks out, still so tired from what's happened.

Marty turns to you, he's completely out of it, but upon seeing a familiar face looks weakly hopefully.

"You're alive…" You say to him, he can barely speak after what's happened tonight. As you look at him, and see the thin dribbles of blood fall from his head, that pit inside you opens up farther than before. You feel a low growl wanting to escape your lips. Something about that blood is making you so hungry it's taking over your already clouded mind.

"Does anyone know you're here, Marty?" You say, almost as a puppet, the hunger speaking for you. Marty can only shake his head, and you can almost feel the world go back for what happens next.

The only thing you remember later is flashes, you can't think about it too much, the humanity in you is still on the surface since the transformation. No, you don't want to talk about what you did to Marty.

You do, however, know that the only thing you feel after is euphoric. You are coated with the blood of this endless nightmare, stumbling about the dark, wet blacktop roads. You barely register the headlights aimed for you, and you know that even if you were struck by a car, you're invincible right now. You drank the blood, and now you're a god.

✧

Dave can't stop shaking. He feels like his stomach might cave in, and he can hardly believe any of tonight happened. He can still see you, dazed, glassy eyed and being pulled into those fuckers van. His muscles tighten just thinking about it, and he feels like he throw a punch for one of the first times in his life.

He's so worried about you, he has no idea what to even do, but he knows something is wrong. As he and Katie were caught in the hectic aftermath of the fire, the police just starting to show up, he felt something that made him double over in the grass. It was as if his stomach had been slit, he could feel it so vividly, practically sense your pain as much as you felt it. All he could do was writhe in the grass, begging Katie to help him, and not let anyone want to try to keep him here longer. No, he didn't need medical attention, he just needed to get home. He needed somewhere he could be safe, somewhere he could maybe try to think of saving you.

Katie, despite how little she's known Dave, actually came through, and helped Dave get to his feet. Despite the pain, they made it to Dave's car without anyone trying to stop them. Katie was happy to help Dave, but she was terrified for Erika, who hasn't been spotted yet. Because of this, while she has positioned Dave in the driver's seat, she tells him she has to stay, look for Erika. Dave understands, and they share a look.

Dave knows all too well how she's feeling right now. That's exactly how he feels about you. He gives her a nod, as if to say 'go to her', and after Katie leaves, Dave takes his own advice.

He starts the car and begins to drive, his head feeling still filled with the smoke from the fire, smoggy and clouded from the night's trauma. He feels so strange, physically. He had felt the immense pain, but now all he feels is numb. His whole body is cold, and that scares him more than the pain. You have to be alive to feel pain, this numbness…"god…please don't let it mean that…".

Dave lets himself drive in almost dazed state, the small town is quiet at this time of night, and no one has been seen on the road since he got away from Melody Lane's chaos. In fact, it's so eerily desolate. The cold, wet night glistening off the road. Dave takes his eyes off the road for a moment, to turn on the heat in the car, the shivering cold and numbness reaching a breaking point inside him, it's so strong.

When he looks back at the road, he practically screams, the terror rising and catching in his throat, he hits the brakes as hard as possible. His headlights flood a figure with a brightness that blocks out half their shape. But what he catches before the person runs, impossibly fast, makes his spit run thin. That puffy white jacket, those piercing eyes, all that blood….

Dave can barely shake himself free of what he's seen, but now he's sitting here, all alone, that numbing feeling drifting away. It's all he can do, so he finishes his drive home.

When he returns home, he can barely move his body, the pain of tonight already setting in as the adrenaline cools and thickens inside him. Dave is just so tired. He weakly goes inside, his dad is likely well asleep, maybe a bottle in. Despite feeling like tonight's events should be 'wake your parent up out of a drunken stupor' worthy, Dave trudges up the stairs to his attic room. As he opens the door, the intense numbing feeling brushes past him once again, and he braces himself.

Inside, you sit on his floor, bloody and clothes torn, completely dazed.

Dave cannot describe how it feels to see you, he is shocked, but the relief of having you here, with him, not with those horrible men, washes over him so intensely that his knees almost give out.

"Oh my god…" Dave doesn't even feel like he's saying it, but the words fall from his mouth. He rushes to your side, falling next to you, and gripping your arms through your jacket. "You're alive…I thought…"

You're still so dazed, but your eyes slowly drag over to Dave. Your mouth is crusted with blood that's not yours, god, if Dave knew from whom it came from he would never forgive you. Besides that, you can hardly understand what compelled you, in this new form, to come here. Old habits die hard, you suppose. You also have a feeling that absolutely terrifies you when Dave comes so close.

As much as you felt something similar when you saw Marty, this is different. You feel as if the hunger inside you isn't an overwhelming coldness, no it's not the need to fill that numb spot within you. It's different. A blazing fire. It builds, your stomach set ablaze and filled with a want and a yearning that is so strong. You eye Dave with a hunger that goes well beyond the need to eat, no, this isn't sustenance, it's a want for him, all of him.

You can just imagine, pulling him up from the floor, dragging him to his bed, and your weight and power on top of him. You can just imagine his innocent eyes as you can't decide whether to fuck him or sink your teeth into him. Just the thought of sliding his cock into you while you do both, tasting him, his neck in your mouth, the submission as he allows you to take him, all of him…

Dave has to reach up and gently grab your chin, focusing your attention on him. You didn't even realize a low growl had started forming, deep within your chest as you thought about consuming Dave. You also notice he had been talking while you imagined this, and feel a mixture of disgust and lust.

"What happened…?" Is all he can say at this point, you seem completely broken, and he can sense that your energy is different even if he doesn't acknowledge that he does. You don't respond, for a long moment, your thoughts a haze of trying to ignore the budding hunger inside of you, and remembering how to be, well, human. Even if you couldn't articulate it now, you knew you were not like Dave anymore, not at all. You aren't really sure what you are, or everything it entails, but you know for sure if you don't keep your hunger in check…you don't even want to think about what could happen, the guilt from your still fresh humanity filling your veins with a chill.

"Dave…can you…can you please just help me up…" You start, your voice is dry and tired. Dave doesn't even question, he simply stands and holds out his hands, those large hands you've dreamed about touching you. You realize how cold your hands are to his nice, warm, human hands. He swiftly pulls you up, and you wobble, his hands there to steady you at the waist.

You're so close when you look up at him. He wasn't always this tall, you remember when you were kids, and you used to tease him about how he was shorter than you. You're almost certain that it was around the time he gained an inch, that one defining inch, above you, that's about when you started to fall in love with him. It wasn't so much that his being taller did something to you to change your feelings on him, no, it was more of the fact that after that, you guys slowly became more than just schoolyard mates. Even if you would never admit those feelings that fluttered at the worst times. Right now, is one of them. If you could blush, you would be right now, Dave's big blue eyes look at you with concern and worry. Of course, Nurse Dave as always, here to patch up your bloody knees just like when you were kids.

Right now, it's a bit more than a scrap on the knee. Dave doesn't know if he should even be keeping you here, if all that blood is yours, well, he should take you to the hospital, right? You seem so pale, so fragile as he slowly takes over the situation, no longer time for questioning any of this.

"Here, let's go to the bathroom…" He says softly, guiding you to his en suite. It's small, dimly lit by a yellowing bulb, and messy in a way that teenage boys always seem to make. He gently picks you up, and for a moment, you're surprised at how strong Dave is. You don't remember when he got to be so strong. He sets you on the sink counter, which has ample room for you, and begins by taking your puffy, once white, jacket off.

"What are you…?" You start, still out of it.

"You just…" Dave seems embarrassed for a moment as he continues to undress you, but his eyebrows pull together, determined for your own safety. "I need to see what happened, you're bleeding so much…"

Dave's hands begin to shake as he notices underneath your jacket there is a large hole in your shirt. He has to steady himself, he has no idea how bad the wound is, and as he keeps looking at the shirt he notices more and more holes, the blood making it so hard to see what exactly is going on.

"Did…oh my god…did you get stabbed?" Dave has to take his glasses off for a moment just to make sure he's seeing this all correctly. There's no way you could even be standing, let alone at his door if these truly are stab wounds. He reaches out gingerly, his fingers barely tracing a hole that goes directly over your heart, and pulls his hand back in fear of that hole leading to a wound in your body. You don't respond to his question, way too tired and focused on fighting your own hunger to be talking much right now.

"Okay, we need this off…" Dave says quickly, any embarrassment for seeing you in your bra overtaken by how scared he is about what he will see on your body. He gently, but effectively takes your shirt off, a lacy white bra underneath, soaked in blood. Dave looks you over, the blood is slick on your body, starting to turn darker shades of red and brown now as it begins to dry, but what he realizes is that as his fingers explore your body all he feels is softness. His fingers even trace to that spot, right over your heart, moving away blood that slicks his fingers, and all he finds is smooth, soft skin underneath. No wounds.

"This…this isn't your blood?" He almost scoffs the words out, in disbelief. By the looks of you when you came in he thought…well, he doesn't really even know what he thought, but he was sure you were in much worse shape. You catch his eyes when he asks, and shake your head wearily. Dave lets out a sigh of relief that expels so much stress he can barely breathe in again when he's done.

"Holy shit…God…you had me so worried there…" He could almost scream, but instead he does something neither of you expected. His strong arms grab you, pulling you close, almost off the counter, and into his chest. He puts his head right against your tangled, blood soaked hair, and he is glad you can't see him right now. Dave sees a glance of himself in the mirror, the tears forming and slowly dripping down his cheeks. He just can't believe you're here, you're okay, and that he can keep you safe now.

"I'm so lucky…" He whispers, not necessarily to you, or himself.

Lucky. You could almost laugh if you weren't losing more and more energy as you feel yourself sinking into Dave's arms. Nothing about tonight had been lucky. In fact, you almost wonder if this is some sort of sick joke being played on you, and if you could just close your eyes, fall asleep, when you woke it would all be over.

When Dave finally pulls away, to get a better look at you once more, you let out a small noise of discontent from losing his warm embrace.

"We should probably get you cleaned up." he says, looking you over, assessing what's needed. "Do you think you can do it yourself…?"

Before he's even finished asking the question you're shaking your head. Dave can't help a blush rise to his cheeks as he thinks about how he will have to undress you completely to really help you get clean. He then nervously moves his hand to push his glasses back up, before noticing them sitting on the counter next to, and laughs uncomfortably.

"Well, we'll have to get these c-clothes," he starts sputtering out a bit, he isn't usually so nervous around you, you're, well his best friend in the whole world. And if it wasn't for the gender difference this wouldn't be such a big deal. Dave lets out a shaky breath, then continues, more determined to complete the task at hand so that you can feel better. "Yes, as long as you're okay with it, I'll have to undress you to help you bathe."

He settles on that, hoping he's not being weird and that the end justifies the mean here. You look up at him, and muster the energy to speak, to calm his nerves.

"I need your help Dave, I don't care if you see me naked…" You say weakly, and it's true. If it wasn't for the fact that you were feeling as if your energy was fading faster and faster, you may have very well been worried about Dave seeing you naked. But right now? No, you couldn't care even if you tried after the night had. You think Dave senses that and feels the same way. He's just as tired as you, by the look in his eyes.

Dave doesn't say much more, besides an occasional instruction for helping to get your clothes off. He helps you wiggle out of tight skinny jeans, the task made harder by the blood soaked spots that want to stick to your skin. After that, it's only your bra and panties left. Dave can't help but notice how much of your body is being exposed to him for the first time. It's just how he imagined it, if not even better, and he has to remind himself that this wasn't how this should have gone, and now is not the time for a wandering mind. You tell him you have your underwear covered as far as taking it off, and ask if he can start the bath.

He nods, says 'of course!' As if he had made some mistake when his hand reached up for the waistband of your matching panties. He turns to the bathtub before he embarrasses himself more, and you slowly, muscles tired and sore, hop off the counter and begin taking off your bra. When you're finally fully undressed, you ask Dave if he can close his eyes as you hop in the tub.

"Oh, sure, here." He holds out his arm for you to steady yourself as you get in. You utilize this, and as you sink into the half full tub you feel a sense of ease hit you. Dave has it at the perfect temperature, the heat of the bath making you miss his warm arms once more. You let Dave know when he can open his eyes, even though you're sure he can see a full view of your ample chest, it somehow feels better that half of you is protected by the bubbles Dave also added to the bath.

Dave can feel how deeply red his cheeks are as he watches your breasts rise and fall in the water, and when the water begins to turn a rusty color, Dave straightens his mind out. He kneels down next to the tub, his knees on the bathmat. You slide closer as he grabs a washcloth and begins dipping it in the warm water. Neither of you speak as he begins with your face, the softness of the cloth and the warmth of the water easing your tensions while taking off blood and make up. Dave has actually helped you take your makeup off for the night before so he starts with this, feeling most confident in his abilities.

Eventually he finishes your face, and you open your eyes to see him deciding where to start next. He starts on your neck, it's the next thing down that has blood crusted on it, so might as well, right? He cleans gently, making sure that he's not hurting you, going slowly. When you're certain your neck is done, and he's just avoiding going lower, you look up at him, meeting his eyes with a new boldness that has emerged from your transformation. You take his hand gently and lead it to your breast, keeping your eyes locked as you allow him to feel your soft, plump skin there. His eyes look so nervous, something about how much he wants to touch in this way being so clear on his face, yet he rejects it, as to be gentlemanly, or a good friend perhaps, turns you on way more than any of the other boys who have had access to your breasts.

He takes his time here, despite his nerves. Circling your breasts with the washcloth until your supple skin is all that's showing. He keeps his eyes mainly on yours, something about the connection between you two right now is more than just a horny teenager seeing his first pair of boobs. No, it's deeper than that. It's about the trust between you two, and how Dave is staying focused on your needs first and foremost. That isn't to say that how he is touching you now isn't making your already weak legs feel weaker, a quivering in your chest and between your legs building as Dave moves on to the other side, making sure to give the same attention there. You can feel yourself twitch as he brushes over your nipples, which are so hard and tight despite the warm water. They just barely float above the bubbles, and Dave makes sure you're all clean before moving on.

You thought the spell would be broken when he moves on to cleaning your back, but somehow, his hands moving in such a pleasurable massage, makes you want him even more. You completely relax as he cleans, you're sure that it's clean by now, but Dave continues to massage just to make you feel better. When he pauses, you feel his breath against your ear, his voice soft, full of something you've never heard from him before.

"Does that feel good?" He checks in, and you nod, giving a small, relaxed 'mhm…' along with it. You can't see it, but you're sure Dave is smiling, pleased to please you. He always has been that way. He can't help it when it comes to you.

He reaches for the shower head, glad that the bath is a two in one, and starts the water there. He checks the temperature again, making sure it won't be shocking, and he wets your hair. He still can't believe how much blood was on you, and you're unharmed. He begins to gently wash your hair, wondering where it came from. Perhaps he'll ask you in the morning when all this might make more sense. But right now, he works a lather into your hair, his hands like magic, moving so thoughtfully through your locks. You find yourself wishing that this had come on any other night. Why is it that you get to know the pleasure of Dave's hands on your body after all that's happened and not on both of your own terms. You are too tired and enjoying what Dave is doing to care right now. That's for another you to ponder sometime.

Dave finishes up your hair, and gives the wash cloth over to you, instructing you to finish up anything he couldn't reach. He informs you that he is going to get some new clothes for you, and to your surprise, his cool lips touch your forehead before he leaves. You gaze up at his form as he's already out the bathroom door, strutting quickly away to find some new clothes without leaving you too long. You finish washing while he's gone, and stand up wearily out of the tub, grabbing a nearby towel to dry off.

You're all wrapped up in a white towel of his, the tub filled with dirty water, slowly taking it, fand the night that caused it, down the drain. Dave comes back in, surprised you're out, but glad you didn't slip while doing so.

"I got you an old band shirt of mine, and a pair of my shorts." You smile, taking the shirt and shorts.

"I love this shirt…" You say, slowly pulling over your head, the towel still shielding you.

"I know…" Dave says softly as your head pops out of the shirt, your wet hair leaving droplets on the shoulders. You smile and Dave glances away as you slip his shorts on, fitting you nicely enough for the night. You discard the towel and follow Dave towards his bed.

"Here…" He says, pulling back the covers so you can get in. You do, gladly. Dave slips in behind you, and he immediately puts his arms around your waist, too nervous of you escaping him again. You notice the hunger from earlier is duller, calmed for now. Somehow, Dave's attention to you has helped, and you find as Dave snuggles against your shoulder, your breath slowing. The terrors of tonight are ringing around your ears still, but it's no match for how tired your body is. You drift into a deep sleep, wrapped by Dave Lizewski's arms, something you never thought would happen this way.

Some thing's really must be fate.

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